#It’s becoming a really problem I have a physical notebook full of all of this half written shit like it is full I have filled it

[crushed-oranged-angered]

One day I want to finish a fic and post it on AO3 instead of just making a 7-page long list that vaguely resembles an outline and one chapter for every idea I have…

How do you all finish fics for real like I’m really asking?

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔇𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰 Until Dawn males x male reader

Summary: 4 smut scenarios featuring each of the men from Until Dawn. Each scenario exists in its own standalone world, completely unconnected to the others—distinct, isolated, and unforgettable.

Tags: He/Him pronouns used for the reader. Mike Munroe x male reader; Matt Taylor x male reader; Josh Washington x male reader; Chris Hartley x male reader. Set before the events of the game. All of these are separated and not connected. All of these with bottom male reader. Friends to lovers/ established relationships. Smut. Gay smut. Dom Mike Munroe. Gentle dom Matt Taylor. Dom Josh Washington. Submissive Chris Hartley. Pinning. Anal sex. Shower sex. Riding. Blowjob.

Recently reached 300 followers and i wanted to do something special <3

Words counts: 8000 words (around 2000 for each character)

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

ℳ𝒾𝓀ℯ ℳ𝓊𝓃𝓇ℴℯ

Cocky and relentless. Teasing that borders on merciless, using his natural charisma to push buttons and see you squirm and blush beneath him. He doesn't stop until he's left you utterly wrecked, trembling and begging for more. He'd enjoy having full control, alternating it with whispered reassurances or moments of tenderness.

Mike Munroe sat in the chair beside you, leaning back with his signature cocky grin plastered across his face, a textbook in front of him that he hadn't opened once since arriving. He had the look of someone who didn't really care about studying, which, frankly, was true. This entire night was a ruse, a flimsy excuse to be alone with you under the pretense of needing help with an exam.

The plan had seemed solid in his head. You'd sit close, explain things to him with that focused, determined look he loved and he'd lean in, let his charm work its magic and, eventually, your studying would devolve into something much less productive.

Mike had always been good at getting what he wanted. A flash of his smile, a sly remark and most people melted. But now, as you sat at the desk flipping through pages and genuinely trying to explain a concept he couldn't care less about, Mike was starting to feel… frustrated.

"You're telling me I have to memorize all this crap by Thursday? Who the hell needs to know about… what even is this—" he glanced down at the page in front of you, squinting as if the words offended him “—polynomial functions for real life? What, am I gonna solve equations at my job interview?"

You sighed, trying to ignore his dark eyes locked onto yours instead of the textbook in front of him. "You signed up for the class, Mike. I didn't force you to take it."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, waving a dismissive hand. "But that's why you're here." He leaned in closer, resting his elbow on the desk and his chin in his hand, his face mere inches from yours. "You make it all make sense. You're, like, my personal genius."

Your stomach twisted at the compliment, even though you tried to brush it off. This was just Mike being Mike, wasn't it? He was like this with everyone. Charming, flirtatious, impossible to ignore. You'd seen him in action before: the way he smirked at the girls in class, the playful winks he threw at random people in the cafeteria.

It was just his thing. And yet, being on the receiving end of it made your heart race in a way that was becoming harder to ignore.

"Your 'genius' thinks you should actually start paying attention," you said, nudging the notebook closer to him. "Try solving this one."

Mike groaned dramatically, dragging the notebook toward him like it physically pained him to do so. "You're cute when you're bossy."

"Mike—“

"I'm kidding." He shot you a lopsided grin before glancing at the problem you'd written out. He picked up the pen, twirling it between his fingers as his brow furrowed in mock concentration. "Okay, so, uh… the square root here is… this, right?"

You couldn't help but laugh at how off he was, shaking your head as you leaned over to correct him. The faint scent of his cologne, woodsy with a hint of spice, hit you as you got closer and you froze for a moment, suddenly all too aware of how close you were.

Mike noticed. Of course he noticed. His grin widened and he tilted his head slightly, his eyes flicking from your face to your lips and back again.

You cleared your throat, quickly retreating to your seat. "Focus, Michael."

"I am focusing," he said, his voice warm and husky now, enough to make your pulse race and your breath catch. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms behind his head, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a strip of toned stomach. He caught your eyes flicking down and smirked. "On you."

Your face burned and you buried it in the textbook, pretending to reread a section. "Don't you have an exam to pass?"

"Yeah, yeah, blah blah blah," he said, waving his hand lazily. "But it’s hard to concentrate when you're sitting there all cute and stuff."

Your heart stuttered, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes, words stuck in your throat as you kept your focus ahead.

He shifted on the chair, his eyes trailing to your lips as you read aloud from the book. God, you had no idea how good they looked, slightly pursed as you concentrated on the material. He could only think about how soft they would feel against his, how warm they'd be as they moved down his body.

His gaze darkened, drifting lower, watching the way your throat moved as you spoke. He wanted to trace his lips there, feel your pulse against his tongue. The idea made his pants feel uncomfortably tight and he shifted again, trying to will the thoughts away.

The study session continued, with you trying your best to keep things on track despite Mike's constant interruptions. He'd accidentally brush his hand against yours when reaching for a pen, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. He'd lean in close under the guise of needing help, his lips so close to your ear that his breath tickled your skin as he murmured, "Explain that one more time?"

The shift you made brought you closer, your thigh brushing against his and Mike had to work hard not to react.

"Here," you said, pointing to a diagram you'd sketched out earlier. "This is how you get everything right. Got it?"

Mike barely registered your words. He was too busy realizing how he could feel the faint heat of your body. His eyes dropped to your hands as you gestured toward the page, wondering what they'd feel like gripping his shoulders, his hips, his—

"Mike”

"Hmm?" He blinked, forcing himself to meet your gaze.

"Are you sure you're okay? You keep zoning out. You said you needed help with this, right?"

Mike sighed dramatically, flopping back on the bed. "Yeah, yeah, I need help," he muttered, though he wasn't talking about school.

As you leaned forward to grab some papers on the desk, his eyes traced the curve of your jaw, the line of your neck, the way your shirt shifted slightly to reveal just a hint of skin.

It was torture.

Sweet, delicious torture.

"Can we take a break? I feel like I'm not gonna retain any of this if I don't decompress a little."

You glanced at the clock. "We've only been at it for 20 minutes."

"Exactly!" Mike said, his grin widening. "That's, like, more than I've ever studied so far."

You rolled your eyes, doing your best at suppress the warmth rising at his warm gaze in your direction. "Let me at least finish this thing?"

"Alright, fine," he muttered, picking up the book with a theatrical sigh and flipping through it aimlessly. "Keep cracking the whip, Teach."

You smiled faintly and got up to grab another set of notes from your backpack. The second you stood, Mike's eyes trailed down the curve of your back, lingering too long on the way your jeans clung to your butt. He bit his bottom lip, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply through his nose.

Enough was enough.

With a quick sigh, he stood, ego hurt and curiosity piqued. He closed the textbook on your desk with a sharp thud. His lip curled briefly at the sight of the boring equations inside, a momentary flicker of irritation at how they'd monopolized your attention. Then he turned his focus back to you.

When you turned around, annoyed at now being able to find what you were looking for, you froze.

He moved closer until your back pressed against the wall. His chest rose and fell steadily, his lips curving into a soft, almost vulnerable smile.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice was low, the teasing edge stripped away, leaving something raw and earnest.

"Uh… sure?" Your pulse quickened as his hand came up, resting lightly against the wall beside your head. His tall frame radiating heat as he leaned closer to you. His dark eyes bore into yours, not with the usual teasing glint, but with raw, unfiltered emotion that made your heart race.

"Do you like me?" he asked, his voice low and intense.

The question hit you like a punch to the chest. "What?"

"You heard me," Mike said, his tone softening, though the intensity in his gaze didn't waver. "Do you like me? Because, damn it, I can't keep this up anymore. I came here because I wanted to be with you, not to study. I just… I need to know."

You stared at him, your heart pounding so loudly you could barely think after hearing the vulnerability in his voice.

"Just tell me the truth," he murmured, his hand lifting to cup your jaw. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek and the tenderness of the gesture made your knees weak.

Your throat tightened and you felt heat flooding your face. "Yes, Mike. I like you. A lot."

His grin returned, slow and breathtaking, as though your words were the only answer he'd ever wanted. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to hear you say that."

He closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that stole the air from your lungs. It was hungry, raw, as though he'd been starving for this moment. His hands found your waist, pulling you forward until you were pressed tightly against him as his tongue pushed into your mouth, exploring with urgency.

You gripped his shoulders instinctively, your fingers digging into the firm muscle as he deepened the kiss.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. "Fuck, I've been wanting this for so long. You have no idea."

He bent down abruptly, his arms sliding under your thighs to lift you effortlessly. You gasped, your legs wrapping around his waist. Mike's lips moved to your neck, kissing and nipping as he trailed down to your collarbone. His light stubble scratched your skin, a delicious friction that left you squirming in his hold. He sucked a mark just above your collarbone, his tongue soothing the sting before he moved up to your jaw, his breath hot against your cheek.

"You taste so fucking good," he murmured, his voice a husky growl.

His lips found yours again, the kiss deeper this time, his tongue delving into your mouth as though he couldn't get enough. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he ground his hips against you. You could feel his hardness through his jeans, pressing insistently against you and making you ache with need.

With a grunt, Mike turned and carried you to the bed, laying you down carefully before crawling on top of you. His weight pressed you into the mattress, his sturdy frame caging you in as his lips found your neck again. His hands were everywhere, exploring your body with a mix of reverence and urgency.

You moaned softly as his teeth grazed your neck, his tongue soothing the sensitive skin before his lips claimed yours again. His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, tugging it off in one swift motion before discarding his own. His bare chest pressed against yours, the heat of his skin making you gasp as his lips continued their assault on your neck.

Mike's hands moved lower, unfastening your pants with a speed that made your head spin. He slid them down along with your underwear, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you fully bare beneath him.

His fingers found their way between your legs, teasing you as he leaned down to kiss you again. His other hand wrapped around your length, stroking you with firm, steady movements that made your hips buck into his hand.

"You like that?" he asked, his grin wicked as he watched your reaction. "I want to hear you, baby. Don't hold back."

He worked you with expert precision, his mouth returning to your neck to suck another mark. He was relentless, his fingers slipping lower to tease your entrance, his voice low and commanding.

"Relax for me," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'll take care of you, I promise."

His fingers moving in and out with practiced ease as he murmured praises against your skin. His other hand continued stroking you, his thumb teasing your tip in a way that had you writhing beneath him.

"God, you're so tight," he muttered, his breath hot against your neck. "I can't wait to feel you around me."

When he finally replaced his fingers with the hot, throbbing weight of his cock, the stretch was overwhelming. You hissed, your hands gripping his shoulders as he sank into you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head falling forward to rest against yours.

Mike’s lips didn't stop their assault on your neck, alternating between wet, searing kisses and the light scrape of his teeth that left trails of fire in their wake. Each movement of his hips pressed his thick, throbbing length deeper against you, and the friction was maddening.

"Fuck," he whispered, "You feel so good. So fucking good."

His restraint snapped, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he fucked you deeply, his groans mixing with your moans in the heated air.

His pace quickened, his thrusts hitting deeper as he angled his hips just right. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as pleasure overwhelmed you.

"That's it," he growled. "Let me hear you."

You couldn't hold back, your moans growing louder as he pushed you closer to the edge. His hand slipped between your bodies, stroking you in time with his thrusts.

"Come for me," he whispered, his voice strained.

His words sent you over the edge, your climax hitting you as you cried out his name. The way your body clenched around him pushed him over the edge, his thrusts growing erratic as he spilled inside you with a deep groan.

He collapsed on top of you, his body trembling as he pressed soft kisses to your neck, his arms wrapping around you as he held you close. "Worth every second," he murmured, his voice soft and full of affection.

ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉 𝒯𝒶𝓎𝓁ℴ𝓇

He would seek constant reassurance as he takes tentative steps. However, once he gains confidence, he becomes surprisingly assertive. He'd focus entirely on your pleasure. His athleticism would lend itself to strength and stamina, ensuring you're worshiped and cherished. He would revel in making you feel safe yet utterly overwhelmed by the raw power of his passion, glowing with pride every time he draws out a moan or gasp.

The campus was alive with the lazy hum of an afternoon sun. Matt Taylor was out on the field, his athletic frame in constant motion as he jogged the perimeter.

The way his shirt clung to him, damp and snug from exertion, only highlighted the strength in his broad shoulders and the subtle definition of his chest. It clung stubbornly to his abs, outlining the defined ridges of his stomach. Every muscle in his body seemed to work in perfect harmony as he moved.

The sweat glistening on his caramel skin only made him look more enticing.

He stopped after a lap, bending slightly to catch his breath, hands resting on his thighs. The sight was enough to steal yours.

There were moments when his head would turn, his dark, warm eyes flicking in your direction. He always seemed aware of your presence, like you were a natural part of his environment. The way you looked at him was as essential as the air he breathed.

He'd catch your gaze just for a second, his lips quivering into a smile. It was like he knew you were watching and wanted to remind you that he saw you, too.

With a deep breath, Matt straightened, one hand pushing his damp shirt away from his torso, exposing the hard lines of his stomach. Wiping the sweat from his face and neck with a calm, unhurried precision.

Matt tilted his head just slightly, as if gauging your reaction. Then, without missing a beat, he pressed his hand to his lips and blew a kiss in your direction.

Your heart stuttered, the sheer casualness of it leaving you stunned.

He turned toward the bench at the edge of the field, where his water bottle rested and took a moment to hydrate. He poured some of the cool water over his head, letting it cascade down his face and neck before trailing over his chest. The droplets caught in the sunlight, gleaming as they traced the curve of his shoulders and the hard ridges of his collarbone. His free hand dragged across his jaw, wiping the excess water away in a move that was as unintentional as it was captivating.

The others called out to him, ready to start another round of drills and he responded with an easy wave. As he jogged back to join them, he passed by where you sat.

"Hey," he said, his voice low and warm, tinged with the kind of softness he reserved for moments like this. He leaned down, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. "I was trying out some new moves. Gotta know if they're, you know, impressive enough." His tone was light and teasing, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in his expression, like he genuinely cared what you thought.

"They're impressive," you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended.

His smile softened and for a moment, he looked almost shy. "Thanks," he said, straightening up and running a hand through his short, damp hair.

You watched as he jogged back to his friends, the muscles in his legs flexing with every step. He jumped right back into the game, throwing himself into it with renewed energy. He made daring plays, diving for the ball in ways that sent his friends laughing and clapping him on the back. He'd glance your way after every particularly bold move, his smile growing brighter each time he saw you watching, eager to impress you.

The dim lighting of the locker room cast soft shadows over Matt's glistening body as he leaned against the lockers, phone in hand, his voice warm and playful. His towel hung loosely around his neck and his shirt was long forgotten, leaving his torso on full display. Every inch of him radiated heat.

The room was quiet now, save for the distant echo of running water in the pipes and the soft shuffle of Matt's footsteps as he paced near the benches.

"Yeah, I'm still here," he chuckled into the phone, his deep voice carrying a hint of teasing affection as he talked with you. "No rush, though. No one else is around."

He glanced at the screen, his smile softening before he made up his mind on what to do next.

"Want to hang out? We can talk later after I'm done here, if you want?" He murmured, voice low with a sweet and earnest tone.

"Turn around," you said.

Matt froze for a moment, processing your voice now coming from behind him. He spun on his heel, his eyes widening as they landed on you standing just inside the locker room door. A surprised laugh escaped him and he hung up the call, sliding his phone into the pocket of his gym bag.

"You're here," he said, his grin growing wider. His dark eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and shyness as he took a hesitant step forward.

"I wanted to surprise you," you replied, your voice soft but steady.

He moved closer, the heat of his body palpable even from a few feet away. The faint sheen of sweat making every curve of his muscles stand out.

"Let me—uh—just a sec," Matt stammered, rubbing the back of his neck as he closed the distance between you. He was so careful, leaning in slowly as though worried he'd overwhelm you. His lips brushed yours lightly at first, the saltiness of his sweat mingling with the sweetness of his breath.

"You don't mind the, uh…" He gestured to himself, his cheeks flushing slightly.

"Not at all," you murmured, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, his mouth moving against yours with a mix of gentle passion and restrained hunger. One arm looped around your waist while his big hand cradled the back of your head. His hands found your hips, his touch firm but tender.

He broke the kiss only to glance over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the empty locker room. Once satisfied you were alone, he turned back to you, his expression soft but smoldering.

"Shower's right there," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Think we could, uh… clean up together?"

The corner of his mouth twitched in a nervous smile, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable.

You didn't answer with words, letting your lips find his again instead, this time with more urgency as he backed behind with you caged in his arms.

The shower stalls were humid and warm, steam curling in the air as Matt turned on the water, letting it cascade down his back. He stood under the stream for a moment, his head tilted back, droplets running over his shoulders and down his chest, washing away the sweat that clung to him.

He turned to you, his expression soft but filled with intent. "Come here," he whispered, holding out a hand.

You stepped into the stall, the warm spray hitting your now naked skin as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. His lips found yours again, deeper this time, his hands exploring your back, your sides, the curve of your hips. His touch was firm but gentle, every movement infused with the kind of care that made your chest ache.

His hands moved to your waist, lifting you slightly to press you against the cool tile wall. The contrast of temperatures sent a shiver through you, but Matt's body pressed against yours was a furnace, his heat keeping you grounded.

The water ran between you, slicking your skin as his kisses trailed down your neck, his lips warm and soft against your wet skin. His breath was hot, mouth lingering over every inch of you like he couldn't get enough.

"I want to make you feel good," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, water dripping from his hair and into your eyes.

Hands broad and rough from years of training roamed your body with deliberate care. He started at your waist, his thumbs grazing your hips, then slid them down to cup your thighs, pulling you closer until every inch of him was flush against you.

His lips moved down the side of your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses that lingered, his tongue flicking out to taste the droplets sliding down your skin. "You feel so damn good." Matt murmured, his voice thick with need.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip before his tongue pushed into your mouth. His hands drifted lower, gripping your ass firmly as he hoisted you up, pressing you against the cold tile wall.

His hips pressed into yours and you felt the unmistakable hardness between his legs, the weight of him grinding slowly.

"Matt," you gasped, your voice catching in your throat as his lips found your collarbone, then moved lower, trailing down your chest. He paused at your nipple, his mouth closing around it, his tongue swirling as his teeth grazed just enough to make you arch into him.

The water streamed down his back as he continued his descent, his tongue and lips mapping a path across your stomach, his hands gripping your hips tightly, anchoring you. He looked up at you as he knelt, his eyes filled with a hunger that made your knees weak.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

You nodded quickly, your breath hitching as he kissed along your thighs, his mouth hot against your damp skin. His fingers traced delicate patterns, teasing you, making you ache for more. He submits his mouth to take on your length, his tongue flicking out to taste you, slow and deliberate as he traced every vein and ridge.

The sensation of his mouth on you was almost too much. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you arched up against him.

His hands gently rested on your soft, supple ass. He circled the hole gently before pressing his finger inside up to the second knuckle. Your head tilting up as the finger went in deeper before adding in another finger.

When you were trembling beneath his touch, Matt stood again, pulling you into another searing kiss. His hands gripped the back of your thighs, lifting you easily as he aligned himself with you. The anticipation was overwhelming, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Tell me if I'm too much. I don't want to hurt you."

His sweetness melted into raw passion as he slowly pushed inside, stretching you in a way that made your breath catch. The pressure was intense, the fullness almost too much, but Matt paused, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured against your skin.

"You're doing so good for me," he said, his voice strained, his restraint obvious as he let you adjust.

When you nodded, giving him the okay, he began to move. His thrusts were slow at first, measured, each one sending sparks of pleasure through your body. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you steady as he found a rhythm, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the small, steamy space.

"You're so tight," he groaned, his voice barely above a whisper as he buried himself deeper.

His pace quickened, his control slipping with each thrust, his eyes watching you intensively, filled with unspoken adoration and need.

Matt's hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers stroking in time with his thrusts. The dual sensations were overwhelming, your body tightening around him as you felt yourself teetering on the brink.

"Come for me. I want to feel you," Matt whispered, voice a mix of command and plea.

His words pushed you over the edge, your climax ripping through you with an intensity that left you shaking, your cries muffled against his shoulder. The way your body clenched around him sent him spiraling, his thrusts becoming erratic as he groaned your name, his release spilling inside of you hot, heavy and overwhelming.

He held you there, both of you trembling as the water continued to pour over your exhausted bodies, his breath ragged but his smile soft.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice hoarse but filled with tenderness.

You nodded, your fingers threading through his damp hair as you pulled him into a soft, lingering kiss. "More than okay."

And with that, Matt grinned affectionately before wrapping you in his arms, his warmth and love enveloping you completely.

𝒥ℴ𝓈𝒽 𝒲𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ𝓉ℴ𝓃

He would be almost hypnotic. His hands firm, guiding you like a puppeteer while he watches every reaction with piercing eyes. Touch that alternate between rough and tender. He'd seek absolute surrender, his lips tracing feverish paths across your skin as he demands every gasp, every shiver, until you're completely undone.

The basement was dimly lit, a warm glow from the single overhead bulb casting shadows over the eclectic collection of items Josh's family had accumulated over the years. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with dusty film reels, old cameras and props from Josh's endless experiments in cinematography. You trailed behind him as he rifled through a box, muttering under his breath about where he'd left the camera he needed.

"You've got enough stuff down here to make a whole trilogy,” you spoke amazed, picking up a fake severed hand from one of the nearby tables. "Let me guess, this was for some horror project?"

Josh turned, his smirk lighting up his face even in the shadows. "Oh, that? Nah, that was just Halloween last year. Dad thought it'd be funny to have it sticking out of the candy bowl." He rummaged through a nearby crate, pulling out a few props from old projects like the fake blood packets and a weathered script.

You laughed, shaking your head as you placed it back on the table. Josh returned to rummaging through his box of supplies and your attention wandered to a nearby shelf where a cracked clown mask hung ominously. This place is like a treasure trove, a mix of fascinating and unsettling, much like Josh himself. His mind always worked a mile a minute, brimming with ideas that danced somewhere between genius and chaos.

"Found it!" Josh declared, holding up a vintage film camera triumphantly. "This baby's gonna make my project an A+ for sure."

"Finally," you teased, crossing your arms. "I thought we'd be down here forever."

Josh's grin widened, that familiar mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. "Oh, don't tell me you're scared of basements."

"I'm not scared of this place," you replied, rolling your eyes while turning around to see again a cool looking mask that you wanted to try out.

"No?" he asked, his tone mock-innocent as he casually reached for something behind him.

When you turned around to face your boyfriend again, your eyes were met with a mask that resembles a skull-like style with a pair of thin black eyebrows, a cracked nose and rotten styled teeth. The dim light casting eerie shadows across the distorted features.

He lunged at you with a guttural growl, arms outstretched. Startled, you yelped involuntarily, stumbling back a step as he grabbed you with exaggerated ferocity. He gripped tightly your waist and hoisted you effortlessly onto a nearby table, pinning you in place.

"Gotcha!" he exclaimed, pulling the mask off to reveal his gleeful grin.

"You absolute jerk!" you gasped, swatting at his chest with your right hand in frustration.

Josh laughed, his deep, warm chuckle echoing through the basement. "You should've seen your face! Priceless."

"You're the worst," you muttered, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed how flustered you were.

"Oh, come on," he said, leaning closer. His hands rested on either side of your hips, trapping you. "You're even more handsome when you're scared. Seriously, it's not fair."

He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured, "Let me make it up to you for my genius prank." He concluded the line with a kiss to your neck, his lips warm and insistent against your skin.

"Trust me," he whispered, his voice low and rough, his hands sliding up your sides as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear.

Your breath hitched, your hands finding their way to his shoulders as his mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down your neck and along your collarbone. His fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt, pushing it up to expose more skin, his lips following the path his hands carved.

"We’ve done it not even an hour ago," you murmured, your voice trembling as he nipped lightly at your shoulder.

Josh chuckled against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. "Perfect then! Means that you’re ready for me," he admitted, pressing his lips to yours into a kiss that was equal parts sweet and consuming. His hands roamed your body with a mix of confidence and care, his touch leaving trails of heat in its wake.

He broke the kiss just long enough to tug your shirt over your head, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you. "You look good," he said simply, his voice tinged with awe.

"Stop being sappy," you teased, though your heart raced at his words.

Josh grinned, his hands sliding to your waistband. "Fine, I'll focus on other things"

He made quick work of your pants, his lips finding yours again as he pressed you back against the table. The feel of his body against yours, the weight of him grounding you, sent a shiver down your spine.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and intimate.

"You," you replied without hesitation, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

Josh groaned softly, his fingers tightened on your thighs, his thumbs stroking the bare skin just above your knees as he stepped closer, pressing himself against you. His lips trailed along your jawline, soft and teasing at first, but the heat in his movements grew with each passing second.

He tilted your head slightly, exposing more of your neck and pressing his lips there, warm and insistent.

Your breath hitched as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue following in a slow, deliberate sweep that left you shivering. His hands roamed upward, fingers hooking under the hem of your shirt before tugging it over your head in one swift motion.

"God," he breathed, pulling back just enough to take you in. His eyes were dark, predatory. "You're fucking amazing."

"You don't look so bad yourself," you managed, your voice shaky but laced with a teasing edge.

Josh smirked, leaning in to kiss you again. This time, there was no pretense of restraint. His tongue slid against yours, the kiss messy and consuming as his hands pulled you closer until there wasn't an inch of space between you.

Your hands found their way to his shirt, pushing it up over his torso. He broke the kiss just long enough to yank it off, tossing it carelessly to the floor before returning his lips to yours. The heat of his bare chest against yours sent a thrill through you, his skin warm and slightly damp as your hands explored the defined lines of his back.

Josh's hips rolled against yours and you felt the unmistakable hardness pressing against your thigh. Your own erection makes your pants feel painfully tight. He groaned softly, his breath hot against your neck as he ground into you, the friction sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

"You're driving me crazy," he admitted, his voice rough as his hands slid to the waistband of your pants. He hesitated for just a moment, his eyes meeting yours. "Can I…?"

"Yes," you said quickly, the word barely more than a whisper.

He grinned, his usual cocky demeanor softened by the flush in his cheeks, and tugged your pants down, his hands deliberate and firm. You kicked them off, your skin prickling with anticipation as he leaned back to admire you.

"You're perfect," Josh said, his voice husky as his fingers traced along your thighs, his touch featherlight but electrifying.

You reached for him, pulling him closer until his body was pressed fully against yours. The feel of him, hard and eager, against your own growing arousal made you gasp. Josh took the opportunity to kiss you again, his hands sliding lower to grip your ass, lifting you slightly as he aligned himself with you.

"Ready?" he asked, his hands voice soft but filled with intensity.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck as he positioned himself. The stretch as he pushed inside was slow and deliberate, his movements measured as he let you adjust to the fullness.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he buried himself completely.

The words sent a shiver through you, your hands tightening on his shoulders as you urged him to move. Josh pulled back slightly, his hips rocking forward again in a slow, steady rhythm that left you breathless.

He found a pace that was both gentle and intense, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one drawing soft moans from your lips. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you as he pressed kisses to your neck, your jaw, your lips.

Your own voice trembling as the pleasure built with each movement.

Josh's pace quickened, his control slipping as his need for you overwhelmed him. The table beneath you creaked with each thrust, but neither of you cared. The only thing that mattered was the way he filled you, the way his body moved against yours like you were made for each other.

Your climax hit suddenly, a wave of pleasure crashing over you and leaving you trembling in his arms. You cried out his name, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body clenched around him.

Josh wasn't far behind. His thrusts grew erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself as deep as he could, groaning your name as he spilled into you. The warmth of his release sent another shiver through you, the sensation leaving you breathless.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, tangled together on the table, your breaths mingling as you came down from the high. Josh pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his hands trailing soothing patterns on your back.

"Am i forgiven now?" he asked, his voice hoarse but laced with his usual humor.

You laughed softly, nuzzling into his neck. "Yeah, I'd say so."

Josh grinned, his arms tightening around you as he rested his forehead against yours. "Good. Because I'm not done yet."

𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈 ℋ𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓁ℯ𝓎

Hesitant, nervous chuckles and self-deprecating jokes peppering the atmosphere before his passion takes over. He's the type to fumble slightly, then find his rhythm as he becomes more confident. He'd moan sweetly, almost embarrassed by how lost he becomes in you, whispering heartfelt praise and words that reflect just how irresistible he finds you.

The game's victory screen flashed across the TV, the sound of triumphant chiptunes filling the room. Both you and Chris collapsed onto the bed in an exhausted heap, the adrenaline of finally beating your highest score leaving you giddy. His laughter bubbled up first, that unmistakable mix of relief and joy that only he could manage and you couldn't help but join in.

"We actually did it," Chris said, breathless as he flopped onto his back, one arm draped lazily across his forehead. "I thought we were doomed when you missed that jump in the third level."

"Excuse me, you're the one who forgot to grab the power-up right before the boss fight." You shot back, turning your head to face him.

Chris groaned, dramatically rolling onto his side to look at you. His glasses were slightly askew and his hair was sticking up in every direction, but he looked so completely relaxed and at ease in that moment that it made your chest ache in the best way. "Okay, okay, my bad. But you have to admit I nailed that final combo."

You snorted, nudging his shoulder with yours. "Yeah, sure. But only because I carried us through the rest of the game."

His jaw dropped in mock outrage. "Carried us? You died twice in the first round, man!"

“And who revived you at the end?" you shot back, smirking.

Chris opened his mouth to respond but stopped, his grin widening as he broke into laughter. "Alright, alright. You're not entirely useless. We're gaming legends now! They're gonna put our names in the Hall of Fame or something."

"Right next to the guy who discovered cheat codes for unlimited lives," you quipped.

"Exactly," he said, grinning as his blue eyes sparkled behind his glasses. "We're pioneers of our time."

The two of you laid there, the laughter slowly fading into a comfortable silence. The faint glow of the TV bathed the room in soft light, illuminating the faint curve of his smile as he gazed up at the ceiling. His arm was still close to yours, his fingers just brushing against your skin in a way that felt deliberate but unspoken.

"It was fun," Chris said after a moment, his voice quieter now.

"Yeah," you agreed, your own tone softer. "I don't think I've laughed this much in a while."

He turned his head to look at you, his glasses sliding down his nose slightly. "From now on you'll be my good luck charm."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "You just needed someone to keep you focused. You do get distracted a lot."

Chris groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Don't remind me. I'm like a dog chasing squirrels. Oh look, shiny object—game over."

You both laughed again, the sound soft and intimate in the late-night stillness. When it faded, you found him watching you, his blue eyes catching the flicker of light from the TV.

"What?" you asked, your voice tinged with curiosity.

"Nothing," he said quickly, but his grin gave him away. "You're a lot of fun to hang out with, you know that? Like, even when you're roasting me."

"Glad to be of service," you teased, your own grin mirroring his.

His gaze lingered a little longer than usual, his expression shifting slightly. "No, but seriously. I mean it. You're, uh… you're really great."

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard.

"Thanks," you said softly. "You're pretty great too, Chris."

He smiled, a little shyly this time, and turned onto his side fully, propping his head up on one hand. "Have you ever thought about how weird life is? Like, one day you're just doing your usual things, then Sam one day shows up with someone like you and suddenly everything's a million times better. Boom. Butterfly effect."

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to be romantic at two in the morning? Because I think the lack of sleep is getting to you."

"Hey, don't ruin my moment!" he protested, but his laughter undercut his words.

You laughed too, the sound mingling with his as the moment stretched on.

You sat up on the bed and then crawled toward your destination, the TV's glow fading as you turned it off. When you turned back to the bed, Chris was sprawled out like a contented cat, his arms spread wide, his legs slightly apart. His glasses were back into their original place at the top of his nose.

"You just gonna stare, or are you gonna accept my invitation?" he teased, wiggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion.

You laughed, shaking your head, but the way his smile widened when you leaned closer told you that you weren't fooling him for a second. You crawled onto the bed, resting against his side as he let his arm fall lazily around your waist.

"Happy now?" you asked, pressing a quick kiss to his left cheek.

"Getting there," he said, voice soft and a little breathless

You didn't stop, peppering more kisses along his cheek and down to his jaw, light scratches from his stubble against your lips. Your hand wandered lower, brushing over his stomach, then down to his pants, where you felt the beginnings of his growing arousal.

Chris chuckled, the sound nervous but filled with anticipation. His free hand moved to your back, pulling you closer as his breath hitched. "Wow, okay, uh… Someone's feeling bold tonight," he murmured, though his grin betrayed how much he was enjoying it.

"Aren't we supposed to be basking in our gaming glory?"

You squeezed him gently through the fabric, feeling him harden further under your touch. "Should I stop, then?" you teased, feigning innocence as your fingers lingered.

"Nope!" he blurted out quickly, his voice cracking slightly as his head shot up. His face was flushed, but his lips found yours in a soft, insistent kiss, his usual shyness tempered by a growing determination.

The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing yours as his hand slid under your shirt, his fingers warm and exploratory against your skin. You shifted, straddling his lap, and he let out a quiet groan as your weight pressed down on him. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you slightly as he rolled his hips up, creating delicious friction that left you both breathless.

"God, you're… You're really good at this," Chris muttered, his lips trailing down your neck, each kiss accompanied by a soft hum of approval.

"You sound surprised," you teased, grinding against him again just to hear the way his breath caught.

He laughed softly, though it quickly turned into a low groan. "No, no, I mean—I just—" He stopped, shaking his head as if words were failing him entirely. "Never mind. Keep doing that… please?"

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him again, your hands slipping under his shirt to explore the warm expanse of his chest. He was lean but toned, his body radiating heat as your fingers traced over him, eliciting small, breathy noises that only spurred you on.

Chris's hands slid to the waistband of his pants, fumbling slightly as he worked them down. "Help me out here," he said with a nervous laugh, his cheeks red but his smile never wavering.

You helped him and he helped you out, the two of you working together to peel away the layers until you were completely bare. Him beneath you with your naked body on top of his. His erection stood proud, flushed and eager and the sight of him vulnerable yet so clearly aroused made your own desire burn hotter.

"You're handsome, you know that?" you said softly, running your hands over his thighs as you sat back to take him in.

Chris laughed, covering his face with one hand. "Oh my God, don't say stuff like that. I'll die."

"Too bad. I’ll say it, whether you like it or not," you teased, leaning down to kiss him again.

His response was a muffled laugh against your lips, but it melted into a moan as you reached down to guide him to your entrance. He gripped your hips tightly, his eyes searching yours for confirmation and when you nodded, he let out a shaky breath.

"Okay," he said, his voice soft but steady. "Okay, just—take your time."

You did, slowly sinking onto him, the stretch intense but achingly good. Chris's grip on your hips tightened, his head falling back against the pillow as a low groan escaped him.

"Holy shit," he whispered, his hands trembling slightly as he held you steady. "God, you feel amazing."

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you began to move, your body adjusting to the rhythm as you found a steady pace. Chris's eyes were half-lidded, his lips parted as he sat up from his previous laid position. His hands were guiding your movements but never pushing, always letting you set the pace.

"Is this— shit, is this okay?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly as his hips bucked up involuntarily.

"it's perfect," you murmured, leaning down to kiss him. "You're perfect."

His laugh was breathless, almost disbelieving, but he met your kiss with fervor, his tongue tangling with yours as his hands explored your body. The soft gasps he made, whispered curses, your name falling from his lips like a prayer… it all drove you closer to the edge with every thrust.

Chris's movements became more erratic, his hips meeting yours with increasing urgency. "I'm—oh God, I don't think I'm gonna last," he admitted, his voice high and strained

"Don't hold back," you said, your own voice trembling as your climax built.

With a choked groan, Chris buried himself as deep as he could and tightened his arm around your body, his release hitting him in waves that left him trembling beneath you. The feeling of him filling you, combined with the look of utter ecstasy on his face, sent you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing through you as you collapsed onto his chest.

For a moment, the two of you stayed in that position, your breaths mingling as you came down from the high. Chris's arms pulled you close as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

"Best. Night. Ever," he murmured, his voice warm and content.

"Agreed," you said, your own smile matching his as you nuzzled against him.

If you liked this, please leave a comment. I love reading them <3. Let me know if you had a favorite one out of this four fine men ;)

[dolphingirl1234]

welcome to the first headcanons post in what will hopefully become a series unless my brain randomly decides to hyperfocus on something else

starting off with our favourite traumatised polar bear...

IT'S CAPTAIN BARNACLES LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!!! 📣✨‼️

please enjoy my shitty picrew human version of him

gonna be honest I hate this one he looks like my dad when he was like 12

imagine him looking like this but way older

anyway headcanons:

30-mid/late 30's

idk if there's a name for this one but is sexually attracted to females but romantically attracted to males

has never dated because of this and has no desire to

he/him

he was the last of the crew to actually recognise his sexuality

everyone came out to him and he was like inwardly homophobic because of the way he had been brought up, but made a notebook full of everyone's pronouns and stuff so he could remember, and never did/said anything homophobic to anyone else - kinda like Imogen in heartstopper yk

dark brown hair that's kinda going grey on the sides

grey eyes

always has eye bags because our boy does not sleep

he's not that strict on uniform - there are random clothes that tweak plonked the octonauts logo onto and that's what is considered uniform; everyone is allowed to wear whatever they want as long as its appropriate and has the logo on it somewhere.

basically always wears the same thing because the entire world will fall apart without his routine

played candy crush once in an ad and loved it

he secretly plays it on the web bc he can't admit to himself that he likes it enough to actually download it

everyone has called him dad at least once

gets fathers day cards from everyone every year

^^ has cried from this on multiple occasions

doesn't get sick often but when he does he is SICK. the second he wakes up his face is grey and pale and he physically cannot speak without coughing

peso makes him go to bed and when he eventually agrees he sleeps for like 2 days straight and is then immediately better

he tells kwazii off for being reckless but he's done some pretty dumb shit himself

will sacrifice himself for anyone and anything (has been told off about this many times and still continues to do it)

he and inkling are the only people in the crew who like dark chocolate

absolutely despises anything sour

his pain tolerance is very high

likes mint and will casually go to the garden pod and eat it raw

has claustrophobia (canon)

also has emetophobia (look it up) because I like projecting

once you've looked up emetophobia come back and read the next one:

when he was a cub and was learning to catch and eat fish he threw up after eating one particular fish and every time he sees it in the sea he will literally hold his breath and run away

he's actually very good at modern lingo and memes but does not understand for the life of him what a skibidi toilet is

sees peso as his son and will literally protect him with his life

other crew members have various mental health struggles and barnacles is genuinely so proud of them when they do anything that's hard for them even if its just surviving the day its so cute

he hasn't experienced the things the others go through but he has so much empathy and pride for them its insane

gives the best bear hugs and when he gets sad all he wants is cuddles but he's too scared to ask anyone

natquik and kwazii are the only people who have seen him have a full breakdown

if you've had a bad day he's your guy he will pick you up and cradle you like a baby no problem

on his birthday he literally gives zero fucks about presents but is insistent on getting/making really goof presents for everyone else

he has the deepest voice ever. and he's not terrible at singing either but he never sings. ever.

the accordion secretly pisses him off as well and he just keeps playing it because it's an ongoing joke and he doesn't want to ruin it

his paws are MASSIVE.

that's all for now I hope you enjoyed your exclusive look at Zoe's Headcanons TM I probably forgot some so you might get some more later 👀

[lorainelegacy]

Fifty OC Questions!

Questions are from @localravenclaw's post. Thank you!

1. Describe your OC's physical appearance in detail.

Loraine is 23 years old. She has dark brown hair, usually pulled back in a scruffy ponytail or bun, as she finds it too much of a burden to wear it down. She has heterochromia. Her left eye is green and her right eye is yellow. In the words of Professor Fig: Two large, sparkling jewels. The left, a deep green that evoked the ancient forests of Scotland; the right, an amber yellow that seemed to contain the very essence of the sun.

She suffers from thrombocytopenia so despite having long, feminine legs, she always has some bruises or wounds due to the ill-treatment she was subjected to during her life at her aunt and uncle's house. She has several scars on her wrists and burn marks on her arms, back and thighs. Her most visible scar is the one on her right eyebrow She never shows her body.

2. Why'd you choose your OC's name?

I simply like the name Loraine. There is nothing interesting behind it.

3. How does your OC feel about their birthday?

She has never celebrated it so it is not a special day for her.

4. How does your OC and their parents get along?

Her parents died when she was a child, but she assumes she had a good relationship with them.

5. What's something you'd never put your OC through again?

I don't know.... unfortunately for her, the author is too fond of drama.

6. What's your OC's go-to comfort meal?

The Dundee Cake. She loves sweets, but her favourite is the Dundee Cake, as its texture is very soft and it has both nuts and fruits!

7. What career path would your OC take?

She has a divided heart: on the one hand she would like to become a famous Magizoologist, due to her love and innate talent for understanding animals, or Potioneer to help others.

8. What's something your OC can't do?

Public speaking and interacting with strangers. Of course she can talk, but she does not feel comfortable at all and as soon as a conversation starts she wants to go back to her place of comfort. Something derived from the lack of socialisation to which she was subjected since she was a child. However, thanks to her new friends, and above all, thanks to Fig, she has managed to cope much better with this problem.

9. What is your OC's ideal romantic partner?

She has suffered a lot. So she simply wants a man who will love her and stand by her no matter what. She just wants to feel loved, nothing more.

10. Does your OC like to spend time alone or with others more?

Although Loraine enjoys spending time with her friends, especially Ominis and Sebastian, she prefers to read or draw in Fig's office. It is her sanctuary and where she really feels happy and comfortable. As I have mentioned before, she has trouble socialising and sometimes in the middle of a conversation, even with her friends, she gets overwhelmed and desperately needs to run away.

11. What time does your OC usually go to sleep?

It depends on the day, she usually stays up reading until she falls asleep and on other days she goes to sleep straight away. However, she does not like to sleep too much because she feels she is "wasting valuable time."

12. Where in the sibling order is your OC?

She has no siblings.

13. What's the worst thing your OC's ever done?

Probably thinking about killing her uncle, but she can't be blamed for it…

14. What would it take for your OC to kill someone?

Someone hurting a very important person to her.

15. What item does your OC hold most dear?

The second-hand wand Fig gave him the first day they met. As she lost her parents at such a young age, she has no memories of them. Her only memories were lost the day she was on her way to Hogwarts with Fig and a dragon attacked them.

16. How does your OC unwind?

Loraine loves spending time with her magical creatures in the Room of Requirement: playing with them, feeding them, brushing them and even drawing them! She has a notebook full of drawings and although she also draws portraits of people, her favourite thing in the world is drawing creatures and landscapes. She also enjoys music very much. She plays the piano, but for some strange reason she can't remember how she learned to play. Another thing she loves to do is to simply take her broom and fly through the sky, although she prefers to fly on a hippogriff because according to her ‘it's a completely different and unique experience’.

17. What's your OC's star sign?

Cancer. She is very emotional, sensitive, understanding and attached to the people she loves. According to this sign: Cancer horoscope people are characterised by being one of the most challenging signs of the zodiac, they can be difficult to understand and have a very shy personality to a very daring one. In addition, they are people with a somewhat discordant character and behaviour with rapid changes of mood.

In the crab that represents them, the shell signifies an introverted nature with an armour that is difficult to penetrate, a need for self-protection when they feel unsafe or feel intrusive in their life or habits. Cancers are known as the most dramatic, tenacious and imaginative in the horoscope.

18. What kind of drunk is your OC?

She hates alcohol for obvious reasons.

19. Who does your OC end up with?

Eleazar Fig.

20. Who is your OC's role model?

Again: Fig. He is the centre of her universe. Not only did he change her life when he appeared that day offering to accompany her on an unexpected adventure, saving her from the jaws of her uncles. He taught her little by little what love means. It was not only his ability to conjure spells that captivated her, but the depth of his understanding, the tenderness of his guidance, and the steadfastness of his protection. For her, there is no other wizard more exceptional than him.

21. Is your OC big on revenge?

She wouldn't hesitate for a second to take down anyone who harms the people she loves or anyone who makes animals and creatures suffer.

22. If your OC ever got the chance, would they go back in time? When would they go?

She wished she could have saved her parents' lives, but she was so young that it would have been useless to go back in time. It would have ended all the same. Loraine was destined to have that terrible childhood.

In one of the endings of my fanfic Professor Fig sacrifices himself to save her, which is unfortunately the canon ending of the game we all know. So yes, in that ending she would have wished to go back in time and be the one who sacrifices herself, since losing Fig made her world never the same and she was never happy again.

23. What's your OC's favourite memory?

She has too many, but if I have to highlight a few:

The dance with Fig at that harvest festival in a small village in the south of Scotland. Because they both saved the village from an attack by the Ashwinders, the villagers made them king and queen of the harvest. She was presented with a beautiful wreath of flowers and Fig, although he flatly refused, with a necklace. Apparently a very typical thing to do there. That dance would be engraved in her heart forever.

Another very special memory for her was the first time she rode a Hippogriff, or the time she saw a Phoenix for the first time. One of the most wonderful creatures she had ever seen. Or when she managed to ‘tame’ the Lord of the Shore, an imposing and magnificent Graphorn. She still remembers Fig's face when she saw him return on the back of that huge creature.

There are too many memories.

24. Will your OC ever admit to being wrong?

She apologises too much, even when she does nothing wrong. So of course she has no trouble apologising or acknowledging her mistakes.

25. Is your OC doomed by the narrative?

I don't know what this question means exactly, but I suppose it does. Although in my fanfic there will be different endings.

26. Would your OC get along with you?

Of course!

27. What's one thing your OC will never get over?

It is very obvious, but the loss of the people she loves. She would simply feel completely alone in the world.

28. Is your OC going to make it?

No. She will probably never be the same again.

29. Does your OC look their age?

Yes.

30. What weird pet would your OC have?

She literally takes any creature to the Room of Requirement. Professor Weasley was greatly alarmed when she heard that she kept a dragon there. But he was badly injured, what else could she do?

31. Does your OC care a lot about their appearance?

Not too much, she almost always wears her hair tousled. However, she does like dresses and elegant clothes.

32. What's one food your OC can't stand?

She hates cheese or any food that smells bad or is excessively spicy.

33. What animal do people associate your OC with?

It had to be a cat. Her heterochromatic eyes are the most characteristic of her, and not only that, even her excessively affectionate behavior with Fig makes her look like a feline. So much so, that the shape of his Patronus is a Norwegian forest cat.

Loraine is passionate about animals, so of course she went through the whole process to be an Animagus. She loves to take the form of a cat or a red kite.

34. what's your OC's "thing"?

I don't know if the question refers to something material or to behavior. I don't know how to answer lol.

35. Random fact about your OC

She can't stand being in a messy room.

36. Would your OC sleep with a clone of themself?

Umm no? What a strange question.

37. What part of yourself do you love in your OC?

My determination, perhaps.

38. What's the lowest point in your OC's life?

Several suicide attempts.

39. What's your OC's biggest achievement?

Her greatest achievement? I could say that saving the school and the wizarding world from Ranrok's plans. But really her greatest achievement was overcoming her traumas and depression.

40. Does your OC ever go back home?

She has no home to return to.

41. How would your OC adapt to the modern world?

I think she would suffer an anxiety attack seeing so much technology and tall skyscrapers. Not to mention the music!

42. Does your OC have any unique talents?

Aside from being able to control Ancient Magic, Loraine is good at understanding the needs of animals and quite skilled in Potions.

43. Does your OC exist in canon or AU timeline?

Hmm no, I think. I don't quite understand the question lol.

44. Is your OC a people person?

She is a kind and charming person, but she just doesn't like to talk to people too much. She prefers the company of animals.

45. Did your OC ever have an alternative name?

Before choosing the name 'Loraine' I thought of calling her 'Aura' since it is the name of the protagonist of a fanfic that I started many years ago.

46. Does your OC possess any special powers?

Apart from controlling Ancient Magic no, she does not possess any special powers. Is being a metamorphmagus considered a special power?

47. Is your OC allergic to anything?

She is allergic to pollen, but she loves them anyway.

48. Does your OC have a lot of uncommon knowledge? How do they know it?

As I said, she can understand animals, but I don't know if it's knowledge to be taken into account. She doesn't know how she got that gift, if it can be considered that.

49. Does your OC have any scars or birthmarks with an interesting story?

Yes, she has a lot of marks and scars on her body. But there is no interesting story behind them.

50. What do you love and hate most about your OC?

What I like most is that despite everything she suffered in the past, she is a kind and cheerful person. I also admire her ability to cope with her life as a student with all the problems that arise and also help anyone who asks her for help. Perhaps that kindness in excess is something negative. She gives too much to people and that makes her forget to pay attention to herself and her own happiness.

[knoxic]

Doing a "who's most likely to" thingy but the answers are based on my DR:)

Who's most likely to-

1. Get arrested?

Hotch and Spencer. (let's be honest, they would make amazing unsubs with minds like that)

2. Act on a crush?

Rossi. (he would not hesitate. Derek claims its him but if he actually likes someone he will panic and avoid talking to them)

3. Join the army?

Hotch. (it would be like going to the gym for him yk, wouldn't feel a thing)

4. Win the lottery?

JJ. (buys them for fun and habit cuz her mom used to buy those every once in a while, except she's lucky and has won 5k as a teen and a motorcycle when she joined the BAU (she sold it))

5. Be late to an event?

Derek. (would claim its because Pen took too long to do her makeup but its actually because he does everything last minute and keeps dragging out leaving the house)

6. Lose their phone?

Garcia. (she has at least 3 phones in her bag but somehow always forgets one when we go out, once used my phone to text Derek and he thought I was confessing to him)

7. Always carry a pen?

Rossi. (has one specific pen that he wont share and it's a obligatory part of his outfit)

8. Start a fire?

Emily. (exploded our microwave heating up a coffe, Hotch made her buy a new one and she's now banished from the kitchen, only uses when one of us goes with her)

9. Go surfing?

Derek. (it's a talent, didn't know he could surf until after his 30s)

10. Cheat on a test?

Honestly everyone but Spencer... (Reid would be too scared to cheat but knows the answers anyway. I imagine if it's a work test to see if they're able to work, everyone would know which answers they're supposed to give. Hotch and Rossi have and would absolutely manipulate those exams to be able to work)

11. Cheat on a partner?

Derek. (Before Savannah, wouldn't cheat physically but got bored of his gfs really fast and would think of others while they're together. Eventually made them broke up with him so he wouldn't be the bad guy, canon)

12. Talk in their sleep?

Spencer and Emily (Spencer just rambles inaudible words but Emily is full on weird random phrases, she tries not to sleep in front of the team or else they'll tease her for it, JJ has a notebook with things Em said when they shared rooms)

13. Get a weird tattoo?

Garcia. (look me in the eye and tell me she never got a badly made tattoo before she joined the team, I dare you. Has a butterfly and some weird unidentified object/animal on her back she got while drunk, she does not remember getting it)

14. Adopt a stray dog?

Garcia and JJ. (while I think none of them would adopt any animals because of work, I do see them taking care of the stray dog to later give them to adoption yk)

15. Become bald-headed

Derek and Emily. (Derek for obvious reasons and Emily because she would totally shave her head if someone dared her)

16. Blow all their money on a impulse buy?

Garcia and Hotch. (Garcia is also a obvious one but Hotch would totally spend a tone if he saw something Jack has mentioned before, wouldn't hesitate)

17. Have a million followers on social media?

Garcia and Rossi (I would totally follow her on IG and Twitter, and Rossi because of the books, maybe he even buys followers... marketing reasons)

18. Cancel plans at the last second?

Hotch. (Already did that, has no problems cancelling plans unless it involves Jack)

19. Throw a fit during a game of monopoly?

Spencer and Derek(Already did, refuses to play again, everytime Derek makes him remember he almost cries. Derek is a sore loser)

20. Sleep anywhere anytime?

Emily. (I mentioned before that she tries to not sleep in front of the team and she really does but not always succeed, plane naps are the best for her)

21. Be the first one to die during a zombie apocalypse?

Derek. (thinks he could survive and would try to prove, would die in his 3rd zombie. I would also say Spencer but he would probably be so disgusted by the zombies that he wouldn't even go out to fight them)

22. Be the next USA president?

Hotch and Rossi. (ppl told Hotch he could but he refuses to believe, thinks politicians are dirty and thats an offence to him. Before his retirement Rossi was extremely involved with politics, after he came back and changed his mentality he thinks the same as Hotch (besties))

23. Be a stand-up comedian?

Rossi. (italian jokes, has a notebook with jokes he's heard along the way)

24. Start their own business?

Also Rossi, and Emily (Rossi would open an Italian restaurant that plays jazz all night. Emily would open a bar, totally safe for women. Free tequila shots for the ladies every now and then, calls you a uber and has ppl to accompany you if you need help, banishment rule If guys are being 🤮🤮🤮, bathrooms are safe for trans and nb ppl)

25. Be my best friend forever?

Emily. (the absolutely greatest friend you could have. made her my kids godmother)

26. Become a professional gambler?

Spencer. (do I need to explain?)

27. Have more than 10 piercings?

Garcia and Emily (both have had their ears full pierced but took it all off when they started working, Pen still used some of them when we go out)

28. Leave everything and move to another country?

Hotch. (already did... would be angry at himself if it had to happened after he joined the team)

29. Lock themselves out of the house?

Garcia. (most of the times she's too drunk to even remember where her house is, the few times she remembered she also lost her key during the front yard walk to her door, called morgan and he found her asleep on the floor)

30. Become a nun?

JJ. (grew up in a extremely religious family, wanted to be one before her sister died.)

found the questions on pinterest, just search "most likely to questions"

[marirey17]

So my goal for this year is to get back into writing again. Several things last year kinda of made me realize that the fact that I have trouble with writing isn't not a me problem. It is just how writing is. And that I should give it a try again. So I am going to give it a more serious try. Now the problem of what to fucking write.

Sure I could finish the WIP from years ago but I am not really in that fandom anymore. Maybe one day I will pick it up again. But instead I am just going to write down some ideas here. From one my notebook of fanfic ideas. I should find my other one that has more fic ideas in it.

In no particular order lets go.

Percy De Rolo being pen pals with Anne Riply- I always imagine that the bit of Percy life that we saw in the campaign/show was the cleaner version of the events. I am full conspiracy theory that Percy was closer to Riply before murders. It never really made since that the Briarwoods just somehow got a dinner invitation to a very influenational noble family like the DeRolo's. It makes sense that they planned on how to inflitrate. Corrupting a tree from inside. The betrayel of incredibly smart Percy who feels left out of the family. He isn't the heir, he isn't particulary worldly, or physically strong. He is the smart one. Enter Anne who at first is just humoring then goes 'oh shit' he is smart and tries to corrupt him. Lots of ways this can go. Percy whump is one of my favorite things to read. This is probably only going to be pre canon.

Percy Seven Swans AU - I love the seven swans myth. So family cursed instead of murdered. Definitely not canon. Orthax requireing Percy to make Automatons? Chain mail, Mech hearts? Or resisdium stuff.

CR Campaign 2 Avatar Au - This is so bare boned in my book. All I have is Cad being bullied and a few elements assigned to people. So pass not gonna do this one.

CR Campaign 2 Soc Media AU- Yeaaa noooo I like Soc Media au. But this has even less than the avatar au. Just premise no prompts. Also modern au's are hard for me to write.

CR Campaign 2 - Caleb is a prince of the Dwendalian Empire. This is a headcannon that I have. But it doesn't make much since for Trent to be as obessed with Caleb as he is. Sure Caleb is a flawed prodigy. But to keep him alive for 10 years in a mental ward instead of killing him? Why do that? Makes more sense if Caleb is an illegiatment prince of the Dwendal family. The current heir is a miltary man right? Makes since he might have children out of wedlock. And his wife is looking for a cure to her fertility problems. What better than a prince you have under your thumb? The Cerberus Assembly is a shadow goverment already. But thats it that all my thoughts. And it would have to be a long fic to do it any justice. There are a lot of Royalty AU's in CR2. But most of them have someone else as the Royal. I also like the idea of Caleb becoming King then abdicating and making a democracy.

Next in old Journal is prompts from a year old Whumptober month. So lets see if there are any gems there.

Kaladin Stormblessed having stitches overgrown from stormlight. Ouch.

Sandry fa Toren from Circle of Magic- dealing with isolation. I think sandry has the hardest time connecting with people. Being a noble and having her friends be away all those years. She doesn't fit easily in noble society and the working class isn't at ease with her.

Midorya from MHA - dealing with chronic pain and challenges from all the injuries he has. This is a possibilty but I am so out of the MHA fandom.

Luffy from One Piece - Rubber has got to changed your sense of touch right? Probably dulls it. No wonder luffy glomps on people if all everything is muted.

2 different Log Horizon fic ideas! - Shiroe was in the game for much longer than anyone else. No wonder he is well known. People think he is an npc but he was just there for longer. And second idea Log Horizon Soulmate idea. The other world just has soulmates. Shiroe and Akasuki. I would have to refresh my knowledge of that fandom.

Hopefully this gets my wheels turning. Also anyone is welcome to grab these ideas and run with them.

[nopesirthatisillegal]

My first attempt at writing anything about anything really

I find it hard to believe that my life has been abuse- my social life, nonexistent. Maybe its all from what's been drilled into me for so long- that they're only like this "because they love me" or "its for my own good".

It's currently 1:49 a.m. on March 1st, 2023. This is the first time I've had the "courage" to write anything, in the light of a little lamp in the shape of a moon.

Its hard to believe that I've become so numb inside - that the depression has come this far in me- the fact that i can't even cry- the fact that I am so ruined inside that life means almost nothing to me. If someone was to pun a gun to my head right now, the only problem I would have with it is the fact that I would leave the only person I truly love alone.

Those that i talk to tell me that my life has been abuse- not physical- although the threat was always there- but mental and emotional. I learned to keep my emotions hidden young- that meaning I got viciously yelled at when I cried when being lectured or spanked.

They tell me "you can trust us" and that I can tell them anything, but how can I do that when all they show me is how little they trust me over and over again, until I became afraid to speak of what I love on front of them for fear that that would be the next thing taken from me. I know now that they never meant it when they said that I could earn back their trust.

Recently I've become a very nervous person- or at least noticed it- especially at restaurants. I wanted to write this down in case I forget. We were waiting for a table in this very crowded Plaza Azteca (a mexican restaurant) last Saturday night, and so I was on the verge of a full blown panic attack, and I had brought in my drawing notebook to try to distract myself, not that it worked, when my father starts trying to be funny and tells me that i should draw one of the painting on the wall- I very politely told him not, i would not and continued drawing what I was drawing until my hands started to shake so badly that i was forced to stop.

My father then makes a second comment on how I should draw this painting (it was a very detailed face btw) and so I very clearly (but politely) told him no, so he got mad (he's not used to being denied) and started questioning me on why. I told him that: 1.) I did not have the time and 2.) I did not have the skill and 3.) i did not want to. After that I don't remember exactly what was said, but I do remember straight up saying "I have anxiety (which isn't like officially diagnosed but still there) and its really bad right now", and him responding with "don't give me that attitude" when I am about to start hyperventilating because there's around 20 very loud people in an area no bigger than 25 feet by 25 feet.

I also have a memory of my parents yelling at Zak (my older brother by 8 years) that depression was a sin when he had just trusted them enough to tell them, although I can't be 100% sure it actually happened, I remember it. It's now 2:53 a.m., and all I want is to not be me.

I don't trust people easily, but for those I do I would do almost anything for them not to feel like I do. But those who break that trust- I can never give it back. I might "forgive", but i can never forget, and I am ruthless in this numbness, only feeling the desire to punch- to hurt those who hurt me and Amy. I often wonder what- or who- the real monsters are- and if I am one of them.

But its 3:05 a.m., and I am out of space, so I guess its time to sleep

[rcksmith]

Felling — Five Hargreeves

Request: “Hi love could you maybe do #38 from the fluff prompts for Five where maybe Five is struggling with accepting the reader trying to be like romantic or affectionate with him !!! Thank you I love you !!!!”

Fluff Prompts:

38. “You say you hate it but your red face is telling me otherwise.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here!!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

I loved this request so much! I found it so cute and adorable!! ❤️ I hope it got close to what you wanted. I love you❤️

Here I used some fragments of Five's original chronology because it would help with the plot, but guys, keep in mind, please, that he is a 20 or more.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves/Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Just bad words, it is very fluff.

— — — — — —

The Hargreeves were a family full of wounds, trauma and deep-seated fears. They were trained to be super heroes. Strong, courageous, centered, perfect. And that was why no emotion could be on the way to that goal. Feeling love, passion, affection and affection was the gateway to becoming vulnerable. And a superhero couldn't be vulnerable. So they were denied that their whole lives.

Within each one pulsed a different problem, a different trauma. Denying love to a child only made him develop complications to connect with his emotions, feel empathy and be able to deal with different contrasts in a healthy way.

The Hargreeves brothers' lives were not easy, but some of them found, in the beginning, a way to connect with different types of love; Luther and Alissom for each other, Diego for the maternal love, Klaus and Ben in the partnership and complicity for each other. Vayna found her way in love for her brothers when her biggest internal problems were resolved.

But Five... well, Five was alone in the abyss of the apocalypse.

He did not have a chance to mature his feelings, deal with his psychological and transform the various traumas into something productive and healthy. Then, in the midst of loneliness, devastation and chaos, Five just threw his feelings under the rug until, like his childhood brothers, they stopped harassing him.

As they never had the opportunity to mature, those sensations remained on a primitive level. And his complications to bond with his emotions became even more broken when Five had to kill for the Commission.

Facing death and being the author of such devastation was not a mild endeavor. The smell of death was still in the air if Five stopped to concentrate on breathing, and the murder scenes were still fresh in his mind when he slept. But, just as Five did with any feeling, he just pushed them under the rug once again.

He didn't want to deal with them. They brought, for Five, pains, fears, weaknesses and a constant reminder that, perhaps, he... had failed in many things. And Five hated seeing himself as a failure.

And that was when he came home. And even when the waters have calmed down, when the winter breeze gently touched his face, when he can rest, dealing with feelings was something he still repudiated.

But that's when Five met you, and his whole world was turned upside down. When you first looked into his eyes, fierce, warm heat swept through Five's body, from the top of his head to his toes. The heat immediately gave way to a cold sweat.

Five thought it was just a second of madness, in which his system had given a blue screen for something else, not for you. But as soon as you smiled at him, there was a quick feeling of being stabbed near the diaphragm or in the belly. His composure didn't waver an inch, but he felt like he couldn't breathe.

The situation took on unimaginable proportions. You are going the Hargreeves mansion a lot times , since, what has been said, you were friends with the brothers, and Five lived lost in an agitated sea of ​​exasperating feelings whenever he was near you.

You were brilliant as the sun, smiling as happiness, beautiful as masterpieces and stunning as the evening. You were the personification of…Perfection, was the Five thought at the time. And it almost broke his heart, because he could never have you for himself.

Five couldn't because, as much as he refused to admit it, wouldn't know how. He couldn't because the whirlwind of emotions was a fierce scream that caused a stir in his mind. Five looked at you and saw a masterpiece - sublime and human art at the same time - and he didn't know how to name those emotions. And now, unexpectedly trapped by the intensity, Five was unable to reason properly when he was close to you.

All he could see was an excessively beautiful girl who was standing in front of him as something he wanted very much. And if you understood the state Five was in whenever you talked to him, you would have stopped at the first sentence. No, if you really understood, you would end up running as fast as you could. But you could not understand what Five did not understand.

So he preferred the loneliness of the apocalypse to those emotions that made him feel hot and cold at the same time, which seemed like his stomach was filling with birds, all beating their wings and trying to escape, and then his hands started to shake.

Five didn't know what it was all about, a mixture of emotions; attraction, passion, an overwhelming desire to touch you. But even if he knew how to name it all, he wouldn't know how to act. Five was a genius, he could solve the biggest equations about space and time with his eyes closed, but as a lover, however, he put his feet in his hands.

Five never thought of the most tender emotions without coldness and objectivity, they were great to justify the actions of human beings. But you have revoked absolutely everything.

Over time, it started to hurt physically in Five not to touch you, not to succumb to the most overwhelming wills. And then, one night he took refuge in a bottle of vodka, you walked in the door and it was the end for Five. He got up from the bar, came to you in determined and firm steps, and, sending everything to hell, held your face in his hands and kissed you as if he wanted to do this for a lifetime. Maybe more.

You were the opposite of Five. It was as if you were the heat and he was the ice, day and night. You burned like summer heat and Five burned like winter cold. You were everything Five was not: extroverted, agitated, knew how to deal with emotions very well, you were passionate, caring, loving, you loved physical contact. So when you returned the kiss, Five felt himself burning with your warm touch.

You wrapped your fingers around the black strands on the back of his neck, letting him put your bodies together and the kiss started to heat up. And then you said:

“You're beautiful.”

And that's where Five fell in love with you. He fell in love because when you took a breath and looked into his eyes when you said that, he felt like you could see the depths of his soul, all the secrets, all the sins, all the fears. You knew him, deeply.

Five was no longer able to stay away from you after this event. He always chose your side at a table, he was very less acid in conversation whit you were. And when you two played chess, and he let you win on purpose just to see your happy smile and your eyes shining, he knew was in trouble.

While Five tried to deal with so many new emotions and so many traumas, you were the opposite. You have been in love with him for so long, even when you saw his painting on top of the fireplace, you felt something different. So when you two kissed, came closer, you let your feelings out.

You were a loving person by nature, you loved hugging people, physical contact. You were an incorrigible romantic and, to be honest, you loved being like that. You loved feeling too much.

So with Five it was no different. You liked holding hands, hugs, more tender kisses and also quick hello kisses or bye. You loved touching physically, either way. But being like that taught you that many people didn't taste the same as you. And in the case of the Hargreeves, so broken and lost, dealing with feelings was not easy, especially to express it physically.

But with Five it was… more difficult.

He was very reserved, controlled, closed. You felt perfectly when he went rigid whenever you touched him: any affection on the arm, kiss on the cheek when you had to go to college, hugs.

You started to think that maybe he didn't like you that much or didn't want something serious, but Five was always looking for you. Whether showing up at your apartment, in your room, or going to be near you at the mansion or kissing you. So you ended up realizing that he just didn't handle feelings well.

It was very cold that night, you were in your room with the books and college notebooks on the bed, trying to solve some calculus equations, otherwise you would end up repeating in that subject. Your head was already pounding and you were getting frustrated, it was definitely not for you and your desire was to hit your head on the book and give up.

“What a nightmare.” You mumbled.

“What a nightmare?”

The voice at your side made you scream out in fright, turning to the left and seeing Five standing on the edge of your bed. The distilled moonlight came in through your open window and bathed the man in front of him with a builder in his black hair and alabaster skin, you held your breath, Five was always so beautiful that he should be considered a crime.

His hands were in the pockets of his dark pants, followed by the shirt and blazer from the Academy uniform. Five looked at you with a small condescending smile in the corner of your mouth, and you felt your heart pounding.

“Ah, it's just a college subject.” You sighed, looking at the notebooks in front of you “It's a nightmare.”

Then Five leaned forward, looking closely at your notes.

“You know where you went wrong, don't you?”

You jaw dropped, and you turned to the notebooks with your calculations. That was the only exercise that you thought was correct.

You felt frustration rising from your feet to your head, snaking through your body. You snorted, running your hand through your hair, it had been hours since you tried to understand that misfortune.

“I will never graduate, that's it. I accept the defeat of the God of mathematics.” You grunted, leaving the pencil on top of the books, giving up.

Five laughed softly, sitting beside your bed, still far enough away not to touch you.

“Give me the pencil.” He pointed to the object and you handed it over.

You frowned when Five pulled your notes to him, balanced the pencil in your other hand and redo your calculations at the end of the sheet.

You should have paid attention to what Five was doing, at each step, but the truth was that you got lost looking at him. The winter breeze shook his black strands as if they were a cloth from the night sky, his emerald green eyes were focused, and a slight crease on his forehead indicated that he was concentrating.

Your heart raced, the world seemed to stop breathing and the air took on a caustic and magical intonation. You would show all your shadows if Five showed his, you would do anything to show how sublime he was.

Then Five looked up at you, and the hemisphere seemed to make sense that second. So you leaned over and kissed him. You kissed because there was no cell in you that didn't want to kiss him. Because Five was a young god and you were just a mortal surrendered to his charms.

But you felt his muscles go rigid, the spontaneous physical contact catching him off guard.

Five burned in contradictions. It burned in the hot fire of passion and burned in the icy heat of feelings. Your touch was potent and had an overwhelming effect on Five.

He wondered what would happen if he had sex with you at that moment. Would he burn in your heat or would he be consumed by troubled emotions? Would he feel every part of your body pulse or would he lose himself in the confusion of his own mind?

Five gently parted his lips, still close enough for his breath to hit your lips.

“I feel your tension. Everything is fine.” You commented quietly.

Five just breathed, his eyes confirming to you what his words didn't say.

“I'm sorry for everything you've been through.” You were sincere, and cautiously put your hand under his. “But you have to understand that it’s normal and good to feel emotions. It's okay not to understand them. Feelings are not like math.”

Five felt your touch become more present, and you gently approach. He should have said something, but his body started to contradict his mind and he got lost in a blue shambles. He desperately wanted you. Wanted to fuck you until feel you completely and kiss you until taste love. But he also wanted to get away. He wanted to go away and push all those feelings and emotions under the rug.

But when you sat closer to him, and your hands cupped his face, Five realized he couldn't leave.

“How would you react if I did that..”

Then he noticed your mischievous smile, and before he could say anything, you held him more firmly, and filled any part of his face with kisses that you could reach.

You laughed between Five's kisses and protests. But you only stopped after the twentieth kiss. Five was marked with your lipstick, his eyes closed for you, his face in a warning expression.

“Y/N!” He grunted, wiping his face “Are you crazy?”

But his cheeks were red and you could feel his temperature high from where you were.

You laughed louder, settling on the bed.

“.You say you hate it but your red face is telling me otherwise.” You pointed at his cheeks, waved your index finger between them, signaling.

Five frowned even more, trying to wipe the lipstick marks off his face. But slowly, a little smile was struggling to come to his face.

“You are smiling!”

“You are so childish!” he rolled his eyes, but his voice was soft.

“You love Me!” Then you threw yourself at him again, kissing his face where the marks had been cleaned.

Five grunted, but ended up just resting his hands on your waist, feeling ... relaxing.

When you stopped laughing and looked at him, Five held his gaze. Gently, his right hand went to your face, removing a lock of your hair from your eyes.

“I think you're right.”

His voice was low, like a summer breeze, and yours eyes lit up when you understood the meaning of what he was talking about. But Five didn't give you time to answer, he leaned over and captured your lips in a passionate kiss.

You love him too.

[idontblushsrry]

Kyoya Ootori||SFW Alphabet

A/N: Here’s Kyoya 4 more to go!

Word Count: 1753

A: Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Kyoya shows affection very subtly. Honestly you might feel like you’re stuck in a Victorian novel especially at the beginning of your relationship. He’ll brush his hand along the back of yours and then smile at you like oh that was intentional, ok. He’s really trying his best, but he’s not very obvious with his affection, all of his love tends to be conveyed through words and actions of caring.

B: Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

As a best friend, Kyoya is lowkey a gossip. He’s not going to tell everyone what information he has but if you come up to him complaining about how so and so was bothering you, he’s already got a journal full of secrets and he’s ready to ruin someone’s career.

C: Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Kyoya likes to cuddle but he prefers to be the big spoon, this is solely because he doesn’t want to be woken up early just because you had to go to the bathroom or something. He only cuddles during night time and if you do wake up before him, he’s pretty easily fooled if you just replace your body with a pillow.

D: Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He definitely wants to settle own, not just because of his family and him feeling like he’s obligated to settle down, but also just because he’s a traditional person in the sense that he wants to marry the person he fell in love with. As for domestic skills, Kyoya can’t cook or clean for SHIT. The only skill he’s got is probably managing finances and things along those lines but if you asked him to cook, he’d somehow find a way to burn water, just a bad time for everyone involved.

E: Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If Kyoya doesn’t break up with you via text message (or letter if he’s feeling fancy), he honestly probably just tells you upfront that he doesn’t view your relationship as something he has a vested interest in continuing. Ouch. 

F: Fiance(e) (How would they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Commitment for Kyoya has always ben somewhat of an obligation. He feels like he has to propose to you if you’re relationship is becoming serious. He’ll discuss it with you of course, but the man is very committed to those he loves and what better way to show that than marriage?

G: Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Not very physically gentle, again, he’s just not very physically affectionate. When he does initiate physical affection with you it’s always with a measure of unsureness and caution. Emotionally, he’s a bit more gentle. Kyoya looks for the type of person who can keep up with him especially intellectually, with him it’s like no words are needed, you both just get it.

H: Hugs( Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Kyoya’s hugs kinda suck. He doesn’t give them often, let alone initiate them, and if you hug him, he’ll just stand there kinda surprised and at a loss for what to do. At least he’s nice to hug, he’s got this cologne that smells like a warm fireplace during a winter storm that smells so comforting.

I: I love you (How fast do they say the L-word)

You definitely say ‘I love you’ before Kyoya. He expresses his love through tender gazes and lovesick smiles so he definitely assumes you get the message. However, if you express to Kyoya that you’d like to hear him say that he loves you, he’ll oblige.

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous)

Kyoya doesn’t really get jealous, it’s not a matter of arrogance, more like, he knows that you’re with him and he’s with you. He doesn’t act out either on the off chance that he does get jealous because he was raised to bottle things up. In fact, the most Kyoya’s ever been jealous was in the beginning of your relationship/before you were dating where he was sure someone was gonna come by and sweep you away.

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

The way Kyoya kisses is by cradling your face and just kinda going for it. He prefers to kiss you on the lips but he doesn’t mind placing them elsewhere if things get more intimate.

L: Little ones (How are they around children)

Kyoya kind of sucks around children. He’s not rude to them or anything of that sort but he just doesn’t find himself having anything in common with them and doesn’t really care for the topics they find interesting.

M: Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings with Kyoya depend on if he’s off or not. If he has work or an early morning obligation of some sort, you’ll probably have to wake him up. He sets alarms but he’ll just swat at his alarm and then go back to bed, can’t exactly do that with your s/o now can you? However, if he has the day off or doesn’t have to wake up early, he won’t let you leave the bed until he’s ready to wake up. He’s surprisingly hard to move when he’s dead asleep like that.

N: Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights with Kyoya, he tends to stay up late and then just pass out on the nearest surface. If you happen to be awake long enough or pass him on the way to the kitchen/bathroom/etc., please move him into your bed. He will complain about his back problems if you don’t, if you can’t move him (which fair tbh he does deadweight) please give him a blanket and pillow, when he wakes up, it means the world to him.

O: Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Kyoya reveals things very gradually to you over time, he’s a very layered person and while certain aspects of his true personality may bubble up, you’re gonna have to put the full picture together on your own. Unless you’re like Tamaki and can just see through all his bs. 

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Kyoya is actually pretty easy to anger. This is because of his no nonsense attitude as well as his general grumpiness with the world. Although, no anger can top Kyoya’s anger from being woken up early.

Q: Quizzes (How much would they remember about you?  Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Kyoya remembers every detail you’re willing to share with him. He writes most of it in his notebook but somethings he likes to keep to himself and surprise you with later on.

R: Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment in your relationship was when you suggested your next date be at a flower viewing. Kyoya initially thought it might just be like a boring “commoner” thing to do but as the date went on, he ended up really enjoying himself. The sight of you surrounded by flowers was also a plus

S: Security (How protective are they? How would they like to be protected?)

Kyoya’s family has essentially a private police force, in addition he also has personal guards, best believe, you are protected. Don’t even worry about trying to protect him either, he has people on payroll for that

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Kyoya puts a lot of effort into dates, anniversaries, and gifts. The man always knows when there’s a special occasion coming up and has already planned for every step of the day. As for dates in general, he likes to spoil you. He has absolutely no problem with flying you to somewhere like Okinawa for example, just because

U: Ugly (What are some bad habits of theirs? (I’m gonna add arguments here because they aren’t on the prompt list I found))

A bad habit Kyoya has is that he tends to try and test people and their limits with no prompting. He’s very secretive in general so that plus his sudden decisions to test people can lead to some bad arguments. The worst argument you’ve gotten into to date is when he suddenly started flirting back with his guests during the regular day and you got jealous and snapped.

V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Kyoya is concerned with his looks in the sense that he has a reputation to uphold. He’s not arrogant by any means but he does take pride in looking good. Plus Tamaki recommended a skin care routine to him once and now he’s hooked

W: Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He views you as his better, he doesn’t feel incomplete without you but he can feel himself turning back into his sort of middle school self pre-Tamaki when you aren’t around.

X: (E)xes (Any previous relationship experience. How does that factor into your current relationship?)

He has no previous relationship experience. He has experience flirting of course and he’s had crushes before but he’s new to this, please be gentle.

Y: Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner)

Kyoya doesn’t like people with forceful personalities. He tolerates it for the sake of being polite and his image if nothing else but this man cannot stand when people are pushy and always have to get their way. He also hates boring people.

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Canonically Kyoya is a heavy sleeper, this can be kind of an issue at times. He’s a hard worker who stays up late on things he’s passionate about which means he might fall asleep on whatever’s closest. There’s been more than one occasion where you’ve walked over to him sound asleep on his laptop with a document covered in keysmash from where he slumped on the computer.

[spidernerdsblog]

Hey!! Can I request something with Peter dating a physics nerd and she's going on and on about the theories that she believes and he's just sat there looking at her with puppy eyes, cause he thinks you are just really smart?

I’m a huge science nerd myself lol. Hope you like this...

Pairing : Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings : none, gets slightly pg at the end tho 

You were at Peter’s apartment sitting on his bed while he was at his desk busy completing your respective assignments. After sometime you sigh audibly, throwing back your head in frustration because you weren’t able to solve a particular problem for the last 20 minutes. You groaned further annoyed catching Peter’s attention as he turned to you with a look of concern in his eyes.

“What happened babe?”

“Uggh! I’m stuck with this stupid problem!” you groaned.

“Where? Let me have a look” he stands up from his desk and sits beside you on the bed.

“Here I just can’t balance this reaction at all!” you complained handing over your notebook to him.

“Oh it’s easy. I got this” he says, taking a quick glance at the chemical equation as he scribbles something on your notebook.

“Here it’s done, you had to take the molar mass instead of the atomic number”

“Wow! Peter you’re such a genius” you looked at him with adoration.

“Oh says the genius herself I’m honored” he says bashfully.

“Shut up! I’m not as good as you” you smack his chest lightly.

“Oh please don’t tell me that if I had to ask you all the theories proposed by Stephen Hawking you wouldn’t recite them in one single breath?” he quips, narrowing his gaze.

“That’s a little exaggeration” you retort 

“I don’t think so. Only I know how much of a big fan you’re of him”

“Fan?!” you gasped visibly offended to what Peter just said “Peter, Hawking’s is my idol. His theories as a physicist are groundbreaking without him who could have imagined that we would get to photograph a black hole?” you gushed “Like before the big bang there were no boundaries in the universe even time didn’t exist” you pupils dilated with excitement as you spoke more and more about it 

“Did you read his last book?”

“No Y/N still haven’t got the chance” Peter replies meekly.

“You should read it!” you exclaim “There he talks about the possibility of time travel. I know Mr Stark has already done that but it required high tech equipment. But sadly we are broke so travelling through wormholes is our only option. Did Mr Stark ever think of a possibility of a wormhole in our dimension?” you ask him with great enthusiasm.

“I don’t know but we can talk to him about it” you didn’t even listen to him as you started to talk about your own assumptions and theories and Peter just sat there listening to you patiently.

“Now if we consider Einstein’s words he said that the force of gravity is a consequence of the way mass warps space and time. The more mass we squeeze into a region of space, the more spacetime is warped and the slower nearby clocks tick. If we squeeze in enough mass, spacetime becomes so warped that even light cannot escape its gravitational pull and a black hole is formed. And if you were to approach the edge of the black hole – its event horizon – your clock would tick infinitely slowly relative to those far away from it” you rambled.

All this while Peter just quietly listened to you occasionally humming to agree to your theories as he looked at his geeky girlfriend with heart eyes. He loved how excited you get when you talk about your interests, how your eyes twinkle automatically and a bright smile adorns your face. He can just listen to you all day every word that comes out of your mouth feels like music to him. Sometimes he wonders how did he get so lucky to have a beauty with brains like you as his girlfriend.

“Peter are you even listening?” you ask him in between breaking his trance.

“Hmm? Yea-yeah carry on” he blinks his eyes stuttering as you carried on.

“So as per his postulates if we discover a wormhole interdimensional travel will be a piece of cake - oh shit…” you paused in the middle all of a sudden. 

“What happened?” Peter asked frowning

“I did again, didn't I?” you squinted embarrassed at how you got carried away.

“What?”

“I just bored you with my unnecessary physics theories again” you say sheepishly. 

“Hey no it was quite informative to be honest” he tries to cheer you up.

“Don’t lie Peter” you pout.

“I’m not!” he exclaims.

“I’m really sorry Peter this won’t happen again you could have just stopped me you know”

“Hey, hey,hey” he cups your face with his calloused palms “I know Y/N how much you love this subject and I can’t wait to see discovering new things in this field. And then I’ll be the biggest fan of your works” he says, his eyes full of admiration for you.

“Really? You don’t think I’m crazy?” you looked at him questioningly.

“Nope instead I think you look so cute while you explain things. You’re a genius Y/N, never be embarrassed about that” he said making you blush “okay now let’s finish the leftover assignment shall we?” you nodded as he went up to his desk.

“By the way have you read kamasutra?” you ask out of nowhere making Peter choke on his spit as he turned to you bewildered.

“Seriously Y/N??!”

“What? It has some pretty interesting theories which we can apply practically you know” you shrugged with a mischievous smile.

“I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t say that, god you’re crazy” he shakes his head flustered as you let out a carefree giggle.

[creepling]

am i not enough? (quackity x reader) - apocalypse!AU

( 。・_・。)人(。・_・。 ) | part of the @quackisinnit 1k event !

THE PROMPT IS . . . “ AM I NOT ENOUGH ? “

pairing: irl!quackity x genderneutral!reader (apocalypse!AU)

word count: 3,306

summary: the reader and alex become a duo while coming across each others paths during a zombie apocalypse. tensions rise as they set up camp in a warehouse, where alex begins to confess how he feels towards the reader. (angst into fluff <33)

tw: zombie apocalypse, blood (ment), cursing, guns, death, eating.

It had been three months since the fallen of mundane life. Three months of complete abnormality, everything known to be in existence that was worth caring about; completely gone. jobs, currency, education were becoming a historic relic. The world was put back to zero. Instead of cavemen and dinosaurs, the new species of flesh-eating corpse’s roamed in packs and seeked for fresh meat. They may have been slow, but they travelled in numbers and they could smell you from a mile away. I learned that your scent became less of a problem when you didn’t keep hygenic. My stence blended with the earth and blood and the roamers didn’t catch us out as much; so we used that to our advantage.

I only had one companion, his name was Alex. He was absolutely dumbfounded when I discovered him. I raided his abandoned home looking for supplies, and when I had to kill a roamer that vacaded in his bedroom; I found him curled up in a ball under his bed. He told me that he had been hiding the whole month when he realised help was to never come; so his only plan was to hide out until he ran out of supplies. That became a problem when I attempted to take them. We made the mutual agreement that if I was to take the supplies, he would come with me. I refused to stay and hide; that is how you get yourself killed. Thankfully he agreed to come with me, and we have been inseperable ever since. However, our bond is nothing close to a friendship, we just had to stick together to survive.

Alex’s main idea was to find a group, hoping by now someone had turned one of the surbubans into a mini civilization. We had travelled between three cities however and we found no sign of good company. As a duo, we have only killed one human within these three months. A man who tried to kill us at gunpoint in hopes of taking our things, to which we scarsely saved our lives by ducking behind a bar table. With one aimless shoot, I shot my gun and it pierced through the man’s chest. I saved our lives, but the sight of the man’s lifeless eyes still haunts me in my sleep. 

One night, Alex found a two-store warehouse to shelter in while on a supply run. He suggested we camp on the second floor and catch up on our sleep and starvation, since we eventually got ahold of sleeping bags and tinned food. I agreed, but reminded him the stay can’t be perminant. He agreed also, still fixated on the idea of finding a commune.

While I made a fire and cooked food, I obvserved Alex drawing in a notepad. I failed to make out what he was doing so I asked, “What are you drawing?”

“I’m trying to draw a map.” He said to me, “It’s not accurate, but it will give us a rough idea of the roads until we find a map.”

“I didn’t take you as a smart person.” I said, hoping he didn’t think I meant it seriously. It was rare for me to joke in times like these, but when I did, my humour came off dry. Thankfully, my comment made Alex scoff out a chuckle.

“And I didn’t take you for a fighter.” Alex said. Since being with each other for two months, we both naturally adopted different roles that benefitted us. Alex was the navigator, the finder; he seemed to have a good sense of direction and I relied on him to not get lost. He also had a good eye and was always good at finding things such as second-way exits or food hiding in obscure places. For me, my job was a lot more physical. I was a good shoot, I knew how to make a fireplace, or bandage a wound. When things got dirty, I would get lucky and save our asses.

“Your food’s ready.” I said, handing him his warm can of chicken soup and a packet of chips. He thanked me, putting his notebook down and sitting cross-legged beside me. As we ate we sat in silence, the only sounds in the warehouse being our mouths chewing the food. We hadn’t ate in nearly a week. I tried my best to chew my chips before swallowing so I didn’t end up with stomache pain, but the instant flavour shot through my tongue and I instinctly ate them quickly. Alex finished his food within minutes, licking the chip packet and his fingers; scraping every last bit of soup from the can and into his mouth. I reluctantly did the same, feeling a little embarrassed; I have never felt so starved in my life. 

“That was fucking amazing.” Alex sighed out, now heating his hands over the fire. I nodded in agreement, collecting the empty tin cans and keeping them next to our things. They will be handy for traps, tying them with strings and hanging them in the woods while hunting would let us know of intruders. It was the small things like that that has made us survive this long.

“Are you gonna go to sleep now? I could keep watch.” I offered, observing Alex’s bloodshot eyes. If we had mirrors, we would flinch at our reflections. Alex looked rough. He always wore his beanie, which he apparently did even before things got bad. He always had a collective spot of dirt on his nose and cheekbones no matter how clean we were, it’s where it always collected the most. His hands were the most dirty, dirt under his short nails and inbetween his fingers. From the rare occasions we touched hands, I felt the softness of his hands, compared to mine that felt aged and rough. His knuckles were stained with blood. Out of both of us, I was covered in the most blood. When I looked down, my hands had a reddish tint, observing more I could see small cuts on my hands from being idle with my knife when striking roamer’s heads. Without having to see, I knew I had sprays of blood on my face from the amount of times I killed roamers. To think when life was normal we cared so much about our appearence, but now activities like doing makeup, brushing your hair, brushing your teeth seemed so pointless. We were slowly becoming used to primitive life and deep down that scared me. I think it scared Alex too.

“I’m tired as fuck, but I know I won’t sleep.” Alex said in a low tone, looking at his hands full of shame. I nodded my head in understanding, knowing exactly how he was feeling. We hadn’t slept properly in months, instead when one person kept watch, the other just lay down with their eyes closed. We forgot what it was like to dream, or to feel hazy. We were constantly alert.

“Since we have no intention of sleeping. Why don’t we play a game?” Alex said. I cocked my eyebrow up in question. What game could we play that didn’t involve making noise and attracting attention?

“We ask each other 20 questions. Normally if you don’t want to answer a question- you would have to do a dare. But hey, wants the point in hiding nowadays?” Alex said, looking at me contently.

“We should be hiding ourselves more than ever, I think.” I said, adding fuel to the fire to keep it burning. “That way no one knows our weaknesses.”

“So you don’t trust me?” Alex said. His question threw me off. It’s not that I didn’t trust him, but maybe I was unwilling to get to know him. I had already lost the people close to me, and I was still in grieving. I was too afraid to get close with Alex. I always had the thought in the back of my head that one day, I might end up losing him. His intelligence may only get him so far.

“I understand.” Alex said, taking back his question. Seeing the hurt in my eyes, he must have realized what I was thinking. He lost his close ones too. We both lost so much, we had a mutual understanding about that. Yet, I looked at Alex, and he still felt like a mystery to me. He always pulled out jokes, even in times like these. However, in moments when he thought I wasn’t looking, I could see the pain concealed in his face. Sometimes I even heard him cry at night when he thought I was sleeping. Maybe it was about time we opened up to each other, instead of feeling like we need to suffer alone. We could be there for each other not just physically, but emotionally.

“Okay then, since it was your idea, you ask the first question.” I said, hugging my legs to my chest. Alex smiled a little at me, going into thought as he tried to think of a question.

“So, what did you do when life was normal?” He asked first.

I let out a sigh then replied, “I had a very normal life. Lived with my family, did average in school, worked a job to get money. I actually had plans of moving out to the city, I always wanted to go to LA. I never really had aspirations, just wanted to be content.” It sounded boring, but I was happy with my life. I had my ups and downs like everyone else. “What were you like?”

Alex smirked and looked away from me, seeming to become bashful. “I was a twitch streamer.” He said. “And had a Youtube channel. God- it sounds so stupid now that I say it. Like it was all pointless-”

“Were you like- famous?” I asked, trying to conceal a smile.

“Um- I guess you could say that. I had millions of followers.” Alex shook his head, “But I also went to college. I was studying law. I was always staying up late, barely sleeping; both studying and streaming all the time. It took up my whole life, that I just kinda forgot about everything else.”

“Well, you were obviously not famous, because I didn’t know who you were.” I jokingly said, nudging his side. That seemed to make him smile and feel less embarassed.

“So how the hell did you learn how to shoot if you lived such a normal life?” He asked.

“I just learned while doing it. My dad kept a gun.” I admitted, looking at the very same gun I had in the holster wrapped around my thigh. “He would teach me now and then how to use it, but I was never a shooter. The more roamers I shot, the more I got used to it.” Thinking about someone close to me made me chew the inside of my cheek anxiously.

To deflate my melancholy, I asked the next question. “Did you always wear that stupid hat?”

Alex chuckled and rubbed the top of his hat. “Yeah, twenty-four seven. I don’t why, I just find it comfortable. My “fans” would joke that I was bald because I never showed my hair.” He said, “God- saying the word fans sounds fucked up . . .”

“Maybe you’ll bump into one of them.” I said, “Heck- maybe there’s a commune right now dedicated to you, trying to find you and keep you safe.”

Alex laughed again, covering his face with his hands. I laughed alongside him, the first time I genuinely laughed in a good few weeks. Looking at Alex, seeing how I uplifted him, it struck a chord with me. As much as I didn’t like to show it, but he made affects on me that were indescribable. He made me feel just a little more contempt, without him I would probably not be able to cope for this long. We eventually locked eyes with each other, Alex’s gaze being longer than I expected. If it wasn’t for the blood, my face would have exposed the blush forming on my cheeks.

“Have you ever fell in love, (Y/N)?” Alex then asked me, which set me aback. The question was out the blew and I think Alex realised that as he looked away shyly, his gaze fixated on the flames of the fire to avoid my gaze. I still stared at him, almost in amazment, trying to conjuct a reasonable answer.

“I don’t know.” I answered. “I have loved people, yes, but- I don’t think I have been in love. You’re suppose to know when things like that happen, right?”

Alex didn’t answer me, he kept staring at the fire. I found myself admiring his side profile, watching how he slowly bit his lip; concealed in thought. I noticed how the glow of the flames contrasted with the darkness of his eyes, how the light outlined his complexion. When I realized I was staring for too long, I looked away, instead my eyes looked out the warehouse window, my eyes tracing the stars in the night sky. 

“I feel like I have known you forever.” Alex admitted all at once. “It’s only been two months, but I have gotten close to you more than anyone I have in my whole life. It might sound crazy but- I believe we were suppose to come together that day.”

My gaze turned back to Alex when I felt his eyes lay upon me. His stare was soft, something I only seen in passing times. I was able to admire him for the first time since we met. In this moment, in the dead of night, away from danger and suspicion; I could look at him with full sentiment. I didn’t need to admire him when he was less suspecting it, afraid of receiving decline or making things awkward. In this moment I realized, I may have developed feelings more than companionship towards him. That excited me. But also terrified me.

“I feel that way with you, Alex.” I admitted, “But . . .”

I decided to choose my words carefully. This conversation was heading in a direction that made me nervous. The world is falling apart around us, and I couldn’t help but question our motives. We should be focusing on survival, not developing a relationship that could be destroyed at any second. Once we step out this warehouse, our chances of losing our lives become high. I wasn’t prepared to damage my mental state, it was already bad enough. I realized my long pause was making Alex shift nervously, so I looked at him in hopes my words would slip from my mouth.

I caved in, muttering lowly, “We should get some rest.” I got up on my feet and was ready to grab my sleeping bag and make up a place to rest, until I heard Alex get his his feet and say words that made my heart sink.

“Am I not enough?”

When I turned to look at him, the hurt was glistening in his eyes. He gulped dryly and he fumbled with his fingers. My eyes shifted from side to side as I was stuck with my words. I kept stammering, and I rubbed my face in stress, ready to plead my case. Until Alex jumped in.

“Don’t think I’m only saying these things to you because there is no one else, (Y/N). I have been thinking about this for a while, everytime I am left with my thoughts. I am certain I will still have the same feelings if we met when things didn’t go to shit. I don’t just think this because we have been the only people for each other. I really really like you, (Y/N). And because of the way the world is, I never want to lose you. I never want you to feel alone ever again. I not only want to protect you because we’re a team, I want to protect you because the thought of losing you pains me so much.”

For a split second I thought Alex was about to burst into tears. That was when I did something I thought I would never do again, which was pull him into my embrace. I hugged Alex so tight that I heard him gasp, freeze, until he eventually wrapped his arms around me and held me just as tight. My face buried into the crook of his neck, feeling the warmth of his body, his soft hands caressing my back and brushing his thumb down my spine in a soothing manner.

“You are enough, Alex.” I said, my words muffled by his body. I reached my lips to his ear so he could hear my words clearly. “I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to like me, or be forced to like me just because we were brought together. I was afraid you thought you were stuck with me.”

I anticipated the day that once we meet other life, Alex would slowly fade away and forget who I was. Once he meets other people, we would go our seperate ways. I never knew why the hypothetical idea pained me so much, until now. As Alex pulled away from my embrace, looking me in the eyes in a loving manner that was foreign to me, his hands on my shoulders, I realized why that idea made my heart feel heavy. I never want him to leave me, I want him to always be by my side. Alex’s gaze was enough proof that he wanted the same.

Stimulated by his touch, I was taken aback when I felt his hand cup my cheek. The warmth of his breath breezing against my cheek, I inhaled as if oxygene was nonexistent. I never realized the proximity between us was slowly closing in and when I did my eyes fluttered shut. Alex hesitated for a split second before pressing his soft lips against my own. My neck bent slightly backwards and I shifted my head to the side to deepen into our kiss, my blood-stained hands grabbing the edges of his open jacket and holding him dearly close. The heat of the kiss intermingled with the heat from the fire, my cheeks and ears grew hot. Alex’s hands were surprisingly warm as he reached his hands under my shirt, pressing his fingers and palms on the middle of my back before running his touch down my spine. My breath became shaky and I felt my legs grow heavy under me, my hands cupped the back of his neck to keep myself uplifted, and luckily Alex’s arms held my weight and pressed my body against his. It felt like hours had went by between our lips moving in sync, our tongues grazing our bottom lip’s, our hands moving and resting on different parts of our bodies. His touch felt contagious, his kisses ranging between soft and passionate. I didn’t want to stop, I never wanted to let go. Between kisses I would mutter you are enough, you are enough which made Alex smile against my lips.

That night, everything we had to worry about became last priority. The focus all throughout was each other, making up for the days where affection couldn’t be shown. In the dead of night, there wasn’t a roamer in sight. Instead of hearing narls and groans or screams of pain, there was only the faint sounds of nature. The full moon glistened, as if to be a prediction for the emotions spilling between us. I promised myself from this moment on, as I admired Alex, I would protect him no matter what. I will make sure he always feels safe as long as he is beside me. He will always be enough, if not more.

TAGLIST: @momo-has-a-gun @diggorysmalfoy @quack42069​ (join my taglist)

[alicemitch09writes]

lame

04.

a fist full of fuck you

Junior school was always a rough patch for you and Izuku, especially because it was the reign of Bakugou Katsuki amongst the horde of crazy pubescent teens. On the first day at Aldera Junior High, he had made it clear that he was going to rule the school and become top, leaving the two of you out the dust.

Of course, with an acquired quirk and confidence like his, it was easy to assert his dominance. And with his rising fame and sheer dominance, the two of you were immediately cast out, because you didn’t have quirks. (It was easy to hide the fact that you had a nocturnal quirk anyway)

Throughout junior high, your only friend was Izuku, you didn't mind. But despite being the 'quirkless girl' nobody dared to cross you because you were a bit of a delinquent, a bona fide fighter who could beat anyone – with a quirk or not, to a pulp. Still, you tried to avoid fights for Izuku’s sake, your family name’s sake, and because you didn’t want to give in to their jeers. (You also had that annoying promise to keep.)

Due to your closeness, rumors began to spread of your relationship with Izuku, which you didn't correct. After all, nobody seemed to give two shits when you were younger, nor do they seem to care now. So, what was the point anyway? Izuku was your best friend, he was like a brother to you. He felt the same.

And as for Bakugou? Well, he was happy in his own little bubble, reigning, terrorizing, the occasional name-calling towards you or Izuku, casting explosions as a warning whenever your paths crossed.

It was your last year, if you could remember perfectly, your teacher had just passed out papers, happily announcing that everyone was going to take heroics. Beside you, you could see Izuku meekly shrinking in himself as the whole class went wild at the prospect of getting into a kickass school, especially granted with their own unique talents. Scoff.

However, Bakugou rose as the best – of course, besting everyone, even receiving praise from your ass of a teacher. He had no problem with calling them out as worthless extras to his great glory.

Per the norm, you and Izuku were alienated by the whole thing, but it didn’t phase you one bit. But when your teacher announced Izuku’s desire to enter UA, that’s when you phased, as his announcement caused everyone in the class to go deathly silent.

A smile immediately crossed your lips as you turned to your best friend, meeting his gaze and giving a supportive thumbs up when the class exploded into laughter. The smile turned into a scowl at the motherfuckers you call your classmates, even your teacher! Pathetic really.

“Izuku, pay them no mind-“

An explosion blasted before you could finish, the force causing the green-haired boy to jump back. Alarmed, you immediately were on your feet, watching as Bakugou lashed out on your friend. Venomous, mocking words were leaving his mouth, causing your friend to shrink even more, the class watching in glee as the school’s top student was putting the reckless boy in his place.

Having enough, you ran towards your friend, angrily shouldering the blond boy aside, crouching a little to offer a hand. “Izuku, can you stand?”

At the sight of you, his eyes lit, hands just reaching out to take yours before one of your classmates jeered behind you.

“Oh look, it’s the quirkless girl out to help the quirkless boy! How cute!”

“Haven’t you heard? She’s not taking heroics, she’s just gonna head to some generic lame-ass quirkless school to be with the rest of her lame ass quirkless normies. What a loser!”

“Just as I thought, the quirkless gotta stick together!”

The class laughed at that.

“And what of it?” you said, Izuku finally on his feet, his eyes turned to you. Giving him a reassuring look, you looked over your shoulder to your classmates with an impassive look. “So, what if I get to be with my fellow quirkless normies? At least I can feel normal and less of a freak like the lot of you.”

“W-What?”

“Stupid little quirkless bitch-”

“Quirkless, quirkless, quirkless. Wow, that’s really all you guys seem to care about. Why, jealous of us normies who don’t have to worry about shit aside from living peacefully? And as far as I know, maybe the lot of you will turn out as rejects since not all your quirks are as great as they seem. I don’t have to half-ass my so-called talent because there’ll definitely be others better than me.” leveling your eyes with carmine, you could see him grinding his teeth, a deep scowl on his features, you flashed one last playful smirk before you gave the last word “not many will actually care for the filth you all are actually are.”

Feeling a tug, you smiled brightly at Izuku, no longer shrunken but back to his normal self, before heading back to your seats, acting as if nothing happened.

Class resumed awkwardly, you being completely unfazed by the glaring looks from your classmates and dozed off easy.

Later that day, you were sitting on your desk, slightly refreshed because the day was ending. Bag in hand waiting patiently for your friend to finish packing so you both could go home; smiling at Izuku as he relayed the events that happened earlier that day.

“Eh, that sounds pretty exciting, Izuku. Well then, you better get home and write it all down!” you say encouragingly, feet swinging.

“Yes!” Setting his phone down, he lifted his Hero Analysis notebook, eyes sparkling with excitement at the notion of writing a new analysis on the heroes he’s seen.

Suddenly, the notebook was forcibly taken from him by Bakugou, who seemed unpleased at their ‘unfinished’ business earlier during homeroom. Two of Bakugou’s goonies appeared, laughing at the notebook in his hand.

“What the fuck?” Hopping off, you walked up the blond angrily. “Will you give it a rest already?”

“Kacchan,” shrieked your friend, standing from his seat. “give it back!”

Instead of returning it, the blond blew up the notebook, causing it to char, before tossing it easily out the window. Izuku screamed, completely at a loss of words. Angrily, your glared deepened at the blond, who didn’t bother looking your way as he headed towards the door breezily, goonies behind him.

Bakugou had always been a bully to both you, especially towards Izuku. It was so petty and cliché really, you wanted to throw up.

Long when you were younger, Izuku was always a target for Bakugou’s wrath, an easy pedestal to step over just to feel good about himself, a dummy he can just beat over and over because he can. It made you sick.

Gone were the happy days of you three, happily going about with your innocence, forever tarnished by quirks that branded you instantly the moment you had one. Gone were those days.

As for you? He didn’t even bother. You were a waste of space because you fought back, so there was no pleasure picking on a tomboy who could fight back and care less. It was always easier to aim for the weaker link.

But for Izuku, you had to be brave for you both. After all, you were his only best friend, his shield.

Worriedly, you turned to your friend, hating the crestfallen look on his face, reaching out to him.  “Izuku-“

“If you want to be a hero so much, there is an efficient way. Believe to have a quirk in your next life” your hand froze in mid-air; the world had gone silent. “and dive off from the school roof. “

Silence.

A beat of silence.

A twitch.

And then, a beat, a hitch.

Suddenly, you saw red.

Just as he finished his sentence, a heavy fist slammed into his jaw, knocking him back against the door with a loud clatter, as though it were ready to break off from the hinges, alarming students on the other side.

“(NICKNAME)!”

Breathing heavily, you dropped your hand to your side, your fingers were shaking uncontrollably, balling them into fists didn’t help the anger seething through your blood, seeping into your bones, nails biting painfully into your skin.

Watching the blond get knocked on his ass did little to give you satisfaction, especially when his words rang over and over in your head still.

If you want to be a hero so much, there is an efficient way. Believe to have a quirk in your next life and dive off from the school roof.

Had you been calmer, you would’ve seen the absolute shock on his face, eyes locked on you.

One minute you were next to Deku, the next, you were in front of him, punching him with everything you had. It was quite the punch, judging from how the door rattled so much that it opened a little.

Coming to his senses, he nearly stumbled back on his feet, grabbing at your collar, snarling. “You-“

“Fuck you,” you all but said in one exhale, voice shaky and words full of anger and venom. Words that matched your eyes – so full of anger and venom.

It was all it took for both your friends to turn to you, shock at the amount of hatred falling out of your usually calm demeanor. But as they say, one can only handle so much before they break.

Bakugou’s hold loosened, faltering at the words leaving your mouth, at the eyes burning deep into his own.

“Fuck you, fuck your aspirations, fuck your friends” your eyes rose, angrily turning to the gazes of the two boys behind you, who flinched at the anger emanating off you. “fuck everyone in this school and fuck your quirk.” There was a sharp intake of breath, coming from him. It made you scoff. “Because let’s face it, Bakugou, without your quirk, you might as well be fucking worse than a dead fuck.”

Those infamous last words of yours, that signified and solidified the death of whatever relationship you had with him, giving you the expression on his face, that was plenty satisfaction.

Izuku had to physically take you away, grabbing both your bags as you left the room. He had to calm you down, extremely worried to see you so worked up. Gulping, he squeezed your hand, green eyes searching for yours. Weakly, you squeezed back, a feeble smile on your face. That was plenty.

As the two of you turned a corner, the green-haired teen froze beside you, turning to him in confusion, you followed his gaze, heart twisting at his fallen Hero Analysis notebook that was being poked by the fishes.

“Stop eating it,” he muttered, voice weak. “it’s not fish food.”

“Izuku…” you called out, worried about the way his shoulders hunched, posture rigid.

If you want to be a hero so much, there is an efficient way. Believe to have a quirk in your next life and dive off from the school roof.

Balling your hands into fists, you could feel the anger boiling, threatening to take over. No. Instead, you walked up to your friend, took the wet notebook from his hand, and waved it in the air, water splattering everywhere in the process.

“(N-Nickname), be careful of the pages!” he cried, you stopped only when the dull look in his eyes disappeared. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. The favour returned.

Satisfied that it was semi-dry, you appeared by Izuku’s side, browsing through the pages – which miraculously were still readable despite getting wet. Each page, you bugged Izuku to explain what was written, he’d readily go on about what he wrote and more.

Hearing him speak calmed you, but it reminded you of the absolute fear in his face from earlier, your heart clenched – that was not you. So, you swore never to get that angry in front of him again. Also, Bakugou Katsuki was nothing but a dead fuck to you.

And yet, why did you feel like dying at that moment? Why did a part of you die thereafter?

It was the worse day of your life.

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

But the worst was yet to come.

One phone call.

One phone call was it took.

One call from your grandfather, urging you to come home.

“L-Listen carefully to what I’m going to say, (Name), okay?”

Never had you heard your grandfather, the feared Shihan of your family, the stoic, cranky old man, in tears, sounding so weak, so afraid.

“I-It’s about your parents…”

Amidst the infamous Sludge Incident, you received word of your parents’ death, they were killed in action by villains.

Was the universe playing with you? Did the impact of the punch you gave Bakugou earlier rebound and knock you out?

Suddenly, the anger from earlier immediately dissipated, replacing it with a feeling as though someone had pierced into your soul, taking everything there is about you.

Numb.

A numbing sense washed over you, unable to take any valid information, make sense of your environment, or even your senses.

Heavy.

Everything felt heavy, your heart, your body – everything.

All you knew was that your heart was in pieces, tears wouldn’t stop pouring for days, and your life would never be the same again.

“(Name), what do you want to be when you grow up?”

“Eh? Uh…um…”

“Don’t you want to be a hero like me and mama?”

“Should I be?”

“Well, according to family tradition, yes.”

“But how about according to you guys?”

“Us?”

“Well, actually, we’d be happier with whatever you want. Just so long as it makes you happy.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“…so, even if I want to be a gang leader?”

“Don’t push it, (Name).”

“Heh, kidding! I love you, Ma, Pa!”

“Getting cheekier and cheekier every day.”

"She is your daughter, after all."

For a whole week, you missed school to mourn.

Your mind too caught up in the loss of the two people you cared for the most in the world to even worry about your education.

Everything was a blur, a complete blur to you.

Understandably, everyone understood. Your grandfather. Auntie Inko. Auntie Mitsuki. Uncle Masaru. Especially Izuku, who came over to check on you from time to time. And during the burial, he held your hand. Tight. Warm. An assurance.

(Somewhere, you could have sworn you saw blond – aside from Auntie Mitsuki but paid no mind.)

When your parents died, so did a part of you.

The week after, you came back a hollow of a person you once were. Coming back to school, you were prepared for the onslaught of jeers and hatred, after giving Bakugou a beatdown last time, yet, all you got were condolences from everyone. That didn’t bother you much and just went on with life.

People were better. You suppose that’s what happens when people realize how much loss can affect someone.

Recovering was hard.

Every day hurts.

Every second was a reminder of loss.

Every waking hour felt like a bitter pill.

You just wanted to scream, to wreak havoc, to let it all out.

But how could you?

Since their deaths, you'd have nightmares of the time your parents left for their mission, in which they never came back. It was worst with insomnia wrought by your quirk, in fact, the grief made it worse. You were barely sleeping at all!

Izuku noticed just how tired and depressed you were, was the first to reach out to you. It was what you loved about him - he was selfless and full of compassion. Even as he suddenly went on a strange body regiment – that seemed to tax him physically and mentally, he was always there to keep you afloat. As opposed to Bakugou, who went out to call out on you two.

Still, after punching him in the face and the death of your parents on the same day, he was less menacing towards you, Izuku even.

It didn’t change the fact that the blond was dead to you, deader than your parents.

However, you did notice cans of coffee on your desk during lunchtime, or after a period where you slept in. Sometimes, there’d be an apple before the first period. One time, you could have sworn to hear explosions followed by angered shushing as you dozed off at the clinic.

There was a time, when you two crossed paths, both of you were silent, staring at each other. Carmine eyes stared into your dull (e/c) ones, his filled with worry and concern. But neither of you said a word, you just walked past him, dismissing him entirely.

Eventually, you found yourself applying for a part-time job, trained harder with your grandfather, all these to distract you, at least. And it worked, for a time.

You just weren’t sure about the other void.

masterlist • five

[greymantledlady]

you are my sweetest downfall

Adam squeezes Michael’s hands again, reassuring. 'Remember – back down there – how we agreed to talk to each other if anything bothered us? This is like that, okay?’

Michael looks stricken. ‘Oh,’ he says in a small voice. ‘Oh. I didn’t – it really isn’t anything worth your time – ’

My second fic for @midamweek! People seemed to really enjoy Adam calling Michael 'sweetheart' in the previous fic in this verse, so I decided to expand on it. Michael is a dork, honestly.

Read on AO3 or below the cut:

Having an archangel as your boyfriend is really good, actually. Better than good.

Adam, in all his years of (largely) calm and resigned pining in the Cage, had never actually, truly believed he had a chance of anything like this with Michael, anything so soft and domestic and - well, astonishingly, normal, really. It still hits him sometimes, that warm rush of astounded happiness when Michael can't stop looking hopefully down at his lips until Adam simply has to press in close and kiss him, when Michael flushes at Adam making the mildest and most low-hanging of innuendos, when Michael asks him what would be the best gift to give Adam for St Valentine's Day. 

The last incident had occurred in July, because Michael had thought Adam would probably forget all about the conversation by the time February rolled around, and he had been so endearingly pleased with himself over this plan that Adam had started laughing and pulled him down onto the couch by the fire and kissed and sucked all the way down his neck until it bruised.

Given that Michael was at the time a metaphysical projection of grace shaped into a copy of Adam's own body and existing in a dimension faintly to the left of the mortal plane, it probably didn't actually need to have bruised, but Michael had warmed extremely quickly to the concept of hickeys, apparently. He likes them a lot, likes to keep them and nurse them and admire them in the mirror when he thinks Adam's not looking, and Adam thinks it's kind of the best thing ever.

Right now, though, Adam's a little worried.

Michael has been - off - for a little while now. Not worryingly so - nothing like the shaking bouts of grief that Adam had held him through when he'd first gotten back, when he'd been mourning the asshole father who'd never loved or deserved him. Nothing like that, it's just - a sort of odd wistfulness that seems to fall over him sometimes, at the strangest of moments, and Adam is determined to work out what’s causing it.

***

They're in bed, Adam happily boneless and tired out and curled around Michael, stroking his hair while Michael smooths his hand up and down Adam's back in the firm way that Adam likes, his grace-formed body firmly anchored to the physical world this time, as warm and solid as Adam's own. Adam nuzzles his cheek affectionately, smiling against his skin when Michael hums with contentment. 

'Hey,' he says quietly, squinting a little to focus on Michael's face.

'Adam,' Michael says, just as soft. He looks hopeful for a moment, as though he's waiting for something. Adam's not quite sure what it is. He traces his thumb gently over Michael's collarbone, waiting to see if he'll come out with it, but eventually Michael just sighs quietly and turns his face to press it into Adam's hair.

***

Adam, before he’d been killed and resurrected, had enjoyed baking.

Of course, that had been more than a thousand years ago, but – well, time was weird that way, when it came to being trapped in an archangel cage in Hell. It wasn't that he'd forgotten any of it, of course, and he valued those memories, the way Michael had softened, increment by increment, until somewhere along the line he'd become someone Adam couldn't live without.

It was just that, once they'd gotten out, the memories seemed condensed, so that you weren't sure at all if it had been ten years or a thousand. Adam wondered sometimes whether that was what Michael's billions of years of existence must feel like to him, too.

Anyway, he'd liked to bake. When he'd come back, after the first long pain-filled months of negotiating with the Winchesters to bring Michael back too, and after the first whirlwind of joy of finding out Michael wanted him the same way, he'd started again, searching up recipes online on his phone and writing them out in a notebook if they turned out successfully.

Today, he’s craving choc chip cookies, so he looks at the pantry and pulls out flour and sugar and chocolate chips, opening the packet immediately to sneak a few to nibble on as he starts to measure everything out. They need a medium-sized mixing bowl; he needs to put that on the list for the next time they go grocery shopping. The big one is fine for today, though.

‘What are you doing?’ Michael asks, coming up behind him. He touches Adam’s elbow with a soft hand as he passes, leaning on the counter to watch.

‘Baking!’ Adam says. He bumps his hip gently against Michael’s. ‘I’m making choc chip cookies.’

Michael shifts a little closer so they can stay connected, and leans over to inspect the ingredients, poking a finger into the well of flour Adam has measured out, leaving a little dent. He’s always been surprisingly tactile, liking to touch new things, test them on his fingers.

‘Don’t eat that,’ Adam warns. ‘It tastes awful raw. Choc chips are better, here.’ He picks out a single chip – no need to overwhelm Michael’s still-developing sense of taste – and says, with a grin, ‘Open your mouth.’

Michael raises an eyebrow, looking at him, soft-eyed and so in love that it makes Adam’s heart pulse with warmth. ‘Okay, kid,’ he says, and opens up.

Adam puts down his spoon, buzzing with affection, and presses closer, leaning up against Michael’s chest and delighting in the way Michael’s arms come up to circle his waist. ‘Hey,’ he murmurs, up close, and runs his thumb along Michael’s parted lips, just to tease him a little.

Michael sighs, soft, bending forward, only to be foiled by Adam’s hand. ‘Choc chip,’ Adam reminds him, and pops it in.

‘Mm,’ Michael says, nibbling. He looks so surprised at the small burst of sweetness that Adam grins again.

‘Good, yeah?’ he says. ‘Do you want another one?’

Michael licks his lips. ‘It was good,’ he says. ‘I don’t want another one, though.’ His eyes dip downwards, his hand stroking a hopeful little circle on Adam’s back.

‘I can’t imagine what you do want,’ Adam teases. He snuggles himself a little more firmly against Michael, runs his hands down his sides and around to fit into his back pockets, enjoying the way Michael shivers. ‘Oh, get over here.’

‘I am here,’ Michael says, but then Adam kisses him, slow and sweet, smiling against his lips before pulling back. ‘Oh,’ he says softly. ‘Adam.’

‘Michael,’ Adam says, just as softly, and leaves another tiny kiss at the corner of Michael’s mouth, the moment drawing out soft and gentle; the kind of moment that you could live in forever. Michael’s eyes are soft and hazy, leaning into him, and Adam reaches up to run his knuckles over his cheek.

Michael exhales, and strokes his hands gently across Adam’s back, watching him closely. He has that odd, hidden wistfulness in his face again, as though he’s waiting for something, and Adam wants to do something about it, wants Michael to tell him what it is so he can give it to him.

‘What is it?’ he says gently, and holds back the endearment that wants to spill out, absurdly tender. He’s pretty sure it will only make Michael more embarrassed.

Michael sighs again, very soft, and glances away. ‘No, it’s nothing,’ he says.

Adam’s pretty sure it’s not nothing, but he doesn’t press. They have all the time in the world, after all, and he has cookies to bake for them. Michael will come out with it eventually.

***

Except Michael doesn’t come out with it, and it keeps happening, and Adam is honestly starting to worry. They’ll be together, and happy, so happy – he knows Michael is happy, can feel it in the grace that’s constantly twined around his soul. They’ll be kissing, or snuggling, or making love, and it will be a perfect moment, the kind of moment that makes everything worth it, like a warm soft blanket to lose yourself in.

And then suddenly Michael will be looking all wistful, like a sad little puppy wanting a morsel, and disappointed, and Adam is beginning to really, really not like that at all.

He’s tried everything – more kisses, cuddling, even that one thing that Michael really likes during sex but gets incredibly flustered and blushy over, so Adam saves for special occasions. And Michael loves it all, he really does, Adam can feel it, but none of it manages to soothe that particular, wistful little ache in his grace.

When he was small, and he’d had a problem, or felt bad, or unhappy, or guilty, Mum had always managed to coax it out of him eventually. She would sit him on the couch and give him a glass of milk, and tell him that it was always better to talk things out, not hold them inside of you till they hurt. Bad feelings were like appendicitis, she’d say, they’d make you very sick if you left them inside.

Adam thinks Michael has the equivalent of emotional appendicitis at the moment, honestly, and he’s pretty sure he needs to do something to fix that.

***

When Adam comes to find him, Michael is sitting at their kitchen table, inspecting a small pile of rocks. Months ago, he’d read a magazine article about gemstone tumbling, and then read it again, and again, and again, until the pages were dog-eared and Adam couldn’t help but notice. So he’d gone online and bought him a little tumbling kit on Ebay, as a surprise, and Michael had been hugely and gratifyingly pleased about it. Now every time they go for a walk, he comes home with his pockets full of bits of quartz and such, and their house is filled with shiny little piles of gems, like some kind of dragon’s hoard.

(‘It reminds me of creating planets,’ he tells Adam once, softly. ‘I used to polish them until they were so beautiful and round.’)

Now, he looks up as Adam comes up behind him, leaning his head back against Adam’s stomach as Adam slides his arms over his shoulders. Adam kisses his ear. ‘Hey, you,’ he says. ‘You got a moment?’

‘Of course,’ Michael says immediately, at attention. ‘What do you need, Adam?’

‘Just you,’ Adam says, and gives his shoulders a little squeeze before pulling out the chair next to Michael’s and sitting down, swivelling towards him. Michael puts down the rock he’d been inspecting and turns to face him, the full force of his attention directed onto Adam’s face.

‘Okay,’ Adam says, and reaches out to take Michael’s hands in his own, squeezing. ‘I need to talk to you about something, Michael – oh, no, don’t look at me like that,’ he breaks off, running a comforting thumb over Michael’s knuckles. ‘It’s nothing bad.’

Michael nods, still looking rather worried.

Adam decides to get it over with. ‘Look, I’ve noticed that there’s something bothering you,’ he says gently. ‘Something that you want, that you’re not telling me. I can feel it in your grace – like last night, when we were falling asleep, and when I made cookies, and other times, too.’ He squeezes Michael’s hands again, reassuring. ‘Remember – back down there – how we agreed to talk to each other if anything bothered us? This is like that, okay?’

Michael looks stricken. ‘Oh,’ he says in a small voice. ‘Oh. I didn’t – it really isn’t anything worth your time – ’

‘Oh, sweetheart,’ Adam says softly, because he can’t help it, ‘of course it is, it always is – ’

And suddenly, bizarrely, Michael’s grace is going wild, elated, looping and twining, wrapping around his soul with little, soft, shuddering ripples of happiness. He looks as though he’s about one step from breaking down, swaying a little towards Adam with his eyes shiny and his lips a little unsteady.

Okay, what?

‘Okay, what?’ Adam says, and reaches out to touch his face. ‘Michael, what was that? What happened? That was it, wasn’t it?’

Michael swallows, his grace still buzzing with happiness, turning his face into Adam’s touch. ‘You said it again,’ he says, closing his eyes for a moment like he’s basking in Adam’s warmth.

‘Said what?’ Adam says – and, ‘wait, ‘sweetheart’?’ His heart feels like it’s melting. ‘That was all you wanted? For me to call you pet names?’

Michael is going pink now, avoiding his eyes. ‘You must think I’m foolish,’ he mumbles.

‘Of course I don’t,’ Adam says, overwhelmed with sheer fondness. ‘Well, maybe just a little bit, for not just telling me, honestly.’ He knuckles gently at the corner of Michael’s eye, and it actually comes away a little damp. ‘Oh, sweetheart,’ he says, knowing he sounds ridiculously tender, and that pulse of sheer bright happiness ripples through Michael again, through his grace.

‘It was the first thing you said,’ Michael says softly. ‘When you brought me back. My name, Michael, and – and you called me that. And I asked about it, and you kissed me and I was happy, but you never said it again. I,’ he swallows. ‘I don’t know why I. I wanted you to say it.’

‘Okay, you need to come here right now,’ Adam says, and climbs directly into his lap. He brings his hands up to hold Michael’s face, looking down at him. ‘Fuck, I love you,’ he says helplessly, and Michael’s whole face twitches, his hands coming up instinctively to fit at the small of Adam’s back.

‘I love you too,’ he says immediately, honestly. ‘Adam.’

‘Yeah?’

‘I – would like it if you said it again, please.’

‘Yeah, sweetheart, okay,’ Adam murmurs against his lips. ‘I’m never going to stop.’

[hockeyboysiguess]

dear winter | c. parakyo

a/n: this one was entirely inspired by and written to dear winter by ajr. highly recommend listening to this while you read. this is your reminder that vince dunn isn’t the only player on the blues. enjoy!

warnings: a little swearing. otherwise, alllllll fluff. 

word count: 6K

You sighed as you felt a firm kick to your bladder. You had to give it to her, your baby had great aim, something she’s definitely inherited from her dad since you couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a baseball even if you were being coached through each movement. You rubbed your growing bump softly, a vain attempt to get her to relax, before you grabbed the full file box. Colton would be upset if he knew you were moving boxes without him. You loved Colton, god, did you ever love your husband, but he was treating you like you were going to break any second. He had as soon as you’d told him you were pregnant. You tried to fight him on it, but if Colton wanted something to go a specific way, there was pretty much nothing you could physically do about it. He was a physical immovable force. You settled for doing things when he wasn’t home.

You huffed out a loud breath as you sat down on the couch with what would be your fourth box of the day. You had been trying to go through everything in the room that was going to become “Little P’s” nursery, as Colton called her. You were also using it as an excuse to actually clean out your catch-all spare bedroom instead of just moving the problem of having too much stuff from the bedroom to the attic.

You sucked in a deep breath before blowing off the layer of dust from the top of the box. You lifted the lid and sighed. It was absolutely packed with papers and notebooks, Colton’s notebooks. He religiously kept notebooks, not a diary, not a journal. He rolled his eyes whenever you called them that, telling you that they weren’t diaries or journals because he wrote anything in them, from grocery lists, to hockey plays he thought of, gift ideas for you, anything. He also refused to get rid of a single one, much to your chagrin, but the least you could do was label them with the dates they contained to organize them. Thank god you’d pulled the label maker out for the last box so you didn’t have to get up. Getting up wasn’t your specialty anymore, thanks to Little P being a little less little since her father was a large human being.

You cracked open the first notebook after shaking off more dust, flipping to the first page to grab the date and the last page for the final one. Colton’s notebooks had never been any of your business. You thought he had every right to his private thoughts, something that had absolutely floored him when you started dating. Every other girl had tried to read over his shoulders, sneak a peak when he wasn’t around, but you trusted Colton, which is what you’d told him then and still told him now every time he picked up another notebook. The next notebook opened with a silly drawing, it made you giggle, but you didn’t pry further, simply adding your label and moving on to the next one.

Your brows furrowed when you came to a notebook toward the bottom. Unlike the rest, which were heavily worn in, the pages wrinkled and fanning out, making them appear thicker, this one was only partially started. The wear stopped about three-quarters of the way through it. You found it odd. Colton always finished everything he started, even if it was virtually impossible for him to do so. He was the least wasteful person you’d ever met. You shook off your thoughts. His notebooks were his business, not yours.

Still, regardless of you trying otherwise, your eyes flitted to the first entry in this notebook. The start of it pulled your eyes in unwillingly. It was a letter, a letter to someone else. Your heart sank and you slammed the notebook shut. No, you thought. Colton would never, but then who was he writing to? Your heart was aching in your chest. You trusted and loved your husband more than you ever thought possible for yourself, but your mind was running through possibilities and you needed to know. When your eyed scanned the first words, the tears started to slip out even though you willed them not to.

Dear Winter, I hope you like your name I hope they don't make fun of you When you grow up and go to school, okay? 'Cause Winter is a badass name

Colton’s words continued and your tears kept flowing.

Sorry if you don’t love it, baby girl, but I do and unfortunately for you, one me and one other person get to vote on it and I’m all in for it. Also, I’m not really sure where I got the idea to start this, but I’m two sentences in and I hope one day you think this is as cool as I do right now.

Anyway, I wanted to start by telling you what made me think of your name. I was walking through Forest Park (I’m playing for the Blues right now, in case that ever changes, so I’m in St. Louis) because I was having a pretty terrible day. I botched something at practice, couldn’t get the play right, and coach got angry at me. You probably know I don’t handle people being angry with me well because I doubt that’s ever going to go away. I found out the woman I was seeing actually cheated on me (I know, weird to read from me, but I hope you stick through this one) and I’m missing my family a lot today. (Side note: please come home more, Winter. I love you.)

So I was having a terrible day and decided to take a walk. It was chilly, but sort of comforting. It smelled like it was about to snow. I really hope you know that smell too, sort of like Christmas Eve, my favorite day of the year, as I also assume you know. Then, it started to snow. It was that beautiful, promising fluffy snow that makes me think of hot chocolate and peppermint and family. That’s when I really thought about you for the first time, Winter. I thought about us outside in our front yard, your mom on the front steps, and you catching snowflakes on your tongue. I thought about how you’d ask me to build a snowman with you, even though the snow wasn’t even sticking to the ground. I thought about you, Win. Winter. Some people hate winter. Some people love it. That’s also why it’s your name, Win. You might not be everyone’s cup of tea, Winnie, but that’s okay. You’re not meant to be for everyone. You’re meant to be exactly who are you as you’re reading this. 

I'm hoping that some day, I can meet you on this Earth But shit, I gotta meet your mom first

Love, Dad :) 

You placed your hand gingerly on your swollen stomach as the tears flowed freely. Colton wrote the first letter in the notebook seven and a half years before today. He’d been writing to her, the little girl still growing in your belly, for years, before you’d even moved to St. Louis let alone met Colton for the first time. Of course Winter would take that moment to kick you in the stomach. Winter. You loved her name too. You’d been racking your brain all day since you’d found out that Little P was a girl, not the boy you were convinced you were having based on your apparently flawed mother’s intuition, so when you found out Little P was a girl, you’d be wracking your brain all day for both a way to tell Colton and what you might name her. Somehow, even though he didn’t know yet, Colton had already taken care of another worry of yours, a man who didn’t know how to love you wrong. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from turning to the next page to read the next entry. Unlike his notebook he used every day, the next entry picked up a few weeks later.

Dear Winter, I hope you talk to girls Or boys or anyone you like

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve written to you, but I heard something out a bar that made me come home and immediately grab this notebook. Sorry if this is a little unclear. Dad’s just a little drunk right now, but I want you to know how important this is and I wanted to tell you as soon as possible.

This guy at the bar was being... absolutely awful, Win. This girl was just trying to have a good time with her friends. She was wearing a pin on her jacket with the pride flag on it. This guy started asking her about it. She shrugged, said she was bi, and she moved on. Except he didn’t move on. I heard him talking to his friends, talking terribly about her. He was talking about her sexuality and what it could do for him, how good it would be for him that she was bi. It didn’t sit with me right, so I warned her what he said and she said something that stuck with me so I wanted to tell it to you. She said, “God, thank you for telling me. I’m so fucking tired of guys sexualizing my sexuality for their own sexual gratification. It has nothing to do with them, you know? It’s my sexuality. It’s for me and me alone. I thought it got through all of the bad stuff when my parents kicked me out for it. It just keeps on coming, you know? Fucking sucks.”

Winnie, whoever you like, boys, girls, both, neither, people who don’t identify any particular way, if you know deep down you’re not my little girl, but you’re my son, I’m always, always, always, always going to love you. I will always be in your corner, Win. My love for you will never change. My support for you with never waiver. I will stand with you a pride parades. I will advocate for you. I will do anything I can to make sure you know you are loved and supported and that you can always come to me. I will always protect you, Winter. I will always love you.

If you’re reading this and you haven’t come out yet, the door is open, Win. And I’m standing right there, arms wide open, ready to love the truest version of you, the version of you that makes you feel like your most authentic, happy self. Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.

Love, Dad

You felt your heart pound hard in your chest. Colton had never wavered on loving whoever your baby was going to be, but this, this was something special. You took a deep breath and looked down at your bump again.

“He loves you so much,” you told her softly as you gently rubbed your bump. “You have the best dad in the entire world. I just hope my genes don’t screw you up too much.”

You flipped to the next entry, laughing to yourself at how it was filled with entirely with car buying advice. Apparently, Colton has just bought a car the day he wrote it and he was keen on sharing his newfound wisdom with Winter. He also talked about how he was going to help Winter buy her first car and exactly what that would entail. It was such dad advice, but somehow it was perfect and it was Colton.

You kept reading, an entry an unknown amount of dates deep, caught your eye. You weren’t sure how deep into this you really were. You were flying through entries, Colton’s loving words pulling you through each page at a lightening pace. This one caught you eye though.

It really doesn't seem like there's anyone for me But dear Winter, I hope you like your name You know I cannot wait to teach you how to curse But shit, I gotta meet your mom first

You think your mom is going to like that I’m cursing in these letters? Probably not. But hopefully she’ll deal. I mean, I play hockey. Cursing is part of the game basically. I hope I teach you well. :)

You know, Win, I saw a couple out at a restaurant today and they were so in love. I, on the other hand, got stood up on a date today. Super fun, right? And super weird to hear from your dad, but it’s the truth. As smooth as I’ve tried to make myself look your whole life, Dad’s not really all that fucking smooth, Winnie.

But anyway, I wanted to tell you that it doesn’t matter if you ever find someone, Win. I wanted to tell you this because I need to hear it right now and even if when you first read this, you don’t need to hear it, I’m betting at some point in your life you will need it. You can achieve every single dream you have without a partner. You can have the life you want. You can have a family. You can make a beautiful life for yourself all on your own. Because you aren’t looking for your other half. You’re a goddamn full, beautiful, powerful person all by yourself. You are complete just as you are and that’s fucking amazing, Winnie.

Am I writing this for you in the future or me now? That’s debatable, but someday you’re going to need a reminder that you are a galaxy of beautiful, stunning possibilities. You are the sun, moon, stars, planets, and everything in between. A galaxy doesn’t need anyone or anything else. Always remember that anyone you let into your life should be in wonder at the galaxy that is you.

Sorry, Dad’s going to get off his weird soapbox now and go to bed. I’ll write you soon. Pinky promise :)

Love always, Dad

You gripped the notebook tightly in your hands, careful not to wrinkle the pages. You briefly thought about how you’d never read one of his notebooks before so maybe pregnancy hormones weren’t the best time to start, but this notebook was for someone. It was for the baby in your belly, so you kept reading. 

Dear Winter, 

I met someone today. I don’t want to say too much, in case it doesn’t work out. It never really works out for me, does it, Winnie? I hope a) that your mom has much better luck with men than I do with women and b) that you inherit her luck. At least I got her phone number, right? Maybe I can figure out how to sounds less like a guy that really like writing in notebooks and puzzles and more like a guy who is all about parties and adventure?

Actually, no, Win. No. Don’t listen to that. Be whoever you want to be, whatever that looks like. If some guy doesn’t like you because you’re a homebody, reject him and toss him out in the street. He’s clearly no good. Be whoever you want to be, Win. A homebody, a busy body, whoever that is, I’ve got your back for the rest of my life. 

(Side note: this girl is super, super pretty and she’s wicked smart with an incredible sense of humor. Kind of hoping this one works out? If not, then I guess on to the next one, right? If not, I’ve got to meet your mom one day, Win. We’ll see when it happens, I guess.)

Love, Dad

Your eyes scanned back up the page to the date. You breath hitched it your throat when you saw it and your hand came over your mouth as your eyes started to fill with tears again. It was about you. That was the day you met Colton for the first time. That memory was burned into your brain forever because it was honestly one of the worst days of your life, until Colton walked in.

You were about to give up. Four cups of coffee at varying degrees of strength had done nothing to stimulate an idea in your brain. Well, it would have been five cups of coffee if you hadn’t spilled the third cup down yourself and stained your favorite sweatshirt that was now a crumpled mess in your backpack. Despite that, you were still face to face with a blank Word document that needed to be six pages long by midnight tonight, which was less than twelve hours away. Procrastination always got the better of you. Today was no exception.

You had opened your day with a trip to the dentist and of course, you had a cavity. You didn’t realize until you got back to your car that your house key wasn’t on your key ring, so you couldn’t go home and your roommate was going to be out all day, so you’d had to post up in your fourth favorite local coffee shop as shops one through three were completely packed. You’d had to park six blocks over because you couldn’t find a spot. All of this chaos had wasted almost two hours you were supposed to be working. Then there was the spilled coffee, which you spilled because your terrible ex-boyfriend had shown up and tried to talk to you. In an effect to escape, the coffee had gotten spilled. To boot, after actually drank coffee number three, your mom had called you and told you your childhood dog had cancer. It was just one of those days. She was fifteen, so you couldn’t say she didn’t live a good, long life. Still, it was a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.

Your music was blaring in your eyes. You were rapidly flipping through Spotify trying to find something that might provide some inspiration. You sighed and rested against the back of the chair as your head fell back. You let out a long sigh and carded your fingers through your hair. Ideas or not, you needed to get started. That went out the window when you saw a large man standing next to your table when you lifted your head. He gave you a sweet smile and a small wave. Your eyes rolled up and down him quickly. He was massive, broader and taller than most people you knew. His size could make him intimidating, but there was something cautious and nervous about the way he moved. One of his large hands was shifting around his iced coffee. The other was fidgeting in his pocket. His smile was kind and inviting. His shoulder were low, hunkering down as if to try and look smaller than he was. It was his eyes that took your breath away for a second, a pair of beautiful baby blues framed by dark glasses.

You yanked one of your headphones out of your ears and raised your eyebrows at him.

“Hi,” he said softly. “Um, all the other tables are full. Do you mind if it sit? I’ve got an appointment in half an hour, so I won’t be in your hair for too long.”

You almost stuttered, but pulled yourself together in time to say, “Oh, yeah, sure.”

He thanked you with a sweeter, wider smile as he dropped down into the chair opposite you. He dwarfed it, and the small table you had stationed yourself at. He was just slightly too big for everything around him, but he didn’t seem to mind much. 

“I’m Colton, by the way,” he told you as he opened up a book you hadn’t realized he’d been carrying. 

You told him your name softly before you tried to get back to work. Every minute you had was precious at this point to meeting your deadline. Beautiful man or not, you had to get this done. Except he seemed to have other ideas. 

“What are you working on?” he asked you after a few minutes. You’d caught him eyeing you as you finally got some sort of an idea, so your fingers were blazing across your keyboard.

“Oh, just this project for work,” you answered flatly, not even looking up from your screen or pausing your furious typing to answer. “I got into this fight with my boss about it because I think her premise is wrong, so I’ve been having some issues trying to write this condensed summary of her position considering I disagree with it. But, hey, a job’s a job, right? At least I’m employed enough to keep my cat fed, the hungry bastard, and support my own coffee habits without a sugar daddy.” 

Colton laughed and like your life had sudden become a movie, the sound took your breath away. You couldn’t stop a smile from pulling up the corners of your lips as he laughed. His laugh sort of made you forget how embarrassing what you’d just said was. 

“Is he fat?” Colton asked before quickly adding. “Your hungry cat, is he a fat bastard as well as a hungry one?” 

“The fattest bastard of them all,” you laughed as grabbed your phone from next to your laptop to show him a photo. 

Colton whistled when he saw the photo and nodded softly. 

“Put a ribbon on him and you could enter him as a prized heifer in the county fair,” Colton joked, making you smile widely, your first genuinely thrilled smile all day. 

“I got him fat from the shelter,” you tried to explain. “I’m trying to put him on a diet, but he’s just not having it. Honestly can’t blame him. Diets are dumb. But the fatso won’t exercise. I got him one of those cat wheels, like a giant hamster wheel but for cats. He barely fits on it and even on the days he finds his balance enough to fit on it, he won’t use it. I’ve sort of thrown in the towel.” 

“I think he’s decided how he wants to be in life and you might just have to accept it,” Colton told you. “I’ll stop bugging you, sorry. I said I wouldn’t.” 

With that, he turned his attention to his book and you went back to your paper. You sat across from him for the next thirty minutes, occasionally taking glances over at him. You found out later on that he keep looking up at you over the top edge of his book the whole time. You somehow just never caught each other.  

As Colton got up to leave, he paused for a second with his phone in his hand, spinning it nervously. 

“Um, I know this is probably sort of random and you’re probably not interested, but would you maybe want to get coffee again sometime you don’t have to do work?” Colton asked you, stumbling over practically ever other word on his way to asking you on a date.

You smiled softly as the memory faded out. You placed your hand on your bump again. Thank god the first three coffee shops had been full that day. You gently turned to the next page then the next one and the next one, stopping when the start of another grabbed you. 

Dear Winter, don't move too far away And please don't say I'm hovering When I text you to ask about your day I wanna hear about your day Will we still hang out and talk when I'm no longer in charge?

I’m sorry if you ever think I’m hovering, Win, but I promise you, I just want to hear about your day, every single day. Sorry if you move far away for some incredible opportunity and I don’t handle it super well. You know me, your old man, I just want you to be able to catch up with you whenever I want to. I’m a little selfish that way, I guess. 

Who knows? Maybe by the time you move, teleportation will be real :)

But if you can, Winter, try and stay close to home. I miss my parents a lot, more than I can properly explain. I know you’re going to be so cool and smart and amazing and you won’t need me someday, but I hope you want me around anyway, even though I’m a lot sometimes. 

(Side note: That girl I talked about a while ago, she’s the one who made me think of this letter. I told her I was scared I was hovering too much, that I was smothering her, and she told me she wanted me around even more. I think you’d like her, Win.)

Hold on for someone who cares about you exactly as you are and loves the way you care about people. You shouldn’t have to change the way you care for someone. They should just feel it. 

Love, Dad

(P.S. Whenever you read this, please come home for a visit, even if you were here yesterday. I’ve definitely missed you since then.)

Your mind flashed back to Colton’s first road trip a few months after you started dating. You had a busy day, absolutely packed with meetings and work, so you’d barely had any time to glance at your phone all day. When you finally had a second to glance at it on the way to your car, you groaned. Two missed calls and four texts from Colton. Of course, the day he managed to find some time away from the guys to call you when you were supposed to be done with work, you had been kept late and missed him. 

You were already dialing his number as you dropped into your driver’s seat to begin the traffic-filled journey home. Colton answered on the second ring. 

“Hey.”

Your brows furrowed at his tone. He was trying hard to sound calm, but you could hear the nerves edging at each letter. He swallowed hard, hard enough you could hear it over the phone. 

“What’s up, babe?” you asked him as you slowly backed out of your parking space. “Is something wrong?” 

“No, nothing,” he said too quickly. He knew he’d said it too quickly the second it had left his mouth. He sighed and you heard some rustling on his end of the phone, following by a door being shut. “I’m sorry I bugged you today.”

“What?” you asked, even more confused than you had been previously as you turned on your right blinker. “You didn’t bug me, Colt. I asked you to call if you were free anytime outside my work hours. I just ended up working late today, that’s all.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

You could tell there was still something bothering him. His pitch was too high, responses too short. He was still on edge, something bigger dancing on the tip of his tongue. He knew you knew. You could read him like an open book even through the phone and he knew better than to not tell you when he was upset. “Relationships thrive with windows and doors open,” was what you always told him, and it takes two people to keep them open all the time.

“Am I hovering?” he blurted out. “Am I bothering you? I just, when I called you again, the guys started-”

“Those idiots that couldn’t keep a girl if they had a carefully curated list of instructions from the girl they liked to tell them how to keep her? They don’t know anything,” you jumped in. “You’re not bothering me, Colt. You never bother me. I want as much of you as I can get. If my life was you just and me, having our favorite lazy Saturday where we go to the farmer’s market, play Scrabble, make bad cocktails, and cook unnecessarily complex dinners before we watch some niche movie practically no one else on the planet has ever seen, I’d be so unbelievably happy. I want as much of you as I can have, Colt, and sometimes I feel like I’m asking for too much. You’re not hovering. I want you right here.”

“You’re not asking for too much,” he replied. Of course, Colton would ignore everything you had said to comfort him in favor of comforting you. “You’re sure I’m not too much? I can do less, if that would be better for you. I can, fuck, I don’t know, whatever you need.” 

“Colton, I love you,” you sighed. “That’s the easiest thing in the world to say to you. I love you, Colton. I love loving you. I love being loved by you. At least, god, I hope you love me back because now I’m realizing we’ve never actually said that and I’m sort of freaking out, but I love learning to love you better and I love finding new ways to show you I love you. Today’s way is actually telling you I do, I guess.” 

“Of course I love you too.”

Colton’s words had reminded you of a prayer, a prayer of a grateful man whose longing, desperate words to something out there that he’d whispered ages ago had finally been answered. You didn’t know how long he’d felt it, definitely longer than you, but love wasn’t a competition. There wasn’t a yardstick, a to-do list, or a formula. Love was whatever you made it to be. You loved Colton, and finally told him, and he loved you, and finally told you. That day, that was all either of you needed.

That day was so clear in your mind. It was the day that set your life on the path it was on, the day that really had started the path that ended up with little Winter being more than a figment in Colton’s mind when he wrote these letters. She was real and you were going to meet her in just a few short months. Your mind wandered forward, seeing Winter’s wide baby blue eyes, you imagined she’d look like Colton as well, hoping your genes didn’t taint his too much to ruin her, as Colton had her sitting on his broad shoulders, securing her safely to him with hands around her ankles as you walked through the zoo. She would be pointing at each animal, tugging on his hair, making sure he saw each and every one. He would be patient, kind, and caring, matching Winter’s excitement in kind with each animal. You would catch him on Google the night before, making sure he knew at least one random, uncommon fact about each one for her, just to make her day. That was the kind of thing Colton said he would do for her to you when you’d shown him the positive pregnancy test, and one of an ever-expanding, never finished lists of reason you wanted to have kids with him. 

You sighed as you felt her flip over in your stomach. She was constantly in motion, something that brought you peace because it told you she was healthy, but as much comfort as it brought you, it brought you more discomfort at the very feeling. You shifted on the couch as you turned to the next entry.

Dear Winter, I hope you like your name I hope you let me take a shot with you on your twenty-first But shit, you gotta ask your mom first

I really hope you let me take a shot with you on your birthday. I’m asking because I was at a restaurant early today and saw the dad order two shots of tequila at a five star restaurant for him and his daughter, who had to be about twenty-one when her birthday dessert came out. She thought it was hilarious and you could tell she she did the shot with him that she loved her dad a ton. So naturally I thought of doing it with you. I know you’re definitely not going to think I’m cool by then, and you could be living in Canada instead where the drinking age is lower, but either way, I hope you don’t mind taking a shot with your old man. 

But, even if you don’t think I’m cool, even if we have to do the shot together over Facetime, even if Facetime doesn’t exist and you have to text me to ask me what it means when you read this, I hope we do one together. I promise, your old man could drink once, Win!

So, go ask your mom and I’ll break out the good tequila for you! :)

Love, Dad

You would definitely have to approve of the aforementioned tequila shot now that he’d been planning it for almost twenty-five years based on when this was written and when Winter would be twenty-one base on her estimated birthday. You laughed lightly and shook your head. Colton was already winning parenting debates with you and he didn’t even know it. Actually, maybe he did. It would be Colton to have planned this all out just so. You smiled as you flipped to the next entry. 

Dear Winter, I'm looking for your mom I gotta find a girl that doesn't mind that I'm inside my head a lot Winter, it won't be too long First, I just gotta find your mom

This whole writing to you as I’ve looked for your mom is how this whole notebook started. 

And Winter, boy do I have some good news about your existence for you. 

That girl I mentioned a while back? I asked her to marry me today. And somehow, she said yes. 

I found her, Win. I found your mom. She’s the most incredible person I’ve ever met in my entire like, that is, until I meet you. And, Winnie, she’s so excited to meet you too someday. 

Here’s hoping she likes your name :) 

Love, Dad

Your eyes were filled with tears again and you were so caught up in the moment, you missed the sound of Colton fusing with the lock on the front door as he entered the house.

“Baby? Why are you crying? Is everything okay? Is Little P okay? How was the appointment?”

Colton’s questions were flying out of his mouth almost faster than you could understand. You heard his gym bag hit the floor and his feet hit heavy on the hardwood as he rushed over to you. Colton rounded the back of the couch and stopped when he saw what was in your hands. You closed the notebook gently in your hands, careful with the soft leather binding, before pulling the elastic over to keep it closed. You turned your head toward your husband. He was white as a sheet, nervousness coating his features. His baby blue eyes were jumping between your puffy eyes, your stomach, and the notebook in your hands impossibly fast. He swallowed hard, waiting for you to say something because his mind was running too fast toward the brick wall of having to ask you what you thought about what was in your hands to actually speak. 

“Colt,” you breathed out softly before placing a hand on your stomach again, “Little P is a girl.” 

“A girl? Really? I’m going to be a girl dad? Really?” 

Colton’s voice cracked with each word and tears began to spill over almost instantly as he sank onto the couch beside you. Hesitantly, as if he didn’t know if he was still allowed to, he reached a hand out toward your stomach. You grabbed his large hand with both of yours and placed it on your swollen belly. 

“Do you want to tell her what her name is?” you asked him softly. 

His eyes snapped up to meet yours. He took his bottom lip between his teeth and looked at with cautious, hesitant joy. 

“You like it?” Colton asked you, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“I love her name, Colton, and since you came up with it, I think she should hear her for the first time from her incredible dad who already loves her more than she can possibly understand.” 

You reached a hand out to cup Colton’s face as you spoke. He leaned softly into your hand, his free hand cupping over yours, completely dwarfing it. He smiled at you softly before he placed a gentle kiss onto your palm, a silent way of telling you he loved you. His fingers wrapped around your hand, pulling it down to your belly along with his as his eyes shifted to it. 

“Hey, Winter, it’s me, your dad.”

[concerningwolves]

Hej, I actually have three questions: How do you handle plotbunnies? I currently have 14 - more or less fleshed out. But they are mere notes. Secondly: I'm in a bind with some of my pieces. The introduction is more or less there and I have a cornerstone (an important scene) but I don't know how to get there. Thirdly: Is there a tag or so for beat readers and how much research is good? I can sink week into research a single detail. Thanks.

(A note before I begin: as of 02.04.21, asks like this violate my ask guidelines. This isn’t a personal scolding, @quamatoc, but I just want to make you and readers aware that I won’t take multiple unrelated topics in a single ask anymore. More on this AG update here.)

Handling Plot Bunnies

Honestly, the most helpful thing I've learned is that it's okay to just... let your plot bunnies be. Leave them grazing on your metaphorical mental lawn. You don't have to do something with them straight away – in fact, managing which projects you work on and when, instead of chasing down every plot bunny you see, is an important skill to learn.

I like to keep an Evernote notebook for each plot bunny, so I can update it whenever I get a new idea but don't feel like I'm abandoning the ideas or like I have to work on them Right Now. You could keep a physical notebook, a file, a digital folder full of word documents – it doesn’t matter what you use, so long as it’s something you can access easily and keep relatively organised. Sometimes fresh inspiration will strike and I'll realise that an apparently unrelated plot bunny is actually really useful for a current project, or I'll get struck with a full plot for a previously fragmented idea. Either way, it’s been really liberating to realise that I can just keep plot bunnies safe somewhere for later on.

Getting from Point A to Point B (Building the Plot)

► PLOT STRUCTURES & GENERAL NOTES

To get from place to place in a story, you need to think about what makes it tick. You don’t need to write scenes in order, though! For me, figuring out a plot is really just me asking myself a very, very long series of questions. If I know what the Big Scene is, I’ll work backwards, asking myself things and seeing how the answers could get me from point A to B.

You don’t have to figure out a plot freehand, either. If you’re struggling, you might find it useful to use a pre-made plot structure outline such as the. There are loads available online. Print out several different ones and see which fits best, put your important scene where you think it goes and work backwards, write all over them, use a giant whiteboard, write on the wall – if it helps, use it. Here’s a blog article on different types of plot structure.

I also think it's important to actually write. It's so easy to get caught up in plotting that you don't put your thoughts to paper. Make sure you don’t fall into that trap! I'm a plantser, meaning I like to do a mixture of pre-plotting and flying through drafts by the seat of my pants. Even if you’re a rigid planner, be sure to see how your ideas look in action by drafting out scenes.

► “WHAT IF?” QUESTIONS

“What if character A and B discover a secret? What if they have different opinions on what to do about the secret? What if this becomes a friends to enemies to friends to lovers plot?? – wait, no, what if they’re already enemies and this secret forces them to work together? What if—”

Brainstorm  "what if...?" questions and explore various options. You don’t have to make any final decisions – that’s the beauty of drafting! The point is to put together subplots and main plots, and see which one works best in getting you to where you want to go.

► GOALS, WANTS & AMBITIONS

A character’s ambitions, wants and goals are very important to a story. They help hook the audience in by giving them something to root for. Knowing what a character wants and what lengths they would go to to get it is crucial to driving a plot forwards, especially if your story is character-driven.

What does a character want? → A character can have multiple desires, but it’s helpful to pick one key thing that undercuts most of their actions. Maybe they want to find out who killed their mother, or escape from somewhere. Perhaps they want to steal a pretty gem. Maybe they want to be king, or they want to escape from their responsibilities as a ruler.

What steps is a character willing to take? → Some characters are willing to do anything to achieve their goals. Maybe they commit a crime, end up in prison, get nudged towards more heinous actions, and find themself in a situation they never would have expected. Other characters are more cautious, but get pushed to breaking point – and then make a Bad Decision that bring about a major plot point. The steps a character makes are what puts them on the path of your plot.

Could anything change a character’s desires, or influence them to take different/more drastic measures? If so, what, and how would this change plot events? → Let’s say that your cornerstone scene is when character A steals from character B, but A starts the story unfailingly loyal to B and only wants to protect them. In order to get to that cornerstone, you’d need to work out what could happen to change A’s priorities. Change is invaluable in getting from plot point to plot point. If something happens that changes what a character wants – i.e., a betrayal, a sudden exile, or a change in fortunes – it can push them down paths they wouldn’t have otherwise considered.

► CONFLICT & OBSTACLES

Just as characters need to want something; plots need conflict and obstacles to make them interesting.

What could go wrong? How would the character(s) try to solve the problem? → “How can I create problems?” is probably the most valuable question an author can ask when building the plot; asking yourself how the characters try and solve said problem just pushes it even further, like this:

Does the attempted solution work? Whether it succeeds or fails, does it have any unexpected consequences? → Say that your Important Scene takes place in a different location to where your characters start out. So, the thing that goes wrong means your characters need to flee (the solution), and it works! They’ve escaped! Only now, they don’t have anywhere safe to go, and so they end up going into the place where Important Scene happens. Or maybe they don’t escape, and their attempt means that they’re transported to a more secure location, which in turn gives them an opportunity to get to Important Scene Location.

Do A’s goals conflict with another character’s goals? What would the other character do to protect their own interests? → If your cornerstone scene involves a clash of two armies, you need to think about what could ramp up the tension between the two sides, and conflicting interests is a great way to do this. Maybe your protagonist is trying to save the world from impending doom, but the queen of a neighbouring land is blinded by hunger for more land and riches. Or, the protagonist is a queen-in-exile trying to wrestle the throne back from the tyrannical relative who usurped her. Think about how each characters’ moves against the other could drive the plot.

The key is to think of it as building a structure out of bricks or slabs. You have your cornerstone – great! – now you need to work out what parts go where.

Research and Beta Readers

Research is something I wholeheartedly and unironically love. I will actually give myself research days a treat for reaching certain writing goals! So, naturally, I'm going to say that there's no limit on how much research one should do to create a story. That said, there is one caution to keep in mind: research is good, so long as you don't let it stop you from actually writing OR let it turn your writing into something akin to an instruction manual. In early drafts, try replacing any specific information you need with a code such as [ELEPHANT] or [KX] – basically, something you can find easily with the search function later on when you’ve researched it.

To find beta-readers, I recommend using the writeblr tag. It's where the bulk of the community puts their stuff. Make a post like "call for beta readers" with information about your project and use the buzzword tags like "writeblr" "writers on tumblr" "writers of tumblr" "beta readers" and whatever genre is applicable. Avoid external links in the post, otherwise it won't show up in the tags.

[ASK GUIDELINES | KO-FI]

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars XCV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: TODAY IS THE DAY I SEND MY LAST ESSAY PLS PRAY SO I CAN BE FREE -Danny

Words: 3,601

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Thirty: Through a Darker Standpoint.

"Is something on your mind, dear girl?" Dumbledore asked attentively.

Mel was writing down their last lesson before going back to her common room. Dumbledore told her this was the final class they'd be having that trimester, and she was deep in thought, her eyes fixed on Fawkes.

"No..." She said. "Well, yes..."

"You want to ask me–?"

"Did you mean it when you say you'd help me to become an animagus?" She looked away from the bird and directly into his eyes. "Or were you just humouring me?"

"Was I humouring you when I agreed to give you lessons?"

"No," She pointed to her notes. "Clearly..."

"I'll help with your education as animagus as much as I'm helping you with this," Dumbledore looked at her over his glasses. "Patience is a virtue, and learning will often require for you to wait."

"I know that it's just..." She shook her head. "I don't know, maybe I'm exhausted. I could use a break."

"I hope you find it refreshing. Anything else?"

Mel gave up, she closed her notebook and put down her quill.

"Is the third task harder than the others?"

"I see," He smiled. "Harry's done a remarkable job, Mel. I wouldn't worry about how things will turn out, the task, once over, it's over for good."

"But are you sure?"

There was a glint in Dumbledore's eyes that gave away his amusement. "You care a lot, don't you?"

"Some may say more than what's necessary..." She grumbled.

"There's no such thing as caring too much about a loved one's safety. I would've done anything to keep my sister safe. Wanting our family to be happy is the main reason why we do the impossible, isn't it? You more than anyone should know, dear girl."

There was always that uneasy feeling questioning how much was she truly prepared to face danger. One day, there was going to be no Albus Dumbledore to tell her what to do, just her and her skills. Mel could only hope that'd be enough.

"You two are to go down to the Quidditch field tonight at nine o'clock," McGonagall told them after the last lesson of the week. "Mr Bagman will be there to tell the champions about the third task."

When Harry and Mel made their way to the entrance, Cedric and Erick appeared from their respective passages. The latter threw a knowing smile their way that she ignored.

"What d'you reckon it's going to be?" Cedric asked Harry as they all went together to the Quidditch Field. "Fleur keeps going on about underground tunnels; she reckons we've got to find treasure."

"That wouldn't be too bad," Harry shrugged.

"Guess?" Erick nudged her arm playfully.

"Your brother moved out?" She ventured.

"I wish! No, my grandad wrote to me yesterday. He's coming to see the third task!"

"Oh... I didn't know others could come to see it!"

"I don't know if it's exactly allowed," Erick looked ahead, frowning a little. "He used his 'this is my last chance' speech, Dumbledore welcomed him with open arms."

"What've they done to it?" They heard Cedric's voice ahead, Mel finally looked toward the field and let out a tiny gasp.

The Quidditch field was no longer smooth and flat. It looked as though somebody had been building long, low walls all over it that twisted and crisscrossed in every direction.

"They're hedges!" said Harry, bending to examine the nearest one.

"Hello, there!" called a cheery voice.

"If you ask me," The corner of Erick's lips were up, holding back a smirk. "This is an improvement."

Mel hushed him before Harry could hear him, the boy was a huge Quidditch fan and still didn't like Flint, so Erick had to be careful.

Ludo Bagman waved at them to get closer, Krum and Fleur were there. As they grew nearer Mel noticed the radiant smile Fleur was giving Harry. She knew this was mostly thanks to Harry's act during the second task, Fleur was showing a new attitude of camaraderie that Mel thought it suited her. If she could keep it up and not complain about Hogwarts and their food, Mel figured she could even be a great friend.

"Well, what d'you think?" Bagman inquired as they finally reached them. "Growing nicely, aren't they? Give them a month and Hagrid'll have them twenty feet high. Don't worry, you'll have your Quidditch field back to normal once the task is over!" Erick gave a quiet 'hurray' that sounded nothing but sarcastic, Harry heard it. "Now, I imagine you can guess what we're making here?"

"Maze," Krum replied lowly.

"That's right! A maze. The third task's really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks."

"We seemply 'ave to get through the maze?" said Fleur.

"There will be obstacles. Hagrid is providing a number of creatures... then there will be spells that must be broken... all that sort of thing, you know. Now, the champions who are leading on points will get a head start into the maze. Then Mr Krum will enter... then Miss Delacour. But you'll all be in with a fighting chance, depending on how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh?"

Harry, Mel and Erick shared a knowing look, Hagrid's creatures didn't sound fun at all when you were acquainted with them.

"Very well... if you haven't got any questions, we'll go back up to the castle, shall we, it's a bit chilly..."

"I have one," Mel said. "How are we going to keep a record on the champions, I mean, what if one of them gets hurt?"

"Members of the school's staff, as well as Mr Flint and you, will be helping around the maze, there's no use on explaining everything now but rest assured, Miss Dumbledore. There won't be any major risks."

Bagman attempted once again to have a private word with Harry, but Krum got there first. Mel came into a halt a few feet away, as well as Bagman and Erick.

"Could I haff a vord?" She heard Krum ask.

"Yeah, all right," said Harry, his brow raising a little and glancing at her for just a second.

"Vill you valk vith me?"

"Okay..."

"I'll wait for you, Harry, shall I?" Bagman frowned, a little nervous.

"No, it's okay, Mr Bagman, I think I can find the castle on my own, thanks," said Harry, trying to keep as a straight face, then turned to Mel. "Really. You and Flint can keep going too, I'll see you back in the tower."

Mel nodded, Erick grabbed her by the arm gently and pulled her along.

"C'mon," He said quietly. "Probably just looking for relationship advice..."

"From Harry?" Mel snorted, her arm slipping from the boy's grip. "Why would he do that? No one knows about us, not even Hermione so I don't see how Krum would–"

"'Oh, I have a question Mr Bagman, how will I know my boyfriend's safe?'" Erick mocked her. "'How can I physically walk away without having a crisis?'"

"That's not how I sound! And that was a fair question!"

"All I'm saying is that everyone knows, or at least suspects, that there's something between you two. You look insufferable happy all the time, I guess Krum wants to know how you do it."

"Because we're friends," Mel rolled her eyes at the expression on the boy's face. "I mean, we were best friends before we... I don't know, before we became this."

"Before you started dating," Erick nodded.

"I don't know if we're dating," Mel replied stiffly. "We don't go out alone, and when we do we have to be discrete so Skeeter can't have a reliable source. According to Harry, this is so I don't get myself in danger as it happened to Hermione. According to me... well, I can't help but think it's a bit like in my novels, you know?  Keeping things between us kind of makes it more romantical."

"I think I puked a little in my mouth," He scrunched up his nose.

"Hey, you asked!" Mel argued. "What were you expecting me to say? 'Oh yeah, kissing Harry is the most boring thing I've ever done in my life'..."

"I can't take that image out of my mind now, thank you."

"Stop being so whiny," She protested. "Is not my fault that you–"

She stopped short, knowing it was a sensitive subject and it could cause a big fight if not treated carefully.

"That I what?" He halted. "Say it."

Instead of finishing her sentence, Mel sat down upon the front steps of the castle's entrance and sighed. "I'm tired of arguing with you, Flint. If I'm honest, I'm sick of having to walk on my tiptoes and hold back my comments every time we speak."

"This is you holding back?"

"I mean whenever we talk about you," She raised a brow. "I don't have a problem telling you to sod off, but when it's about you it's like you don't want me to know anything. I almost had to force out your Grandad's name out of your mouth!"

"I don't understand. What is your problem?"

"Every wrong thing I say you immediately take it as an opportunity to run off and cut the conversation short. You know everything about me, why are you still acting like I'm not a safe person to talk to?"

For a moment he did look like he was about to ignore her question. His shoulders tensed and he looked away, reluctant to speak. Then, after ten awful seconds, he sat down beside her and let out a quiet groan.

"Think I liked you better when you were tinier and afraid of me..."

"I wasn't afraid," She stated. "I did think you were a bit intimidating, though..."

"S'not that I don't trust you. I've never... I'm not used to talking about what upsets me and when you insist that I should tell you– I... I get frustrated. It's exasperating, not knowing how to express my feelings."

"You, at a loss of words?" Mel smiled shyly.

"Yeah, shocking," He chuckled. "I made bad some decisions and now I'm surrounded by a bunch of gits. I know you want to see it as this endless world of possibilities, that if we try hard enough and live our lives how we want to, no one can hurt us– but is not like that... not for the most of us. You want to live in a fairytale, but all we have is this," He gestured around vaguely. "You and I, and a few people that don't think we're crazy."

"We should be allowed to live as we want, do what we want, and be with who we love! I don't get it– why is it so hard for the rest to understand?" Mel replied heatedly.

Erick stared at her with a funny look in his eyes. "You know, I did tell Joseph you're the smartest witch in school. I know you are, but sometimes your emotions stop you from being even better."

"You sound like my uncle," She scoffed. "I know I'm fickle and impulsive–"

"I didn't mean it like that," He interrupted. "You try to see everything through a gentle perspective, which makes it impossible for you to have a clear view... growing up sucks Mel, I know it as much as you do," He stood up and offered his hand, "we have to do it anyway though, and if you do it, you'll see how hard it's to choose based on how you feel instead of what's suitable."

The Slytherin gazed at her with a hint of something she'd never seen before, almost... pitiful. Mel took his hand and stood up, she felt disheartened by their talk, but there was no easy way to convince Erick to change his mind and there was certainly no way she would change hers. She figured that eventually, one of them would be proven wrong.

It was hard to see this nostalgic version of Erick as the same cold, sarcastic boy she was used to, it was hard to look into his eyes and see how much he looked like he was thousands of years older.

"You and Anne..." She mentioned as they reached the marble staircase. "You've made up your mind, then?"

"There's nothing to decide," He shrugged. "She'll do her life and I'll do mine, if I find a way to be together I'll take it but if not... I'm not going to regret a thing."

Mel wanted to say that he couldn't be sure about that but decided to keep it for herself, there'd been enough discouraging words that night for the both of them, and she didn't want to give him a reason to keep going.

Just as she was reaching the second floor Harry came rushing towards her, he didn't slow down when he saw her, just yelled 'Mr. Crouch appeared!' and kept going.

Mel ran after him without hesitation, she and Harry reached Dumbledore's office and yelled the password, however, it looked like it had changed since the last time she and Dumbledore held her last lesson because the gargoyle didn't move at all.

"C'mon!" Harry yelled in exasperation, running a hand through his hair.

"Harry, what's wrong?" She asked in alarm.

"The staffroom," He said in quiet realization, turning around and starting to run once more.

They were midway to the stairs when Snape found them.

"POTTER! DUMBLEDORE!" He ordered them to get closer and so they did. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to see Professor Dumbledore!" Harry, gasping for air. "It's Mr Crouch... he's just turned up... he's in the forest... he's asking —"

"What is this rubbish?" said Snape. "What are you talking about?"

He looked at Mel for an explanation but Mel didn't know what was happening either, Harry insisted in an angry tone.

"Mr Crouch! From the Ministry! He's ill or something — he's in the forest, he wants to see Dumbledore! Just give me the password up to —"

"The headmaster is busy," said Snape, smiling as if denying Harry of a simple favour was making him happier than it should.

"I've got to tell Dumbledore!"

"Didn't you hear me, Potter?"

"Look," Harry continued, almost growling, "Crouch isn't right — he's — he's out of his mind — he says he wants to warn —"

"Is there a problem?" Dumbledore appeared from behind Snape, looking at them curiously.

"Professor! Mr Crouch is here — he's down in the forest, he wants to speak to you!"

"Lead the way," Dumbledore said.

Mel was thankful Dumbledore was Headmaster and not Snape, even if she didn't know what was going on, she figured Snape would rather see them in distress than tend their emergencies.

"What did Mr Crouch say, Harry?" Dumbledore asked as they approached the staircase again.

"Said he wants to warn you... said he's done something terrible... he mentioned his son... and Bertha Jorkins... and — and Voldemort... something about Voldemort getting stronger..."

"Indeed," Dumbledore walked faster alongside them.

"He's not acting normally, he doesn't seem to know where he is. He keeps talking like he thinks Percy Weasley's there, and then he changes and says he needs to see you... I left him with Viktor Krum."

"You did?" He sounded almost alarmed now. "Do you know if anybody else saw Mr Crouch?"

"No, Krum and I were talking, Mr Bagman had just finished telling us about the third task so Mel and Erick were long gone as well, Krum and I stayed behind, and then we saw Mr Crouch coming out of the forest —"

"Where are they?" Dumbledore looked blindly in the darkness.

"Over here," Harry guided them to the edge of the forest. He called out for Viktor, but no one answered. "They were here... They were definitely somewhere around here..."

He sounded worried and scared, Mel got closer as Dumbledore conjured light from his wand and looked around. There was a body there. Mel stopped breathing for a moment while Harry and Dumbledore reached forward to check on Krum.

"Stunned," Dumbledore said simply.

"Should I go and get someone? Madam Pomfrey?"

"No," Dumbledore turned to look at her and said. "Stay here. Wake him up."

He pointed it in the direction of Hagrid's cabin with his wand. The faint shape of a phoenix made its way through the air as Mel kneeled next to Krum and whispered 'Rennervate'. Krum tried to sit up, but Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder to keep him on the grass.

"He attacked me! The old madman attacked me! I vos looking around to see vare Potter had gone and he attacked from behind!"

"Lie still for a moment," Dumbledore ordered gently.

Hagrid appeared, carrying his crossbow.

"Professor Dumbledore! Mel! Harry — what the — ?"

"Hagrid, I need you to fetch Professor Karkaroff. His student has been attacked. When you've done that, kindly alert Professor Moody —"

"No need, Dumbledore," said a voice from behind them. "I'm here. Damn leg! Would've been here quicker... what's happened? Snape said something about Crouch —"

"Crouch?"

"Karkaroff, please, Hagrid!" Dumbledore repeated.

"Oh yeah... right y'are, Professor..."

"I don't know where Barty Crouch is," Dumbledore told Moody, "but it is essential that we find him."

"I'm onto it," Moody headed off into the forest.

Mel stayed next to Krum and checked the back of his head for injuries, fortunately, he was completely fine, just a little dizzy from the fall.

"What is this?" Karkaroff walked up to them, his eyes blazing with anger. "What's going on?"

"I vos attacked!" said Krum. "Mr Crouch or votever his name —"

"Crouch attacked you? Crouch attacked you? The Triwizard judge?"

"Igor..."

"Treachery! It is a plot! You and your Ministry of Magic have lured me here under false pretenses, Dumbledore! This is not an equal competition! First you sneak Potter into the tournament, though he is underage! Now one of your Ministry friends attempts to put my champion out of action! I smell double-dealing and corruption in this whole affair, and you, Dumbledore, you, with your talk of closer international wizarding links, of rebuilding old ties, of forgetting old differences — here's what I think of you!"

Karkaroff spat onto the ground at Dumbledore's feet. In one swift movement, Hagrid seized the front of Karkaroff's furs, lifted him into the air, and slammed him against a nearby tree.

"Apologize!" Hagrid snarled as Karkaroff gasped for breath, Hagrid's massive fist at his throat, his feet dangling in midair.

"Hagrid, no!" Dumbledore shouted, his eyes flashing.

Hagrid removed the hand pinning Karkaroff to the tree, and Karkaroff slid all the way down the trunk and slumped in a huddle at its roots; a few twigs and leaves showered down upon his head.

"Kindly escort Harry and Mel back up to the castle, Hagrid," Dumbledore told him sternly.

"Maybe I'd better stay here, Headmaster..." Hagrid said, glaring at Karkaroff.

"You will take them back to school, Hagrid. Take them right up to Gryffindor Tower. And I want you two to stay there. Anything you might want to do — any owls you might want to send — they can wait until morning, do you understand me?"

"Er — yes," said Harry, staring at him.

Mel felt a bit of a chill run up her spine at the idea that her uncle could read their thoughts. Because she was certain that Harry had been planning to write Sirius about this.

"Very well," Dumbledore looked directly at her then. "You did a good job watching after Mr Krum, Mel. Now watch after yourself." She nodded, too shocked to speak against him, her nerves completely messed up after that experience.

"I'll leave Fang with yeh, Headmaster," Hagrid said. "Stay, Fang. C'mon, kids."

After a while walking in silence, Hagrid spoke up again.

"How dare he accuse Dumbledore. Like Dumbledore'd do anythin' like that. Like Dumbledore wanted you in the tournament in the firs' place. Worried! I dunno when I seen Dumbledore more worried than he's bin lately. An' you!" He turned to them angrily, they stepped back in surprise, Mel holding tightly onto Harry. "What were yeh doin', wanderin' off with ruddy Krum? He's from Durmstrang, Harry! Coulda jinxed yeh right there, couldn' he? Hasn' Moody taught yeh nothin'? 'Magine lettin' him lure yeh off on yer own —"

"Krum's all right!" He exclaimed. "He wasn't trying to jinx me, he just wanted to talk about Hermione —"

"I'll be havin' a few words with her, an' all," said Hagrid not listening. "The less you lot 'ave ter do with these foreigners, the happier yeh'll be. Yeh can' trust any of 'em."

"You were getting on all right with Madame Maxime," Harry said in a bad mood.

"Don' you talk ter me abou' her!" Hagrid yelled. When he saw the look on their faces, he lowered his voice. "I've got her number now! Tryin' ter get back in me good books, tryin' ter get me ter tell her what's comin' in the third task. Ha! You can' trust any of 'em!"

Harry and Mel shared a grim look without saying anything. He reached for the hand that was still firmly closed around his arm and held it, squeezing a bit to calm her down. It worked until they reached the tower, where Hagrid finally left them safe and sound. As soon as they were in Harry dragged her to where Ron and Hermione were sitting.

Next Chapter —>

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