#Round Two Match Fourteen

[voxsmistress]

Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo part FOUR!

lets see what else is in store for y/n ... you didn't think Velvette was just going to let her get away now did you?

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen

Seems Velvette had tagged your photo on her story with the hashtag #newmodel? Flicking your gaze back up to an amused Angel.

“Well toots … you might as well collect all three than just two. Here’s to you babe - you are so fucked”. He raised his glass. Raising your own you blink in shock.

Fucked was right.

It had been a few days since your exciting little adventure to the Vee Tower, coupled with the fact Velvette had not only shared your post on Sinstagram but followed you was helping you gain thousands and thousands of new followers and likes. But like your tequila, you took this with more than a pinch of salt. The Vee’s didn’t do anything for free. There was always a catch. You were waiting for this one to hook you sooner or later.

Unfortunately for you, it was sooner rather than later. You had finished your job for the night ready to head home, plus there was a bottle of whiskey and a hot bath with your name on it. Arm raised to wave a taxi you were distracted by your phone starting to buzz in your other hand. Unknown Number. Huh, weird. Deciding to answer it you lower your arm. What harm could it do?

“Hello?”

“Is this Miss Y/n?” Frowning at the unfamiliar voice, hmm you were rather selective about who got your number. So … who was this?

“Speaking…?”

“Ah Miss Y/n I am Velvette’s assistant, and she is insisting that you come in to meet her to discuss an opportunity that you really do not want to miss out on” huh. Okay. Was not expecting that.

“Uh huhh … and when is she wanting to meet?” Looking up at the darkening sky you had a horrible feeling you weren’t going to be going home anytime soon.

“Well, what are you doing now?” Ohhh nooo! Come on!

“I have just finished work and was actu-”

“Ah perfect so you are free. Come to the Vee tower now and we will sort everything. See you soon” your mouth opened and closed as they hung up on the phone. Right eye twitching you took a deep breath in before exhaling slowly. The bloody nerve! Grinding your teeth you raise your arm up again and wave at a taxi. Trying to calm your anger you shove yourself in the first one that appears, telling them to take you to the Vee Tower. Stewing in the backseat you think it must be nice to be an Overlord – just ordering small insignificant demons around. Shaking off the attitude you realise you need to tidy yourself up.

Looking down at your outfit, a sigh escapes you. Not exactly the outfit you���d want to meet the fashionista Overlord in – a leather bustier, leather pants and your customary neon pink accessories and heels matching of course with your favourite faux fur coat – but it was going to have to do. You didn’t exactly have time to prepare. Scurrying around in your purse to find your compact mirror, you quickly tidy up your eyeliner – snarling at the cabbie when he purposefully swerved nearly wrecking your makeup – and pop a new layer of dark pink lipstick on with a topping of gloss. A quick fluff to your blonde/pink hair and that was the best it was gonna get with such little time to prepare. Spying your perfume, you give a little spritz to your neck, wrists, and boobs. Noting that you’d need to get some more on your next outing as you were nearly out.

Thankfully you had just enough time to get all that done before the taxi pulled up at the tower, throwing the money at the demon you step out on the street. If possible the tower seemed even taller than before. Intimidating. Shaking your head you steel yourself for this meeting, how the last one went down with the other two is not what you want this time round. No unnecessary touching. No being cornered. And no flirting. Okay maybe a little bit of flirting, you were a demon after all. Wait – no! No! Bad thoughts!

Stepping in to the reception you check the board to see what floor Velvette was on, marching to the elevators you ignore the same receptionist who seemed surprised to see you again. Yeah, Bitch I’m back! In the elevator you press Velvette’s floor and breath deeply. It would all be okay. Perhaps they were just going to tell you how much they liked your post? Or they were wanting a thank you in person for all the followers? Or how surprised at how naïve and stupid you sounded. Shaking your head you groan softly. Of course it wasn’t doing to be okay, dealing with the Vee’s was never okay. Or safe.

At the soft ding you pulled your attention away from your depressing thoughts and instead to the scene in front of you. Velvette yelling at a load of models, other demons running around grabbing body parts off the floor and clothes being burned. Well. That was different. A twitch of your lips hid a smile – so the Vee’s weren’t as organised and poised as they’d like you to believe. Good to know.

Taking a step into what felt like the Thunderdome your movement must have caught Velvette’s attention, she suddenly was advancing on you and quite fast for someone so short. You thought you were small, but she only came up to your shoulder. Of course her attitude, energy and that amazing hairdo made up at least a foot, if not more. And living with the other two Vee’s she needed as much attitude and sass to keep up.

“Ah so you are Y/n, totally nice to meet you face to face. Saw your post girl and I am in love with them – that last photo dump was so gorgeous and hitting all the trends so good on you.” Linking her arm with yours like you two were old buddies she pulled you further into the room, her voice so quick you had to focus so intently to understand what she was saying.

“So … any who, guess you are wondering why I brought you here?” She gently shoved you down on the chaise lounge, a small ‘offt’ escapes your lips when you hit the seat. Steadying yourself you turn your body to face the Overlord who decided to take a seat right next to you. Your knees almost touching. Okay then.

“Yes, I was curious why…” a glass of champagne appeared in front of your nose – accepting it gingerly you carefully held it in your lap thanking the demon who passed her boss a glass.

“Look, your style is cute but I think with my influence your style can be out of this world – I am in the market for a new model” - a glance to the pile of body parts in the corner of the room made you gulp - “and with your figure and my style we could totally rock this Hell, making us a tonne of money and you a star so whatcha think – whatcha say I can sort the contract out asap no problem, no fuss”. Blinking in a bit of shock at the speed of what she spoke and what she was speaking about you had to hold your hand up to stop her for a second. Information overload.

“Uh – wow that’s real generous of you Miss Velvette-“

“Please call be Velvette, or Vel! None of this Miss business,” Her smirk was widening, her black lipstick was shining under the florescent lights above us.

“Well, Velvette, I am really touched that you think I could model for you as your fashion range is just fantastic and I love it – but if I am to sign that contract what am I giving you?” You pretend to take a sip from your glass. No liquid entered your lips. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d heard of someone being drugged and signing their soul away – you wouldn’t be one of those.

“Oh, nothing big really. Just something tiny. Teeny really. You wouldn’t even miss it.” She wafted one of her hands around as the other was typing away on her phone.

“Uh huh and what would that teeny tiny thing that I wouldn’t miss be?” You hedged her for the answer what you knew was coming.

“Just your soul babes – nothing big.” Yeah, to her maybe. To you it was a massive thing. And you’ll be honest, you didn’t have masses in this Hell but you did have your soul which was more than some have.

“Then the answer is going to be no, Velvette” you placed your glass down on the table. Her fingers stopped twitching across her screen, her red eyes focused solely on you. Now normally you were one to bow your head and not make eye contact, but you’d had enough of the bullying attitude of these Vee’s now – not one but two now have tried to contract you into losing your soul and you weren’t having it! Matching her glare with one of your own.

“No?” Keeping the eye contact you nodded.

“Not to say I am not grateful that you thought of me, or the fact you even took the time to speak to me. But my soul is non-negotiable. Plus, I have a job already. One which I love and want to continue. So, thank you. But my answer is and will always be - No.” You might have held your eye contact, but your hands were starting to tremble a little. Clenching them together in fists you keep your gaze on hers. A small sneer was pulling on her lips, and you were getting ready to be dismembered like the model before you. But it never came. Instead, she laughed. Laughed?!

Not like an evil MWAHAHA laugh. But a genuine laugh. Confused you wrung your hands together as she lightly slapped your knee and wiped a tear from her eye.

“You got guts girl; I’ll give you that.” A strained smile tugged at your lips, dead heart thumping in your chest. “Fine then. No soul contract – which is a shame we could have had so much fun” her expression darkened with mischief sparkling in her eyes pulling a little heat to your cheeks. “But instead let’s make a little deal? No souls just two businesswomen making a deal, whatcha say?”

Raising your eyebrows in interest you place your elbows on your knees leaning forwards: “what do you suggest?”

“Your socials are starting to take off, people are noticing you babes, and I am here for it! You are a rising star, don’t think I haven’t been paying attention and seeing that people are using your hashtags and your name when they’ve seen you at one of the clubs singing performing”, surprised she had even looked you could feel your blush deepen. “So, here’s the deal – you wear some of my designs, tag them in your socials, etc and you come and do a catwalk for me and sing?”

“You want me to promote your clothes and sing at one of your Cat Walks?” you clarify because this evening was not going the way you had planned or thought it would go.

“That’s it gorgeous – whatcha think?” You think this was probably the longest Velvette had been off her phone.

“And that’s it? No loopholes, no contracts, no soul-binding – just for me to wear your clothes, promote them on my social media and sing at one of your cat walks – that’s it?” You narrow your gaze at the Overlord, there’s got to be some sort of catch here. The way she was gazing at you like a cat that had caught the canary you were sure you were screwed in some way.

“That’s it honey. No catch, no loopholes, just good business”. Humming under your breath, you racked your brains to see if there was anything that could go wrong.

“Okay, how long do I have to promote your clothes for and when is the Catwalk show?” you ask, tapping on your own phone bringing up your notes and typing away.

“Shall we give it six months and see what happens from there? The next Catwalk is in a one month’s time” her smile only got bigger. You couldn’t think where or what could be a loophole, it seemed like too good of a deal. And your mama raised you to believe if a deal was too good to be true then it usually is. But then again. When did you ever listen to her?

“So far so good, but what do you get out of it?” Her smirk grew, well that can’t be good. She reached over and squeezed your leg softly, your eyes flitted from her hand to her smug expression.

“I get exactly what I want gorgeous, but honestly helping rising stars get their fame is mainly it” her charming smile didn’t win you over. She was a lying. But let her keep her lies for now. You knew how to play the game and so far, you hadn’t been burnt. What’s a little risk.

“Okay Velvette, you have a deal”. Raising your hand, she slapped hers into yours and gave it a strong shake – red and black smoke erupted from her making you jump back a little but was stopped from the grip she had. Her grin was terrifying. Her hair was waving around her head like it was full of static. But as soon as the smoke and lights appeared, they disappeared as if you had imagined it. Pulling your hand away, the tingle of electricity ran through your fingers, you knew you hadn’t imagined it. Not at all.

“Well then gorgeous now that’s all done – you can pop back tomorrow and we will get all your measurements and go through colour schemes, styles, etc so keep you day wide open yeah!” Finishing off her glass of champagne we leaned back against the chaise lounge – never once had she let her gaze off you.

Nodding in agreement you thank her while rising from your seat, it was time for you to go and drown yourself in that bottle of whiskey. “You can stay if you’d like?” A flush covered your cheeks at her racking her gaze up your body.

“Thank you, but I better get home. Big day tomorrow I want to be rested” you give her your best winning smile, slipping your purse under your arm. Rolling her red eyes at you she huffed a little, “fineee be boring babes”. Happily!

Before you could even think of taking a step towards the elevator the doors slid open. An unimpressed Vox stood in the middle tapping away on his own phone, not tearing his gaze away from it he steps into the room.

“So what unfortunate soul have you managed to convince to work with you now Vel?” His charismatic voice lacked his usual flare and instead sounded bored. Not something you usually would hear from the TV Demon.

Clearing your throat, you were frozen in place when his eyes connected with yours. Uh oh.

“That unfortunate soul would be me” you smile nervously at him, watching as his screen glitched slightly. That was weird. His bored expression disappeared with the glitch and in its place was his usual charming smile.

“Ah Miss Y/n what a pleasure to see you! What was that you just said?” Velvette appeared at your side, wrapping an arm through yours you watched his screen glitch a little again.

“She’s mine now Voxxie” she smirked at the glitching demon.

“She’s WHAT?!”  

Taglist: @tasha-1994 @azullynxx

[sp0o0kylights]

There were a lot of things Mike hated in life.

The demogorgon, and how it had essentially destroyed his life.

 Brenner, and the madhouse laboratory El had survived. 

How each and every one of his friends now did something weird--were weird, because flashing lights or fireworks or some stupid tune a toy horse played dragged up memories that made their eyes flat and faces hollow. 

Most of all though, Mike hated how much they relied on Steve.

There was no reason he should be the person to call when it started pouring and no one wanted to bike home from AV. 

Steve wasn’t Nancy, or Jonathan, or a parent--he wasn’t even dating anyone related to any of the Party anymore so what excuse did he have to keep hanging around? 

(Even if Jonathan was always working, and Nancy was always busy with some club or homework, and everyone’s parents all seemed to be in a race of who could get back to normal the fastest…) 

They should at least try to get a hold of other people, instead of constantly going to Steve first.

“Why?” Dusitn had scoffed at him the last time this had happened, feeding quarters into a phone and staring at Mike like he was the one being unreasonable. “I’m not gonna waste money just to hear your sister tell us no again when we all know Steve will do it.” 

Which was perhaps the most infuriating part of it all.

That Steve would do it. 

Show up and help them, even if he bitched the whole time. 

Hell, Steve Harrington knew more about Mike’s life offhand than Nancy did, and that made him want to punch a wall more days than it didn’t. Why the hell was Steve so involved? 

It was stupid. 

Weird, even! They weren’t friends, (even if Dustin and Max and El of all people said the opposite) he wasn’t being paid to babysit, (Mike had double checked; going round to ask Ma Henderson and Mrs. Sinclair, only to get an earful of how wonderful Steve was from both.) he had no reason to hang around! 

It didn’t make sense that Steve could be harassed into picking them up from school. 

Would take them to get ice cream, or hand over extra quarters for the arcade. He even gave out advice like some kind of--brother that Mike had never wanted. 

Above all?

Mike hated that when he needed someone, the number he punched in on automatic was Steve’s.

“I need you to come get me.” He said into the receiver, mad at himself and the world, but mostly mad that beyond the normal amount of squawking Steve did, he shut up and came. 

Drove up in his rich boy car, stepping out and herding Mike into it like the rain hadn’t already seeped into his bones. 

“You wanna tell me why you snuck into a bar two towns over?” Steve asked, long after Mike had slung himself into the passenger seat, arms crossed defensively over his chest.

“No.” 

One of Steve’s hands went right to his hair, running through it before adjusting the mess he’d just made. 

It was a nervous habit, and Mike hated that he knew that too. 

“Okay, well.” Steve’s hand fell back to the steering wheel, clenching tight around it. “Next time you want to do something dumb could you at least come talk to me about it beforehand?”

“What the hell would that do?” Mike bitched, staring firmly out of the window. 

“Not waste my gas for starters.” Steve bitched right back. “But I dunno man, we could have taken some bats and gone and wailed on cars in the junkyard and talked or some shit, not--whatever this all was.”

‘This all’ was accompanied by a wave of his hand, indicating not just the bar Mike had been standing in front of, but his general sopping wet state. 

“You’d actually go to the junkyard with me?” Mike challenged, doubtful. 

Steve made a face. “Did you lose your hearing in there? I just said--.” 

“Why?” Mike interrupted. “Why the fuck would you come out with me?”

Matching his entire aggressive tone, Steve said; “Because it’s better than trying to sneak into the one local gay bar when you’re barely fourteen, Michael.” 

And that? 

Steve being oddly aware of shit he really shouldn’t have?

Mike hated that too. 

“You knew what the bar was?” He asked, his voice coming out much smaller than he intended. 

“Everyone knows what that bar is, except it’s more of a biker bar than a gay bar.” Steve shot back--which did actually explain about ten different questions Mike had about the place. “Also, language you little shit.” 

Under his breath, Steve continued in a muttered; “I swear I’m going to start carrying around soap.”

“You cuss more than we do.” Mike responded, and if his own voice was a little strangled as he fought back the sudden swell of tears, then that was between him and God. 

He was not crying in front of Steve Harrington, he outright refused. 

“The point I’m making is that there are way better bars to sneak into. That one’s not nearly as welcoming as people make it out to be, probably because they’re sick of all the rumors.” 

Steve seemed to realize what he was implying because he quickly added; “Not that you should be sneaking into any bars at all!” 

“You’re not my mom.” Mike’s voice turned wet as he lost his battle with his throat, voice cracking as he failed to choke the tears back.  

“No shit Wheeler.”  Steve said, and at least he was good enough not to call attention to Mike’s crying. 

If he had, Mike was pretty sure he’d just up and die of embarrassment, right there. 

“I don’t get why you care.” He muttered, angrily swiping at his eyes. 

“I didn’t keep you alive this long just so you could die of something stupid.” Steve countered easily.

Which was kinda fair, if you thought about it.

Mike very much did not want to think about it. 

Any of it.

Ever. 

“Are you gonna tell my parents?” He asked after a painfully long moment. 

Long enough that Steve had begun fiddling with the radio, trying to find a station as they drove back that wasn’t wailing country or gospel music. 

“I’m not a narc, so no.”  

“Not about the bar.”  

Now Steve just looked confused. 

Probably because he was, because he was without a doubt the stupidest almost adult Mike knew. 

(Not that he could say that out loud--last time he had, Max had made one of her pissy faces and then El got mad because Max was, which led to a break up, which led to Mike having to beg his way back into his girlfriend’s good graces while explaining that he hadn’t meant it like that.

“How did you mean it then?” Max demanded, and Mike wasn’t sure how he managed to dodge that entire conversation but he had, on grounds that untangling his own emotions regarding stupid Steve made him want to pull his hair out and scream.) 

“What about then?” 

 “You know. Don’t make me say it.” Mike absolutely didn’t plead, even if it did sort of, kind of, sound like pleading. 

Steve flicked his eyes away from the road to give one long, weird look at Mike. The same one he gave Dustin when he went off on a rant about Cerebro or Lucas when he started discussing the stats of different D&D weapons. 

Unlike those times, Steve’s face cleared. 

“Oh.” He said, blinking, and Mike could practically see the light bulb flash above his head.

Then; 

“Nah.” 

Mike waited.

And waited.

And kept waiting as Steve went back to searching through radio channels, as if that was the end of the conversation.

It couldn't be the end of this conversation.

Not when this was the part that was eating Mike alive.

He didn’t know if this was Steve repressing it on purpose or if this was what he had to look forward to for the rest of his life if he kept trying to figure his own head out, but either way, he knew he had a choice to make. 

To let the unspoken part of today die quietly. Go unsaid, and remain unsaid, for all eternity--or he could let it out. 

Shove the “gay” part of “gay bar” in Steve’s stupid, jock face. 

Make him acknowledge it, even if it got Mike kicked out of the car, and who cared if it did? 

Steve wasn’t the person who should have picked him up anyway. 

The anger climbed higher and higher in his chest, tears and rage combining until Mike spat it all out, furious. 

“You’re not going to ask if I’m gay?”  

Steve didn’t turn to face him, but Mike saw his eyebrow cocking anyway, given how he was currently glaring a hole in the side of the older teen’s head. 

“Do you want me to?” 

“No.” Mike bit out automatically. “Yes. I don’t know!” 

Steve’s hand found its way back into his hair. 

“Okay then.” Steve paused, clearly fishing for something to say. 

Gleefully, Mike watched him struggle. 

“Do you like guys?” He managed finally, looking like he was navigating a minefield more than just talking.

“I don’t know.” Mike stressed, sinking lower in his seat. “Why do you think I was at the bar? I was trying to figure it out!” 

“Honestly I assumed this was some sort of stupid dare--but!” Steve held up a finger, before Mike could interrupt, “But let’s--shit, hold on, I had a speech for this but I kinda wasn’t expecting to use it this soon. Um.”

“You have a speech for me being gay?”

“Not for you.” Steve rolled his eyes. “For--in general! It was an in general, just in case speech!” 

He rounded on Mike, for longer than the younger was comfortable with given Steve took his eyes off the road to do it. “Okay--you can like boobies, you can like, uh--not boobies, and that’s fine! It’s all totally fine!” 

“You are not making it sound like it’s fine.” Mike said, feeling like he’d been taken out by hearing Steve say the word “boobies.” 

Gross, gross, gross. 

“Well it is.” Steve said, in a tone that felt like he was two seconds from adding in a smarmy ‘so there!’ at the end. 

“But I’m dating El.” Mike whined, which really, was both the heart of the matter and the eye of the storm that had been growing in his head for months now. “I can’t be gay if I like her.” 

“Don’t you guys break up and get together like four times a week?”

“No, that's Max and Lucas, El and I are stable.” Mike scoffed. “Or we--we were stable.” 

Before he started to have thoughts about people that weren't his girlfriend. 

Or women.

“Stable for being in middle school, sure.” Steve snorted. “You don’t just have to like one or the other you know. You can like dudes and chicks at the same time.”

Which Mike did not know, on account of being fourteen. 

He did his absolute damndest not to show that realization, instead adding that to the list of reasons why he hated Steve Harrington too.

Steve shouldn't be the one teaching him about who you could like!

“The point is that who you end up loving isn’t a problem.” Steve finally looked back to the road. “Other people might be an issue, and those people we can punch in the face so long as the cops aren’t looking, which isn’t part of the speech so let’s not tell people I said that part, but whatever you do choose, there’s nothing wrong with you.” 

Steve’s voice went firm, as he apparently recalled his speech or something close enough to it because his next words sounded a little rehearsed. “You have people who are here for you, no matter what. Okay?” 

Oh God, Mike was crying again. 

He wanted to punch Steve in his stupid face.

Wanted to hold onto the fury he'd built inside himself. Thrash around, throw himself out of the car, get away from the emotions that felt too big for his chest to contain. 

Instead he felt it all break on Steve's acceptance. On word's he didn't know he needed to hear until they'd been spoken, and sniffed out a quiet; “Okay.” 

Steve of course had to take it too far by reaching over and patting his knee, which they both regretted judging by how quickly Steve took his hand back and the face Mike made at his hand--but it…

It was appreciated, even amongst all Mike's rage.

Steve was appreciated. 

Not that Mike would ever, on pain of death, tell him that. 

Neither said a word for a while, Steve finally landing on a radio that was playing some Top 40 hit, Tears for Fears singing about ruling the world while Mike found himself trying to rebuild his own once again, tired of it having shattered so many times over. 

At least he finally felt better, even if he refused to admit Steve was the reason for it. 

He wasn’t quite done though.

 There was a piece Steve had skipped over, that Mike felt was critically important, if only because it was partly the reason he was having thoughts about being gay in the first place. 

He had to know if Steve saw it too. 

That it wasn’t just him and his stupid head, making up things that weren’t there. 

“Hey Steve?” 

“Yeah?”

“Who was the speech for?” 

Steve sighed. 

“Rule one of the whole queer thing Wheeler, you don’t out other people.” 

Like there were written rules or something.

(Maybe there were, it wasn't like Mike knew.)

“Was it Will?” Mike asked, and pretended like he didn’t desperately want the answer to be yes. 

 Steve didn’t say a thing, but the fact he nearly took the car off the road was a pretty solid answer in itself. 

“We’re not playing guessing games about other people’s sexualites!” He yelped, hands gripping the steering wheel as Mike felt a wave of relief crash through him. 

Will was--maybe, possibly, also--queer too. 

Which didn’t make this any better but it--wasn’t the not preferred outcome, either. 

(It wasn’t just Mike struggling alone, trying to figure out if his best friend wanted to be more than that, if El was breaking up with him and more and more because she wanted to be less than a girlfriend, if things were changing and he would have no one--) 

“I’m not out here picking Will up from a gay bar dipshit, I’m picking you up, and this is your reminder that next time, you should just come talk to me!” Steve ranted. 

Mike snorted.

He absolutely hated Steve Harrington, but--

“Fine.” He said, talking so low he could barely be heard. “I will.”

--maybe Mike did have someone in his corner after all. 

Even if it was just Steve. 

xXx

Bonus: 

“Between you and me, that kid is gayer than a two dollar bill.” 

“Wow Robin,” Steve teased, “Isn’t that like, a slur or whatever?” 

He snickered when she rolled her eyes and threw a roll of stickers his way. 

“I’m just saying. Did you see the way he was looking at you when you were showing off your stupid biceps?” Robin said, nudging her shoulder into Steve’s. “Will’s gonna have a rude awakening later if he hasn’t already.” 

Steve nudged her back, but kept his gaze on the Party as they trooped their way from Family Video to the arcade next door, the realization that they now had connections for free rentals making them downright gleeful. 

Will was the last one in, and Steve watched him hurry so as to not be left behind. 

He didn’t like to worry about the dipshits, but Robin was just putting voice to a thought Steve knew he wasn’t the first person to have.

And if he noticed it, then it didn't exactly bode well as being kept a secret. 

“Should we like…talk to him about that?” He asked after a long moment, turning to face Robin.

“Us?” She pointed at herself, before turning her finger on Steve. “Why us?” 

“Well you’re into girls.” He gave her a pointed look, glad that the store was empty of everyone but them so he could actually voice all this. “And I’m fine with it.”

“Yeah I’m sure he wants to know you’re fine with it.” Robin taunted, but she had her thinking face on, eyes out to the middle distance. “I barely know him. You barely know him--he’s the quietest out of all your kids.”

“They’re not my kids.” Steve argued automatically. “They're like a weird cross between shitty siblings and that kid in your class who never leaves you alone.” 

A fact Steve no longer took for granted, even if he made it sound like the worst thing ever.

“I just think it’d be nice if he knew that he had people in his corner, you know? Who supported him and shit.” 

“Steve, you compared my crush to a muppet, that wasn’t supportive.” Robin countered, but it too was on automatic. 

Softer she admitted; “You’re right though. If I had known other queer people, if I had known people would accept me...it would have made things a lot easier.”

A very long pause, in which both of them stewed for a moment, before Robin abruptly slapped her hand down on the table.

“Okay, you got me. We're doing it, and I'm making us a speech.”

“A speech?” 

“Yes dingus, a speech. I know you, you’re terrible when you’re put on the spot with this kinda thing, and trust me with things like this the moment will be spontaneous.”

“It’s Will, how spontaneous can it be?” Steve challenged back. “Getting a dinner order out of him is a chore.” 

“Stop whining and hand me that notepad. Im telling you its gonna happen when you least expect it and then you're gonna thank me later.”

“It better not happen without you.”  Steve sighed, but passed the notepad over.

God the things he did for those stupid kids. 

Bonus x2

Steve would later go on to use the speech on himself, in a gas station bathroom mirror, eyes wide and freaked out after Eddie Munson called him Big Boy in a van they stole, while Robin snickered behind him. 

He would turn on her, snapping that she; “Help me with this dammit!” 

In return she’d remind him that Tammy might sing like a muppet but Eddie  was the guy who stepped on lunches while giving speeches at lunch and sticking his tongue out, and “Really Steve, I think I won best gay awakening, here.” 

Which would promptly start an argument regarding how it wasn’t a competition, which would continue for another fifteen or so odd years before finding its way as a reference into both of their speeches as each other’s best man. 

Nancy and Eddie wouldn’t get it at either wedding, but Mike would.

[comicpolls]

[lysaisland]

then we jump back, do it again

part one, part two

this has been in the works for a while. srsly was a labour of love guys, enjoy!! <333

based on these hcs

Touya was thirteen, almost fourteen, when he experienced true anger. He thought he was familiar with the searing feeling, the red trickles of homely annoyance. But, no, he was wrong; what he felt when he saw his father’s back, this time, surpassed all.

It was recital night, and, on this occasion, it was late December, almost New Year’s. The recital was hosted where it routinely was, at a locally renowned music hall. Famous, mainly, for showcasing young and promising talent. Many families were there. 

In an environment such as this, Touya knew he was talented, how could he not? He was used to high praise from friends and family for his complex piano, but so were the others. He learnt how to manage his jealousy in that regard.

It was an ugly feeling, in comparison to anger. For one, for Touya, it was an icy emotion. It would snake round his spine, bite his ears and fill them with all sorts of noxious words. He would shiver, impressed by the music he heard, and gnaw the inside of his cheek to ground himself, thinking that he could do better. And, with enough practice, he would. He made sure of it, always did.

This time, however, little Shoto and his father festered something else inside him. 

The order for tonight was Shoto, then Touya.

Shoto was five, and, according to their piano teacher, a boy-wonder. Old man Tanaka described his playing as thoughtful, with technique that most experienced piano players would never have in their lives. He had never in his life seen such a prodigy in piano of the likes of the bright Shoto. The kid only started piano lessons four months ago, whereas Touya has been in love with the instrument for four years. He had worked hard to earn his skills, so why was the no-effort, soulless piano so commended?

Their mother believed that it was wonderful that two of her sons were beautiful musicians. Touya refused to believe that his little brother had the capacity for such complexity. Shoto still believed that a monster lived under his bed. (It was Touya, he hid under the bed, and grabbed his foot once.)

You, on the other hand, just told him to focus on himself, and to stop being so mean to a little, five year old boy. Touya made it clear to you that the whole point of his bitterness was the fact that he was five; you only gave him a sympathetic smile in response, before asking him to play something. 

The whole of his family was in the crowd tonight, with the addition of you. Touya could see you from the wings of the stage. You were seated next to Fuyumi, head bent facing her. She whispered something in your ear. He saw you push his little sister’s glasses up her nose, quietly snickering into your hand after.  Fuyumi mirrored your giddiness. He shook his head lightly at your antics, fond.

Touya’s eyes drifted to his father and mother. They were to the left of Natsuo, who was on the other side of Fuyumi, playing on his DS. His father had his usual stern expression on his face. He was staring intently on his phone, firmly nodding once or twice when his mother said something. He saw her gently run a hand through Natsuo’s hair, ruffling it, as someone came on stage to announce the official beginning of the recital.

He should probably go backstage now, the manager was probably making sure the kids were in place. He heard her shrill voice reduce to harsh whispers, perhaps out of fear of interrupting whoever was on stage. Touya thought that it would be fine, if he watched from where he was. The recital was going to be fine. Everyone was entering from the other side of the stage anyway. He will just go back, when Shoto neared the end of his piece. 

Piece after piece went by, and finally, Shoto plodded on stage. Touya had to hold his breath to stop himself from laughing. The kid was wearing a tailored blazer with matching trousers — a navy almost too bright. Poor Shoto, bundled into the costume of a prodigy, while the other kids wore their favourite shirts and jeans.

The spotlights were so bright that Touya thought  that the brat would trip over his own feet before he even reached the grand piano.

He watched his brother inhale a small breath, and then, the twinkling notes of Für Elise began to ring through the hall. Touya rolled his eyes, of course he was playing Beethoven.

At that moment, he couldn’t help but think that Shoto looked like he belonged on that stage. The music was breathtakingly solemn. Perfect. It was perfect. Touya noticed his brother’s eyes were fixed to the expanse of ivory, and didn't even look up once.

Who needed sheet music? Not Shoto. Ha. 

Touya turned his head to gaze at the crowd, to his family. There was a delicate combination of interest and pride among the faces — slight smiles and sparkling eyes. In place of their father’s usual stoic frown, his face was vacant, blank, as if he was in deep thought. Then Touya remembered, this was the first time their father had ever listened to Shoto play.

The song was finished. He needed to go backstage. Touya gave his little brother one last look, and clapped. 

As he was nearing the piano, Touya glanced at the crowd. He didn’t realise how large the audience really was until that very moment. A small smile pulled at his face. 

This piano was unlike the grand piano he usually practiced with at home. Where this one was dark in colour, the grand piano that resided at the Todoroki house was snow white. It was a beautiful thing. Sleek and impressive, it was a gift from his father to his mother, he remembered. Funny. He recalled the day it was brought in, years ago. An early Christmas present was all it was.

Touya gave the crowd one last glance. He paused, breath hitching.

You, Fuyumi, Natsuo and his mother. Gap. A stranger.

Touya thought he was familiar with his blood itching to burst from his skin, everytime his father had opinions about his note-perfect playing. He had just learnt to hold his tongue, and swallow down the bitter gall that begged to come out.

He was used to indifference after he had finished piano practice, after a performance. All he could do was accept it — bite and endure.

It was there that Touya changed, on a piano that was both familiar and not. 

There were thousands of things that he wanted to do at that moment. He guessed he would have to settle for this. 

Straightening his back, he moved to start playing. It was different to the original sheet music, in which he would have played it exactly. The keys were a tinge warm beneath the pads of his fingers — a distinct contrast to the song he was playing. Where the song sounded sweet, he decided to change it. This section, a swipe faster, yes, and the melody skillfully delayed to complement it.

Touya didn't know what to contort his face into anymore. It was beyond uncomfortable. His heart was trying, increasingly, to catch up to the tempo of the music. The heat of the lights was nothing, but a suffocating veil over him, causing him to breathe, desperately, a little deeper, and a little more. 

Enji missed out. This was going to be Touya’s last dance with the piano. He swore it.

He threw out his piano books that very night.

It had been a year and a half since Touya ceased gracing the piano, and took up the bass.

Technically, he took up your bass. It was an electric one, relatively cheap and unused. Touya swore he would return it within a week, just to test it out, but then weeks turned into months. Eventually, you relinquished ownership of your bass to him, after making him swear on a favour you had yet to cash in. You told him that he was better at it than you were anyway, so may as well. He needed a hobby that was not lamenting over Shoto’s musical hold on Enji.

Protected by a poster from a band you liked, that warded off nosy Shotos, when Touya woke up, you were humming. It was a comfort in the would-be silence. The sound was light and airy, as if you were entertaining the pillows and blankets around him, or perhaps the clouds beyond his window. You were no longer in the make-shift bed next to him, but at his desk, doodling, on late homework probably. The curtains were open. Light was billowing in. You always did this when you slept over. He was surprised that he didn’t wake up earlier.

Touya closed his eyes again, and leaned back into the bed. He recognised the tune that you were humming. It was from a piano piece he used to play. An ache started to settle between his ribs.  He could imagine his fingers gliding along the keys, note-perfect still. He could still picture the feel of each press of the pedal.

He loved piano, truly did. He remembered how his mother taught him to be gentle with the keys. Let the sound flow out, softly and sweetly.

Not so fast, Touya. Sink into it, darling.

The ache started to burn. He remembered the cold expanse of Enji’s back. Yes, no, he would not return, no matter how much it called for him.

Your humming landed, for a long second or two, on a singular note before morphing into something faster, something even more familiar. Ah, Touya knew this one. It was your favourite song from that one band you always listened to. He knew the name; it was on the tip of his tongue. He should probably learn the song sooner or later; it would be good practice. He opened his eyes to gaze at your silhouette, drinking in the sunlight. You were still crinkling pieces of paper.

The sounds of pencil to paper came to halt. You let out a breath. It was quiet, with a hint of exasperation. Then, you spun around to look at him, locking with his eyes, as if you knew he was awake all along. He doubted that he could ever hide anything from you; the urge to see your unavoidably satisfying reactions were too strong.

“Let’s get food,”  He noticed the lilt in your voice, playful and knowing, “creep.”

“M’not a creep. You’re the one watching me sleep.”

You scoffed in response, approaching closer to the bed; your hair haloed your face, messy. Touya thought you couldn’t be cuter at that moment, he wondered if you knew that. A grin adorned his face, full of cheek.

Suddenly, a pillow was in your hands, ready to deliver a swift revenge. You gave him a matching smile, before you mischievously brought the pillow down onto him. 

“Really now?” You said between blows, “I’m pretty sure you’ve been awake the last ten minutes, and just lied there lazy — like a creepy slug.”

Touya couldn’t help the puff of laughter that escaped him. 

“Fine then, anything you want. Let’s go and eat.” He declared, as he landed a pillow squarely to your face. 

-

Touya was eighteen when he decided that the League was going to be a good fit for him. Even though it was a rag-tag band made of musically-talented idiots.

Idiots, because Touya whole-heartedly believed that the group shared one brain cell, and Tomura was the one unfortunately permanently in control of it. Asshole, but it took one to know one. 

From the first few rehearsals, he gathered that Twice was dependable on the drums, but never closed his mouth. It was always this, that, and the other with him. Spinner had a skill for the electric guitar, and a good voice. Funny how he barely used it, and allowed Tomura to do all the goddamn yapping from his keyboard. He knew how to riff well though. Touya gave him that one.

Touya was also eighteen when he decided to blow most of his money he had saved on a new bass guitar — dark blue in colour obviously. He had to match his theme, you would have insisted on it.

He needed to get something of his own anyway. There was always something slightly off whenever he played your bass guitar. Maybe, it was because, everytime he picked up that electric bass, thoughts of you never subsided. A constant memory, embedded in the wood. It was never truly his.

You had better dedicate every song you play on that bass to me!

He remembered how your face broke into a smug smile as you said those words. A mere joke on your end, of course, but to Touya? You told him that after he had learned your favourite, second favourite and third favourite songs. 

He wondered about you. A thought into a spiral. When was the last time he saw you? Not just a passing little nod, or a hasty facetime, but the last time you two had properly talked to one another. He saw that you had truly bonded with Fuyumi over the years, always giggling at something. It irked him to say the least. He wasn’t jealous, never. It had just been a while since he saw your face. You were busy; admissions were a pain. 

Touya ran a hand through his white hair, a habit that refused to be shaken off. His hand brushed the shell of his ear, he winced slightly. It was the piercing he had gotten a few months ago, still irritated, and a little swollen. Healing it was proving to be a true struggle, as it always was. He was not up to date with piercing aftercare.

At the very least, he supposed a positive of this was that he matched with you. More than just a positive really. He couldn’t help but relish in the fact that had happened. A blur of cheap vodka, silver needles, and studs in the cartilage of both your ears. He barely recalled the sting of the needle, but the press of your body against his side was fresh in his mind.

Rehearsal was slow today. He could feel the lack of heart. A few missed notes, one, a beat in front, and another, a beat behind. It was not a passionless practice per say, but Touya could see that, within those four walls, that today would not be the most rewarding or fruitful. 

Sweat was beading on his forehead, and his hands needed a stretch. He could see from the corner of his eye the flash of his phone, near Spinner’s guitar case. A notification, probably a response from Keigo about how he will be booked in for a session tomorrow, and will not be flaked upon; he will end the day with a complete tattoo, not with half a snake head on his torso. The dumbass had already blown him off several times, due to conflicting schedules.

Ha.

Touya refused to hear a word of defence from him. It pissed him off to no end that you had recommended the man to him in the first place, gushing about how intricate his work was. It was damn good ink, but still, your taste sucked. 

“Enough!” Tomura snapped, splintering the growing mood of listlessness, “We’re done for today.” Touya breathed out a sigh. Great! 

“I thought we were going through the whole set?” Twice asked, not picking up on how distracted the rest of the band was. Spinner just shook his head.

“Practice is good, but knowing when to stop is better.” Touya gruffly replied, as he picked up his phone. His eyes widened, and his mouth sagged a little. A dull day no more.

“Says the guy who fucked up the most.”

Touya shrugged at his words, giving Tomura a brief glance before leaving. 

“Dabi, same time tomorrow! Okay?”

He didn’t turn around again. He needed to get home. Touya may not be going to the tattoo parlour anytime soon, but he will be dyeing his hair tonight.

You had texted him if he was interested in dying his hair.

A catch-up (long overdue), and a dyeing session.

Of course he was interested.

He imagined the two of you curled up in your college bathroom, like a plait weaving around each other to do his hair, trying hard to not blind him in the process. Your hands would pull at his hair, firmly but gently, to hold him steady as you worked. He would look up to see your pretty face, meet your eyes, and you would look down to see him, pliant in your hands. Eyes would meet a glimmer of cunning, a smudge of want— 

Touya bit the inside of his cheek. No. One step at a time.

He refused to ruin this harmony that the two of you had crafted, a fine dance of friendship. Moments where anything could happen, or could not. He so badly wanted to leap into action, cup your face and call you his.

But, when he wasn’t even sure that you saw him that way, he needed to stave off whatever this feeling was, and he knew exactly what this was.

Just not yet.

He ran a hand through his hair again. It would be easy for the dye to seep into his white locks. Any colour could work. 

He wondered what you would think of him if he had black hair, fantastically, jet-black. A stark difference to his natural colour, the polar opposite even. Touya thought of the posters you had, the bands you liked.

He laughed as he picked up the box dye from the shelf. Yes, black was perfect. 

“Hello there, stranger,” Your voice sounded warm and light, as you opened the door to let him in, “it’s been a while.”

“What is it with you, and calling me names? I’m no stranger than you.” He replied, teasing.

He chuckled at the way you gave him a rebuttal, his name sliding off your lips like wine. You were Touya’s perfect kind of rich indulgence. If he could bottle this moment of you, of you both, and drink it down later, when he inevitably finds himself longing for you a little more than usual, he would. He would drink it down like a man starved. 

Your college bathroom was exactly how he pictured it, cramped, with lighting second place to a candle.

Touya took his seat on the floor, leaning against the wall of the bathtub, waiting expectantly for you to work your magic on his hair. Neither of you had dyed hair before, but what was so hard about box dye? The whole point of it was that it came easy in a box, neatly packaged and labeled. 

His hand found itself fiddling with the edge of  his old shirt, nails scraping at the seams. Touya hoped he didn’t look too scruffy, maybe he could play it off as relaxed.

He looked up to where you stood. You were leaning against the doorway, head bent slightly, reading over the instructions.

“Decided to go for the all black look, Touya?”

He hummed lightly in agreement. “Yep,” popping the ‘p’ at the end, “anything for the fans, am I right?”

You glanced at him, lingering on his eyes, and tilted your head, “Huh? Didn’t know you had fans, I thought only Dabi had fans.”

“Pedantic much?”

“Who’s Touya? The League only has a Dabi.”

“Stop that, and get over here.”

A snicker slid past your lips before you passed Touya your phone, opened to a music app.

“Connect my phone to my speaker, and choose the music – I’m feeling generous. We need a bit of something in here.”

He could smell the tang of hair dye in the air, as he scrolled through your playlists. He recognised all the different artists you enjoyed over the years, of all different genres and styles. His thumb landed on a shared playlist of yours, created fairly recently. Touya skimmed the titles of the first few of the songs before hitting ‘shuffle’. The selection was comfortably broad, a mix of indie rock, 2000s pop and some rock that he liked. 

As the first song began, he felt a cold blob of black grace his head. Touya felt a breath of amusement above him, after he complained about the sensation.

His eyes lingered on what he could see. You had a look of concentration on your face, brows furrowed slightly, eyes focused on every strand on his head. Cute.

It was a peaceful progress. The dynamic between the two of you was natural. Right there, in the middle of your bathroom, Touya felt right. 

The new song that started to play had an awfully familiar bassline, and powerful drums. Off guard, he internally swore that the world was against him.

A League song.

“Done yet, darlin’?” Touya felt the back of his neck start to heat a little, the more he listened to the song. His solo was coming up in a few seconds. 

He didn’t know why he felt so self-conscious. You’ve listened to him play more than anyone in the world combined. You’ve heard every wrong note, and clumsy technique he’s ever tried. Hell, you’ve even witnessed the time he tried to sing. (It was terrible. His voice was so croaky, and unpracticed — singing felt plain wrong, never again.) 

You took a step back to look at him clearer. He immediately missed the warmth that you gave off, when you were mere breaths away.

“You look good.” 

Touya forgot all about his earlier embarrassment, and looped those three words in his head instead. Your words were warm, knowing. He scanned your face, searching for anything that you’ll give to him – a joke or sarcasm.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer, Touya.”

Joke. He rolled his eyes.

“Washing this off now, or what?”

You looked over to the box, rubbing under your chin with your wrist to avoid getting black dye on your face.

You failed.

Touya reached his own hand out, and rubbed at that spot, ridding it in a swipe.

“Now, I think.”

“What shampoo do I use?” He asked, wiping the dye onto his shirt. 

“Just use mine? It works the same.”

Touya walked out of the bathroom, warm and refreshed, and with a towel on his head. He had not had a glimpse of his new hair colour yet, waiting instead to reveal it together with you. He had deliberately averted his eyes when he got out of the shower to avoid the steamy mirror.

The rhythmic boom of the music, coming out of your speaker, halted abruptly as you laid your eyes on him. 

“Touya.” Your voice scandalised, your phone now face down on the blankets of your bed, “That’s a white towel. That is never going to come out.”

He uttered a playful ‘whoops’, before continuing to dry his hair with the same towel. You groaned in frustration, and covered the sides of your face with your hands.

His hair was still a little damp, but Touya figured that it would dry soon enough. 

“You look good. Hot.” After a breath. 

“This again, doll?”

He watched you shrug. You gestured casually to the mirror on your desk, eyes lidded. 

“See for yourself. I’m not lying, if you looked like shit, I would have told you.” 

Touya scrutinised his reflection. He saw his own cerulean eyes dart across his face, to the void of his hair, and back.

He bit back a smirk. You were right. He did look good, felt it too.

He ran his hands through his hair, the texture was a little different, but he would get used to it soon enough. A smidge rougher than usual, like thread, but that was to be expected. 

“You’ll want a bit of hair oil.” You chimed in, approaching him, hand reaching up to ruffle his hair, “I’ve got some, you might want to try that out, but I’m not sure if you’ll like the smell.” 

You hand stayed atop his head. It was warm, a contrast to the damp cold on his head. You hummed lightly, before asking him if he wanted to use the hair dryer. 

He shook his head in response.

His heart sped up a little. If he angled his head a little to the left, bent his neck just the slightest, he would be meagre millimetres away. He brought his hand up to ruffle your hair in return. 

His voice was sincere, “You did a great job, thank you.” 

You replied with a grin, proud, teeth showing. Touya could see you flush slightly at the praise. He should do this more often. 

Being with you was always so good. He didn’t have to be anyone at that moment, just Touya — there was only him, and only you in his little world.

Then, you froze.

The smile on your face was suddenly unnerving, your eyes just a little too wide. Around the two of you, the mood plummeted into a quiet, nervous frenzy. Thoughts firing a million miles per hour. Touya watched you try to school your expression back into what it was before.

It was too late. He saw that. 

“What’s wrong?” He blurted out, thinking of everything, any nothing at the same time.

What did this mean? Did Touya do something? For one dreadful moment, he landed on the thought that you suddenly decided that you hated him, and never wanted to see him again. 

You would never do that, not to him, surely. 

The image of your sudden uneasiness played in his head again, and again. It looked like you had remembered something. What?

His hands were by his sides now, clenched, then unclenching. He felt like he was about to gnaw a hole into the side of his mouth if the silence scraped on. 

You mumbled a few words under your breath, barely audible. You refused to meet his eyes. 

He reached for your hands. They were only slightly colder than his own. He had always run warm, perhaps he felt a little too warm right now; he felt a little dizzy too. Gently squeezing your fingers, he tried to comfort you (the both of you). 

“I got into the uni I wanted to.” you began quietly, almost a whisper.

The void that began in his stomach expanded. That was a good thing, right? You got what you always wanted. Even though Touya was never so fully invested in his education, he knew that that was a good thing. He had always supported you in whatever you wanted to do, through every goal, every whim. You never did things in halves, and neither did he. 

There was more to this, wasn’t there?

If you were worried about drifting apart, Touya could just drive to you, surely. He would have to work around expenses, but he’ll make do. 

“Abroad.” 

Touya thought that this was the closest he had ever come to dying. His throat started to close in, drying the strings of his vocal chords.

You started to talk louder, returning to your regular volume, careful and slow. Explanations about the when, where, and why trickled out.

It felt surreal. 

“Okay.” The singular word, a croak in the air. He scarcely managed to warp his face into a casual smile, before he congratulated you on getting into the university. 

The university that was not in Japan — nowhere near Japan.

This felt weird. He tingled, as if rust had crept into his fingernails, seeping into the marrow of his bones.

Touya didn’t think he would be able to stomach the thought of you turning away, going away. 

God, you were going to be so far. 

soooooo hi part two will come out probably not soon, but keep ur eyes peeled lol talk to me in the ask box if u want anything

@rueclfer the tag u wanted <33

[jamessluttythighs]

stage - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 292

Regulus has no idea how he got into this situation. What had started off as a casual Friday evening was slowly turning into one of the strangest situations of his life. Trust Sirius and James five shots in to make some questionable decisions.

Remus and Regulus were sitting in a crowded bar. With barely any space between the small circular tables and the lights flashing purple and blue, Regulus felt slightly nauseous. 

They had started off with innocent drinks at James and Regulus’ apartment. It remained that way until James and Sirius started to play truth or dare. Each round becoming more absurd than the last.

That is how Regulus ended up here. At a karaoke bar. With his boyfriend wearing Spiderman pyjamas (that last fitted him when he was fourteen) and his brother wearing a pink cowboy hat complete with matching boots standing on the stage. 

“God what have you done?” James started, leaning dramatically into the mic stand. His midriff on display as well as his shins thanks to the way too small sleepwear. “You’re a pink pony girl,” punctuated with a finger pointing at his best friend. 

“And you dance at the club,” Sirius continues with a twirl. A spotlight somewhere behind them following their movements. “Oh mama, I’m just having fun”

Regulus glances at Remus. His eyes transfixed on Sirius. His mouth slightly opened in bewilderment. “Those two idiots are ours, aren’t they?” Regulus says to Remus, leaning his glass in. Remus taps his own glass to Regulus’ in response. “You bet your ass they are,” Remus smirks. 

“It’s where I belong,” James continues, shooting a wink at Regulus. He can feel his cheeks burning as he nods along to the performance. “Down at the Pink Pony Club”

[luellasplanet]

18. (georgia stanway)

word count: 1.3k

this is a stanners fanpage now btw xx

based on anabor’s song ‘18’

in which matching tattoos end a friendship but spark a relationship

You had met Georgia at the mere age of twelve, been best friends since thirteen, and had done everything together since fourteen. “Troublemakers since the beginning” as your mum would say.

You two stole a bottle of her mums wine, at fourteen, and finished the bottle in a random feild. Stole your older sisters makeup and gave eachother makeovers infront of your bathroom mirror at fourteen and a half. Hijacked their fishing boat for a midnight boat ride, at fifteen, when on holiday with the stanway family, Gave each other food poisoning at fifteen and a half after a not so great reenactment of ‘The Great British Bake-off.’

And at sixteen the two of you made the stupid decision to get matching tattoos, forging your parent’s signatures and stealing some money out their wallets, the two of you headed off into Manchester.

You had gotten a tattoo on your collarbone while Georgia opted to get one on her rib, both of the tattoos could be easily hidden from the view of your parents.

Both of your tattoos read ‘troublemaker,’ written in each others handwriting.

i know it’s just a phase

you’re not in love with me

The two of you had managed to keep your tattoos hidden from everyone, you often spent nights in eachother rooms while Georgia left hickeys scattered in a trail, starting on your neck and making its way down until they were littered around your tattoo.

It was merely fun for the both of you, no feelings, purely just friendship with a little bit of kissing here and there.

As you started to fall asleep your fingers delicately traced her tattoo, while your legs were entangled together. No words were exchanged as your touch sent shivers up her spine. Your shirt was lifted slightly which allowed for the side of your stomach to be pressed agasint hers, the skin grazing against skin made your heart beat slightly faster than normal.

Regardless of how many boyfriends or girlfriends the two of you had, somehow you always found yourself in this position, time and time again.

so if you wanna piss off your parents

One night while Georgia was away on a football camp she calls you extremely panicked, at around one in the morning, “what’s wrong stanners?” You question as you rub your eyes trying to adjust to the very little lighting the stars and moon offered.

“My parents saw my tattoo! Well erm they didn’t actually see it. Lessi saw it, and then just asked me about it as my parents came round the corner. And they heard and fuck y/n, they’re so pissed.” She quietly told you, although you were surprised that the brunette had managed to keep her voice quiet for more than ten seconds, you couldn’t focus on that. “Shit, they’re gonna hate me,” you mutter. “What did you tell them?”

Your voice came out in shaky tones as you tried to control your racing. Millions of thoughts flew into your head at once.

What if you weren’t allowed to see Georgia again? What if her mum hated you? Or her dad, or her brothers? Would she ever invite you round for tea again? Would her mum tell yours? Were you never going to be allowed to see your bestfriend again, just because of a stupid tattoo?

“Y/n? You there?” The voice of the brunette on the other end of the line broke you out of your train of thought. “Mhm, yeah you were saying?”

She paused before answering, “erm, well I told them that we had matching tattoos and now they’re just a little mad… but it’s fine they’ll get over it. I hope.”

Your worst fears were coming true, Georgia’s parents definitely despised you. They’re sweet innocent child had been influenced by you to get matching tattoos.

When your parents found out about the tattoo, they banned you from seeing Georgia again. Claiming that they’re daughter could not be seen walking around with ink splotches engraved on her body.

You had to wait to see her at school on Mondays, but after awhile her appearances at school became less and less frequent, until she barely ever showed up to school as she was too busy with football.

You watched her footballing journey from the sidelines, instead of being there to support her.

There was a little piece of you that would always resent your parents for overreacting about the tattoo to this extent.

Of course, ignoring your parents wishes you got more tattoos. On your ankle, neck, wrist, spine and behind your ear. But you kept them all hidden away from your parents sight with the best of your abilities.

if long hair and tattoos are what attract you, baby then you’re in luck

Your hair was carelessly placed in a messy low pony tail, showing off the tattoo on the back of your ear and neck, while your denim shorts and cropped shirt showed off the tattoos on your collarbone, spine and wrist.

You were watching Georgia’s game, along with some of your classmates. Lotte, who you’d had the many encounters with in the past pointed you out to Georgia as they warmed up. You offered the girls watching you a smile and a little wave as they focused back on the task at hand.

When the long game that had eventually gone into penalties was over, Georgia finds comfort in your arms, as your chin rests on her head until she was finally ready to let go, “come back to mine please, my parents aren’t here for the weekend and my brothers won’t care?” She asks looking up at you, although her arms never left their tight grip on your waist. “You look really pretty today by the way, I like the new tattoos.”

You laughed at her before telling her that, “flattery will get you no where my girl, but yes I’ll come over. I’ll just tell my parents I’m staying and Emilia’s house.”

date me to scare them

The two of you were sprawled out on her bed, after eating random leftovers you had found in the Stanway fridge you decided to watch a movie underneath the comfort of her duvet cover.

What was watching a movie turned into you reading a book, holding it with your one hand, while you mindlessly twirled Georgia’s hair in your other hand.

Holding the book and turning its pages with one hand was extremely difficult but you didn’t mind as you could feel Georgia’s breathe fanning against your neck as she read the book over your shoulder.

The peace was disturbed as she softly spoke, careful not to startle you due to the close proximity. “Be my girlfriend y/n, I can’t go on acting like not being able to see you is not affecting me. I’ll treat you better than anyone else I promise.”

You smile at her little speech before turning to face her, “but what about our parents? They’ll absolutely kill us if they find out I’m at your house right now, let alone the fact that we’re dating!”

Completely ignoring the first part of your sentence, georgias attention was focused on the last part. “So we are dating then! Perfect it’s settled, no further comments are allowed!”

Her random energetic behaviour was not unusual in the slightest but her smile literally could light up a whole room as she happily snuggled into your side, placing a kiss against your collarbone (where your tattoo was) before she drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

[the-traveling-poet]

Hey do u have any headcanons for Levi as a father to a daughter reader?

Headcannon no. 8

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His Girl

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A/N: I do now annon :)

taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe

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It hadn’t taken anyone in the Corps long to see the resemblance between their newest scout and the young girl who accompanied him.

Not only from the girl’s strikingly similar features to the one she followed like a shadow, but from her mannerisms as well.

Quiet, reserved, dangerous…But there were things about you that set you apart from the raven.

You were bolder than he was, in social settings. While he kept a stone cold facade, you were often found with a sarcastic smirk and using wildly animated gestures as you spoke.

Though it was obvious there was a relation between you and the thug Levi, no one knew what it might have been.

Relatives, of sorts. That much was obvious.

But it wasn’t until Hange had blatantly asked one day that Levi reluctantly gave in to their insatiable curiosity.

“She my kid, alright? Lay off, shitty-glasses.”

Of course they didn’t, in fact, lay off.

With this knowledge now floating around HQ, you were now regarded as someone of great interest.

The two of you kept your past to yourselves. Levi and your mother had had you young and raised you in the Underground. All anyone knew for certain, was you’d been brought along with your father and his friends to the surface when he was forced into the Survey Corps.

For awhile, you merely stayed in HQ near your father, learning all you could about the world outside.

Often times Levi would pause in his never ending duties as Captain, once promoted, to come check in on you.

He only trusted a select few to watch over you in his absence.

Once you were old enough, and Levi finally managed to ease up on his strict parenting a little, you’d been made a scout.

Of course your father would keep you near him at all times. You were the only thing he could ever possibly imagine caring about.

He’d taken you under his wing to work in his squad as his second in command.

Any complain about favoritism was quickly snuffed out by a glare from Levi and a snarky threat from you.

Levi was so proud of your ability to snap back harsh comments to anyone who questioned you.

You were his daughter, after all.

He’d watch on with a smirk barely hidden behind his teacup as you, his fourteen year old daughter, cussed a man three times your size out for suggesting you sit out a more challenging round of training.

Much to Erwin’s exasperation, Levi almost encouraged your brash behavior.

Let’s be honest here; he absolutely encouraged it.

“Levi…While I understand she is your daughter, perhaps you should instill a bit of respect in her. Life above ground isn’t the same as the life you two led below the surface.”

But Levi would scarcely get a word in edgewise before you’d suddenly appear at his side; grey eyes to match his glaring up at the tall man.

“Fuck off, eyebrows. Don’t talk to my dad like that.”

Please the way Levi would spare a grin on occasions like this and proudly ruffle your hair.

By the time you were a young adult, your stunning grey eyes paired with ebony hair framing your face really made you stand out to your fellow young adult comrades.

Expect to be hit on. A lot.

“For a thug, you sure are easy on the eyes.”

Cue overly protective father behavior to start showing from Levi.

“Fuck off zit face. Don’t speak to my daughter again if you value your shitty teeth.”

Let’s be honest; Levi would scare off any potential suitor simply because he didn’t approve of their appearances.

Overall, you’d be regarded as highly respected and highly feared not only for the identity of your father, but for the many attributes you’d inherited from him.

You could break a man’s arm in the blink of and eye then turn around with an innocent smile adorning your porcelain face.

You were terrifyingly beautiful and skillful, and everyone knew it.

And my god was Levi the proudest man in the Corps for it.

[obislittleone]

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 2

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, but the good kind. The Hunger Games are a bitch. Finnick should be a warning tbh... mild bullying but nothing wild.

Chapter Summary: After saying goodbye to your family, you and your tribute counterpart will board the train, meeting two mentors who may help you survive the bloodbath of the arena. Of course, one of them is Finnick Odair, so maybe the bloodbath will start before you even reach the capitol.

Word Count: 3.5k

It's only gonna get worse from here, guys... (and by that I mean it gets so much better as far as drama goes)

Lukas looked to you with concern, but couldn’t see your reaction as your features were hidden from him by your downward stare. Your hands were trembling, that was enough of an indication.  “Wait a minute,” Finnick furrowed his brows and leaned forward, examining the face of the boy, which he could see quite clearly. Worry resided there, but not for himself. You felt his eyes shift to you as soon as it happened, and they practically burned holes into the top of your head until you straightened your neck and met his eyeline. “You can’t be serious…”

He was the last winner from district four. A fourteen year old boy reaped during a year without career volunteers. A determined young man, hardened by the sting of the Capitol’s arena. Whispers through four were that it would be the same this year. No career tributes, only what has been reaped. 

Finnick does not think badly of this, quite the opposite, actually. Careers, though mostly prepared for what the games will hold, are almost always the most arrogant tributes. They think the training they have received is enough to prepare them for what it's like to be hunted, and to hunt down and kill others just like them. No amount of sparring rounds, or hours of weapons training can prepare you for that. Not mentally, at least.

He’s made up his mind about this year. He’s tired of watching kids go into that arena and not come out of it. He’s tired of seeing new faces every year, trying to help them only to realize they were never going to win in the first place. He knows it sounds twisted, and he knows what it will cost, but he’s promised himself a victor this year. Whoever is pulled from those bowls today, he knows that he won’t rest until one of them has a house across from his and Mags. He knows that no matter the age, gender, or lack of skills, one of them is going to win. 

He is so determined not to lose two more tributes. He’s so focused on making it his reality, he doesn’t even think about what he might have to do. He just knows that he’s willing to do it, when the time comes. 

Standing in the victor’s circle at the reaping is far better than standing amongst the gender separated crowds, but it still isn’t comforting. His hands are sweaty as he fiddles with them behind his back, waiting on the Capitol escort, Arbin, to finish his practiced lines. 

The first boy is a volunteer. Non career, but built just the same as one. Already, Finnick breathes a sigh of relief when he realizes the initial first pick would not have to go. This boy looked eighteen, seventeen at least, and was strong and handsome. A perfect tribute in all aspects. 

As Arbin made another unhumorous joke, teetering on his toes towards the girl’s bowl, Finnick somehow felt guilty. He’d already assumed the boy would be his victor, and he hadn’t even given the unpicked girl a chance. He hoped, now, that perhaps it was someone less than capable. The thought in and of itself was awful, but he didn’t want to be the one feeling guilty when one tribute left the arena and the other stayed as a permanent addition.

“Mercedes Blythe.”

An unknown name, like most of the others. The face that matched it was sullen… but damn, she was as good a tribute in any comparison to her counterpart. Eighteen, tall, strong looking, and beautiful. The sadness in her eyes reflected that of those she knew, but he couldn’t think about that. All he could think about was that his promise to himself would come at a great cost, whichever way it went. 

-

Arbin was kind, as you’d learned immediately after leaving the stage. He seemed to understand the weight of this event, despite seeming so joyful about it only minutes ago. He’d explained that you were on your way to the district’s processing center, where you would meet with your families one more time before getting on a train to the Capitol. You hadn’t spoken since the reaping. You knew that anything that came out of your mouth would only be unpleasant to hear anyway, and so far, Lukas had done a good enough job of asking all the questions you had on your mind. 

The room you met your family in was small, but it felt too large as soon as you stepped into it. The high ceiling must have played tricks on you. 

Your mother was hysterical, as you felt she must have been since the calling of your name. 

“M-mama, I’m sor-ry,” you sputtered out, reaching for her as she did. Once she had you in her arms she clung as tightly as she possibly could. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. It’s not your fault,” she shook her head, backing away only to look at your face. She had hoped this day would never come, but here you stood, tears on your cheeks and only a minute between now and a long train ride. She didn’t want to even think about what would happen to you once you left her sight. She just wanted to hold you for as long as she could. 

You saw your father standing behind her, holding the baby tightly as if trying to console himself apart from being able to hug you as well. He wouldn’t dare tell his wife to let go, not when he knows she may never see you again, but he wants to give you one last thing that he’s sorry he didn’t give you sooner. 

His gratitude. 

For putting your name in the bowl to eat, instead of taking the rations he needed in order to heal when he’d been so sick. That was the reason you were in this mess. He got sick, and his bones became so frail he broke his arm in a rigging accident… and you paid the price of his healing. If anyone should apologize it's him, but he knows you’ll just struggle to tell him not to. Still, as you leave the arms of your mother and look to him, he has to try. 

“I’m so sorry, little bear,” he tried not to show how much the emotion built up within him, but it boiled over without him even realizing it had. You leaned into him, an arm around your baby brother who may never remember you even existed. In three weeks there would be a victor, and you were almost certain it would not be you.

“I-it’s alright, papa. Y-you take c-care of mama for m-me, okay?” you asked, the nod of his head the best response he could muster and he leaned into you the best he could while holding the baby. He kissed the top of your head, inhaling the scent and trying to commit it to memory, that his daughter���s hair had smelled like fresh spring water from the center of the district. 

“I know I haven’t said it much, but you gotta know we’ve always been so proud of you. And it doesn’t matter what you do in that arena, if you have to do some bad things in order to come home, we will still be proud of you.”

You couldn’t have cried any harder after that, and feeling the arms of your mother once again coming around you, locking you together with your father and brother, you felt the last bit of peace you thought you would ever know. 

The peacekeepers were the ones to break apart the family moment, ushering you away to meet Lukas in the hall. 

-

Arbin pushed you both onto the train hurriedly, knowing that ‘wanting to see the shoreline from here, one last time,’ was only a way that Lukas could stall leaving the district. No one ever leaves their districts, so being made to not only leave, but basically being forced to go and die, made you both nervous to step aboard the transport that would take you there.

“Allow me to introduce your mentors,” Arbin stood by them, kind smiles on both their faces when they first saw you up close. “Mags Flanagan, 11th victor… and Finnick Odair, 65th victor.”

Mags didn’t say anything, but gave a warm handshake to you both, her opposite hand coming overtop of yours when she did each time. Finnick nodded to you both, a bit colder of a greeting, but probably to keep a necessary distance. His games were six years ago, they’re probably still fresh, and he doesn’t like getting close to the tributes. You can understand that. 

“I’m Lukas, this is Merce-” 

“We know. We were at the reaping,” Finnick stopped him short of his sentence, and you couldn’t help but be a bit annoyed at it. Surely, he was not so cold that he would forgo a simple introduction?

“Alright.” Lukas dropped his smile, which he’d forced onto his face originally, and replaced it with a look of irritation. He had his opinion on all of this, obviously, and wanted to know more than just these mentor’s names. “So, what now?”

Arbin seemed shocked at the seemingly polite boy’s lack of decorum for proper conversation. 

“Do we just sit here and wait until they shove us in that arena? Or are you meant to help us?” 

He wasn’t playing around, and his tone along with his words made Finnick smile. 

“Excellent question. See, I’m not much one for pleasantries, but this I can work with,” he turned around when he finished talking, waving his hand for you both to follow him. 

The car on the train you’d been led to was glorious. All the food you could possibly eat, the softest seats you’d ever imagined could be on a transport, and oh, the view was something to take in. The crested and sun topped mountains were unlike anything you’d ever seen before. You weren’t even out of district four, technically, but you’d never been away from the water a day in your life… ironic as it sounds. 

“First things first. Tell me something about yourselves that you think is captivating.”

Captivating? What did that have anything to do with fighting to the death in the hunger games? You hadn’t barely watched them before, too afraid of what it might have meant if you were reaped, but you were certain it wasn’t that kind of show. 

“I can swim a mile in twenty minutes,” Lukas answered first, something easy off the top of his head. 

“That’s not gonna work. You’re from four, half the boys your age or under can do the same. It has to be something personal, intimate. Something that gives insight to you as a tribute.”

“I c-collect rare cockle sh-shells,” you piped up. Finnick turned to you with raised brows, unexpecting the answer you gave, but not because of the words.

He had to blink a few times, and shake his head to get out of his thoughts in order to respond. 

“Yeah, that’s uh-” he cleared his throat, finally able to get it out. “That’s good.”

There’s the catch. Two perfect tributes, except one has a severe stutter.

The conversation continued, but after his reaction, you spoke only when you thought it was absolutely necessary. 

It was sad, the way he looked at you, nearly shocked at first before his eyes fell with a feeling unknown, something akin to pity, but worse. Something that not only felt sorry for you, but wanted to not have to deal with it. Pity, mixed with a kind of annoyance, that was not only evident but outstanding. 

Later in the evening, you were both shown to your rooms, exact copies of one another, separated by a train car in between, where the victor's rooms were. 

The victors, Mags and Finnick, but only one of them seemed really keen on giving his input. The other was just too kind and too gentle, willing herself more to give over her sympathies and compassion. You understood her. She wasn’t violent by nature, and you felt that even though his exterior was cocky and arrogant, Finnick had more beneath his rough and tumble outer layers as well. 

Mags spoke through sign language, and though you weren’t fluent, you could well figure out what she was saying to you. You were not quick to reply each time, but you much preferred the slow movements of your hands to a stuttering word. 

She’d been the one to lead you into the car one over, opening your door for you and allowing you to settle in. It had been a hard day, and she knew that there was nothing worse than having to be thrust into these circumstances. Even in her old age, she remembers it well, remembers her arena and the people who died beside her. She remembers their faces, frozen faces stuck with horror that would forever remain in their lifeless eyes. She remembers her victory tour, and how big of a deal it was. She was the first to experience a new era of the hunger games, something more vile and twisted than before. It was not just a symbol anymore, it was a show, complete pageantry being put on before the eyes of the Capitol, where the children taken must pretend like they are happy about their fate. Where they must smile and wave and endorse the ways of the Capitol before being pushed into an arena to die. 

She sees herself in you. Strong, brave hearted, but still afraid to die. She’s seen herself in many female tributes over the years, having not raised a victor in any thus far. It saddens her to think you will be just another one of the many, with an end just the same. Cold and dead eyes looking to the sky of the arena, stuck to the ground by another tribute you’ll encounter. She hates to think of it, but having lost every one of them, it plagues her. 

You thanked her for helping you, not just for leading you to your room, but for looking out for you. You knew there was only so much she would be able to do, but you appreciated the way she willingly did it, even when Finnick insisted on taking the lead with the preparations this year.

She nodded with a smile before leaving you to rest. The day ahead would be much more intimidating, and she knew how vital it was to be prepared for the culture shock of entering the Capitol.

-

Abrin droned on, listing the great commodities that you were going to have accessible. Coming from a wealthier district, it wasn’t terribly different, but being in the lower class of four, you would take the time to appreciate some things. The promise of constantly hot running water sounds phenomenal. 

All the while he’d been speaking, you opted to simply listen and not join in under any circumstances. It was now your greatest mission to avoid speaking in front of Finnick Odair at any cost. It just so happened that sitting in the main car of the train, there was a dessert cart set up before you, so you didn’t really need to bite your tongue all that much.

“Will we have access to training facilities that mimic the arena?” Lukas’ voice broke the long ramble of the excited Capitol member, and leaned forward in wait for the answer. He felt that it was far more important to have something practical in his favor. What good were any of the other commodities if you didn’t live long enough to use them?

“Not quite anything that mimics the arena. The games are all about the entertainment factor, that’s why everything is kept a secret until they call showtime,” Finnick interjected, a less than favorable look on his face when he mentions a few specific words. “Training facilities are provided but won’t give you any hints, trust me. They will open it to the tributes a day before evaluation, so you’ll have to be wise with the time spent.”

“If we’re unsure of what the arena contains, how will we know what to focus on?” 

You were so grateful for Lukas at this moment. He voiced all of the things you knew you would have a hard time trying to say, and did it in half the time. A swift and simple conversation, and by observing it, you would learn everything you needed to know, 

“Most of the careers will stick with what they’re best at. They test their limits and see how far their strengths can go… it always impresses the game-makers, and often is the deciding factor in what weapons will be available in the cornucopia.”

There was something strange about the way he phrased it. He said it was what most careers did, but you weren’t technically a career, and neither was Lukas, though he volunteered like one.

“W-what do you s-suggest?” You felt embarrassed at the way he looked at you when you asked the question. He was so full of pity. Though you often felt bad for yourself and the way you sounded to others, you didn’t like being looked at like an injured animal. You were just trying to ask a question.

Still he looked intrigued. You didn’t seem very keen on surviving, and yet here you were, inquiring about his personal advice.

“I suggest working on your weaknesses. The arena is completely unpredictable, but it becomes easier when you’ve covered your bases,” he paused, tilting his head around. “Still spend time on testing your strengths. Like I said, this is a show, and people aren’t watching to see you learn a new skill.”

You looked to Lukas, and he almost read your mind. You didn’t want to ask about it, but knew he could bring it up easier, without the hassle of forming the wrong words and them sounded uncertain altogether. 

“There’s always sources of water in the arena... Are there any pools to practice in?” 

Finnick laughed and nodded, looking at Lukas with a face of confusion. 

“There are some… but I hardly think either of you would need to spend time there.”

You lowered your head, continuing to pick at the small foods on the little rolling cart before you. You had been pretty silent this whole time, surely he wouldn’t read it as strange right now. 

Lukas looked to you with concern, but couldn’t see your reaction as your features were hidden from him by your downward stare. Your hands were trembling, that was enough of an indication. 

“Wait a minute,” Finnick furrowed his brows and leaned forward, examining the face of the boy, which he could see quite clearly. Worry resided there, but not for himself. You felt his eyes shift to you as soon as it happened, and they practically burned holes into the top of your head until you straightened your neck and met his eyeline. “You can’t be serious…”

He shook his head laughing, hoping - no, praying - that this was a joke. That you both were messing with him to see how he would react. Perhaps it was even a strange attempt at trying to bond with a mentor through humor, but the longer he stared at you, eyes flicking from yours to Lukas every few seconds, it made clear the dilemma he had in front of him. 

“I can’t believe it…” he scoffed, his earlier laughter now turning into irritation and disgust. He’d promised himself a victor this year, but here stood an incapable pair. 

He sat back into his seat and raked a hand over his face, the heat of the moment making him feel completely and utterly helpless. What could he even do about it?

“I’m a strong swimmer, I can help her if it comes down to it-”

“And what if you’re dead? The second that countdown reaches zero, and you start running, there’s a good chance someone’s gonna beat you to the weapon of their choice. If you die, and she’s depending on you, what then?” 

“I c-can learn,” you tried to interject, but it only made his anger worse. 

“No, sweetheart, you can’t. The only hope you’ll have is in convincing the other tributes you’re as good in the water as anyone else in four.” 

His sarcasm wasn’t helping anything, but this was purely unheard of. 

“She’s stronger than she looks, I can teach her the basics,” Lukas again intervenes, trying his best to defend your honor, which if you’re being honest, there isn’t much to defend anymore. You’re a fraud. They called the women of four mermaids, and you couldn’t even step past the shoreline’s sand.

“I don’t need you telling me what can and can’t be done. She’s a tribute from four who can’t swim… it’s bad enough I have to sell a stutter to the Capitol without adding to my plate,” he spoke too hastily and irrationally, his stress overtaking what he would normally even think to say. 

Lukas looked to him in shock, then immediately to you. There were tears welling in your eyes. How could someone who has gone through the games sit here and say things like that? He knows firsthand that nobody even wants to be here, but to make matters worse, he’s pulling the cards from everyone who has ever made you feel inferior from the time you could talk. 

You stood up in a rush, thighs accidentally hitting the edge of the food cart, before walking away quickly towards the room quarters of the train. 

-

Tags (open)

[twigg96]

Where’d ya hear that at?!

Daddy! Daryl X Reader

Era: Alexandria

Warnings: Fluffy Wholesome Fluff, Daryl being a dad, Kids being kids,

POV: Daryl

Pronouns: You

Summery: When Daryl takes your little family for a walk he watches his youngest daughter Lillian play while you try and teach your eldest two (Phoenix and Beau) some basic survival skills. Daryl plays along with his littlest's antics.

A/N: Inspired by this video XD

Walking slowly along the dirt path Daryl watched as his youngest hopped playfully from puddle to puddle wet and muddy from the past rain storm. You were a little farther behind, he could hear your soothing voice informing his eldest of what berries were safe to eat before scolding his son for chasing a frog down the path and refusing to pay attention. It was quaint moments like this that felt so surreal in the world they lived in.

"Poppa." Lillian's sweet voice cut through the fog of his mind. Looking down at her he smiled. "Yeah, baby?" He asked. Lillian smiled up at him walking over from the puddle she had been jumping in. It had long since run dry from her splashing and left nothing but thick mud for her to play in. Holding out her hand for him to take she smiled widely. "Can I go jumps in the big one now?" She asked pointing with her free hand to a rather large, deep looking puddle farther down the path. Instinctively, Daryl scanned the area, taking his daughter's tiny hand in his own. "Course baby girl." He muttered walking with her, glancing back at you, Phoenix, and Beau to make sure you were all safe.

"Poppa." Lilly whispered, pulling on Daryl's arm. "Do we need to hide?" She asked, worry filling her eyes. Daryl felt himself wince at the toddler's question. He hated that his children needed to be so vigilant. Hated that they needed to know where they closest shelter was or what to do if he and their mother was no where to be found. It killed him inside. Looking down at Lillian's sad, scared eyes Daryl tried to swallow the lump in his throat, kneeling down. "Not right now." He muttered, but the fear was still evident on his little one's face. "Ok." She whispered, kissing Daryl on the nose. "I love you, Poppa." She whispered, hugging his head tight. Daryl couldn't fight the chuckle tearing through his throat at his daughter's sweet actions. "Love you too munchkin." He muttered, watching her wander off towards the puddle.

"Poppa!" Lilly called over her shoulder as she took the first leap, giggling loudly when muddy water splashed up all over her. "Watch me, Poppa!" She giggled. Standing fully Daryl chuckled through his nose. "I'm watching, baby." He said proudly. Stepping out of the puddle Lillian rounded it for another go, this time jumping in at a different angle. Giggling loudly as she was splashed once more, she began to stomp around wildly singing to herself joyously. "Mary had a little lamb!" She started singing, giggling as the splashing matched her voice. Daryl smiled scanning the forest around them. "I am the Queen! Queen of all of Alexandria! My name is Lillian and you will listen to me!" She switched up her song next giggling as she made up words to her song. "Queen of Alexandria huh?" Daryl teased, playing along with his daughter. A round of fitful giggles filled the air and more splashing came as Lillian kicked wildly. "Yeah! I am!" She squealed. "Don't think your uncle Rick would like that much if you took over Alexandria." He teased, laughing as Lillian squealed and ran all around the puddle. "Well... well... then I'll just be the princess!" She squealed defiantly. Daryl nodded smiling at his daughter. "Ah... ok."

The kicking slowed down a bit and fell back into a type of rhythm. A sly grin slid across Lillian's face as she kept looking to her father making sure he was watching before she began to sing again. "Hi! I'm Ethan and I'm fourteen!" She chimed to the beat of her feet. Daryl cocked a brow but stayed quiet. "Slaying girls with my massive Pe-" Daryl froze staring at his daughter in disbelief, fighting the urge to laugh all at the same time. "Lilly!" He barked, making the little girl freeze in place. "Where'd ya hear that at?" He asked, staring down at the three year old. Tears welled in her large dark eyes and her lip jutted out as she stared up at her father. Pinching the bridge of his nose Daryl sighed. Kneeling in front of her he scooped her up, ignoring the mud that covered her. "I ain't mad at ya... I just wanna know where ya heard that at?" He whispered, bouncing her on his knee soothingly. Clinging to his neck, Lilly sobbed but nodded. "B-Beau..." She sniffled. Why was he not surprised...

Standing with Lilly still in his arms he rubbed her back shushing her lovingly. "It's ok. Calm down. You're not in trouble. Just don't say stuff like that..." He whispered kissing her temple. "Matter o' fact... just don't repeat what Beau says at all." He muttered. "Ok, Poppa." She whispered. "How about we head home? Get you washed up for the night?" He asked, glancing to the darkening sky. Walking towards you he gave you a reassuring smile watching as his two eldest played. Well... more like Beau was chasing Phoenix around with a snake he found trying to get her to hold it. Lilly nodded squeezing him tightly yawning sweetly. "Ready?" You asked, standing on your tippy toes to peck Daryl's lips. Daryl hummed nodding with a sigh as you both started on the path towards home. "Beau..." He called. "We gotta have a talk when we get home..."

[art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament]

SET FOURTEEN - ROUND TWO - MATCH FOUR

"Garden of Earthly Delights" (1490-1510 - Hieronymus Bosch) / "Kuoleman puutarha (The Garden of Death)" (1896 - Hugo Simberg)

GARDEN OF EARTHLY DELIGHTS: Looking at it just makes you feel unmoored from reality, and the longer and closer you look, the stronger the feeling gets. (@emilysidhe)

KUOLEMAN PUUTARHA (THE GARDEN OF DEATH): Death, but make it involve creation and life. Death, but make it golden and friendly. Memento mori, and that's okay, that's just another part of it all. (@ryttu3k)

("The Garden of Earthly Delights" is a triptych oil painting by Hieronymus Bosch. It measures 205.5 cm × 384.9 cm (81 in × 152 in) and is located in the Museo del Prado, Madrid.

"Kuoleman puutarha (The Garden of Death)" is a watercolour and gouache painting by Finnish painter Hugo Simberg. It only measures 16 cm × 17 cm (6.3 in × 6.7 in), and is held by the Ateneum. A second version was painted as a fresco in Tampere Cathedral.)

[voxsmistress]

Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo - Part Six

Now this went a completely different way to how I originally planned but I hope you like it - no Vee's in it but we do meet dear old Alastor who has a few things he would like to get off his chest! Plus you get to see why Y/n isn't just a regular sinner but a Demon in her own right!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen

Stumbling up the flight of stairs to your door you were in a bit of a daze. Catching sight of a few cameras in the corner of the hallway you huff. Letting yourself into your flat you slam the door behind you.

Where the fuck was that bottle of whiskey?

What the fuck was that horrible buzzing noise? Growling under your breath you reach over to your night stand, knocking over the empty bottle of whiskey that you had decided to finish off last night to grab your phone which was making an unholy racket.

The fuck is someone phoning you at this ungodly hour for?

“Hello?” croaking into the phone you quickly clear it.

“Ah good morning my dear, how did you sleep?” The staticky voice on the other end could only belong to one Demon. Alastor. Groaning into your pillow you just knew you weren’t going to be able to go back to bed and sleep off this hangover.

“Alastor? It’s way too early for small talk – what do you want?” you grumble into the phone, rubbing your sore eyes.

“Delightful as always dear Y/n, we need to talk” at the change of tone in that last word all sleepiness left you.

“Ah okay, when would you like to meet?” his answering chuckle made a small twinge of fear run through your body.

“Now if you don’t mind, I suggest you get yourself up and ready I shall be waiting”. Before you could say anything else you were met with the cut off tone. He always was a cheery fellow in the morning. Makes you sick!

Dragging yourself up out of your warm bed you quickly threw yourself into the shower getting ready at the speed of light. Running back into your bedroom you style your hair up in a ponytail and do your usual make up consisting of eyeliner, mascara, and a bit of gloss. Eyeing your clothes you choose a pair of flared jeans, a tight black tank top, leather jacket and matching boots.

On the way out the door you make sure you have your phone, purse and keys before locking the door and making your way to the Hazbin Hotel where Alastor had his radio tower now.

Wishing the journey would take longer than it did you made it to the Hotel in record time, pushing open the front doors you could see no one was in the foyer – why would they as most of the population was only just getting up at this time. Following the familiar path to the radio station you come to the red door. Deep breath in and out you raise your hand and knock firmly.

“Come in” even through the door you could hear the Radio Demon clearly. Opening the door, you poke your head round to see him sat in his usual chair, microphone staff beside him as his fingers were clasped together underneath his chin. “Ah y/n kind of you to make it here so quickly on such short notice” his smile grows. His fingers motion to the other seat across from him. Crossing the short distance to the chair you couldn’t help but feel like you did when you were human and sent to the principals office.

Once you were settled in the chair, Alastor stood from his own. “I have come across a bit of information dearest y/n, a horrible rumour which has displeased me greatly and I believe we need to discuss it to make sure it is not true” throwing his hands around as he speaks, you keep an eye on his staff.

“Which is?”

“That you are now working with those deplorable Vee’s” those red eyes of his glared down, his yellow teeth fully on display with that smile of his. Gulping down the nerves you straighten your back.

“I am not working with the Vee’s, I am collaborating with Velvette where I am showing off her clothes and she is allowing me to sing at her Catwalk to help raise my profile as a singer” I reply to the Radio Demon.

“Ah then it seems the rumours are true. Shame. A real shame.” You had a horrible feeling you were about to be killed and eaten by the Radio Demon. You tried your hardest to control the flinch your body made when Alastor suddenly leaned forwards in front of you and static filled the room.

“Then it seems my dear our time as business partners has now come to an unfortunate end”, he stands back up fully his shadow encasing you, filling your bones with shivers.

“What because I am working with Velvette?” You questioned, standing from your own chair so to make a quick getaway if he decided to start attacking.

“Yes. It’s a conflict of interest you see my dear, it’s just not good business to work with people who are not your allies”, shocked you let out a choked laugh.

“Just because I am working with Velvette does not mean I am not your ally or friend Alastor; you and Vox may have this weird dick swinging contest going on between you but trust me when I say I am staying well out of that! I wouldn’t betray you!” You fold your arms and glare at him. 

“Hmm” his smile tightens, eyes narrowing at you. “Then perhaps for the time being, my dear, we call a halt on our business until you see the true side of those Vee’s”.

“The true side? Alastor I am not daft enough to think they want to be best buddies with me. I know there is an ulterior motive behind their actions”, you reasoned with him, nearly adding that he was hypocrite because he was doing exactly the same thing as they are. But you valued your undead life so you kept that little titbit to yourself.

“As long as you realise that young Y/n, I would hate to see you fall under their power” his gaze softened a little bit making it easier for you to breath. Hopefully he wasn’t contemplating killing you and eating your liver now.

“I do Alastor, but I understand why you’d like to halt our business. If that is all for now, I do have another appointment to head to”, you point to the door, nodding his head he moves towards it, opening it wide for you.

“Be careful y/n,” a wide smile directed at you as you pass him, saying goodbye you carry on down the stairs and through the hotel. What a weird conversation. But less stress. You had worried about working with both Velvette and Alastor – he was right in a way that it was a conflict of interest. At least this way you could focus on one – or three – Overlords at a time.

Travelling through Pentagram City you go over the conversation with Alastor in your head again and again. You didn’t think that he was still angry with you, after you had made it clear you weren’t going to go behind his back. Not that you would or could anyway you knew nothing about the Radio Demon anyway, and the things you did know wouldn’t do a lick of good to any one unless they wanted to know how Alastor liked his coffee.

Turning a corner you didn’t realise you had been followed the last few blocks until you were suddenly slammed up against a building by your throat. The FUCK?! Today was just not your day. Snarling at the shark-like sinner that was holding you, a knife was pushed against your neck. Feeling a pinch you just knew the bastard had cut you. Two other sinners stood behind him, laughing at you struggling to pull the idiot’s hand off your throat.

“Look guys. I ain’t interested in what you are selling and if you don’t let me go you are going to really fucking regret it. That I can promise you!” You choke out, clawing at the hand holding your throat. It was definitely going to bruise.

Sniggering at your comment one of the other sinners started running their hands up and down your body, groping your boobs and legs. Sucking in a large breath you waited until they attempted to shove their disgusting paws down your pants. Fuck no. Using all the breath you had you let loose a scream. Unfortunately for them, it wasn’t just a standard scream. Letting go of you they groaned clutching their ears. Raising your pitch, you watched blood start to stream from between their fingers, from their noses and then their eyes. At their screams and begging you stop for a moment. Smirking at their cries and begging.

“Can you honestly tell me you’d have let me go without touching me if I begged like you now?” You ask, kneeling in front of the ‘leader’, his face was covered in his own blood which dripped onto the floor. “No answer? Say’s more than your words ever could”, you snarl. Breathing in deeply you watch as fear enter their eyes before you let out the highest pitched scream which you only reserved for special times. Like now.

Three heads all explode, one after the other. The only mishap was you were so very close to the splash zone. Groaning to yourself you wipe your cheek with your hand, covered in warm blood you grumble. Gross. Pulling out a pack of tissues from your dropped purse you quickly scrub where you saw had landed but there was no way of getting rid of all of it … biting your lip you decide to carry on walking to the Vee Tower. You did after all have an appointment.

taglist: @tasha-1994  @azullynxx  @reath-solia @leathesimp @klory22

[kotylynnemerrill]

Okay y'all... I've been working on this piece little by little for a while now and I have finally finished it!

I believe I mentioned wanting to do Fez in a Wolfman au and I'm pretty excited about this but I'm gonna let y'all decide if I should continue this or not - you guys know what to do.

Hopefully y'all like it 😁

February 17th, 1891

It was a small, round-headed bird.

A rusty cap and rusty eyeline on a gray head, a streaked brown back, and a smooth buff colored breast.

Fezco couldn't remember the exact name specifically, but he was sure it was a type of sparrow.

Hunting as a young boy, his father would point them out and share arbitrary facts about them. For instance, they are insectivores, both male and females were similar in appearance, and they prefer to nest in manmade structures like eaves. His favorite, something he always found fascinating, was that they migrated at night.

He considered himself a creature of the night...even when he was young.

In the distance he could hear the loud whistle of an approaching steam powered locomotive roar and he reluctantly turned his gaze away from the small bird.

He could see thick light gray smoke billow from the locomotive's chimney like a snake slithering its way up towards the menacing clouds above.

It was going to storm. Fitting weather to match his mood...

Fezco glanced at the simple brown leather suitcase next to him, meagerly packed with only the bare essentials. An absurd idea suddenly struck him and panic began to bubble within him.

He didn't pack enough.

He should have brought the trunk.

He didn't pack enough and he should have brought the trunk.

He wasn't prepared and he didn't like that. It wasn't like him to not be prepared... everything planned and in order. Of course, under the circumstances...

Fezco had not seen the small town of East Highland in fifteen years...not since his grandmother had taken him in to live with her in the equally small town of Oakland...took him away from the violence that had smothered his early years.

He had not planned on ever returning no matter how much the guilt plagued him...ate at him until he felt there was nothing left but sinew and bone. Fezco loved his brother Ash dearly but his sanity wouldn't allow him to take it any longer.

But now his brother was missing...vanished in the dead of night. He had no choice but to come back and find him...find out what had happened to him.

Paul O'Neil had painted a very straight forward scenario in his letter. Ash had been traveling home to discuss his upcoming nuptials to a Miss Alexandra Howard and never showed.

Alexandra...Lexi he used to call her.

It was hard to fathom her old enough to consider marriage...let alone consider such a thing with his brother Ash. It was even harder to conjure up an image of what she might look like now. Surely no longer nobby kneed and doe eyed as he remembered.

She had painted a slightly more sinister scenario in the letter she had sent.

The elder O'Neil apparently had not been on board with the arrangement between his youngest son and Miss Howard, and the two had succumbed to dueling with vicious words.

Ash, having spoken his peace on the matter, had left that night and purchased a room in town intending to leave the next evening...for good.

In her letter Miss Howard had confessed they had arranged to move to Oakland after the wedding as it was close to Fezco (something Ash had desperately wanted) and her father had promised an adequate job opportunity for Ash after they arrived.

She spoke of Ash's desire to leave...escape his father's violent disposition. Fezco already knew this...knew all too well.

But his father had reached out that morning, luring Ash back.

He always went back...

This could have been prevented if he had just stayed - he wished he had stayed...been old enough, strong enough to defend himself and his brother from their father's temper...

He had barely been fourteen when he left, and hardly fit to fight someone of his father's size then. And at the time the law would not permit Ash, being of such a young age, to leave with him and his grandmother. And with no concrete proof of wrong doing...

Now it may be too late...

The locomotive screeched to a stop, the loud mechanical gears were almost deafening as it passed him, a harsh gust of air trailing after it.

Fezco swallowed thickly as he picked up his suitcase, the rolling in his stomach continued as he made his way down the pavilion towards where passengers were supposed to board.

A tall, slender gray haired gentleman stepped off the entry step and took a quick look around before calling the passengers to board.

Thankfully there were only a handful of other travelers milling around waiting to board...it would be a quiet trip, he might even get some sleep.

"Last stop. Heading to East highland. Boarding now."

The hair on the back of Fezco's neck sprung to life and his free hand reflexively reached up to soothe the area.

The conductor looked at him with a smile as he approached but his gray eyes were uneasy as they met Fezco's.

"Ticket sir?'

Fezco nodded and reached into the pocket of his wool frock coat, pulling out the creased off white piece of paper.

The conductor took the ticket with another strained smile and looked over the details. Satisfied, he handed the ticket back with a quick 'thank you' and 'glad to have you aboard sir'.

Fezco placed the ticket back into his pocket and mumbled a 'thank you' as he stepped up onto the train.

He made his way to the correct cart and quickly found his designated cabin surprised to find an older gentleman of African descent sitting on one of the wooden benches fast asleep when he opened the sliding door.

Fezco quietly slid the door shut with a smooth whoosh followed by a thunk as it latched into place and sat on the opposite bench.

There was no plush upholstery, or ornate decorations in the cabin like in a Pullman, nor carpeted floors or rich wood paneling. Fezco didn't mind though, the trip wasn't but a six hour ride which included three stops before East highland - Bakersfield, Fresno and Modesto. And this certainly wasn't meant to be a leisurely trip.

Fezco situated himself next to the large window and placed his bag underneath his seat. He could feel the cold coming off the glass as he peered out and was thankful the small wood-burning stove near the door was lit. The clouds had grown a bruised purple in color and almost appeared to ripple across the sky like flood water.

"I apologize if I was snoring."

Fezco whipped his head around at the deep voice. The man cleared his throat and adjusted himself a little more upright in the seat.

"You weren't. Sorry if I disturbed your sleep. I just settled in."

"You didn't. The moorish man waved his hand in dismissal. May I ask where you are headed?"

"East highland."

"Home?"

"Of sorts. I lived there as a boy. My father and brother still reside there."

"Visiting then?"

Fezco settled back into his seat avoiding the man's gaze, focusing instead on a rather dark stained cane with an intricately carved head leaning askew between the wall of the cabin and the man's leg, as he felt a familiar chill seep within him.

"Kinda."

A pregnant pause lodged itself between the two men as Fezco tried to come up with something to add...something light and less...ominous. Something that would keep this stranger from prying. But, by the way the man's dark eyes squinted and scrutinized him, Fezco knew he wasn't getting off so easily.

"Family troubles I take it?"

Fezco nodded once before glancing down at the cane again.

"Quite remarkable."

"This?" The man lifted the cane and turned it in his hand.

"A wolf's head?" Fezco asked, seeing the carving up close.

"Indeed. It was a gift from my daughter. Meant to be some sort of protection against shetani - evil spirits. I do believe she is far too superstitious for one so young, but I indulge her."

"I myself am not a superstitious man, but my mother believed."

"Native american?"

"Gypsy. Romania."

"I see." The man's dense eyebrows rose slightly at the revelation.

"And the inscription?" It was a wonder Fezco had not noticed it earlier, the neat silver lettering stood out drastically against the canes dark shaft.

"Ahh yes. It's written in my native tongue - Swahili. It roughly translates to 'Even a man who is pure in heart, and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfsbane blooms, and the moon is full and bright'."

"Protection not just from the outside monsters but from those within. Interesting..." The corner of Fezco's lips inclined.

"My daughter likes to remind me we all struggle with hardships and in those times when it becomes too great we as men are capable of anything...great and terrible, so we must keep to our faith. Remain pure of action and intention and heed the needs of others before ourselves and we shall receive blessings from the Lord."

"Your daughter sounds very wise."

"That she is."

The man lolled the cane in his hands again with a brief smile before glancing up. Fezco met his eyes allowing a small smile to grace his own lips.

"My name is Ali. Ali Orowari." He reached his hand out, his smile widening.

"Fezco O'Neil. Nice to meet you." He grasped the hazelnut colored hand and gave a single shake.

"Well...I dare say it's been a pleasure. When I first saw you I didn't think you'd be up for conversation."

"I wasn't....I'm still not to be honest. But my mood is greatly improved thanks to you."

"Glad to hear it." Ali squinted at Fezco for a breath then smiled again.

* * * *

Ali ended up falling asleep after a couple more minutes of making small talk. Fezco must have followed suit soon after for he suddenly found himself jolting awake at the sound of a low rumble followed by a loud crack.

Ghostly whispers still lingered in his ears from the dream he had been having...Ash's laughter and his mother's voice...then the growling mixed with screaming.

Fezco rubbed his hands over his face several times, breathing hard. Had that been a dream....or some dreadful memory he couldn't fully shake.

He looked at the bench opposite him and noticed it was now empty and felt a stirring of disappointment. Then he noticed it, the cane leaning against the wall of the cabin. A scrap of paper with his name on it was tied to the grip with a slim piece of black ribbon.

He reached forward and easily untied the ribbon and pulled the paper free. Turning it over Fezco read the neatly scrawled words.

For a new friend. To ward off your troubles.

Fezco huffed, a short rough sound escaping his lips.

He gently lifted the cane into his hands and felt its weight, felt its polished surface before letting his fingers trace over the rough texture of the carved lettering.

He was the proud new owner of an 'amulet' apparently. 'Ward off your troubles', he certainly hoped so...

* * * *

Thirty-three minutes and twenty-six seconds, that's how long it took to get from the East highland station to O'Neil manor.

The rain poured down in a torrent, saturating the ground till it appeared as if the carriage was driving through thick tar.

Fezco couldn't see any stars in the sky. He could barely make out the shapes of the trees that lined the road, the light from the lanterns on either side of the carriage barely penetrated through darkness.

He thought he could make out the outline of a couple of illuminated windows in the distance, amber eyes glowing in the night, watching him. Suddenly his bones turned to ice within his body and his heart began to race again.

He could see it now...

First the outline of the veranda appeared, the four large white posts holding up the hipped roof reminded him of a gapping mouth, and then as the carriage looped around the large fountain in front all two stories of the colonial revival materialized like an apparition. A light gray outline with splotches of barely discernable details.

The carriage came to a halt, the dark bay hackney gave a loud snort as the driver pulled the reins.

"Mr. O'Neil we have arrived."

Fezco didn't move.

"Sir?"

"Yes. I heard you."

Taking a deep breath he grabbed the handle with a shaking hand and turned it clockwise.

Stepping out of the carriage he glanced up at his childhood home briefly before turning and grabbing his suitcase and the cane Ali had given him. His knuckles were white as he held each object tightly and with lead feet began to walk up the path to the mansion.

The gravel beneath his feet sounded incredibly loud within his ears, and increased as the carriage started to move. Fezco glanced over his shoulder at the carriage as it quickly disappeared into the dark and shivered.

He made it to the steps and placed a boot clad foot on the first incline. A loud creaking erupted from the step with his weight and followed him as he made his way to the porch. He walked up to the door and sat his suitcase down when the door opened.

A deep, groaning hiss with a heavy thud sounded, accompanied by a low, rasping noise from the hinges. Stale air wafted through the door as it fully swung open and Fezco closed his eyes against the smell.

"Fezco?"

His eyes opened and he looked up to see a man much older than he ever remembered, but there was no forgetting...

They had the same prominent brows and strong nose. Same red beard and blue eyes too. The resemblance between the two men was uncanny and something Fezco had learned to detest at a very young age.

Ash had always resembled their mother. Olive complexion, dark hair, and wide dark eyes.

Fezco steeled himself as he locked eyes with his father.

"Father."

"After all these years, it's quite a shock. You've grown into a very handsome specimen."

"It's been a while."

"Yes it has." The elder O'Neil glanced at the ground before clearing his throat.

"I got your letter...and Miss Howard's. I came as soon as I could." Fezco informed, and he noticed a strange look cross his father's face.

"I'm glad, but...I'm afraid it's not good...most terrible news..."

Fezco's stomach dropped. "What has happened? Has he..."

"I'm afraid your brother was found several days ago along the post road some thirty miles from here."

Fezco thought he had been prepared for such an outcome, something deep within his being, telling him that his brother was gone, but as a numbness spread throughout his body and the cane slipped from his grasp...hearing those words spoken out loud destroyed him.

Ash, his brother, was gone...

[comicpolls]

[primavera-weirdeggii]

Yall this is my favorite day so far. Get ready for @skizzlemanweek day 5!

Prompt 5: Stars/Hearts - Double Life AU!

(Also inspired by this art by @fence-time )

Gathered together in a large forest in a small/bordered world, fourteen people woke up.

As they woke up, they knew exactly where they were: another death game.

Skizz hovered above them on a cloud, watching as they wandered the world, looking for who they were destined to find: their soulmates.

And it was up to Skizz to pair them together.

As an Angel, Skizz had the unique ability to read people’s souls. Not explicitly, like words on a page, but rather implicitly, like palm reading.

He could read people’s souls, and he was tasked with pairing them up.

He had been mining in his single player world when two masked beings with elaborate wings appeared in front of him. Skizz recognized them as The Watchers.

Skizz had been participating in the Death Games for a while, but he wanted to take a break.

The watchers promised that he could skip the next round of the games, as long as he helped them in return.

And well, here he is.

Floating on a cloud over the server of Double Life.

He was only required to be there for the first day, to make sure that everyone found their partners and that nothing went wrong.

The watchers gave him free reign to pair up whoever he wanted, and Skizz did his best to make sure his friends would be in happy relationships.

He paired his best friend Impulse with Bdubs - because he knew, (from conversations behind closed doors,) that Impulse already had a thing for him, but was too shy to say anything.

Skizz didn’t pride himself on much, but he was one hell of a wingman!

For his buddy Tango, he had much less to go off of. He ended up choosing someone whose soul looked most compatible - Jimmy.

Grian and Scar had teamed up before, and their souls seemed like a decent match, so he figured, why not?

(The watchers seemed particularly happy when he paired Grian with Scar, for some reason.)

He had made sure to read each of his friends' souls carefully before selecting their partners. He wanted to make sure that they would be as happy as could be while on this server.

And after submitting all his choices to the watchers, they told him they would call him when the game began.

And here he is, watching his friends wake up, confused, with sudden knowledge in their heads that they had a soulmate, but with no idea of who.

Skizz decided to keep his eyes on Impulse, since he had the highest expectations for how he’d react to finding his soulmate.

Impulse broke away from the main group, going on a brief mining trip before returning to the surface.

Skizz grinned as he approached a nearby group of people. One of them just so happened to be Bdubs.

Skizz was way too high up to hear what they were saying, but he saw Impulse give Bdubs a shield, and then give one to Etho and Scar as well.

Skizz was nearly twitching with anticipation. At any moment now, someone could fall off a cliff or get punched, and then, boom! It’ll be raining hearts and their souls will be touched with love’s swift embrace.

Literally. It’s something only visible to an angel, but it’s true! When meeting one’s true love, their souls are tied together with an invisible thread of love!

Or, well, at least that’s what he’s heard. The other angels back home always told him that, but they also said it doesn’t happen for everyone. They also said the term “true love” is outdated, as people can have multiple true loves, or different types of true lovers.

The soul-embrace that occurs only signifies that the two people have high potential with each other, or have a high likelihood of getting along. The soul embrace can also happen between multiple people, from what he’s heard!

But, according to the Watchers, in this world people are limited to one soulmate, whom they will share their health with.

And the soul-bonds are temporary and will be removed immediately upon exit of this world.

Which is a bummer. But hey! At least he has the opportunity to create long-lasting friendships through means of a death game!

Skizz shook his head to get his thoughts back and focused his attention back to the group on the ground.

Scar had just come running from a cave, several arrows stuck in the end of his shield. He spoke with the others for a bit before Etho handed Impulse a sword, nudging him in the direction of the cave.

Impulse peered over the edge, clutching his shield and sword tight.

Then he toppled forward as Scar pushed him, arms pinwheeling as he fell into the cave.

Skizz watched a pain signal hit Impulse’s soul, then watched with wide eyes as it trailed along a thread that wasn’t there before, all the way to Bdubs.

Bdubs jumped as Impulse fell, turning around to yell at the person who pushed him, but stopped when he saw no one there.

He grabbed Etho's shoulder, presumably asking if he pushed him. Etho was too distracted by laughing at Impulse to notice.

Scar jumped in the cave after him, and Etho followed, leaving Bdubs behind looking very confused.

Skizz giggled as Bdubs followed behind them. He flopped down onto his stomach, kicking his feet behind him like a girl at a sleepover.

Now he only had to wait for Impulse to notice, and then sparks would fly!

A few minutes later, Scar left the cave with Bdubs, and for a moment Skizz was worried he’d missed the big moment. But when Impulse left with Etho, his soul was the same as when he’d entered, and Skizz knew he hadn’t missed his chance.

They reunited later in the day outside the pillager outpost. Everyone decided to attack the pillagers and rescue the allays, and Impulse and Bdubs were both part of the fight.

Skizz thought they had figured it out when Bdubs was getting shot, but Impulse just shared his food with Bdubs before continuing to fight the pillagers.

They ended up cooking mutton together, and Skizz simultaneously wanted to strangle Impulse out of frustration and hug him with excitement.

“Your soulmate is right there!” Skizz strained. “Cmon, why can’t you see it?”

At one point, Bdubs took damage directly in front of Impulse, and he still didn’t notice!

And Skizz could tell. He wouldn’t see the full effect of the soul-embrace unless both parties were aware of it.

So it’s not like Impulse was just pretending not to notice. He was just that oblivious.

Which Skizz really should’ve known by now. He’d seen how Bdubs acted around him without a soul bond and still couldn’t tell he was into him.

They followed Scar to the ravine to look for resources when Bdubs got hit by a skeleton.

Impulse shouted and grabbed his shoulder, whipping around to face the empty air behind him.

He looked confused for a moment before turning to look at Bdubs.

He had an arrow in his shoulder.

Bdubs ran past Impulse to kill a zombie that tried to sneak up on him, and Impulse stared as he passed.

The zombie hit Bdubs in the leg, and Impulse winced as he felt the hit as well.

Skizz was on the edge of his seat, watching as Impulse slowly walked up behind him.

As Bdubs slayed the zombie, he turned to face Impulse. The goofy grin he was wearing faltered as he looked at Impulse’s face.

Skizz frowned. He wished he could hear them, but he’d have to settle for reading lips.

“Bdubs,” Impulse said, “I think we’re soulmates.”

“Oh.” He said, jaw relaxed and stars in his eyes.

Skizz held his hands to his mouth. The anticipation was killing him!

Bdubs’ face broke out in a grin. “This is amazing!” He held out his hands. “This is us!”

Impulse smiled, taking Bdubs’ hands with his own. “This is us.”

A green thread slowly tied itself around their hearts as they linked hands. It circled around their arms before connecting at their conjoined hands.

Skizz watched in awe as the green light from their souls rippled outward from their chests like waves, each one taking the shape of a heart.

This is everything I’d ever imagined it’d be.

Impulse glanced up from their conjoined hands. “So. If we’re soulmates now, there’s something I should ask…”

Bdubs grinned even wider.

“I, um. Would you. Do you… are we, like… dating? Would you like to? Uh, date. I mean.”

Bdubs threw his head back with a cheer. “Finally! Yes, Impulse, I’d love to date you.”

Impulse ducked his head and grinned. “Great. So, now what do we-“

Impulse was cut off as Bdubs lifted his head and kissed him.

Skizz leaped up from his spot on the cloud and cheered. “Yeah, baby!” He gave himself a high five. “That’s what I’m talkin’ bout!”

The soul bond glowed a brighter green as they embraced, even long after the kiss ended.

They finally broke apart when Scar came up to them, loudly congratulating the cute couple.

They walked away side by side, already discussing plans for their shared house.

Skizz spent another moment celebrating to himself. He always knew he was a great wingman!

He might just stick around and see how the other soulmates will do!

This is gonna be a great game.

[kreativewritin444]

not forbidden / j.m

 authors note// this show has had a grip on me & so have bella and pedro... so this could not not be done. enjoy my loves ( all work is mine, i dont own the show or characters tho)

warnings: age gap (reader is in their late 20s) , violence, death,

 summary: being involved with Marlene and the fireflies leads you to take Ellie with Joel…

 after being stuck with joel and tess, to protect ellie on this trip to get her to the other location. due to marlene getting shot, and now being with them things have been something...

   you were younger than joel and tess, but not a teen or anything. seeing how him and tess were towards each other you didn’t even bother trying. even though at any chance your gaze shifted onto the man near you. yet deciding to just prove yourself smart and worthy.

 after tess’s death it left the two of you with ellie, things have changed dramatically. you were protective of ellie in your own way, but being alone now with joel the atmosphere shifted. more for you since he was off standish.

   about a week of being out in the wild has gone by; a fire was going and ellie was snug in her sleeping bag asleep. as you watch her, the similarities of your younger sister, who was about her age when she died, and ellie we very much the same.

 gulping that thought down, your eyes shift and catches joel’s who eyes were already on you. clearing your throat, you sit up more.

 “get some rest, i’ll take first watch.”

 you hope he doesn’t argue with you since the idea of sleeping made you sick. shockingly he actually agrees, before heading over across ellie on the other side of the fire. you shift your gun before walking around slightly, checking the perimeter before getting comfy by a rock.

 hours pass and you strolled around atleast 6 times, until settling back in your spot. eyes shifting on joel who was facing toward you, he looks peaceful. not scowling or seeming stressed or tired, something you weren’t use to seeing.

 glancing over at ellie who was still in deep sleep, you bit your lip. thoughts creep in... your sister died almost a year ago, with you being the one to have to do it.

 you escaped FEDRA with lara, after your dad passed from one of the guards doing. being only about 17 and your sister was 13, you two found marlene about two weeks later.

 until then things were good; you two were together, fed and somewhat safe. you did runs with marlene but you made lara stay at base since it was too dangerous. till one day your sister who thought since she was getting older insisted on coming...

 “i told you no, i don’t give a fuck it’s already dangerous enough.” you glare at her, tired of her trying to be reckless. running your hand over your face in annoyance.

 “marlene said i can so i’m going. you cant treat me like a kid forever!” she yells at you, your eyes snapping in her direction furiously. stalking forward giving her a huge shove, she stumbles back in shock.

 “im your sister! i fuckin’ look out for you, so don’t you ever tell me what the fuck i cant do. until you stop acting like a child, i’ll keep treating you like one.” your anger was obvious but you try to retain it the best you can.

 her face matches yours, chest heaving with resentment. “i’m going.” she shoves you back softly, you giving a warning look.

 “if ya’ get in trouble don’t come screaming for me. i warned you once.” with that you grab you pack, stalking out the room. your eyes find marlene’s and anger courses through you.

 “if anything happens, i sw-”

 “she’ll be fine, she’s ready.” you scoff, ready your ass. “she’s fourteen!”

 “and you were only a few years older, if i remember correctly.” you glare at her, sighing in annoyance. “i swear marlene, anything.”

 -

  “y/n!” the violent scream echoes as you round the corner shooting the clicker in the back of the head, making it topple over on the side of lara.

 “lara!”

 rushing forward as she sobs reaching out to hold onto me, “it’s okay. it’s dead- it’s dead.” trying to reassure her, as you gently pull her up in your arms. eyes watering at the look on her face.

 “i-im so sorry.”

 you push her hair out of her face her face scrunches in pain. “ow.ow...” she moans out clawing towards her shoulder, as your eyes follow on the deep bite mark on her.

 your heart sinks, shaking your head in disbelief. this is your fault. this is all your fault.

 her eyes glance down at it before her lips start trembling, “i’m so sorry y/n/n...” shaking your head at her.

 “shhh... im so sorry i yelled at ya’ earlier. i should’ve never left you alone.” eyes water as you pull her in tighter, rocking back and forth anxiously.

 you should’ve never left her alone, your baby sister.

your responsibility.

 “please, pl-please don’t leave me alone.” her voice breaks and it hit you, the roundness of small baby fat still lingers on her filth cover cheeks. her small frame of being so young, so young...

 “no, no you’ll be just fine.” wiping her tears you pull her into your arms like a child, and she clings to you in pain. “it hurts so bad. y/n/n im so scared...”

-

 “no! no!” the voice pulls you out of your thoughts, joel sitting up gasping. true fear shown across his face, the way his hand shook as he brought it up over his face.

 his eyes roam around and catch yours, shuffling under his gaze. deciding to air out the silence, “i get ‘em too.”

you confess which didn’t help much. he nods keeping quiet before looking around.

 “how long was i out for?”

you hum softly, “only a few hours.”

 he nods stretching his body slightly, “here, i’ll take over. you go ahead.” you shake your head, “it’s okay. i can’t sleep tonight anyways.”

 he looks at you confuse, “i bet if ya’ try-.”

 “when you do this long enough, you’ll know when those nights come.” that’s all was said before you look away, focusing on the tree line.

  joel attempts small talk after 10 minutes which shocks you slightly, but the question made everything else disappear.

“you mentioned before you had a sister, is she back at fedra?”

 “uh, no sh- she’s dead.” you clear your throat, looking at his reaction. which was unreadable, “sorry to hear.”

 “same to you...” it was hesitant and small,  “i never got to say it, but im sorry about ya’ girlfriend. tess.” his eyes flicker over to you, he shakes his head.

 “she was my friend, not my girlfriend.” you give him a look but leave it at that. he looks like he wanted to say more, but as time pass you ended up falling asleep.

 with it cold out, joel places his bigger coat over you in attempt to keep you warm. he could tell there was a lot to you, been through some shit. he wanted to know what exactly.

- 

 you woke a little later, joel still on look out. ellie was still asleep, as you grab your pack and hand him his coat back. “thanks.”

a small smile toys your lips as he stares down at you with a nod.

 you walk off around some trees that were out of view. opening your bag, grabbing out another shirt. one you were able to wash in a creek a few days ago. dropping the bag onto the ground, tugging your shirt off.

 throwing it on top of your bag, leaning down grabbing the new shirt. flipping it from inside out before your name was called out.

 “y/n!?” joels voice rushes from the corner, you barely having the shirt on.

rushing to tug it down your eyes connect with a shocked pair. “What?”

 “i-i, my bad i thought-“

His eyes look elsewhere but he never leaves.

 “it’s fine.”

you shrug still a little shocked he caught you shirtless, but you lean down to get your bag. “it’s boobs.”

 he swallows thickly at your blunt answer, only being able to nod slowly. with a small smirk you walk past him, “we need to stock up again soon.”

He grumbles something under his breathe following behind you.

-

 “okay let’s clear through here.” joel stands in front of the door staring ellie in the eyes. “behind me, don’t touch nothin’ either.”

 you snicker slightly, “joel can you just go in?”

ellie gives him a pointed look as he just sighs. he swings the door open quietly, all of us fall into hush silence.

 his gun is held high as he steps inside, ellie following behind him. gripping your gun tightly as you step forward. making it further into the house with no sign of anything. joel looks back at us.

 “alright look for anything important and only of what ya’ can carry.” his eyes fall onto you and you know its because you had to unload your bag after the first raid. you stuffed everything you could find in it.

 walking down the hall you pass by a room. swinging the ajar door open, you scan the room. a crib with a few baby toys and stuff display all over the room, making you swallow.

 you look around finding two small blankets and some rags. deciding those would be useful in future times, you roll them up and shove them down inside the bag.

 the sound of footsteps makes your head lift up. they were coming from upstairs, you didn’t even think to check there.

 heading down the opposite side of the hallway, turning at the corner the stairs come into view. just before you reach them ellie comes out, “imma check upstairs, find anything yet?”

 “yeah a few things, i’m gonna check the garage.” you nod at her as you walk up the steps, wondering if joel found anything up here.

 not even hitting the top stairs, a yell rings out from downstairs follow by a loud thud. your eyes widen as you go to move back downstairs, but you halt at the sound of footsteps coming your direction.

 “scott?” the mans voice made you freeze as he comes into view. his eyes narrow onto your figure as you step down one of the steps cautiously.

“fuck!”

 another yell rings out before a gun shot, the man in front of you rushes forward. his body hits into yours making you slip and fall down the stairs. landing at the bottom with a harsh groan.

 your gun slide across the floor, unable to move for a second since the wind was knocked out of you. registering his footsteps coming down the steps, you push yourself up.

 struggling to move quickly to where your gun was, the man grabs a hold of your hair. “you’re a pretty one.”

 your elbow flies back into his ribs, him releasing you slightly. you move forward ignoring how it felt when some of your hair pulls out. “fuck you.”

 kicking his knee he stumbles, before spitting in your direction. your eyes flicker down the hall as another gun shot rang out. in a split second his left hand met your jaw, leaving you to stumble almost falling.

 your ear rang as your hand cups your cheek, blood lingers on your tongue. his hands are on you again scooping you up and tossing you onto the ground like a rag doll.

 wheezing as you scramble to move, but his foot connects with your stomach. you hunch into a ball as his knees drop on the ground beside you.

hands grabbing onto your arms holding them as he tries straddles you. your heart sank as he his free hand starts lifting your shirt, unable to breathe or get out of his grip.

a gun shot rings out and his blood splatters onto your face. his body lands halfway on you and the ground beside you as you struggle to inhale.

 joel throws him off of you, his harden expression drops at the sight of you. eye swollen, the side of your face bruised and bleeding. “y/n.”

 he lifts you into a hug feeling how your body was shaking. you grip onto him tightly as your eyes land on ellie, who is only staring at you in worry. your ribs ache horribly making you wonder if any of them are broken.

 “he-he t-” joel pulls back pushing my hair slightly out my face.

 “hey, it’s okay. he’s dead-he’s dead.” you nod slightly as his eyes connect with yours, him unable to know exactly how you feel.

“You’re safe.” He reassures and you stare down at your shaking hands.

 -

 you three made it to a small house that was checked by joel alone. him not wanting a repeat, trudging in slowly you take in the place, small but warm.

you felt how tired you were and how everything today took a toll.

 “there’s two beds.” ellie sings out almost as she comes back into the living room, your bag was now on the ground. your hands held a spot on your ribs as you nod.

 “go ahead and get some rest.” you motion to her to go grab one and she nods rushing off.

 “you should too get some rest, i’ll take watch.” you didn’t care to argue with him. you head in the back checking out what room, seeing ellie on a twin size bed and seeing there was a king.

 you turn back and into the living room where joel was checking his weapons. “can you check this out?” your voice was hoarse as you lift the side of your shirt up slightly.

 the red and purplish splotchy color kisses up and down the side of your ribs. joel’s shoulders felt heavier as he goes to speak, “definitely bruised, doesn’t look the best but it’ll heal.”

 you nod, “thanks.”

you walk past him grabbing your bag off the ground.

“there’s a huge bed in here, if you get tired... i stay on my side.” you offer out to him not really knowing what to expect.

his eyes linger on you for a moment, “thanks.” he clears his throat.

 pursing you lips you move forward, “goodnight joel.”

 “goodnight, darling.”

the nickname wasn’t unusual but it was rare. It felt like something shifted inside the two of you.

you drop your bag on the ground beside the bed, pulling out some of the band aids and the small mirror you found a few months back.

switching your flashlight on and setting it where it faces you. You analyze your face, a small cut was open on your cheek. sighing softly feeling everything replay back, your eyes start to water.

blinking rapidly so you wouldn’t cry, you grab one of the little cleansing wipes out the box of bandaids.

hissing in pain, you bite your lip as you clean it. opening the bandage and putting it on, you hear footsteps head towards the room.

joel walls in almost hesitantly as he notices what you were doing. “decide to rest after all?”

he lets out a breathe maybe one of a laugh, as he sets his stuff on the ground. “something like that.” he mutters.

you move your stuff over to the side of the bed scooting yourself over. shoving everything back in the box, leaning off the side of the bed to set it in your bag.

he sits on the edge of the bed. sitting back and laying your pillow down, he takes his shoes off. “are you...” he starts shifting himself to look at your sorta.

 “are you a virgin?”

the question was random to you, but not to joel. he saw what that guys intentions were for you when he was sliding your shirt up. he wanted to know if you ever lost it or that was something that he almost took.

 “i’m not try-”

 “no joel, i’ve had sex before.” your eyes narrow at him. he looks like his mind was racing but not in a sexual way. was this about earlier?

deciding to drop it he stands up, “you uh sure?” he motions to sleeping beside you, leaving you to nod in response.

 you honestly didn’t wanna be alone. “after earlier i don’t really wanna be alone.” the confession was nice because after earlier he didn’t want you out of his sight.

 your shiver as the blanket does nothing for the cold air. joel slips in beside you moving his pillow slightly, you turn the flashlight off. the moonlight shines through the window as joel shifts getting comfortable.

 you turn to face the wall as he faces you, another shiver runs down you. “here, i can’t deal with that all night.”

 he moves his arm around your waist, pulling you back slightly in his chest. his body heat hugs you making your eyes widen slightly. “oh.” was all you could say.

 “thanks.” you mumble actually enjoying how you felt wrapped up in his arms. you don’t know what exactly shifted between you two. maybe seeing how he was with ellie, or how you were slowly starting to care for him.

 his other arm lays out flat, “lift your head.” he mumbles out as you do what he says. feeling his arm slide under you, you lay down more in his embrace this time.

 “thank you joel, for saving me earlier.” your hand wraps around his forearm softly, he rest his head softly onto you.

 “i’d kill anyone who would try to hurt ya’.” he confessed and you went quiet. not knowing what to say you allow yourself to slowly drift to sleep.

-

the next few days were a little awkward. you two talked and what not but never mentioning that night. you were so close to where joel’s brother was suppose to be at.

 “alright let’s camp out here tonight. where about less than a day away.” joel looks around as ellie shrugs her bag off. 

 “fine by me.” she mutters and you look around. the sun was setting soon, “no one should be around this part, so we can build a fire right?”

 it was freezing and you hated the cold. joel nods, “well i’ll gather fire wood then.” you drop your bag on the ground beside ellie, stuffing your gun in your waist band.

 you walk around the woods, gathering a big pile of small sticks and a few leaves. joel gets them together and starts working on the fire.

 leaning down you shuffle through your bag, pulling out a few granola bars you found. you hold out one to ellie, “here.”

 she takes it reading what it says, “thanks.”

 you smile softly as you open yours up, “there we go!” ellie exclaims as the fire start. you sigh in relief pushing yourself up and over closer to the fire. ellie does the same, as you drop your bag on the ground. bending down you pull out your sleeping bag.

 laying it out, you sit down before looking over at joel. “here take this.” you hand over the last unopened one and he looks down at it.

 “haven’t seen these in years.”

 “good, enjoy.” you joke as you finish yours. the sun went down as you three talked softly, joking about a few things.

 eventually ellie passes out with her book and you glance over at joel.

“hey, i’ll take watch first. you did it last night.”

 he shakes his head, “it’s fine i got it.”

you give him a look.

 “we’ll both stay up then.”

you mutter standing up. he gives you a questioning look.

 “im going pee.”

with that you walk off in the dark. trying to see your way through. a few more feet you end up tripping over something, letting out a shriek as you fell.

 hitting the ground with a thud, you groan softly.

 “y/n!” joel yells from not too far behind. you lift yourself up seeing the big root you fell over.

 “i’m fine.”

 you call back but he appears in front of you, gun held tightly in his grip. he notices you on the ground, you giggle softly.

 “i fell.”

“jesus, you scared the shit out of me.” he glares at you, letting his arms fall from their stance.

 “that’s why you pay attention! your damn yelling is gonna cause infected to come crawling this way.” his voice was harsh, not as the tone before. you stand up, glaring back in his direction.

 “fuck off joel, i fell it’s not like i purposely tried to do that.” you step closer to him as you start to get angry.

  “you think they care when you get ambushed and bit, because you didn’t pay attention?” it’s like he’s trying to scold a child. or give a damn lecture.

“i already know, jesus your not my father and your not my boyfriend.”

the last part sent a feeling over joel who moves closer to you. “i can’t keep worry about you and Ellie, damn it.”

“never said you have too! Jesus, why do you care joel?” tired of him trying to argue.

 “because i care about you!” it slips and you feel yourself tense up.

  “no you don’t.” you mutter out, going to walk past him. giving up on your idea of peeing at the moment. joel says stuff but he doesn’t mean everything. besides this wouldn’t be what you wanted.

 you were younger, he made sure you knew with his constant scolding.

 his hand wraps around your bicep stopping you from leaving.

 “i-” you cut him off before he gets to speak.

 “look i don’t know what you want joel, but i’m not interested in having my emotions toyed with so j-”

 he cuts you off with his lips landing on yours, feeling his beard scratch against your bare face.

 his tongue licks across your lips, before your tongues touch. his hand slips up into your hair, the other around your waist pulling you closer. you pull away breathing heavily, eyes gazing in each other.

 everything was dark but the moon was full only letting you see the outline of each other.

 “i don’t wanna mess with you darling, i care about you y/n.”

 his hand comes up and under your jaw, his thumb rubs over your bottom lip. your stomach flutters as you push yourself up to kiss him again. this time he pushes you softly against the nearby tree.

 “oh gross.” ellie says from behind you two, waking up from the yelling she came to check out where you two went.

 “i thought someone was attacked, now i see it’s you two attacking each other.” she groans making you giggle softly into his chest.

 “oh god..” he mutters in your ear.

[novankenn]

Things Best left ... ALONE

"It is a new initiative, started just this year. No longer is Beacon going to be setting up four-person teams. Instead pairs of partners will be randomly matched for missions and team exercises. The hope is to train more rounded and flexible huntsmen and huntresses." - Ozpin

Pyrrha Nikos, four-time Mistralian Tournament Champion, and media darling was the odd one out. She had enrolled in Beacon in the hope to escape the hero worship and preferential treatment she was constantly receiving. However her fame followed her, and because of an odd number of applicants... she was without a partner.

(Images generated by perchance ai text-to-image)

Feeling isolated, and alone she sought refuge in labyrinth of shelves that made up the Beacon library. It was there deep in the stacks, she discovered... something... something that would change her life.

Though only time would tell if it would be for the better or worse.

--== Chapters ==--

ONE - TWO - THREE - FOUR - FIVE - SIX - SEVEN - EIGHT - NINE - TEN - ELEVEN - TWELVE - THIRTEEN - FOURTEEN - FIFTEEN -