#a good steal if you have the funding :D

[arabian-batboy]

Woke up to the beautiful news of Palestinians in Gaza stripe (over 70% of whom are refugees forced to live in Gaza after being ethnically cleansed from other parts of Palestine by Israel) breaking out of the illegal Israeli blockade on them for the first time in almost 2 decades and reclaiming stolen Palestinian land for the first time in 7 decades while making the illegal settlers squatting in Palestinian houses rush to the airport and fly back to their home countries that they came to Palestine from in the first place or hide in the trash container where they belong.

They did all of this without having a formal military and reusing Israeli weapons that were used against them and I know without a doubt that hypocritical western media and politicians will come out with fake crocodile tears to show sympathy to Israel and claim that they have the right to defend themselves against "terrorist" Palestinians, even though what is happening to them today isn't a fraction to what they have been doing to Palestinians for 70 years straight and that if anyone is defending themselves here, its the refugees forced to live in the world's biggest open-air prison, not their occupiers.

I don't know what will happens next, I wouldn't be surprised if Israel used their funded-with-billions-from-the-US military power to steal back all the land Palestinians reclaimed, re-install the apartheid wall to continue the illegal blockade on Gaza as well as perform collective-punishment on as many Palestinian civilians as possible as revenge on the humiliation they suffered, all while calling themselves the victims and the people they're killing/occupying the terrorists.

Either ways today was a big day in the decolonization of Palestine and a huge blow to the settler-colony of Israel's regime and ego, hopefully it will encourage some of the settler to leave Palestine for good and discourage new settlers from coming to Palestine from other parts of the world.

-

Palestinians made a document that contains templates for letters to US, UK, & Canadian politicians, media outlets, and companies in relation to current events in Palestine as well as petitions & other resources. If you live in any of these countries then please select a template, edit it to your preference and send according to the instructions on the relevant page.

Here is a link to it (please share it): https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-RUOHHiEtr7uoclQgWN-tCWOihnHIp5hym89aNePi_E/mobilebasic

Aside from that, please protest, support the BDS boycott and spread awareness as much as possible.

[ghoststyles]

Casanova

HIIIII 🤍 Here is a little piece I've been working on for a while! This is inspired by the song Casanova by Rayland Baxter. Harry is a manipulative little twat in this, so bare with me 🤍

7.5K words;

TW: SLIGHT mommy kink. He doesn't call her mommy but he calls her mama and Miss/Missy. P in V sex, oral sex, phone sex. FACETIME SEX <3 Slight mentions of suicide. EXTREME drug and alcohol abuse. Arrests, jail. the works.

ENJOY AND GIVE ME A BOOP IF YOU LIKE IT :D

______________________________________________________________

Money, all I ever want is money But I never wanna work for the money So I borrow the money from a woman

Harry Styles knew who he was from a young age. A charmer. A flirt. He uses his wits and his good looks to manipulate the people around him until they have no choice but to give in, conning them and infiltrating their lives for his own gain.

His days are simple; He sleeps until 11, combs his hair into a perfect swirl of chocolate curls, brushes his perfectly white and straight teeth, spritzes his neck with his ridiculously priced Tom Ford cologne, climbs into his Porsche Cayenne to hit the gym, and grab an $18 smoothie for the ride home. From there, he lets the day unfold how it pleases, until it’s time to go to the club with his friends. Here and there, he’ll meet up with his dealer and his bookie to spice it up. 

Rinse. Reuse. Repeat. 

As a child, Harry was dirt poor. He’d never let anyone know that, however. His perfectly curated image blossomed the minute he got to college, leaving any ounce of mediocrity behind. His friends were none the wiser, assuming Harry was there blowing his trust fund like the rest of them, when really, he was a charity case.

Every day, he’d walk to the corner store for cigarettes for his dad and cans of tuna fish, stealing a small item to try and feel something. The owner, Mr. Abbott, knew Harry stole from him, but never said a word. He’d return to their one bedroom apartment, flicking the light on, only to find the electric bill hadn’t been paid. 

His parents are not addicts or criminals, by any means. If they were, he’d at least have a touching back story. Neither of them have the drive or the desire to succeed like he does. They lived their simple lives, worked paycheck to paycheck to support him and his siblings and never worked for more. 

On the day he left for college, he vowed to himself to never let anyone see him as the poor, pathetic boy he was. He’ll put his own silver spoon in his mouth, if he must. 

So, as he sits high and mighty on his throne after doing a few lines off a pretty girl’s tits in the VIP section of his favorite club, The Viper, surrounded by his fellow socialite friends, he thinks of one person.

You.

Harry isn’t unemployed, per se, but, he doesn’t exactly have a job, either. Two years ago, at the ripe age of 21, he graduated magna cum laude from university, with top marks in all of his classes. But, he knew he didn’t want to work a traditional job. He wanted to travel, he wanted to live lavishly, and he wanted to party.

That’s where you come in. The gorgeous, alluring and kind-hearted woman that feeds the beast that is his lifestyle. He wouldn’t change it for the fucking world.

Swiping aimlessly one day on the dating apps, he stopped his scroll abruptly to study your profile. You’re perfectly curated - the collection of photos reflecting your outgoing personality and beauty. 

38. Looking for some fun. Dog mom. CEO. Let me spoil you <3

Seeking a male ages 21-28.

His eyebrow quirks. A sugar mommy? Is that a thing?

He swipes right, hoping deep down you match. This could be it. This could be his way in. The funds from his financial aid are quickly dwindling, and he’d be sooner caught dead than with a part-time job. 

He dawdles around his apartment for a few hours, pacing the room to see if you matched with him. The possibility of this arrangement is scratching an itch he’s been desperate to quell. 

He readies himself to meet his friends at the club, placing cologne on his neck and wrists. For good measure, he adjusts himself in his trousers to get a little blood flowing down there. 

As he plucks his keys from the door, he hears the familiar ping from the dating site ring out from his laptop. Stopping in his tracks, he pivots to stand at his desk. He swallows thickly before entering his passcode.

Congratulations, Casanova94, you matched with BabyHoneyxo

A dazed smile makes its way to his lips, his dimple popping significantly. This is going to be good.

Can you believe I never met her? Can you believe she never met me, too? But she calls me everyday, telling me to behave And no I never listened

Now, almost two years later, you and Harry have still never met in person. But, that’s by your request. You want a companion. A call boy. Someone who will always answer the phone when you need it. And ever since you inherited your family’s wealth and company, you want someone to spoil.

It started off slow; texts asking about one another’s day, learning about hobbies and interests. Then, the wire deposits came in. Harry wasn’t sure if he had hearts in his eyes or dollar signs. You don’t tell him how to spend the money, but you definitely drop hints.

“Get yourself a new outfit, baby. Then send me a picture,” you smiled lazily on FaceTime one night. “Maybe you can find something to match the Porsche.”

Harry chuckles boyishly, “You’re too good to me. I just went shopping last week!” 

He has you eating out of the palm of his hand. 

“I know, I know. I just want my baby boy to be happy. Can you pull yourself out for me, baby? Wanna see you,” you purr, making yourself comfortable on your king sized bed in your quiet penthouse. You’re winding down for bed, even though your lover is just getting ready for the night. 

“Mhm,” Harry responds, voice an octave higher and desperate sounding. He slides himself out, letting his cock harden slowly in his hands. “My friends will be here soon, Missy.”

“That’s okay, bubba. We’ll be quick. Mmm, look how big and gorgeous you are,” your sultry tone sends shivers up his spine. He adjusts the camera so you’re looking at his abdomen from below his thick cock. 

“My perfect boy,” you moan out as you touch your clit for the first time this evening. “Always so good for me.”

“Yes, Missy. Wanna be good for you. Can I touch myself harder now?”

“Yeah, baby, go ahead. Squeeze that big cock. Tell me when you’re close.”

At this point, you’re furiously rubbing your clit, and gently teasing a finger inside. His breaths are becoming more labored as he pumps his cock at a faster pace. You pause just before your climax, sending your heart rate to a thunderous pace you can hear the ringing in your ears. 

You look over at your phone propped up next to you to find your little love sweating and fisting himself hurriedly. The whimpers coming from the other end make the hairs on your arms stand up. After a beat, you continue the assault on your clit, starting off slow in order to reach that peak again. 

“I-I’m close, Missy. Please let me cum. I f-feel so good,” at the tail end of his begging, he moans deeply. 

“Uh-uh. Who always cums first, baby?”

“You, Mama. You cum first,” he pants, his eyes making panicked contact with yours. 

“That’s right. Good boy. I’m so close baby,” you squeak out as you stick two fingers in your cunt. You cry out, at your release, gently tweaking your nipple with your other hand.

Harry isn’t far behind, taking one last swipe over his tip, using his other hand to cup his balls. He cums all over his fist, small specks of white littering his belly. He whimpers again, barely able to open his eyes. 

“Let me see, baby,” you whisper, waiting for him to show you his load. He pans the camera silently, the haze already leaving his head. But he’d never tell you that. 

“Thank you, Missy. I feel so good.”

“Mmm, bet you do, baby. Now go clean up and have fun with your friends. I’ll talk you tomorrow. Behave!”

“Okay, I will. Goodnight.”

The minute Harry presses ‘end’, an ounce of remorse bubbles in his chest. Just an ounce. He rises from his bed to jump in the shower, ridding him of his guilt and shame. 

Sure, you’re gorgeous, and nice. But you’re not what’s getting him off. Or so he likes to tell himself. Throughout your sessions on FaceTime, Harry’s mind wanders to the girls he’s hooked up with the weekend before, and the countless drugs he’ll consume on a night out. That’s what gets his rocks off. 

You’re the means to his ends. The gateway to his wildest dreams. He’s going to hold onto you for as long as he can, even if he has to get off over the phone a few nights, or pretend to care about the philanthropy you’re supporting that week. 

Harry should be your only philanthropy, he thinks to himself. This is the easiest job he’s ever done. And it only makes it better that he can do whatever he wants, with no consequences.

As he gets out of the shower, his prick still swinging in the air, he picks up his phone to see a Venmo payment from you.

Y/N L/N paid Harry Styles - $2,000.00 - 😘

Without even hesitating, Harry, heart rate rising a bit, opens up a text field  - to his club promoter. He ignores the dozens of texts from family members over the last few weeks. He’ll make his yearly obligation call to his mother at some point.

Hey, Mike! Can we upgrade to V.I.P tonight? I can put $2K down now.

He’ll thank you later. Tonight, he’s the hero of his friend group. A slight nervousness prickles on his neck. Harry isn’t naive - he knows he should be smarter with his money - your money. But you haven’t given him any reason to believe the well will run dry any time soon. 

So far, despite your generosity, Harry still lives paycheck to paycheck. He blows his money on extravagant trips, nights out at the club, and plenty of booze and coke. It’s times he hopes to look back on one day and smile. He swears to you he’s saving the money and working towards investing and buying a house. 

Scout’s honor. 

I got a real bad feeling, I'ma let her down Got a hole in my pocket and I'm running around Spending all of her money on drugs and things To keep my mind from runnin' Back to the hole that I came from

Every night that he steps out of his apartment, he shakes the nagging feeling in his gut, the embodiment of the life he left behind. He calls his Uber Black to take him to the Viper, his little white baggy in the breast pocket of his Burberry overcoat. 

He nods to the driver when he opens his door and proceeds to pour a small line of the substance onto the screen of his phone, but not without seeing another text from you.

Mrs. Robinson 🤍: Enjoy the night, sweet boy! Be safe xo

Harry smiles to himself at your contact in his phone. You all but had a fit when you found out he’d never seen The Graduate. Once he saw it, his world changed.

Swiping away your message, he plugs up his nostril, inhaling sharply as he moves his face over the surface of the screen. He grunts lightly, throwing his head back and shaking it out. That should hold him over until they’re in their secluded area of the club. 

The car pulls up to the club around 11:45, the house music already bumping. The line looks brutal. He scans it to see if he spots any 10s waiting that can keep him company later. Miles, Marquise and Jade are already inside at their table.

The bouncers greet Harry, bumping his fist and patting him on the back. He can feel the eyes of the nobodies in line glaring at him enviously. When you spend the average person’s salary in one night at the club, you eagerly reap the benefits. 

As he’s escorted through the crowd by the five-foot-nothing hostess, his senses are on high alert. He can hear his heart beating over the music and can feel the bass shaking the floors. He smiles tightly at the girl as she leads him to his table and scurries back into the crowd. 

Marquise and Miles, his best friends from undergrad stand to greet him, as Jade greets him from the lap of her catch of the day, a burly, bearded dude already glowing from sweat and the 8-ball they’re about to dig into. 

Taking his first swig of the Don Julio his regular bottle service girl, Tasia, pours into his mouth, he cracks a wicked smile, convincing himself there’s no where else he’d rather be.

Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from And I don't ever want to go back

~

“So,” you start quietly on your daily FaceTime coffee date. You’re perched in your home library’s windowsill. “I was thinking of flying you in for my 40th. It’s going to be pretty chill. I’ll probably hire a chef and have a dinner at my place. Maybe 15-20 people.”

Harry is cocooned in a blanket on his bed, his iced coffee you had DoorDashed to his apartment slowly melting on his bedside table. His eyes had slowly drifted shut as he listened to you talk about everything and nothing. That’s how these things went — you talk and he listens. You’re after his companionship, after all.

At your words, his eyes shoot open, causing him to try and sit up gently so he can hear you better, not believing what you’re saying. Inhaling, he hesitates before he starts to reply. 

“Uh, um,” he bites his lip and looks at himself in the corner of the screen, trying to gauge if he looks as shocked as he sounds. “W-when are you thinking? I have a couple trips coming up and plans with my friends.”

He decides to play it cool. You have to know this is a huge development in this arrangement, right?

“Well, my birthday is the 27th, obviously.”

He scoffs, “I knew that part, Miss. When is the party?”

“Watch the ‘tude, baby. I was hoping for that Saturday, maybe. But I’d be willing to work around what you have coming up.”

He’s lying through his teeth. He doesn’t have major travel plans until the summer, when his friend group will jet off to Greece. He’s been saving up your pennies to charter a private plane.

“Don’t agree to it now, but please think about it. I love spending time with you and I’d love to finally meet you. We can tell my family that you’re part of one of my philanthropy groups. I’m your largest donor, after all,” you stick your tongue out at him.

“Okay, let me get myself together for the day, and I can see what’s going on,” Harry grits out, trying not to let you down. 

“Okay, baby. Have a good day. Let me know if you get up to anything fun,” you say with a mild hurt in your tone. The least he can do is make an effort to finally meet you.

“Will do. Bye, Miss,” He says quietly, swiftly hanging up the call and chucking the phone towards his pillows. 

“Fuck!” 

Hm, Casanova You know that I'm a casanova Throw my pennies in the well Waking up in jail 'Cause I never paid attention Do you remember all the good times? Do you remember all the bad times too? She reminds me everyday, telling me to behave And no I never listened

~

You didn’t let him off the hook that easily. Every day that passes as your birthday party looms, you mention flights, or activities you can do once he arrives. Harry laughs them off, distracting you by touching himself or telling a story from his gatherings with friends. 

It’s not until you’re barking orders at him over the phone, 1 week before your party, denying his orgasm that he finally relents. 

“Miss, please, I-I need to cum,” he whimpers as he has a ghostly touch over his angry, red cock. “P-please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything, hm? I want my pretty baby at my birthday party. Wanna show you off and whisper filthy things in your ear and feel that pretty cock under the table. Agree to fly out to me and I’ll let you cum, baby.”

“Miss,” he croaks out, his stomach in shambles trying to stop himself from coming for the third time. “Okay, okay, Mama, I’ll go. I-I’ll come for your birthday! Please let me cum.”

You all but squeal in delight, instructing him to finally let go. Talking him through it, he keens from your praises for following the rules. A nervous heat travels up his neck, realizing what he agreed to in his post-nut clarity. 

“Good boy. Take a picture before you clean up, okay? I’ll talk to you in the morning and I’ll have my assistant send over your travel information.”

He nods, unable to make eye contact. You’re oblivious and overjoyed, thinking he’s just too fucked out to look at you. 

“G’night, Missy,” he chokes out. 

“Goodnight, sweet boy,” you hum before hanging up.

Harry snaps a photo of his messy left fist and cum-covered stomach before cleaning himself up and returning to bed. He eagerly picks up his phone to check his dating apps for his matches. He’d been talking to a new girl, Madelyn, for the past week, so excitement bubbles in his stomach. 

She’s meeting him and his regular group at the Viper tonight, so he’s excited to show off to her. Maybe she’ll even be down for a romp in the back seat of his Porsche.

His phone pings, signaling another deposit from you.

Y/N L/N paid Harry Styles - $5,000 - Can’t wait to see you 😘

He smiles, his right thumb picking at the skin of his ring finger. The guilt he feels from abusing your kindness starts to eat at him. But he didn’t get this far by being nice to people. You can’t possibly have feelings for him, right? You haven’t even met, for god’s sake. He shivers, shaking the feeling so he can focus on the night ahead. 

Pushing you far, far in the back of his mind. 

~

It’s now the night before your 40th birthday party, and you’re buzzing with excitement. Your penthouse is decorated in pink and floral frill - almost like your Great Aunt Gertrude exploded - but it’s chic and will be a hit amongst your New York City socialite friends. Your party planner floats around the room, puttering with the florals, candles and gem stones scattered around. 

You anxiously check the time, counting down the hours until Harry boards his flight from LA. He’s jumping on a red eye, so you’ll greet him with coffee and donuts when he lands. A pang of nervousness hits you as you remember how distant he was this week, saying he was busy with friends or doing god knows what an unemployed 23 year old does in Los Angeles.

Monday, 3:31 PM

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: Sorry, missy. I’ve been at Miles’ art showing all day.

Wednesday, 11:27 AM

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: Sorry! At the gym with Do Not Disturb on. Hey, can you send me some cash? Last min car maintenance 😢

Friday, 5:58 PM

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: Hi missy. My friends want to go to the opening of the new Carbone out here. Think your friends can get us a table? It’ll be 9 of us. 

Hope your dad’s chemo appointment went okay.

You can’t be mad at the little monster you’ve let him become. You are always an after thought as his only priority is making sure the cash cow is alive and well. He extends effort just enough to make the butterflies in your stomach reappear when he does give you the attention you crave. 

Inhaling deeply, you ascend up the grand staircase in your Upper East Side brownstone and begin your pampering routine, sending photos to Harry of the hydrating eye patches on and curlers in your hair, blowing kisses and sticking out your tongue. 

Typically, Harry answers relatively quickly to your silly messages, but, tonight, he’s gone radio silent. Maybe he’s trying to conserve his phone battery for the flight? 

You open your medicine cabinet to examine your fast-acting anti-anxiety pills, hoping you can will away this uneasy feeling. Padding over to your bed, you pop your pills before tucking into your silk sheets. Before putting your phone on the charger, you send Harry one last message.

Mrs. Robinson 🤍: Safe flight, baby ♥️ I’ll be tracking you, but tell me which terminal when you land. Can’t wait to see you 😚

Flicking out the light, you close your eyes with the hopes of finally meeting your lover in just twelve hours.

~

I got a real bad feeling I'ma lose my cool Everywhere that I go, everything that I do Stop me using the money on drugs and things To keep my mind from runnin'

Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from And I don't ever want to go back

Ping!

Harry, Delta airlines can’t wait to welcome you aboard Flight 0723 to JFK, departing 18:35

Ping!

You may now board Flight 0723 to JFK, departing 18:35. Welcome aboard, Harry.

Harry’s leg is bouncing uncontrollably as he watches the busy bodies move around him. Despite his social butterfly nature, his social anxiety rears its ugly head every once in a while. Or, it could be tonight’s concoction of pills.

He places his phone on Do Not Disturb, just as he gets a text from you. Closing his eyes in defeat, he comes face to face with the awful, shameful and downright despicable choice he’s made.

He’s not going to New York.

Instead, he’s standing booth side at a club next to John Summit, his favorite DJ, as he passes around a bottle of 1942. The pills he’s on are plastering a wide smile on his face as the throng of bodies around him jump around, despite the absolute panic and guilt he feels in his veins. 

He’s wondering when you’ll realize he’s not coming. The lack of texts? The empty escalator to the pick-up area well after the flight has landed? He can picture your cherub cheeks reddening with embarrassment, fighting back hot tears.

To distract himself, he leans down to capture the blonde girl to his left in a kiss, despite not even making eye contact with her prior. When she peers up at him, her pupils are just as dilated as his as they sway back and forth.

He kisses her once more, just as Marquise offers him another baggie.

~

The panic sets in about 30 minutes after his flight landed. Surely that’s enough time to grab his bag and meet you here, right?

Your eyes urgently scan over every person that walks by probably sending them into fight or flight as a deranged woman looks them over in search for her boy. 

You look down at your phone, the background a photo of your dog, completely clear of any notifications. With vigor, you throw out the box of donuts and his iced black Americano. Swallowing your pride, you skulk back to the parking lot to cry in the safety of your car. 

You feel like a loser. A pathetic middle-aged woman who got fooled by a man half her age. The mental gymnastics that takes place as you drive home with white knuckles on the steering wheel should have you committed. 

Your dating life wasn’t easy. It started in high school, where you were invisible to the boys, always deemed not good enough to date. Extending through college, you were still nearly invisible, working over time to find just one guy to have any interest in you and take your virginity. Just to get it over with. 

As the dating scene expanded in your 20s, you still struck out with men your age. It wasn’t until your late 30s when your hopes and dreams of a family came crashing down on you that you’d made that godforsaken dating profile. 

You still remember how your heart skipped a beat when you saw Harry’s photo for the first time. His boyish charm was palpable, followed by his incredibly witty prompt answers. He was your solution. If you couldn’t earn someone’s love, you could at least buy it. 

The lump in your throat is preventing you from calling him and leaving the fiery voicemail you so want to do. You assume he’ll ignore any calls from you anyway.

Pulling into your private garage, you let out your frustrations by wailing and smacking the steering wheel of your Bentley. To prying eyes, the cops should be called. You allow yourself to flip for 5 minutes before putting on a brave face and going inside to begin getting ready for your birthday party, ringing in another year of heartbreak and disappointment. 

~

3 glasses of a 1982 Cabernet Sauvignon. That’s how much alcohol it took to have you crying in front of your friends and family. 

You couldn’t tell them what was really wrong, of course. They have no idea about your and Harry’s arrangement. They’d call you an idiot if they knew how much money you’ve sent him.

Everyone is shooting you sympathetic looks as you cry on your best friend’s shoulder. For all they know, you’re stressed with work and your dad’s cancer diagnosis. It’s a lot of pressure on a single woman. 

Rubbing your back, Candice whispers all the affirmations she’s been telling you since college. It’s incredibly annoying to get advice from someone whose life is perfect. 

You quietly thank her, clearing your throat of the lump that’s formed. Looking around the room, you make a break for it, grabbing your phone as you lock yourself in the guest bathroom.

Tears blurring your vision, you dial his number for the first time all day. It rings and rings, finally sending you to voicemail, as you’d suspected.

You’re silent for a beat after the beep. 

“I-I don’t even have words for how I’m feeling right now. I was so fucking excited to see you…feel you….kiss you. And instead I’m locked in a bathroom at my own birthday party, calling you like a fucking loser,” you start, snot threatening to drip down your face. 

“I give, and I give and I give, and yet you still let me look like a fucking idiot in front of my friends and family. You couldn’t do one fucking thing for me? You…You didn’t even have to put any effort. I paid for a car service, paid for a first-class seat, bought you a wardrobe…”

“I just hope whatever the fuck you’re doing right now is worth it. I don’t ask questions about what you do with my money, since I’m the one who started this. B-but I thought you were a decent person. I feel so fucking stupid right now,” you are talking to yourself at this point. You shakily inhale and stare at the ceiling. 

“We’re done. I’m done with your bullshit. I’m not gonna let some ungrateful brat take advantage of me anymore. Have a nice life, Harry. Hope you have to move back to bumblefuck and lose all the friends you’ve been lying to this whole time,” you end off the message with pure venom leaking through your words.

You press end, feeling slightly better that you’d used his deepest darkest secret as ammunition. The mirror in front of you shows a shocking picture; running mascara, watery, red eyes, and disheveled hair.

Patting some toilet paper under your eyes, you clean up the best you can before returning back to the party. If you were strong, you’d block his number. But you can’t help but wonder what his response could be.

~

He deserves it. It’s 4:40 AM and he just mustered the courage to listen to your message. His under eyes feel heavy as he listens to your words, hitting him where it hurts. His hands are shaking as he lowers the phone to his lap, drowning out the sound of your sad, heartbreaking voice. 

5 years ago, he was a decent person. Now, he looks in the mirror and sees his slightly gaunt face and tired eyes staring back at him. He even notices a few gray hairs every once in a while. 

His lifestyle takes a toll on him — He’s well aware of that. But for now, he has no reason to stop. Harry lightly smacks his head back on the seat of the Uber back to his apartment. Cracking the window, he lets the sounds of the early morning deter him from vomiting.

The car arrives at his apartment — a guest house in Hidden Hills, the only place he can afford with the zip code he desires so badly. He never brings anyone to his place, too paranoid of his secrets getting out. Vision doubling, he struggles to stick his key in the lock. He knees the door has he twists the knob, sending him tumbling flat on his face. 

Smacking his head on the tile floor, he recoils, lifting his hand to feel droplets of blood on his nose and bottom lip. The metallic taste is leaking into his mouth, sending him into a spiral. His front door is still wide open, allowing him to see the sun peaking over the hills in the distance. 

He crawls over to the threshold, slamming the door shut with his foot. He lays back down on the cool floor, exhausted from his efforts. His breathing evened out, lulling him into a comatose state before succumbing to the darkness.

But before he passes out, all he can picture is your gorgeous, disappointed face.

I'm back in the hole I got nowhere to go La la la la, la, la Spinning around In the cold dark hole deep down in the ground Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from

The thing about rock bottom is that you don’t realize you’ve hit it until you’re clawing your way back to the top.

In the days following your fallout, Harry’s experienced enough misfortunes to last a lifetime. It started off with his credit card declining on a $6 breakfast sandwich, only to come back hungry and sad to his car being repossessed in front of all the Hidden Hills housewives out and about. 

The panic rises in his chest, and it’s taking everything in him not to call you and beg for forgiveness. He’s come to realize how fucked up his actions towards you became. He misses the butterflies and longing he felt when you first started your arrangement. 

He stomps back inside, miserable and feeling like a loser. If it wasn’t for Marquise’s birthday party later, he’d be sure to go dive in the ocean in hopes of never resurfacing. 

His closet is taunting him — full of the clothes you’ve bought him. He can remember every single piece he tried on for you, and the praise you were so quick to give him. He never reciprocated when you’d show him new pieces and showing off your incredible body. But, you hadn’t called him out on it, so he continued on. 

The all black outfit he chose reflects his mental state. Filled with dread and remorse, he pulls out his kitchen drawer to peruse the substances he has left. His stash is dwindling as fast as his bank account, so he has to be strategic until he figures out his next move. 

Grabbing the baggies, he situates them in the breast pocket of his jacket to conceal everything. They’re going to a new club tonight, so there’s no being saved by the bouncers if shit goes south. 

The party goes off without a hitch. Bottles pouring, dancers hanging from the ceiling, and an influx of out of town girls willing to do anyone and anything. Harry has nearly pushed you completely out of his mind, but he does something completely out of character.

~

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: I’m sorry.

You’re at a wine bar with your girlfriends in the Village, and the message you receive shakes you to your core. You haven’t heard from him in days. Not even after you repossessed the car and canceled his credit card tied to your account. You thought for sure that would smoke him out of his foxhole. But, he’s Harry. He’s selfish and too full of pride to ever come forward and apologize.

Your friends notice the faltered look on your face, but opt to ignore it as they bitch about their husbands and kids. Despite your fleeting dreams of having a family, most of the time you’re thankful you can’t relate to them. 

Turning off your phone, you throw it in your new Kelly bag — a little treat to get over the heartbreak — and return to the conversation.

~

He doesn’t even remember how it went down. 

The last clear memory he has is being escorted out of the club to go back to Marquise’s. The combination of coke and alcohol, plus this week’s tumultuous events had him on edge, so when the unfamiliar bouncer at this mediocre club grabbed him wrong, it sent Harry into a frenzy. 

To match his bloody nose and busted lip, his knuckles are now decorated with crusty amber smatterings of blood — his own, and the bouncer’s. His jaw and wrist were aching, still mouthing off like a rabid animal as the cop read him his Miranda rights. 

So now, he sits in a cold cell in the county jail awaiting his arraignment — a seemingly straight forward assault and battery charge, now amplified by the 40 grams of cocaine and Adderall in his coat pocket. The bastard cop smiled to himself when he patted him down. Harry will give him this one, the rinkydink small town cop who is used to giving out traffic violations. 

Tired, in dire need to piss, and on the verge of a mental breakdown, Harry’s head snaps up when the officer notifies him of his bail — a measly $75,000 — and lets him know he has one phone call. Balling his fists, he looks up at the ceiling.

“Fuck!”

The cop assists him in standing up. His wrists are chained together behind his back, after all. Releasing him from the confines, Harry rubs his wrists where the cheap metal chafed him.

“You have 5 minutes to make a call. Do you know the phone number or do you need me to access your cell phone?”

Harry scoffs. Who the fuck still memorizes phone numbers?

“Phone,” he replies, a clear edge in his voice. 

“Whose contact am I looking for? Mom, Dad?”

“Fuck’s sake. No, I need the number of,” Harry pauses suddenly as he remembers your name in his phone. 

“Mrs. Robinson,” he finishes quietly.

The cop raises his eyebrows, but says nothing, and reads the number aloud to him. It rings, and rings, diminishing any hope that you’ll answer. It’s in this moment Harry is at his rockbottom.

“Hello?”

~

“This is a collect call from the Department of Corrections for the City of Los Angeles. An individual is trying to contact you. Do you wish to answer?”

You gasp as the automated voice informs you of your worst nightmare.

“Hello?” you say quietly. It’s 8:15 AM, and you’re at the cafe on the corner for a latte and reading, trying not to disturb those around you. 

“M-missy?” His voice sounds broken. It sends a stabbing pain straight through your chest. 

“Harry, what happened? What did you do?”

“I-I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. N-not just with you. I know I fucked everything u-up,” he’s starting to sob, unable to catch his breath between words.

“B-but I got into a pretty bad fight last night, and I had some,” Harry pauses to look over his shoulder to make sure the officer isn’t listening. He wipes the tears in his eyes with his thumb. “I had some stuff on me, so now I’m in a lot more trouble. A-and I know I fucked everything up and I don’t deserve anything from you, but I don’t have enough money for bail.”

You sigh, not really even sure where to begin. Tears are threatening to spill over as you hear his clearly broken sobs. 

“How much do you need?”

At this point, Harry hung his head at your silence. He snaps his head back up when you agree to help him.

“It’s $75,000.”

“Jesus, Harry, what the fuck did you do?”

“I don’t even know, I barely have any memory of—”

“Five minutes, inmate!” the officer interrupts him.

Harry rolls his eyes and continues. 

“I’m not sure what happens next. B-but thank you, Y/N. I know I don’t deserve this in the slightest.”

You shiver at his use of your first name. Closing your eyes, “I know you don’t. Just tell me who I need to call.”

~

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you mutter as you hear your incessant doorbell ring. It’s 6 in the morning, just a few days after you paid Harry’s bail. You’ve been laying low, unsure if you’ll even hear from him again. 

Your doorman, Paul, informs you of a visitor. A visitor? At this time? Unable to even comprehend what’s going on, you press the button to confirm opening the door, and wait. 

Your bunny slippered feet tap your coffee table anxiously. Is it your mom? Here to inform you of someone’s death? Or is it your best friend from college who couldn’t come to your party? Or is it —

You’re broken from your racing thoughts as a timid knock on the door echoes through the house. You shuffle hesitantly over to the door, unable to even bring yourself to look through the peephole. 

Closing your eyes while pulling open the door, the absolute wind is knocked out of you as you eye up your waiting guest. 

He’s tall, tanned and gorgeous as his photos. It’s unfair to look like this after stepping off what she assumes was a red eye flight. He looks exhausted. His lip and nose are busted, and he has a yellowing bruise on his left eye.

“W-what?” you flounder in disbelief.

His hands fold together at your reaction, unsure if he should hug you or keep a respectable distance. He opens his mouth to say something, but stops himself. He’ll play by your rules.

“What the fuck is going on?” 

You look adorable. The sleep barely wiped from your eyes. Slight bed head and disheveled silk pajamas. Harry is in disbelief that this is the woman he’s come to realize his feelings for.

“I know this is so fucked up,” he trails off. “Coming here. I don’t deserve even a minute of your time, but I needed to come here and tell you how fucking sorry I am. How deep into the superficial bullshit I got. I took advantage of you and your kindness and I lost myself in the process.”

You must look flabbergasted, because he inches closer, placing his hands gently on your arms. His touch is searing, but the first reminder that he’s actually standing in front of you and not an extremely lifelike apparition. 

“I-I,” you stumble.

“We don’t even have to talk right now. You can send me away, if you need. But I’m here, I’m here in New York and I want to change. I want to be better for you. These last few days— when I had absolutely nothing — made me realize something.”

His eyes are now earnest and starting to tear up. Your reflection is so clear in his tide pool green irises. 

“I had nothing, and it made me realizing you’re my everything.”

His profession had you clutching your metaphorical pearls. Your heart is racing, sending your central nervous system into a tizzy. You know he’s not lying, because he’s looking dead in your eyes waiting for your reply.

“H-Harry, I don’t even know what to say,” you stall. Your body knows what it wants to say.

“I know and like I said, if you need time, I underst—”

“If you’re here and you’re not bullshitting me; you really want to change. Then, you’ll fuck me like it.”

If Harry’s jaw could drop to the basement, it would. Instead of word vomiting, he lunges forward, guiding both of your bodies back to the hallway and placing a panty-dropping kiss on your lips. He doesn’t even have time to admire your beautiful home.

You break the kiss, grabbing his wrist to lead him to your room. The sheets are mussed, your clothes are all over, but you can’t even begin to fucking care. You all but dive back onto your bed, pulling your nightgown up to reveal your bare, perfect pussy. 

Harry drops to his knees, wrapping his hands around your thighs. The photos and the FaceTimes don’t do any justice to the sight in front of him. You’re complete and utter perfection. 

He waits for your approval before leaning forward to lick from back to front. Your back arches slightly, throwing your ankles over his shoulder. His fingertips dig into your skin deliciously, so you grab onto your blankets for dear life. 

“Give it to me, Missy. I’ve been waiting two years for this perfect cunt. What the fuck was I waiting for?”

You laugh, not expecting his sense of humor at this moment. For the last few months, it’s been like talking to a robot. It was an exchange of goods and services. But here, in front of you, is a man. A man who’s willing to change his ways for you. The man you’ve waited all your life for. 

“Always here for you. It’s yours,” you purr, placing your hands on top of his. 

He growls, vigorously licking into you. He removes his right hand to insert his two middle fingers into your center. This has you howling, unable to even remember the last time a man did this for you. 

“Baby, baby. I’m gonna cum. Gonna cum for you, finally,” you whine, focusing on the immeasurable pleasure stemming from your legs. 

“Mhm, I can feel you, Mama. Let go for me,” he begs, making direct eye contact with you. 

It’s the moment you lock eyes that you’re letting go. All the stars are aligning and symphonies are playing in your head.

“Ah, ah! There, Harry!”

Harry keens at hearing his name roll off your tongue. He slides up your body to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself. You grab at his under shirt, insinuating that you want it off.

He peels it off and cheekily pulls your tit out of your nightie. He winks before connecting his lips to your nipple, rolling his tongue around the bud and sucking gently. 

“Please, want you inside me. Gimme my big cock, baby.” 

“It’s yours, Mama. All of me.”

Harry slides his briefs down his legs, revealing the main event. His dick swings slightly before hitting him in the stomach. You moan, unable to wait even another minute for him.

“Please,” you cry out, scratching down his chest. 

He lines himself up, moaning in ecstasy as he pushes in. Your mouth falls open, a silent whine escaping. 

“So big, baby. I should’ve flown out to you the minute you sent me a dick pic. Like a fucking middle schooler.”

Now Harry is laughing. He’s in disbelief that he would ever treat you the way he did. The clarity from the last few days is damning.

His pumps are getting faster and longer, bottoming out every other thrust. He looks down to where you’re connected, your pussy lips wrapped around him deliciously, a slight white substance leaking out of you. He leans down to kiss you, wanting this connection he’s subconsciously wanted since he met you. 

“Want you to cum with me, Missy. Cum with me. Want to show you I mean it. I mean everything I said.”

You gently put your hand on his cheek, to which he immediately nuzzles in at the touch. 

“I know you mean it, baby. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

He nods, leaning down to kiss you again, his thrusts slowing but still ramming you to the hilt.

“You close?”

“Yes, baby boy. Cum with me, I’m cumming now.”

Harry’s cock twitches as he bumps your walls before releasing long and deep into you. You push your noses together, lips ghosting over one another’s. 

Harry is finally home. 

“You’re gonna fucking pay for this, little brat.”

He flashes a shit eating grin, kissing you again.

“I expect nothing less.”

And I don't ever Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from And I don't ever want to go back

[urhoneycombwitch]

hold me like water

foreword: followup to my unofficial eddie x shy!reader series. not necessary to read in order but here’s one and two if u want. this takes place after the events of s4 but everyone (including the trailer sorry i’m too attached) is mostly fine and so is the town. except for all that pesky PTSD… lol. written epilogue-style but I just wanted to give them something soft… not done w them yet!!

cw: PTSD, nightmares, trauma bonding, medical stuff, scarring/wounds, light smut post-traumatic event, R has breasts+a vagina, R wears a bikini

wc: 3k

___

For the first month, you don’t leave the trailer.

More specifically, you don’t leave Eddie. 

While he’s recovering from the attacks, you confine yourself to his room; Wayne had pulled in a comfy armchair for you when he realized you’d been sleeping on Eddie’s floor for three nights in a row, just to be closer to him than the guest bed down the hall. 

Now, with the chair, you’re actually getting some sleep at night- enough to tend to Eddie’s wounds every morning and evening without yawning comically loud. 

After the first few weeks of healing, while Eddie is still tender but learning to walk shakily with the use of a cane, you still stick to the boundaries of the trailer. Neither of you really want to go anywhere, anyways: Hop’s instructions to keep a low profile while the dust settles on the murder investigation have to be taken seriously. 

Plus, Eddie and you are very well taken care of by your friends-turned-family. Anything you could ever want for shows up on your doorstep and kitchen counters by a rotating crew of familiar faces; Mrs. Byers brings groceries and finds excuses to stay longer, busying herself by making tea, doing the dishes; Mrs. Wheeler brings casseroles and her son, who steals Eddie away for intense D&D discussions (Eddie made Mike interim DM, and the power’s really gone to his head). 

The trailer is almost always filled during the day, bikes in a heap on the front strip of grass, Beemer parked at an angle to avoid a popped tire. Steve picks up Eddie’s medication every Friday, brings it over along with a bunch of VHS’s and Robin. Sometimes Jonathan and Argyle join in on movie nights, too, and Nancy when she’s not busy with work.

It’s easy and peaceful, spending time with people who understand and share the same traumas. People who don’t stare at the bandages or Eddie’s cane or ask why you won’t leave the trailer any more. 

The government officials from the now-defunct Hawkin’s lab call every few days, wall-mounted landline ringing like a toll bell at 3pm sharp. You tell them the same thing, every time, curt and firm- if they want to interrogate you and Eddie, they’ll damn well have to come here. Or drag you, kicking and screaming.

Steve asks about it one afternoon, naive and confused with the force of your phone slamming- “Y’know, they probably just want you to sign one of those Don’t-Talk-About-This papers and give you a bunch of money. I heard they’re setting up college funds for all the kids-”

“Good for them.” Your dry remark cuts in smoothly from the couch, hand on Eddie’s knee as a lifeline. In a voice wobbly with anger, eyes glittering with unshed tears, your chin tilts up, defiant- “It’s the least they can do. I want them to look me in the eyes when they try to grovel for my silence. For Eddie’s. After all they fucking did to us, to the town-”

Eddie’s hand slips over yours, squeezes. Steve raises his hands in a placating gesture, surrendering with haste, then retreats to the kitchen for movie night snacks. 

“Never heard you so bossy before,” Eddie murmurs, at the shell of your ear. Goosebumps cascade across your neck when he rests his heavy palm there, cold rings warming to the temperature of your skin. “Goin’ to bat for me. It’s hot.”

You’re a couple of steps removed from the quiet, shy thing Eddie’s known for years. Seeing the love of your life almost bleed out in an alternate dimension will do that to a person.

Owens shows up at the trailer one morning, at the end of summer after all the phone calls provide no results. Him and two of his muscliest-looking lab guys are met by you in the threshold of the door, arms crossed and somehow looking fierce despite the fuzzy blue bathrobe you’re swathed in.

“The goons stay outside.” Your word is final. Even the doctor knows it.

The two men in coats settle on either side of the porch, while Owens is allowed to sit at the kitchen table indoors, accepting a mug of coffee Eddie generously supplies (you certainly aren’t in a hospitable mood, glaring daggers at him from the opposing chair).

Predictably, the doctor explains he’s here with some NDA’s for both you and Eddie to sign, the shiny promise of a government-allotted chunk of change waiting on the other side.

Hidden from view under the table, your fingertips skate over Eddie’s palm, lying open and pliant for you. Calmly, like you’re stating the weather, you tell Owens to double his offer.

By the time he’s done using your phone, Owens is wiping sweat from his forehead with a kerchief. Once the papers are signed, him and the lab goons load back into the shiny black car like silent sentries. 

They leave, and Eddie laughs, a full, rich noise that makes your heart ache. His fist slams the table in excess of humor, mugs jumping with a clink. “Goddamn. You just made the richest guy in Hawkins run off with his tail between his legs.” 

“Pretty sure Harrington Senior has him beat,” you mutter around the rim of your coffee, unable to repress the satisfied smirk that tugs at your lips. 

The payoff is a sickening amount, more money than you or Eddie have ever seen- enough to send you both to college, twice, with a hefty nest egg for the future leftover. You put the bulk of yours in a savings account, just so you don’t get dizzy looking at the numbers. 

Eddie does the same, with the exception of a down payment on the vacant trailer at the end of the park. Along with the new place, Wayne gets a fresh mattress, a couch that doesn’t have holes, and a proper, working stereo to play all his “old man country” tapes (in Eddie’s words). The quiet and deep thankfulness Wayne gives you both makes you feel like you’d do it all over again, like the fight was all worth it for the Laz-E-Boy in the corner and the new mug collection shelf. 

Eddie floats the idea of college again, now that you’ve got the funds to make it possible. You’ve certainly got the time, too- neither of you have any need to work long shifts at the diner or garage anymore. 

Unfortunately, this makes it all the more easy to form reclusive habits. By autumn, the solidness of your refusal to leave the trailer has less to do with helping Eddie than it does with your own fear of what lies beyond the comfort of your home. 

Most days, you work on healing. Eddie’s still your lifeline, gentle encouragement turning stern when you need it the most- he talks you into visiting Max by yourself, a veritable feat; the short walk between the two trailers feels like death, your knock shaky with nerves. It feels horrifying, to walk the thin line of being both braver and more scared than you’ve ever been.

You stay for an hour. The next day, for two- Max has a new kitten that passes the time easily, the girl giggling behind her new thick-rimmed glasses while pulling string across the floor for the tiny thing to pounce on. One night, you bring dinner for both the Mayfields and stay well past supper; it’s nearly 11 by the time you return to Eddie’s open arms, triumphant in your success with a tupperware of Mrs. Mayfield’s cookies to boot.

Your bravery builds in increments. Eddie cleans the rust from his van that’s been sitting untouched since spring, and takes you on drives that go a bit farther each time. The Byers’ place for lunch, Dustin’s to pick up an extra radio, then all the way to north Hawkins for more of Mrs. Wheeler’s plastic-wrapped dishes she asks you to relieve her of. 

When winter rolls around, Steve takes advantage of his now-permanently empty home to throw a holiday party. It’s loud with chatter and overwhelming with noise but it feels so good to be surrounded by it, by everyone, Eddie’s hand a steady comfort on your waist or lower back as you eat and drink and make merry with your friends. 

Hop pulls it off, a Christmas miracle- all the murders get pinned on Jason, buried six feet under with parents who skipped town ages ago. You’re out for groceries one cold morning and realize that not a single shopper has even given Eddie a second glance, conspicuous as he is in black leather and flashy silver jewelry. 

The strings loosen with a sigh, fluttering in release, allowing some space for you both to breathe.

Sex has been… different, lately. There’s been lots of readjusting, both physically and mentally- accounting for unforeseen muscle spasms, bone-deep bruises hidden beneath rippled skin, tissue and scarring pulled taut, testing the limits of new pains.    

The first time, just a few weeks after the attacks, Eddie had begged to go down on you. He wanted the comfort of your thighs, your taste and scent, all-consuming, to think about anything else other than his wounds. 

You’d been more than hesitant, terrified of hurting him, of letting your focus shift inwards. More in your head than ever, it took Eddie over an hour to coax an orgasm from the walls that’d been built back up around your pleasure; even with his lithe tongue and long, seeking fingers, it took forever and an age to get you anywhere close to the edge.

Eddie didn’t complain once- in fact, he kind of got off on the amount of time you let him spend between your legs. The muscles in his right arm were trembling by the time you clamped down on his fingers, jaw burning but keeping the suction at your clit even while your hips rolled strong as a tidal wave against his face.

And before you could open your mouth to apologize, or say something equally silly, panting and wrung-out and heartbreakingly beautiful against the pillows, Eddie’s teeth flashed at the inside of your thigh. 

You’d jolted, breathless and giggly, endorphins soaring as he’d tenderly crawled up the length of your body to slip his tongue between your lips, sharing the earthy tang of your release. 

“One more,” he’d said, uninjured arm taking the bulk of his weight while he dipped down to mouth at your breast. “And this time, put your hands in my hair. I’m getting jealous of the sheets.”

As Eddie’s physical limitations lessen with time, your mental barriers ease, as well. There’s still some stilted moments of relearning, of working together in bodies that don’t always respond the way you want them to. 

There are raw, stripped-open emotions that have you clawing at Eddie’s back, his nails leaving indents on the flesh of your hips. To keep pressure off the worst of his side wounds, you find new positions, usually some form of your thighs draped over his or the welcome weight of you in his lap. 

He’s endlessly patient. The kind of patient that makes you want to run, far and fast, and he knows it; when your pleasure recedes, frustration in the form of tears and hands pressed to your face, Eddie’s there to soothe. To try a new angle, to slow down or speed up, offering a break or an extra pillow to keep you comfortable and feeling good. 

If you were comforted by each other’s presence during the night before the Spring Break from hell, it’s tenfold now. Neither of you will sleep a wink if Eddie’s not wrapped around you like a koala, snoring gently, overheated and tacky with sweat by morning but neither willing to compromise the closeness. 

Nightmares are easier to handle, too- you’re there to soothe the sweat-coated bangs from Eddie’s forehead when he wakes up whimpering in fear, coaxing his panic and adrenaline back down. He’s so fine-tuned to the rhythms of your body that even though your own nightmares rarely end in noise, Eddie often wakes anyways from the disturbance in your breaths. 

Just as you do for him, sometimes all it takes to get you back to sleep is a tender voice, a stroke of the arm, a reassurance in the dark that he’s with you. 

A year after it all happened, Eddie hears you singing in the shower.

If he wasn’t craning to hear the gentle splashing noises as confirmation of your presence, he would’ve missed it. Eddie leans with his good shoulder on the wood frame, door partially cracked to let the melody of your voice float through.

Stevie Nicks is crooning sweetly from the handheld radio on the bathroom counter, and you, just as sweet and twice as pretty singing along. 

Eddie closes his eyes, puts a hand to his chest; through the fabric of his shirt he feels the raised, bumpy edges of scar tissue, but there’s something beyond it. Curling around his heart, making it ache- it feels like healing. Like getting better, at least well enough to sing.

He’s dumbstruck with it. 

That summer, he takes you to Lover’s Lake.

It’s just the two of you, which makes it easy for Eddie to go shirtless; currently, he’s enjoying the way you’re watching him from the back of the van, bare feet swinging and paired with a killer black bikini that he begged you into.

He’s not so sure the scars that criss cross his front and sides are as “metal” as you claim they are, but he’s trying. He’d drag himself over hot coals just to get half a smile; going shirtless is nothing. 

You reach for him, and he walks into the V of your legs willingly, your arms wrapping around his torso, head pressed to the middle of his sternum. Eddie plants his hands on either side of your hips, drops his chin to fit you under it.

“Come swim with me.”

In response, you sigh- a longsuffering, worried sort of noise that leaves your lungs and enters his. He’s been trying to talk you into it for weeks- it’s a miracle he’s gotten you both this far, dressed and ready to take the plunge. 

Eddie’s not really sure why this swim is so important to him. It might have something to do with the fissure at the bottom of the lake, all scabbed over and sewn back together; or maybe it’s the surface, skimmed by a light breeze  and rippling gently, nothing of monsters or alternate dimensions leftover to disturb the placidity. 

Eddie wants to prove that it’s safe, for you and for himself. That the nightmares and the sticky feelings and the tears, they all mean something, of course they do- but the only way to is through. 

So he takes you by both hands and you only drag your feet a little until he’s walking backwards on the shore, water lapping up to his ankles, and you freeze. Heels digging into the wet earth, tense under Eddie’s grasp, eyes wide and darting around like something might come crashing through the treeline.

“Hey. Look at me.” In a voice that’s reserved for you and you alone, Eddie speaks softly, calmly, letting out all the tension of his pull to just hold, instead. “You’re safe. There’s nothing out here that’s gonna hurt us, okay? Steve went all the way back down to the bottom to make sure. No more gate. No nothin’. It’s just a lake.”

“Just a lake,” you repeat, like a mantra as you take another step. The water rolls over your feet; Eddie murmurs his encouragement while leading.

“That’s right, sweetheart. It’s just a lake. Our lake.”

The water rises, up the back of Eddie’s calves, swishing around your shins; the pebble-rock floor shifts with each step. You and Eddie used to spend long summer days here, swimming and picnicking and fucking in the back of the van, syrupy-slow and stretched with time. 

“Our lake.” You’re shivering, teeth chattering, even though the air is hot and the water is just-cool.

Eddie rubs at your upper arms, allaying the goosebumps; waterline up to your waists, now. The rock you’re balanced on beneath the surface jolts, and you stumble forward into Eddie’s arms; in a smooth maneuver, he catches you while sinking into a crouch, pulling you both from the safety of the shallows.

Then, your kicking feet meet nothing but the vastness of the lake, nails biting into Eddie’s arms, fear rattling through your spine until Eddie- treading water while valiantly supporting you, too- tosses his black hair back and whoops. 

The sound is loud, joyful, ricochets across the lake and bounces back from the other shore. He crows at the sun, startles a laugh out of you as he clings harder, kicking to keep you both afloat- “Holy SHIT! We’re swimming in Lover’s Lake!”

“Holy shit,” you agree, giddy and breathless, nerves turning over into disbelief, excitement. “We’re swimming in our lake.”

Eddie kisses you. It’s sloppy and he misses the middle of your mouth as you both try to keep the other from slipping under, teeth clashing, giggles escaping around the sides. He puts a hand dripping with lake water to your cheek, holding you in place, thumb pressing gentle just under your eye. 

“I love you.”

“Love you.” Your reply is swift and just as eager, hand coming to rest at the puckered line of scarring at Eddie’s chest. 

Somewhere at the bottom of Lover’s Lake, a twin crack, a Something that was never supposed to be but now just Is. 

You feel extraordinarily grateful, awash with we made it, as you and Eddie swim out further, shores in the shape of a heart holding you both from all sides.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Mousey Mousey! Quick question!

Do you think the Castle Village adventurers has their own house or they live in a dorm like the First Slash guild?

Heya, Haruuchan! :D Well, I have a bit of a headcanon for this. Thanks for the ask! 💕

_________________________________________

It seems to me that all newcomers who have just started their training and are preparing to become official members of the Castle Village Adventurer's Guild are placed in a huge dorm. And, by order of the Guild Leader, they put everyone in without exception: no living in their parents' house here, no daily traveling from their hometown to Castle Village with the totems. This is a prerequisite so that future adventurers get used to adult, independent life and have nothing to distract them from their training.

Then, when a student has become a full member of the Guild, it is already up to the individual to decide where they will live, depending on their own financial status. If a graduate doesn't have enough money, they will remain in the dorm, but will be moved to another building (no longer for newcomers).

Isaac was just in a situation where he was left living in a dormitory due to lack of funds. At times, even the most experienced monster hunters could find it difficult to support themselves. Not that he's complaining, because other than a bed, his weapon, and a few hobbies, he doesn't really need much else.

I mean, well... After FlashShifter's comment that Farmer will need a lot of expensive resources to build a house in future 2.0, I'm afraid to imagine what the local real estate prices are like there.

Alesia's situation comes out a little differently: she was already an adventurer, but in the Adventurer's Guild in Stardew Valley. After her desire to join the Guild in Castle Village, she was given some serious and difficult tests, which she passed brilliantly, and then, Alesia was immediately given the choice of living in a dorm for experienced adventurers. This is how she met Isaac, as the two of them were made roommates.

When Alesia's financial situation became stable again, she would offer Isaac to rent a separate small house together and split the rent payment in half. Profitable or not, sometimes you want your own corner, without a bunch of other roommates who are forever violating your personal space.

So it seems to me that they will be living in a separate house as roommates, after years of living in a huge and noisy dorm!

Lance has a completely different story. He is a member of The First Slash, a friendly guild. That means he's considered a guest in Castle Village and should be at his guild's headquarters (or the local tavern, whichever he chooses). But I believe our talented gallant adventurer has had time to distinguish himself with his exploits, and has been given the opportunity to purchase real estate. Lance's financial status is very good (stealing your headcanon that he is from an wealthy noble family), so he was able to buy his own house, where he lives.

[blueybre]

Yo Yo... I mean Bluey! May I suggest a feature for your's More Dangerous Burglars mod? What about adding a chance for burglar to steal a percentage of household money too like in this Sims 3 mod? modthesims info/d/677763/burglars-steal-simoleons-too html By the way, any plans to "convert" your mod for Sims 3? Thanks and have a good day!

Hey anon!

I am very interested in your suggestion… it could work by subtracting the playable family’s household funds and adding it to the burglar’s pocket (it’ll go into the normally inaccessible NPC family’s funds and be basically out of the game, but then so do any tips you give to NPC’s for their work). I’ll see if I can work on an update in the coming days. Stay tuned!

As for your second question: as I have zero experience in Sims 3 modding, I am afraid I cannot make a similar mod for that game (though I’d love to see it happen!). I apologise!

[yuwuta]

You know I’m here to listen to you ramble about every AU ily give us the pacific rim NGE 🤲🏽

- @yuutito

aleks beloved, thank you for always enabling my rambling 💞 this is the kinda ask where i wish i could draw because there are such vivid images of what each jaeger/mech would look like to me but for now consider the following in the yuuta verse: 

hiromi and kento used to be co-pilots on the same jaeger, and despite having average drift compatibility, they had a near perfect streak. there were theories that judgeman would be even more successful with a single pilot, and ultimately hiromi was the better fit, which works out in the end because it turns out kento and satoru are a near perfect match in terms of compatibility, holding the record for a co-pilot duo. kenjaku is a much less predictable jaeger, but satoru and kento are the only pair to co-pilot it and survive. 

the zenin family has snuck their way into jaeger mechanics and government control of them. they almost exclusively build and fund mechs for their own family members, and have their own training program they put their pilots through to ensure that they are the only ones able to pilot the robots. other big families and government sectors don’t like this, but the zenins fund so many refuge relief and engineering programs, that nobody can say anything. 

the only good thing is because they tailor the mechs to their pilots, the drift compatibility of the co-pilots matters much less. 

toji is the first person in history to solo pilot a jaeger, and proves that solo piloting is possible, but only in extremely rare cases. he piloted alongside megumi for a while until playful cloud was put out of commission and toji retired to focus on stealing the zenin’s training regiment and teaching it to other pilots in training. megumi’s co-pilot is now yuuji, and sukuna was a jaeger was sponsored by the gojo family (which the zenin’s are still mad about)  

the zenin’s wormed their way into the financial and political side of things, but the gojo family is famous for their pilots and engineers. satoru’s mother and father were hailed as one of the greatest pilot duos, and even though they never wanted satoru to become a pilot, their deaths inspired him to take his training seriously. his cousins and aunts and uncles are a mix of co-pilots and engineers. it’s expected that yuuta become one or the other, but after rika’s death, he decides on the pilot route. it seems to be the fate of the gojo’s that the death of a loved one leads the path to pilot training. 

rika’s parents were scouted by the gojo family and the government to help build mechs. they packed up everything to move to sendai and begin their research and construction. rika was that little kid running around the hangar and yuuta was much less enthusiastic and much more scared one tailing behind her. even though her parents were brilliant engineers, rika always loudly proclaimed her dreams of becoming a pilot. when she dies, her parents memorialize her dreams by designing and naming a jaeger after her, and they only think its right that yuuta be its pilot. 

yuuta and rika have always been a special pair, and so even though their actions concerning you are far from normal, it’s not a surprise either. yuuta was asked to be rika’s pilot, but he also did it because he thought it was the right thing to do. but now, as yuuta watches you recover after he/rika saved you after an attack, he knows that wanting you is the wrong thing—but if he found you through piloting, if he found you through rika, how wrong could that be? how bad could a pilot really be—they’re the heroes after all, right?

anyways enough about yuuta’s pacrim au, time to talk about other ones teehee

there’s a pink wolf in your dreams and it always saves you from whatever impending doom is heading your way: a pack of hungry coyotes, the unstable ledge of a cliff, a group of angry huntsmen with arrows and pitchforks. it’s been this way every since your last co-pilot died in battle, while you were still connected to him. you try to make sense of it, try to find comfort in the savior of your dreams, but the natural human response is to scream and shout and wake up in cold sweat when face to face with a wild animal in your face. so, the instinct kicks in when you tiredly roll into the sparring room and the newest recruit has a head of pink hair and scar over his left eye that mirrors the one of the wolf in your dreams, is to run away as fast as you can. it’s futile though, because itadori yuuji is more than the wolf in your dreams and your destined co-pilot, he’s your soulmate. 

in a sort of post-war world, you and kento are very comfortable in your retirement. you have the respect of the entire world, support from every government, enough money to last multiple life times. the jaeger program is kept in effect, but at a much smaller scale due to the reduced likelihood of an attack; so, when the radar picks up the possibility of another attack years after the last one, kento isn’t happy to hear you’ve volunteered yourself for the war efforts. there are new recruits, younger recruits, even other experienced recruits who never fully retired—he doesn’t understand why it has to be you. he just got happy with his life with you. it turns into a whole argument, and ends with you leaving for your old base by yourself. your old jaeger has long since been retired, and you feel nervous stepping into the cockpit of a new mech after all these years, but much of it dissipates when you step in to find kento already suited up and waiting for you, because there’s no way he’d let you go out to war without him by your side. 

it’s a poorly kept secret that you and megumi are soulmates. with an almost perfect drift compatibility and a lifetime of friendship to solidify your coordination and teamwork, the only mystery is why you two refuse to actually date each other. your argument is that there’d be no privacy or true intimacy in that relationship—you and megumi are already, always, physically in each other’s minds; dating wouldn’t leave room for anything more. megumi’s argument is that he’s simply waiting for you to realize that you’ve been in his head long before your first drift sequence. when people aren’t wondering about the status of your relationship, they often take note about how even though you and megumi are co-pilots, you resemble pilot and mech more often than not: you have the controls and megumi seems to carry out your every command. 

[toomuchracket]

do you think d!word girlie is all into her wellness and working out? idk, I picture her as being really into her skincare and pilates etc when she has the time? and maybe she works out with matty sometimes, like maybe she introduces him to some skincare products, or when she’s out he uses some of her bath salts or moisturisers because they smell like her <3

anything to decrease the stress of your job, you're into lmao. i don't think you're necessarily at the gym every day, maybe a couple of times a week when you can, but i see you as being a fan of a daily youtube yoga/pilates/morning and evening stretches (sidenote these are actually p good) sesh. i'm sure i saw someone say on here that doing yoga in matty's house would be so good because it's so calm - that's one of the first things you say when you go over there for the first time for drinks with everyone, and matty chokes on his wine at the thought of you a) casually being in his house, b) casually being in his house in workout gear, and c) casually being in his house in workout gear stretching your body out. and then he feels guilty for thinking that. but he's like "well you can test that theory out whenever you want lol", and you just giggle but internally you spiral a lil bit. you do try it, though, once you start dating, and after matty does his "obligatory boyfriend ogling bit" (his words) he actually joins in; in return, you go to jiu jitsu with him a couple of times, but as we've seen from previous blurbs you're both far too competitive and far too horny to actually progress with it lmfao. the "too horny" thing is also why you and matty only go to the gym together on tour when there's no real other option - he's been yelled at by his pt too many times for looking at you do a spin workout or squats instead of doing his own workouts lmao (and you're no better, staring at him with obvious lust as he does literally anything all sweaty and breathless). but aside from that, you both like going for walks and hiking and stuff, so you do that together with no issues lol.

and skincare/beauty/wellness... let's just say, you are a woman on a decent pay grade (i know they're skint. but this is fiction! either way, i suppose, you have a simpy rich boyf who likes spoiling you, so you have Funds lol) with a space nk loyalty card, and by god do you use it to buy some fancy moisturisers and makeup and fragrance. but also you're a boots girly who loves a garnier sheet mask. duality! i think matty learned about your interest in it pretty quickly - thinking one of your earlier dates as an exclusive couple in a central london restaurant was interrupted by you getting a notification that your click and collect space nk order was in, and you were like "oh i'll pick that up tomorrow", and matty was like "babe we can get it when we leave here lol we might as well if we're nearby". once you collected the order (while you queued, matty test-sprayed all of the perfumes to find out which one you wore so he could buy you it for your birthday lmao) and the two of you were settled with a drink in a nearby bar, matty was like "so. what did you get?" and literally made you do an unboxing for him lmfao; he was so cute, though, genuinely interested in what you were saying about your purchases and asking questions and smelling the body lotions and whatever. you actually bought him a little travel size version of a lotion he loved the scent of, but ever since you guys started properly dating and staying with each other he just steals yours lol. but you don't mind, because he has a really nice shower gel that you always use when you're at his, so it balances out. like you said, it's a comfort thing - you both use each other's things (and the bath salts you reserve for when the two of you have romantic baths together) because they smell like them, and it makes you feel safe. it's the same with you guys and evening skincare, you and matty just love the little rituals you share and time you spend together every night you're both in the same place, and it just feels so cosy and comforting and domestic and sweet <3

[dartagnantt]

Satyr Ancestry | Play as the party GOAT

PDFs of this and more can be found over on at my Patreon here! You should also follow my new Kickstarter so you can be alerted when it goes live next year!

Beware! The goat man cometh to threaten you with a good time!

I think I'm starting to run out of creatures that charm. I think vampires are all that are left. We'll see if anything comes of that.

Had some fun with this one, turned satyrs into spartans because of something I saw years ago. But I also embraced tradition and became chaos.

Also called this an ancestry instead of a race dunno why. Definitely not using the term 'species'. Sounds too much like 'this is my sonic oc, do not steal' when you call it that. Which is a weird vibe for a D&D character

And now to plug my stuff. I release homebrews weekly over on my Patreon. Anyone who pledges $1 or more per post don't have to wait a month to see them, and also help fund my being alive habit.

At the moment, they have exclusive access to the following:

Sanguine Seeker Ranger Archetype

Third Casters Revised

Undying Templates

Bone-Eaters

I also have three classes, and a splatbook over on DriveThrueRPG to check out:

The Rift Binder. A class specialising in summoning monsters and controlling the battlefield.

The Witch Knight. A class that combines swords and sorcery in the most literal way.

The Werebeast. A class that turns you into a half beast to destroy your foes.

d'Artagnan's Adventurer Almanac. A compendium of races, subclasses, feats, spells, monsters and more!

[eorlys]

hear me out, danny phantom au but vlad is the good guy

everything is almost close to being the same, vlad still suffered his accident and still got left with no support, but somehow overcame every odds and is a good person, protecting everyone and shit and has 20 years of experience of stopping bad guys from taking over the world THEN there is danny who after the accident becomes a chaos child and is stealing from the rich to redistribute to the less fortunate, people has been trying to capture him but hes VERY slippery and very stubborn, so after a while vlad takes notice, he hears rumors of a little shitter being in amity park so hes like "i have not seen maddie and jack for a while... i will hold a reunion and maybe see if they know something" then low and behold, danny is causing trouble to his vultures, beats his ass because how dare this random mf harass his besties... is that fucking danny fenton. so he of course the silly he is he reveals his identity and tries to talk him out of girlboss gaycriming all over america but danny says "NUH UHH", basically all he can do is make a D: face and try to at least get to make him do his crimes when no one is looking so he doesnt cause panic to regular people who did NOT sign up for his shit tucker and sam are totally in on it, they especially love dunking on cryptobros and hack important sites for fun (tuck) and stealing funding from ableist and morally wrong organisations like autism speaks (i hc sam as autist bc shes so gatekeep gaslight girlboss) but ye they are basically the same, except jazz who just finds it a little funny but is watching out for danny just imagine doe a 40 year old vampire looking ghost chasing a floating kid and be like "NO YOU CANT DO THAT SPIT IT OUT"

[dragonairice]

Hello!! How about some 15.Criminal AU + 63.Everybody Knows/Mistaken for Couple for Trope mash-up? With boyf riends please<3

OMG COOL MUTUAL HAIII :D

Again two tropes I have never touched but this is so cool let's go <3

Jeremy works for the an agency called 'Squip' as a hired criminal along with Rich and a few others, they mainly steal from the rich and all the lackeys are told that they give back to the poor but the Squip higher-ups have secretly been using the money to fund their own unethical research (part of the money is also given as payment to the organization workers).

Michael is from a rival organisation who are trying to expose what Squip is doing, he finds out Jeremy's identity but rather than turning him in, convinces him to work as a double agent after revealing the true nature of the organisation (it's out of the goodness of his heart, he swears, definitely NOT because the criminal is actually super cute). The two meet outside of their jobs at cafes or libraries to discreetly discuss any new information and everyone around them thinks they've been going on dates to the point where Rich will see a red hoodie and say "It's like your boyfriend's!" and Christine assumes any time Michael doesn't show up it's because he's out with Jeremy.

Jeremy (after much snooping and a tip from Rich) finds proof of Squip's lies and prepares to bring it to Michael in a little red USB but is caught by Jenna and brought to the higher ups. He manages to sneak the USB to Rich and asks him to get it to 'his boyfriend' (he can't risk using Michael's actual name just in case anyone was listening). Rich rushes to find Michael while Jeremy is taken to face the heads of the criminal organisation.

ANGSTY ENDING;

Michael presents the proof and the whole agency is infiltrated and everyone arrested on the spot. Rich is safe since he was the source of the information, but Michael can do nothing but watch as Jeremy is hauled off to jail with tears in his eyes as he tells him "I'm sorry. I love you".

HAPPY ENDING:

Michael's agency vouches for Jeremy as their double agent and he is released from captivity, the boyfs finally confess and kiss about it and Jeremy and Rich join Michael's agency and eventually Jenna does too yippeee!!

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Photoshoots Masterlist

aesthetic - flowers-and-colored-hair

Summary: Funded by Phil’s family money, Dam runs a pretentious aesthetic porn blog. One day, he gets an idea for a photoshoot, and he needs Phil’s help to do it, or more specifically, Phil’s mouth.

aglamphil (ao3) - taniavee28

Summary: dan puts on phil’s face glitter before the photoshoot, and other shenanigans.

cars and parking lots (yeah, i think about him a lot) (ao3) - cafephan

Summary: Dan isn’t expecting to have an impromptu photoshoot in a Poundland car park at gone midnight. But Dan isn’t expecting Phil to look so gorgeous in the lighting of a Poundland car park, either.

cat bells (ao3) - N_Chu4Ever 

Summary: The catboy photoshoot, except it all goes weirdly wrong because Phil accidentally bought Dan a magic cat costume off the internet. Oops.

cat calendar (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Dan and Phil take a break during their cat calendar photoshoot.

D Vitamins (ao3) - owlslide

Summary: Dan has a mini shirtless photoshoot in the sun, and it gives Phil ideas.

for me, it feels like a teen romance (ao3) - phancontent

Summary: Dan Howell is an influencer and a fan of Phil Lester's work, so he seizes the opportunity when he wins a free photoshoot from him.

One of them falls madly in love, the other just wants to have fun.

kyoto garden (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: Dan and Phil on the day of the IRL photoshoot.

Look What You Started (ao3) - JudeAraya

Summary: An impromptu private photoshoot, Dan in red ligerie and the idea of knowing your partner so well but still loving the moments when they surprise you.

Photoshoot (ao3) - auroraphilealis (peachrosepetals)

Summary: Seeing Dan model his clothing for the new AmazingPhil merch proves to be too much for Phil, who can’t quite bring himself to care that they’re in public.

Photoshoot Frenzy - dxnhowell

Summary: Phil owns a popular modelling company and when he doesn’t have a model for his client for a shoot, his boyfriend Dan… who’s just a regular teenager studying law at University, offers to be the model. Of course Phil doesn’t say no to that. But when the fame and paparazzi get to much, Dan breaks down and luckily Phil is there to comfort him.

Talking to the Moon (ao3) - uptownsteve

Summary: After a risque photoshoot, Phil wants to show Dan just how beautiful he is

whatever lola wants (ao3) - dizzy

Summary:  Dan and phil stealing a dog from the [the 2017 calendar photoshoot] set.

Work It, Baby (ao3) - alphapavlikovsky (orphan_account)

Summary: “Could you please do me a favour, Phil?” Dan asked, taking his eyes away from his phone for a moment to look at his best friend. “I was thinking of doing a photoshoot, would you mind being my photographer? I can pay..”.

“Sure Dan, I have time tomorrow if that’s good for you?” Phil replied, entering it into his work diary. He enjoyed having Dan as a model so he would love doing a photoshoot specifically where he could take photos of Dan without seeming weird.

Except maybe Phil should have asked what kind of photoshoot it would be. He was about to get a shock.

[herbertwest]

Herbert West is forced to become a cashier to fund his re-animating hobby - prompt

oxoxo

“Why is my face on this shirt?” asked Herbert West, examining a neon green crop top.

“It’s rude to comment on what someone is buying,” said the woman whose items Herbert was scanning, snatching the shirt out of his hands and putting it back on the counter.

Herbert scanned the rest of her items in silence, making a mental note to get one of the crop tops for Dan. He made another mental note that the woman would be an excellent test subject if she were to perchance have a horrible accident.

It was Herbert’s first day at Spirit Halloween. A recent incident with a reanimated corpse had destroyed most of his lab equipment, and he needed to replace it. His first plan (stealing from the medical school) had failed since Miskatonic had upped its security after last time Herbert needed to replace his lab equipment. Plan B (stealing from the morgue) failed because the mortician, a very tall man who seemed to command floating death spheres, was not someone Herbert wanted to anger. Plan C (mooching off Dan) failed because Dan was also broke. Plan D (getting a job) was now in full effect. Herbert was working at a cashier at Spirit Halloween, and hating every minute of it.

A group of children were busy setting off every single animatronic in the store. Cackles, howls, and screams filled the air.

A man dumped an armful of Halloween supplies on Herbert’s counter. “Man, I love Halloween. It’s the best holiday,” he said.

“I like Memorial Day,” said Herbert. Memorial Day was one of the most fatal days of the year, and he always got some good test subjects out of it.

“You must be the most boring man on the planet.”

Herbert considered giving one of his trademark ‘I will be a new god’ speeches, but decided now was not the time or place. Besides, it would be hard to hear over the animatronics.

The third customer had another of the neon green crop tops.

“Why is my face on this?” Herbert asked again.

“You do look similar,” said the customer, “but you WISH you could be this cool. This shirt depicts THE Re-Animator, master of life and death, guru of gore, king of cadavers.”

Herbert smirked. He’d have to work a few of those titles into his own monologues. He gave the customer a discount and sent them on their way.

The crop tops gave Herbert an idea. His image was being used without his permission. He was going to sue the company who made them, make big bucks, and go back to being a full-time mad scientist.

He quit his job in the most spectacular way he knew how: replacing all the animatronics with twisted creatures of revivified flesh. As employees and customers ran screaming from the store, Herbert regretted only one thing: he had forgotten to get Dan a crop top.

[gay-salt-amber]

Dottokavlone headcanons

this is headcanons of dottore x kaveh x pantalone that me and @capricoffe came up with, enjoy! :D

Pantalone and dottore call kaveh ‘little architect’ and dottore calls kaveh ‘bunny’

Dottolone got together a few months after Pantalone joined the fatui, and kaveh joined the relationship after running away from al-Haitham

(in my au, pantalone and dottore steal the jade chamber and turn it into a house) when kaveh joined their relationship, pantalone made kaveh a whole art room with a sliding door that led to an office-esc area for kaveh to build his models and stuff

The romantic part of the relationship started when kaveh was locked out in the cold while al-haitham was at work and kaveh didn't have his key and he ended up passing out, pantalone and dottore were on a mission in sumeru and upon recognizing him from their Akademiya days, pantalone carried kaveh back to his and dottores hotel room, wrapped him up in a blanket and then kaveh agreed to move in with them about a week later

They were roommates while they were in school

Kaveh oos and aahs over anything pantalone and dottore wear, and whenever pantalone buys him something similar he short circuits

Kaveh isn't used to being spoiled

Dottore doesn't sleep very long so he's always up first making breakfast so his bfs just come waddling in like, ‘dear, we demand coffee’

Pantalone boops kavehs nose whenever he gets the chance because kaveh does the bunny nose twitch thing

Kaveh will work till he passes out, even if he's sick cuz he doesn't tell anyone, dottore, being a doctor, forces kaveh to bed,

Kaveh: “Dottore, I'm ok, it's just a minor cold..” Dottore, already shoving soup down kavehs throat: “Shut up and rest.”

Pantalone takes in strays and brings them home, kaveh makes this worse,

Dottore: babe, we already have 8 cats…

Pantalone, holding a tabby kitten in his arms: we live in the stolen jade chamber

Kaveh, with puppy dog eyes, holding an identical kitten: and look at them! They’re adorable! Dottore, cursing himself: fine…

Dottore infodumps to kaveh about his experiments and at first it creeped kaveh out a bit, yknow, with all the fucked up shit dottore does, but now kaveh will actively ask questions which makes dottore so, so happy

Pantalone sews a lot of kavehs clothes and kaveh doesn't know how to feel, because, on one hand, they’re comfy, on the other, kaveh feels like he's wasting resources. Kaveh also likes sitting and watching pantalone sew, the bankers humming and the sound of the sewing machine are therapeutic

Dottore is surprisingly a good therapist to both kaveh and pantalone

They go to farmers' markets together a lot

Kaveh takes Scaramouche’s spot when he leaves the fatui and kaveh ends up working closely with pantalone, doing paperwork and helping expand the palace, also being there to help calm pantalone down when he gets a dumb ass funding request

Dottore is surprisingly the most physically affectionate but kaveh argues that he's the most physically affectionate and pantalone is tired and just says its a tie

Kaveh draws his boyfriends all the time and both of them now have drawings hanging up in their office/lab

Kaveh, handing dottore a pebble: my dear, this pebble reminds me of you...

Dottore, knowing exactly what kind of rock it is: well you see this rock is about 500 years old and because of its orange coloring it has-

Kaveh brushes his bfs hair all the time

Whenever kaveh has to go somewhere for work, dottore will make him lunch and leave a small lil good luck note in it... That is also kinda murder-ey 

Pantalone keeps champagne under his desk and after a long day, he pulls him and kaveh a glass then they get shitfaced and dottore has to drag them back to bed

The jade chamber house has a nice ballroom and pantalone taught both kaveh and dottore to dance in there

Whenever they go to the harbinger banquets, dottore always has an arm around one if not both of his partners, he doesn't want to lose them in the crowd even for a moment

Pantalone is tired a lot but doesn't realize it, so when kaveh notices pantalones eye bags, he'll carry the man to bed and do pantalones paperwork for him

Pantalone: I’m sorry you got paid how much for that project?

Kaveh, taking a sip of his drink: Yeah, it wasn't even half of what I requested, I can barely pay rent with that

Pantalone: I will pay you 10 times as much as you requested if you put some expansions on the fatui palace in snezhnaya

Kaveh:... Can you marry me too?

Dottore, popping in: And me too!

They like baking together when it gets cold

They have a savannah cat, a mane coon, a black kitten, a siamese, two tabbies, and two ragdolls

Since savannah cats need to be walked or atleast have a lot of exercises, they go on evening walks together a lot with the cat(s) for that reason, and also to just get out of the office

Kaveh took one look at those cats when he first moved in and started installing cat-walks on the walls for them all over the jade chamber/house and now they chase each other on those throughout the night

Dottore was the one who confessed first to pantalone and then pantalone was the one who brought up polyamory with kaveh

Kaveh loves just going to the greenhouse (the jade chamber house has a greenhouse cuz pantalone loves gardening) and looking at all the flowers that pantalone has planted, some of them go for about 160K and higher and pantalone has so many of them like its pocket change to him, its calming

Unless he's out on a mission, dottore will, without fail, wake his bfs up with breakfast in bed

Cyno, seeing kaveh for the first time since he started dating dottolone: wait a minute- al-Haitham reported you as missing??? Is this what you were doing this whole time?

Kaveh, just trying to help dottore find produce for dinner: yeah??? I’m perfectly fine??

They're that one couple who puts the first letter of their name in a heart on a tree

Dottore is color-blind but didn't realize till very late in life, like:

Dottore, cuddling kaveh: Kaveh, your hair is such a pretty shade of pink...

Kaveh, finding it sweet but also confused: Uhm… darling, I'm blonde... Thank you though.

Dottore feels bad: oh…

Kaveh: I'm dying my hair light pink!

Kaveh makes pantalone rings he made their engagement rings too

When Kaveh is working late at night, Pantalone makes him sit in his lap and Dottore will make them all coffee to keep them awake

Kaveh, in a tree: pantalone, I am going to build a treehouse here!

Pantalone, tired, its noon and he hasn't had coffee: dear, our house floats in the sky

Kaveh: oh

During the first few months of their relationship, pantalone and dottore always made sure Kaveh knew he had his keys on him. Obv dottore and pantalone would never take them, but it was comforting to kaveh to know that he would never, ever be locked out of his home again

Pantalone and Dottore smother Kaveh in blankets since Snezhnaya is so cold and he’s not used to the cold

Kaveh steals both Pantalone and Dottore’s hoodies

Kaveh insists to Pantalone that Dottore would look so cool with tattoos and showed him a drawing of a few tattoos that Dottore might like… a few days later Dottore had all of the tattoos he drew tattooed on his arms

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Lapis Love [Ch. 3]

Nobility AU; Fantasy AU

TW: Language

CW: Arranged/Political Marriage

Genre: Romantic Comedy, Fantasy

Pairing: Mercenary!Liu Yangyang x Noblity!Reader

Y/N Pronouns: Female (She/Her)

Summary: When hit with the sudden news that you’d be married you freaked out and with the help of your brother you ran away to avoid becoming embroiled in a political war. However, your betrothed was just as freaked out as you were and sent a mercenary after you. When you’re two paths cross unknowingly, suddenly your month journey to refuge becomes that much more interesting.

(3/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next]

[NCT Masterlist] | [Other Groups Masterlist] | [Lapis Love Masterlist]

Word Count: 4.2K

Notes: I have decided that the queue function on this damn site doesn't want to work for me anymore so :D It's fine AHAHA I hope you enjoy <3 As you can see, I'm in my fantasy writing phase lol

Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

You were definitely strange. That’s what Yangyang’s initial thought of you was. Especially now. As soon as you’d walked into the tavern you were very near a loss for words. He didn’t know what was more probable, the fact that you’d never been into a tavern or the fact that you were just afraid of large gatherings. He could read it entirely from the shock on your face, you weren’t used to places like this. Where the hell did you come from, then? He had his suspicions when you’d helped out that street urchin earlier but he thought himself well acquainted with the noble families in Eotias, and he’d never seen or heard of anyone who looked remotely like you before. Then again, despite being a man, you oddly matched the description he was given on the small parchment. How frustrating. All he had to work with was a tiny piece of paper and the knowledge that the Winter Noble used ice magic. Of course, aside from physical characteristics, he was certain that you weren’t the Noble he was looking for. Any person could match these features, hell, he just saw another person walk by who matched them. Then, a loud guffaw echoed across the tavern, and while his head whipped over to where it came from, he just barely noticed that every muscle in your body tensed up.

You weren’t used to this. Just who was this companion he picked up?

“Are you good?” Yangyang asks.

“Just fine, thank you,” you replied. Then there’s that. Your vocabulary was too refined to just be the average traveler.

To say the least, his curiosity was getting the better of him. If there was one thing that would definitely bite him in the ass one day, it was his insatiable need to get to the bottom of things.

He only spoke to you because of the curious bracelet on your wrist. The simple ringlet of silver with the obvious Lapis Lazuli in the middle of it. The one thing he needed. Could it be? Were you running from the Winter Noble? Maybe through some stroke of luck, you’d be able to help each other out, or maybe he’d be able to buy the bracelet off of you. It was secured tightly onto your wrist, trust, he tried to steal it much earlier. Whatever the reason for it was, you were clearly very protective of it.

“I’ll rent a room for us then,” you stepped past him and he followed you regardless. If his theory was right then you’d have no clue how to do this.

“Hello, sirs, two rooms tonight?” The tavern hostess asks.

“Ye—”

“One room, two beds,” Yangyang cuts in. Yup, looks like you didn’t know how to budget either. Yangyang sighed, what point was there to having someone fund the trip if they didn’t know how to spend wisely? He ignored the pointed glare you gave him and paid attention to the hostess instead.

“Alrighty, boys, that’ll be two gold pieces for one night,” she says. Yangyang leans on the counter.

“Come on, gorgeous, give us a discount?” Yangyang winks. The hostess’ smile falters and, in an instant, Yangyang finds himself on the floor after being harshly shoved over by… wait, who pushed him over? He sits up quickly just in time for you to retract your hand.

“I’m sorry about him, here you are,” you handed the two gold pieces and Yangyang rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t aware how shameless by companion is,” you sighed.

“Hey! I was trying to save some money!” Yangyang argues while pushing himself up.

“There are much more noble ways to do it, I thought you’d know considering you were a knight in training, am I correct?” You fired back. Shit, he completely forgot about that little white lie. “Chivalry is truly dead,” you shook your head and turned to the hostess, who seemed to have stars in her eyes now.

“I… er… your room is… down the hall, to the left, fifth room,” she stammers. You offered her a grin and the woman very nearly fawned over you, eliciting a groan from Yangyang.

“Thank you, miss, have a good night,” you reached out to take the keys from her, and she made it a point to grab your hand first to place them gently into your palm. You walked past Yangyang and he stumbled to catch up.

“Kevin, my man, you can’t just leave a lovely lady like that alone!”

“Yangyang, you animal, leave the poor girl alone,” you unlocked the door and walked in first, the door swinging shut behind you, but Yangyang quickly walked in.

“Couldn’t you tell? She’s head over heels for you! Use it! Get discounts!”

“You’re shameless, Liu,” you shook your head, dropping your knapsack on the bed by the window. “If this partnership is going to work out proper, I suggest you brush up on your basic manners.”

“No can do, Kev, I’m a free spirit through and through,” Yangyang collapses on his bed.

“Being free does not equate to being an ass,” you shot back. Yangyang sits up.

“You’re an asshole.”

“So be it.”

“Where are you from, anyway? No one I know around here talks like you do,” he frowns. You stared at him.

“F-Fairham,” you finally answered. Yangyang rose an eyebrow as he leaned forward toward you.

“Bullshit.”

“It is not!”

“You hesitated.”

“And what of it?!”

“You’re not really from Fairham, are you?!”

“And how would you know the truth?!”

“Trust me, bub, I know Fairham when I see it,” he continues.

“I swear to you! I’m from Fairham through and through!” You continues to defend. Yangyang leaned back on his palms now.

“Okay, fine, I’ll take the bait,” he shrugs. Fairham. You weren’t from Fairham, there was no way. He was from Fairham. Born and raised. But then why would you hide where you’re actually from? Unless he was right in that you really were running away from something. You had a sense of skepticism in your eyes, Yangyang recognized it well enough from being friends with Renjun for so long, and it had only furthered his suspicions.

Especially when he stared at the sword that now lay on the bed next to you. You asked him for sword lessons, and yet you had what must be an expensive blade in your hands. The contradictions surrounding you just continued to pile, and Yangyang knew a liar when he saw one.

“So… where’d the sword come from, then?” He asks. He couldn’t deny it, that sword was just so damn familiar. You looked over to him, hands suddenly clutching onto the sheath.

“Why the inquiry?”

“Just curious.”

“My older brother,” you answered. “He couldn’t join me on this journey, so he left me his sword instead,” you explained.

“Oh… do you mind?” He asks, reaching for the sword already, but you pulled it away from his grasp before he could hear an answer.

“I do mind, actually, thank you very much. We just met, Liu, and I’m not so inclined to trust you with something that is dear to me,” you rambled off. Yangyang stood up and crossed his arms, lips pressing in a tight line.

“Okay, Kevin, let me level with you here,” he says. “I know you’re running away from something.” That struck a cord. The way your entire body tensed up while your eyes darted to the side, specifically towards the sword, so he was right. There are two possibilities now. One, you stole the sword and you’re now running away from whoever wanted to take it back. Two, you’re telling the truth. “You don’t have to tell me why, because, quite frankly, it doesn’t matter to me. But we’re going to have to have some level of trust here,” he says.

“But… I was warned not to trust anyone.”

“Whoever told you that has a good conscience, then, because they’re right. The roads to Stardenn aren’t a walk in the park,” he says. “Look, I don’t know who, what, or where you’re running from, but I have a feeling you’re not used to this kind of stuff so…” Yangyang reaches into his bag and tosses a scroll onto the table separating the two beds. Again, surprise strikes your features.

“An enchanted contract? I didn’t take you to be one to carry this around,” you unrolled the parchment. At the moment, it remained blank. It was a common thing carried by mercenaries to make sure that both parties fulfill their ends of the deal. The terms and conditions were simple, both parties are allowed up to three conditions, then, when they both sign the parchment, they are bound to those boundaries until both ends of the agreement are met. If, at any point, these conditions are disregarded or broken, the offender will receive a punishment either set by the other or equivalent to the condition broken.

“It’s a just in case measure, anyone traveling the main roads would have them,” he says. The parchment laid undisturbed and a quill appears in front of you. “The term is obvious. Until we reach Stardenn, right?”

“Correct, until we reach our destination,” you confirmed. Yangyang handed you the quill and watched you write down the term.

The term of the contract is set to whenever the two contractors enter Stardenn safely.

“Well, then, who shall write the first condition?” You ask.

“Chivalry’s dead, right?” Yangyang takes the quill and writes down the his set of conditions.

1. I, Liu Yangyang, will honor the conditions set by my traveling companion.

2. I, Liu Yangyang, will be truthful to my companion.

3. I, Liu Yangyang, will not consciously attempt any harm on my traveling companion.

“Well, that’s that then,” he signs his name at the bottom and hands you the quill. You took it hesitantly and you hovered the tip over the page. It was clear on your face that you were focusing on what to write. “Hey, if it’s that hard, then just write the same things I did,” he says.

“I feel like that’s a trap,” you muttered.

“Oh, come on, what did I just say about trust?” He asks.

“Yeah, yeah,” you glanced out the window and he follows your gaze. Then, in moments, the window slams open and a gust of snow blows into the room. Yangyang was quick to run to the window and shut the doors before too much snow could get in, but the wind continued to fight back, as if pushing on the wooden frames to fight its way inside.

“A little help here, Kevin?!” He shouts.

“Have patience, I’m almost done with this,” you answered. “Plus, it looks like you have it quite handled,” you continued, standing up from your spot and signing the contract. Then, as you lifted your quill from the page, the parchment glowed and rolled itself up before promptly disappearing with a flicker along with the quill.

“Hey! You couldn’t have waited for me?!” He shouts, the window suddenly calming and his body slamming against the frame. He groaned and rubbed his pounding head.

“What? I wrote the same as you, there’s no need,” you shrugged. “Here, want me to prove it?” You took the sword in your hand and Yangyang immediately rose his hands.

“Nope, no, no, it’s fine, I trust you,” he says quickly. Then, he catches onto how you held the sword’s handle. “Oh… man, you really don’t know how to use a sword, do you?” Your expression changed slowly into one of realization before settling on embarrassment and placing the sword back on the bed.

“… No, I have no experience with swordsmanship,” you mumbled. Yangyang walks over to you, grabbing his own sword on the way. Strange, with a sword of that quality, surely you had to have some kind of experience, but perhaps he was wrong. Then again, it was from your brother. But it wasn’t rare that brothers trained together, even Renjun, who was shit with swordsmanship, knew the basics.

“Now with that signed, do you still mind?” His hand hovers over your sword and you shook your head. Although, as Yangyang pulled the blade out of it’s sheath, he didn’t sense your gaze waver once. The blade was unsheathed quickly, flawlessly, and the material itself was unlike any Yangyang had ever seen before. The edge was pristine, sharp enough to cut through anything, and the material was light despite it’s sturdy feel. The hilt was something that truly mesmerized him, however, he couldn’t tell the material below it, but the leather that wrapped around it was made of a demon’s hide. Now this wasn’t something that he’d have guessed on look alone, no, it’s simply because the material matched the sheath. One look at it and Yangyang could tell that the material was crafted from the material left behind from the Nuckelavee, an ancient demon vanquished by…

Yangyang paused, stealing a look towards you for a moment. You were more preoccupied with the blade in his hand as opposed to him, though.

The Nuckelavee was vanquished by a previous incarnation of the Summer Noble, Moon Suho. He had learned all about him in Academy, he was heralded for his skills with swordsmanship before his supernatural abilities. Any and all materials left behind the Nuckelavee was left in the care of House Moon after that.

You just continued to surprise him. The bracelet, the sword, what else were you hiding?

Just who did he invite into his life?

“How did you get this sword again?” He asks. Your brother, tell him more about this person.

“My older brother was also training to be a knight, he graduated early, so he left me with this,” you answered. Yangyang turned back to the sword, slowly rotating it to observe it. Kevin, Kevin, come to think of it, that name actually rung a bell. He knew a Kevin back in Academy who was exceptionally gifted in swordsmanship, but they were in different classes, so he knew him by reputation only. Was it just a coincidence? “Why?”

“Just weird that someone with no experience whatsoever would have this,” he says. He’s been trying to catch you in a lie. You’re either an extremely good liar (unlikely) or you’re telling him the truth (also unlikely). “It’s extremely high quality for someone who doesn’t know a thing about it,” he stands up now, flipping it in his hand to get a feel for the weight. The stories were true, it was a blade crafted for a master. Yangyang looked closely at the blade now, unknown runes had been etched into the blade just above the hilt. “Go ahead and grab mine over there, it’s lighter than this one, so you shouldn’t have trouble holding it,” he says. He noticed than when you held the sword originally, your wrist wavered as if what you were holding was too heavy.

“Oh, alright,” you did as he said and walked next to him. He peered over at how you were holding it again.

“You’re going to break your wrist if you hold it like that, hold it like this,” he demonstrates for you and you copied. “Uh… hold on, it’ll be easier if I fix it for you,” he leans the sword against his leg while he reached for your wrist. “Relax a little,” he mutters, adjusting your hold on the hilt. “Try now, it should feel a little more comfortable, this way, you’re putting the pressure more on your palm than your fingers, so it shouldn’t be as uncomfortable.”

“Oh, you’re right!” Your eyes seemed to shine despite the darkened room. “Does this count as our first lesson?” You ask.

“Sure, let’s call it repayment for getting us a room tonight,” Yangyang says, looking over your form again. “Looks like we’re going to need a lot of work…” he mutters after. This was going to be a long journey.

“What was that?” You tilted your head and Yangyang could feel the nervousness build in his throat.

What the hell has he gotten himself into?

~

The knock at the door ended the already lengthening session. Or, at least, it felt like hours. You’d always watched Kevin’s and Byul's practices and you’d always wondered why it was so taxing on them, and now you regret laughing at them. Your hands were cramping from holding Kevin’s heavy sword for too long. Gods above, did he have to give you such a heavy weapon? Would it have killed him for him to give you a dagger? You spared a glance to Yangyang, who only shrugged. You frowned and opened the door yourself, seeing the hostess on the other side.

“Hello, sorry for the sudden intrusion,” she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “It’s just that another room just opened up if you wanted it, free of charge since it was so sudden,” she says, wiping sweat from her brow. She looked like she just finished up rushing through chores. A quick glance over revealed the truth. Dampened bottom of her skirt and patched middle where her knees would’ve been on the floor, she’d just been cleaning the floors at least.

“Certainly, I’ll accept your offer,” you nodded. “No harsh feelings, right, Liu?” You asked. Yangyang only shook his head.

“Be my guest.” He hands you your belongings.

“Please guide me to my new accommodations,” you smiled. The woman in front of you matched your expression and ushered you to follow her. Soon enough, you were in your new room. Noticeably enough, it was much cleaner than the last one you’d been in. Fresh sheets for sure, dusted furniture, and mopped floors.

“Please enjoy your stay here at Kilvein’s inn,” she says before excusing herself. You slumped on the bed, more comfortable now. You could hear the springs creak under you and the comforter on top was tattered and by no means what you were used to, but with all the pent up exhaustion from just getting here, you couldn’t care any less. You didn’t expect your journey to be this hard already, and it was still the first day. The sun was barely setting, actually, yet you were so exhausted you could barely move. So, instead, your mind wandered for you.

You didn’t blame people for spreading such rumors about you. Cold and icy. It was a bit of a generalization you weren’t too fond of, but when you grow up with already so little power, you learn how to compensate. Your noble family was no powerful one, they held power over their domain based on the respect of the people alone. Then, you were even the youngest of four. You weren’t supposed to inherit anything, really. The dukedom was planned to go to Byulyi, then she turned it over to Taeil, your parents would rather die before handing the seat to Kevin, so that left you. Being cooped inside taking lessons on how to run a territory, that’s bound to do something to you. But you never really imagined that people would thing you were that cruel.

Sure, you’d constantly turn down invitations from other children your age, you’d stay inside to study all day, and maybe on the off occasion you’d accidentally snap at whoever was unlucky enough to cross your path. But you always apologized, you always tried to make it right. And you thought you were doing pretty well. Perhaps you thought wrong.

You took your cap off, finally letting your hair loose, and after a deep sigh, you fell asleep.

~

That was close. You nearly had a heart attack when Yangyang banged his fist on your door. Even now, you were still making sure that your stray hairs were tucked neatly under your cap. Why was he rushing you to get out of the tavern anyway? It’s not like he was in a rush for something, and even if he was there was no way it was as pressing as your situation. Still, you couldn’t deny that he was helpful. Even now as Yangyang walked slightly ahead of you, he was quick to pick up on things that were going on around you. The movement of animals, the sounds of water, he was accustomed to traveling and you weren’t. You looked down at your hand, a ghost-like feeling of how he’d fixed your form last night still wavering. You thanked god for the darkness of the room, lest he saw the embarrassment written all over your face.

It was true, a quill was very different to a sword, but who knew that you wouldn’t have even been able to hold a sword correctly? Kevin would have ridiculed you for sure. His sword glinted at your side, the gem shining in the sunlight. No doubt by now your absence has been noted and the guards were scrambling around the territory for you. You wondered if word had reached Bleakgate yet, to the ears of the man who you had supposedly been betrothed to. You looked up to Yangyang, who had been walking silently this whole time except to warn you of animals.

“Yangyang?” You took quick steps to catch up with him.

“Wait!” Yangyang’s hand flew out and, within seconds, a boar charged out of the bushes, completely catching you off guard. With a quick yelp, you grabbed onto the closest thing to you. Yangyang, meanwhile, took a steadying step back. “Relax, it’s just a boar,” Yangyang croaks out. You immediately release him.

“Pardon me,” you cleared your throat while Yangyang scoffs.

“Have you ever been out of Fairham?” He asks. You shook your head.

“No, not necessarily,” you answer. Yangyang sighs.

“Alright, well, first thing is first, always be aware of your surroundings,” he says. “You can’t just waltz around the roads like nothing, haven’t you heard of the demonic beast sightings?” He asks. No, you hadn’t heard of such things. But you’d already made yourself out to be a fool enough to him.

“I know,” you answer. “Why else did you think I asked you to teach me how to use this?” You gestured to the weapon attached at your hip.

“I had a feeling too,” he answers. “So, be on your guard, until you pick up on the basics, I’ll handle any monsters that come our way,” he says. “It shouldn’t be hard, most of the monsters on the way to Stardenn are pretty weak anyway,” he adds.

“So it shouldn’t be a problem for me then, right?” You ask. Yangyang looks at you. You pulled the sword out and pointed it towards the bushes. “Would I have been able to handle that boar?” You continue. Yangyang shakes his head.

“No,” he turns his back to you and continues down the road. You, meanwhile, quickly caught up with him.

“What? But you said that the monsters here are weak, right? How hard could it be?”

“You have no experience with sword fighting, you’ve never been out of Fairham, and you jumped at the sight of a monster, do you really think you’re cut out for fighting?” He asks. Okay, he didn’t have to be so harsh about it. You frowned, immediately walking ahead of him and towards the closest living creature you could see.

“And? What of this, then?” You pointed to the substance with the tip of your sword.

“That… that would be a simple slime,” your companion answers.

“And? Is it malevolent?”

“You know… you speak very eloquently to be from Fairham village,” he grimaces.

“Nonsense! I simply speak this way because of upbringing,” you defended.

“Well, whatever, to answer your question, no, it’s not bad. Not this one, at least. If it wanted to attack it would’ve done so already,” he rolls his eyes. You placed the sword down and crouched next to the small creature, its jelly eyes looking up at you with such sparkle.

“Can we keep it?”

“No.”

“Whatever for?! It’s quite adorable, is it not?” You cupped your hands and the slime creature rolled onto them. “Well then, I suppose that answers it. I shall call you Sloane!” You announced. The slime, no, Sloane looked up at you with a new excitement, as if it were proud to have been given a name.

“Sloane? That’s an oddly human name for a slime.”

“Silence. Your name is oddly animal for a human.”

“How is Yangyang a name for an animal?!”

“Have you seen your mannerisms? If you didn’t look like a man I’d mistake you for a monster!”

“You— Why am I even helping you?!”

“Ah, so I see you’ve also fallen for my devilish charms, haven’t you?”

“Don’t be too proud of yourself.”

“I shall do whatever it is I so desire, now, we have a similar goal, remember? That’s why you’re still here!” You reminded him. “We’re both going to Stardenn, you have muscles and I have money, we work well together,” you crossed your arms.

“Ugh, right,” Yangyang groans. “… You think I have muscles?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said coldly. Yangyang stared back at you, initiating yet another one of these tediously petty competitions, but you would rather die than let him win. After a few moments, Yangyang cracks and a victorious smile rose on your face.

“Fine, the slime can stay,” he concedes.

“The slime? What slime?” You tilted your head to the side and the creature in your hands, if it was even possible, seemed to glare. Yangyang sighs.

“Pardon me, Sloane can stay.”

“Wonderous! Let us continue on our journey, dear knight-to-be!”

General Tag List: @stopeatread @bat-shark-repellant @raeincitizen @umbralhelwolf @yangsrose @kazooms

NCT Tag List: @cherrylovr @minjiville @resonantcherry 

Lapis Love: @billboard-singer @awakey 

If you want to be added to either tag list or removed just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

[sabineelectricheart]

Ritzy Premiere of Jamie Last

Summary: Baxter, on the invitation of his parents’ friends, is invited to a movie party. He attends, out of obligation and hoping to promote his event business, and he takes his girlfriend with him.

Rating: K+ - Suitable for more mature childen, 9 years and older, with minor action violence without serious injury. May contain mild coarse language. Should not contain any adult themes.

Words: 1000

Notes: God, I think I’d hate going to a movie premiere party, but alas...

Jamie Last looks radiant.

Baxter cannot take his eyes off of her. He knew she would shine in the spotlight, but he had no idea just how resplendent she would look at his side. They are seated together at a media event, on the invitation of his aunt and uncle from Northern California, something he does as a favour to people that help and prize him, as well as an opportunity to promote his business with the right sort of people, those who can pay exorbitant prices for his services.

They had both been rather nervous for a time, but now he sees that he had been selling her short. It is her first public appearance as his partner, and the first time she attends something fancier than a country club get-together, it is an evening affair that has everyone dressed in their finest haute couture, but still, she lights the room like no-one else. To him, they may as well be dressed in rags for all they matter, for all they compare to his dates. She is polite and humorous, managing to join conversations and give intelligent responses to all sort of topics, impressing the attendees on her insights on art, fashion, funding and social issues.

Yet, not all is right and easy. The flash of the cameras does not seem to bother her too much, nor does the cold hostility of some of the guests ever phase her, but he can feel it when Jamie occasionally squeezes his hand a little tighter under the table, seeking his assurance. He can hear her nerves in the quickened patter of her heart.

Baxter squeezes her hand in return, and it prompts her to look at him. He sees it as if in slow motion. She turns, her gaze finding first his smile, his sparkling white teeth primed for the cameras. Her eyes lift to meet his, and the smile she returns to him is so intimate, so entirely for him, it steals his breath away. He forgets that the rest of the world exists. It makes his chest feel tight, like his heart has grown too large for the cage of his ribs.

He leans in to whisper in her ear.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to just sit here and be so close, but not be able to kiss you?" He asks, his voice a warm rumble, a pleasant sound drowning out the classical music and the chatter all around them.

His cheek is close enough to hers that he can feel the way she warms up with a flush, covered by the layers of tasteful night-time make-up. The quiet way she laughs in response to his teasing is music to his ears. She presses her lips together in that mischievous way he loves. It means she is about to say something he knows he will like.

"Well, why don't you?" She teases him back, the chuckle still hanging on the tips of her red-painted lips.

Jamie barely finishes her sentence when Baxter kisses her, his large and soft hand cupped over the side of her face. His hand and arm obscure the press of her lips from the media circus.

The flashes from the photographers covering the event set off like fireworks around them, hoping for a good shot of an otherwise mundane night. The rapid-fire noise of camera shutters sound like gunfire, something out of the war movie they were supposed to be promoting, but it all fades away into the background as the two of them kiss, the beat of her heart gradually calming.

This power he has over Jamie is intoxicating, and the fact he is not shy about leveraging it over her is exciting, almost fun. She always forgets herself when she is around this man, for good or bad. No matter how nervous she is, there has never been a cliff he could not walk her down from. When her heart pounds and her eyes are glassy, she seeks the warmth of his embrace without fail.

Baxter, for his part, never tires of feeling her pulse turning steady against him, held tight in his arms. Similarly, his lovely girlfriend has never faulted him his needs, even those he does not recognize or that he sets out for himself all on his stupid own. Through his difficult nights, through his relationship with his parents and trying to get the trust of her family back, through the trials and pains of learning to love one another, sharp edges and all, her words and her touches have brought him a peace he thought only existed in the fantasy of film.

He was raised to keep a certain image, to behave with the polish his social position demanded and not to let emotions cloud his judgement. He was trained to go through life holding his cards close to his chest, to not let anyone get too close. For so long, he floated through life, putting distance between him and the rest of the world, even with his girlfriend herself.

It had been a grave mistake, one that cost him five entire years of the happiness he is so jealous of these days, that he has known before. It took a lot of effort, something he does not necessarily deserved, to pull his head off his ass. Being with her, calling her his girlfriend, it feels like a superpower all its own.

When Baxter pulls back, her smile is brighter, a little giddy, her cheeks thoroughly blushed. His eyes are warm, crinkled at the corners from the sheer width of his smile.

"Better?" She asks quietly.

"Me? I'm just getting warmed up, love." He answers, flashing her a little wink.

With that, Baxter drops his hand back to the table, armed and ready to once more face the stupid party. He is sure he can eventually convince Jamie to leave early, he has plenty to show her at their hotel room tonight.

*_*_*_*_*

Our Life Masterlist

[theriu]

D, N, and O? And is H the one you made up on the fly?

(These are Asks for my Mystery OC Ask Game!)

Oho, I did not expect multiple requests for D! Also, I see that my original wording was NOT clear! I have edited it to clarify: I will be giving three facts about each character requested, and ONE of those three facts will be newly invented for each one! None of the characters are brand-new (aside from their new nicknames XD) Sorry for the confusion!

ALRIGHTY, three to start out, let's do this! :D

D. Small Sparky Nerd

Brock, age 11, has the ability to manipulate electricity. He can't "create" it, but he can absorb and hold electricity, and he can affect electrical charge in the air around him. He's not super strong yet, but he's learned some handy tricks, like disrupting camera and audio signals so the evil scientists don't know about the kids having secret discussions once every week or so.

He is VERY VERY into superhero comics, especially Zap Captain, a fictional electric superhero. These were the only really "fun" thing from the Outside that he ever got to read while stuck in the illegal human experimentation lab that gave the kids their powers. He has most of his knowledge about the normal world (Outside) from them, and they help him feel good about his powers. One of the scientists would sneak them in and let Brock steal them, but don't be fooled, that guy is Not A Nice Person.

Whenever Brock gets his first try of chewing gum, he is going to be OBSESSED. Which might be for the better if only because it might slow down his constant excited chatter.

N. The Falcon But Bug Wings, Sr.

Val Daniels, early 40s, a technology-based superhero whose named USED to be Red Falcon before The Falcon of Marvel fame because popular, and I haven't decided on his new name. But I replaced his metal bird wings, so now his armored flight suit now has a pair of folding wings modeled after earwig wings due to their ability to fold super small and expand super big. He subdues criminals via nonlethal stun technology.

Val is very smart, much like Tony Stark or Batman, but unlike those two, he does not own his own company. His WIFE, however, DOES run a successful company, and after figuring out who he was and marrying him, now funds his projects. This helps Val keep a low profile, as he technically works for his wife in "Research and Development" (and to be fair, they DO sell some of the technology used in his suit, just in different forms).

Val is a total dog person. His best day involves being smothered beneath an avalanche of dogs on the couch. They are between dogs at the moment because he and his wife are so busy, but Val dreams of inventing the perfect robot dog. His daughter Kara teases him that he will replace her with a robo canine sidekick.

O. The Falcon But Bug Wings, Jr.

Kara Daniels, 19-year-old daughter of Val and Sarah Daniels. Just recently took up the mantle as her father's sidekick, Valkyrie. Her suit looks and runs very similar to his, with the same foldable wingpack and reinforced flight suit. The suits also, unbeknownst to everyone outside the family, utilize light anti-grav technology, which allows for easier powered flight as well as seeming enhanced strength and speed (due to being able to change an opponents' weight to a small degree). She prefers to fight with a bo staff but is also skilled at Taekwondo.

Kara wasn't allowed to go out and do actual superheroing, but after graduating high school at age 18, her father finally allowed it. She has trained for this for YEARS in the secret lab/lair, though, and takes the job VERY seriously. Maybe a bit too seriously at times.

She is allergic to cats but stubbornly refuses to admit to it, despite having a pet cat. The cat's name is Villain and she frequently has to vanquish him in his efforts to knock everything off her shelves.

Thanks for the asks, @misscrazyfangirl321 and @4-am-in-the-desert! This is fun! =D