#affirmation of affection in the only way these fucking dumbasses know how

[kitamars]

idiotic things

[bittersweetmorality]

— aizawa boyfriend headcannons

☾ genre: headcannons

☾ pairing: aizawa shota x gn!reader

☾ warnings: none !! all fluff ! (hints at manga spoilers, but no details or anything about it is actually said)

☾ a/n: HIHI ! i have like 9 other drafts that i’m working on and they’re all for Bungou Stray Dogs 😁 but enjoy this Aizawa brainrot i love him gn.

☾ ALSO ! NSFW headcannons for aizawa will be coming soon as a separate post !!

☾ W/C: 1,373

��� SFW

okay i’m sick of all the mfs that say that aizawa is just an emotionless asshole

HE. IS. NOT.

ON MY MAMA HE IS A SWEETHEART DEEP DOWN. IN HIS OWN WAY.

he’s not really outwardly affectionate— especially not at first

mostly because his love language is acts of service and words of affirmation

no i will not take criticism because i am right

HOWEVER of course i shall elaborate 😁

he is a bitter man because of his past (if y’all read the MHA manga... you know 😐.)

but he would not insult someone he genuinely cares about

and obviously he cares about you bae

so words of affirmation is a constant with him— and honestly it just comes out naturally, he doesn’t even force it

and it’s a lot of reassurance too— reminding you that he does care about you despite the fact that he isn’t very good at expressing it

he also doesn’t explicitly say that he loves you most of the time, just ‘cause he’s afraid of the term yaknow

he kinda plays around with words that basically mean the same thing tho 😁

“i’m very proud of you”

“you’re the only one i want”

“how are you feeling?”

“do you need anything from me? are you tired?”

speaking of which

his love language of acts of service said HELLOOOO

he just wants you to be happy and comfortable

but he’s also pretty lazy 😐

so it’s kinda acts of service but in the back of his mind he hopes that the things that make you happy n comfy are easily attainable 🧍

but when i say he’s lazy and that isn’t gunna change for ANYONE .

🧍.

yeah sorry

my mans wants his naps regardless if you want attention like just nap with him

he’s very very okay with that

AND UHHH CUDDLING .

he isn’t big on like hugs or pda or holding hands when it comes to physical affection

but CUDDLING WHILE NAPPING AND SLEEPING?? YES.

he loves that so much omg

like he knows that you’re alone and he’s allowed to be vulnerable around you, and no one is around except the two of you

and your cats

but we’ll get that later

he’s always the big spoon

not because he’s embarrassed or anything he doesn’t really give a fuck about shame in this situation

he just finds it more comfy to hold you rather than the other way around

because he cuddled his pillow for so long that’s just his natural sleeping position

you can tear that headcannon from my cold dead hands and i don’t want to hear it outta any of you

anyway

he’s such a heavy sleeper that he does NOT move an INCH at night

so if you ever have to get up to pee or just generally move around a lot while you sleep he doesn’t care

it literally cannot bother him 😐 he is dead to the world

also he doesn’t dream at all he just 😐 he sleep

he likes to hear about your dreams though if you have them ^_^ you guys talk all about it in the morning and the way he looks at you when you talk ☹️🥺

like in any situation ☹️🥺 he just listening to you talk about things you enjoy— he could listen to your voice all day

he doesn’t really reply much, but you know he’s listening

ANYWAY back to the CATS !!

you have two cats

one cat favors aizawa and one favors you

it’s no surprise that the cat that likes aizawa more has the same personality as you, and the cat that has the same personality as aizawa likes you more

obviously they love you both but like, if they had to choose a lap while you’re both on the couch, you can guess what happens

he loves the cats so much

genuinely he worries for them all the time

the only time he calls you is to check on the cats when he randomly gets anxious about them

“hi. are you home right now?”

“yes hun, i’m on my lunch break,”

“are the cats okay?”

“...yes they’re with me right now?”

“are you sure.”

“.....do you want me to put them up to the phone?”

“yes.”

anyway DATES.

they’re mostly lazy dates (obviously)

he likes the casual aspect of relationships, so that extravagant shit is wasted on him, especially when it comes to dates

he likes to order in, or cook (preferably with you) and watch a movie with the cats

the cats are in fact a requirement

and yes he will cuddle you on the couch while the movie plays, and honestly sometimes he finds himself barely focusing on the movie, just looking down at you laying on his chest and simply admiring you

he's a softie deep down

a big fat softie

also kisses with aizawa???

soft. so Soft™

he's just a very delicate person at heart, so kisses are just the same

he cups your cheeks and plants kisses on your lips and nose all. the. time.

he loves kisses but usually he doesn't initiate them, so you better grow some BALLS and kiss your man

he will kiss you right back instantly

he also isn't very private about his life

but also?? kind of??

like he definitely doesn't make any effort to hide his relationship with you from the rest of the UA staff and students, but obviously he isn't parading you around and shouting from the rooftops

he finds it really stupid for someone to actively hide their significant other from people

like??? make sure to tell people they're yours?? why would you hide that you dumbass

speaking of which aizawa is super protective

he DEF isn't possessive, like "don't you dare talk to that guy or i will kill him" type like some of y'all make him out to be

i see you and i hate you .

he just wants to keep you safe, so he looks out for you constantly

he trusts you not to be possessive, but his natural instincts from past trauma (again, manga reader know) make him look out for people he cares about

and that always includes you

OVERALL

100/10 boyfriend someone kiss him for me </3

"shota?" you called from the kitchen, trying to gather all of the snacks you had organized onto the counter in your arms. there were too many bags, so many that it would definitely be impossible for you to carry them all in one go-- and that was obvious, since every attempt to gather everything was futile. you groaned as the items tumbled out of your grasp for the umpteenth time, "shota, hun can you help?"

"hm? what's wrong?" you heard a monotonous grunt from the living room.

"i can't carry everything myself, and i really don't feel like taking multiple trips," there was no response. you sighed, "pleeeaaase??"

"i'm busy. my hands are full too."

"ugh, he's sitting on the couch, what could he possibly be busy with?" you mutter to yourself through your teeth.

finally, you decide to simply create a makeshift bag out of your shirt, flipping it up inside-out. you quickly place all of your snacks, and speed to where your lazy boyfriend sat in the other room to stop anything from falling.

you aimlessly let everything tumble out of your grasp, the sounds of plastic hitting your wooden coffee table in front of the couch.

"see? you didn't need my help," you could hear the smug smile on his face even if you weren't looking.

"well, you know how much easier it would've been if y-" you begin to whine, but as you look up to face aizawa completely, you realize why he refused to get up. two little cats were curled up on his blanket-covered lap, their bellies rising and falling gently. you tentatively made your way to sit beside him, carefully plopping onto the cushion.

"so you really were busy then, huh?"

he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to lean your head into the crook of his neck, careful not to move his lap in the process, "well, you know i wouldn't lie to you."

masterlist

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑀𝑎𝑓𝑖𝑎! 𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝐾𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝑂𝑓 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑅𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑠 𝑓𝑡. 𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑦 𝐾𝑖𝑑𝑠

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, encouraging, supporting, justifying, or promoting mafia behavior or lifestyle. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warning: Brief scenes of violence. Reader discretion advised.

「𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒈」

When Hongjoong escorted you through the hall for your uncle's wedding, the last person he expected to be seated at the same table you two were in was none other than Bang Chan, who was also surprised to see him.

"You?!" They both exclaimed, already getting into a fighting position.

The people around you guys stared in shock, afraid of some shoot out about to happen. You however calmed Hongjoong down while explaining that Chan was your cousin's boyfriend.

"And you couldn't have mentioned this before?" He crossed his arms in front of you.

"Can you both just not cause a scene here? It's my uncle's special day." You begged them.

"Yeah, 5th special day in the last 4 years." Chan teased earning him a smack from his girlfriend beside him.

They just sat quietly during the entire reception, refusing to acknowledge each other, although occasionally they couldn't help but throw slight jabs at each other. It all culminated though when it was time for the bride to throw the bouquet which was caught by none other than you. Chan actually laughed at that.

"What's so funny?" Hongjoong asked.

"The fact that of all people, Y/N caught the bouquet when we both know you don't have the guts to make her walk down the aisle."

Hongjoong slammed his fists down and stood up.

"That's it! I've had it with you. You want to take this outside? Cause I'm ready."

「𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒘𝒂」

Seonghwa and you happily strolled through the park, enjoying each other's affection, when you were startled by an all too familiar voice and face behind Seonghwa, one you had not seen in over 2 years.

"Y/N! Long time no see. How have you been gorgeous?"

Seonghwa noticed how you seemed to sunk your shoulders down, your eyes not wanting to directly look at the man in front of you. And Seonghwa was not at all amused by the way this man talked to you.

"I... I'm fine.... Lee Know..." You responded, your voice slightly trembling.

At hearing the name, Seonghwa turned around and indeed, it was none other than the infamous play boy Lee Minho himself, smirking right at you. He looked at Seonghwa and let out a tiny scoff.

"I take it....he's your new boo?" Lee Know asked, cocking his head to the side.

Seonghwa merely wrapped an arm around you protectively, clearly signaling an affirmative answer. Lee Know smiled.

"Well.....then good for you. If you ever get bored of him....you know you can always call me." He shamelessly said as he walked away.

Seonghwa looked down at you, the way you were holding back tears was enough to know Lee Know was your ex, the one who had torn your heart apart years ago, the one who made it difficult for you to accept Seonghwa because you were so heartbroken and scared about starting a new relationship.

Seonghwa kissed your forehead and held you close to him.

"You know I love you and I'd never hurt you like he did right?"

「𝑱𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒐」

Yunho slowly walked through the city's streets, casually listening to music and overall trying to relax a little. He thought he spotted a familiar sweater on a rather familiar frame, but it couldn't have been you right? Especially when the figure seemed to be lovey dovey with none other than....

Seo Changbin?!

Yunho ripped his earbuds out, tearing them off when he noticed it was definitely you and you were definitely hugging one of his arch nemesis.

"Get the fuck away from her!" Yunho declared as he ripped you away from Changbin's embrace.

"Yunho! What are you?-"

Grabbing the smaller man by the collar, he easily hoisted him up.

"I'm warning you right now, don't ever come near my girlfriend or so help me your gang will be short by one member." He warned him.

"Yunho! Stop! Put my brother down!" You cried out as you tugged at his jacket.

Yunho widened his eyes and looked back at you, immediately turning soft when he stared at your panicked stricken face.

"Bro...brother?" He asked incredulous.

"Yes! Her brother now do you mind putting me down?" Changbin asked as he tried to pry Yunho's fingers off him.

Yunho put him down and you immediately checked on him to make sure he was ok. You only got a scoff from him as he warned you:

"Careful with him and his gang Y/N. I'm only holding back for your sake."

Changbin began walking away, not wanting anymore confrontation in front of you. Yunho sheepishly looked at you while you merely rolled your eyes.

"I'm sorry.....but you never told me you had a brother."

「𝑲𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒆𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈」

The young man calmly stepped inside the room, looking around, trying to figure out if it really was a set up or not.

"Hello?" He called out, not seeing anybody.

Suddenly the lights turned on and from the shadows, Yeosang emerged, hands in his pockets as he calmly looked at the man in front of him.

"Hwang Hyunjin, thank you for accepting my invitation." He spoke out, voice laced with sarcasm.

"Get to the point Yeosang. The fuck you want." Hyunjin didn't want to waste his time.

Yeosang hummed. "I simply want you to stay away from Y/N."

Hyunjin actually let out a chuckle at that.

"Of course the overbearing boyfriend would pull out this mediocre shit. Listen, Y/N and I have been longtime friends and you can't change that. She's my friend. "

"I know. And I also know you have the hots for her and more than once you've shit talked me to her in order to get her to leave me." Yeosang raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to contradict him.

Hyunjin's smile faltered for a moment, but then he smirked.

"You're not gonna do shit Yeosang. And you can't stop me from seeing Y/N."

"What makes you think-"

"Suppose I accidentally let it slip out to Y/N what you actually do for a living, let her find out who you really are?" Hyunjin threatened him.

Yeosang stayed quiet, clenching his fists, resisting the urge to break Hyunjin's skull against the floor.

"I think it's in your best interest to not try me Kang Yeosang. You'll end up losing."

Yeosang just stood there, unable to do anything but watch his rival leave victorious...

"For now..."

「𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒊 𝑺𝒂𝒏」

"Well well well.....look what the cat dragged in."

San let out an evil laughter as he picked up the blonde haired boy up and slammed him against the wall.

"I thought I told you never to show your ugly rat face around here Jisung." San reminded him.

Jisung got up from the floor, refusing to back down at the taller and obviously stronger male.

"I'm actually a squirrel, thank you." He replied with a smug grin.

San didn't hesitate to throw a punch at his face, knocking him down once again. San picked him up again, this time with his hands wrapped around his neck as he choked him.

"Wrong move to try and be brave with me punk." He sneered at him.

"San! Don't! Let him go!"

Your voice made San look over at you. You ran over to them, fear and panic written all over your face.

"Stay out of this Y/N." San warned you, inadvertently pushing you away rather roughly, making you fall to the floor.

Seeing you get hurt triggered something in Jisung. Using whatever strength he had, he swung his leg and kicked San hard enough to loosen the grip he had on him. He got to land one solid punch to his cheek, knocking him to the ground before he proceeded to take out a switchblade from his jacket.

"No Jisung! Please don't!" You begged him, your arms encapsulating his waist, trying to get him to stop.

San just stood looking at you in disbelief.

"Y/N....what on earth-?" He asked, his voice somewhat breaking.

"Jisung! Please don't! I'm begging you! Don't kill him!" You begged.

"Give me one good reason!" Jisung exclaimed.

You looked up at him with tears falling down.

"I love him..."

Jisung's face dropped as he realized what you meant. He looked back at San who had confusion written all over his face, which then turned to shock when he asked:

"So you're my sister's boyfriend?"

「𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊」

Mingi stormed into a room, watching as the younger male was strapped to the chair in front of him.

"Felix....." Mingi said, walking around and watching as the feline looking man remained quiet.

"Do you have any idea why you're here?" Mingi asked him.

"I can tell you the reasons I'm not here for." Felix scoffed.

"Stop acting you little shit! You know damn well why I brought you here!" Mingi's deep voice boomed throughout the room.

Felix wasn't intimidated though, he simply leaned his face closer to Mingi's.

"Try me."

Mingi huffed before taking a picture out of his wallet and holding it up.

"You see her?"

Felix squinted his eyes at the picture before realizing that it was none other than you.

"I want to know why you've been hanging around her place more often. Are you stalking her? Planning to kidnap her to get back at me? Was that your plan? Use my own girlfriend against me? You think I'd let you get the chance?" Mingi questioned him.

Felix rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Yes Mingi, I was totally going to kidnap my own sibling and possibly torture her in order to get under your skin." He replied sarcastically.

Mingi's face dropped. "What?"

"You dumbass. Y/N is my sister and I've been hanging around her place for protection. In case you don't know, there's another gang that's been recently rising up. They call themselves Oneus. About a week ago, they sent all of us pictures of our closed ones to taunt us, and so we've been on guard over them."

Mingi now froze as Felix said those words. He realized now you were in danger. He quickly cut Felix loose from the ropes before ordering:

"Tell me everything you know about these bastards."

「𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒐𝒐𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈」

"I love you so much." Wooyoung whispered, kissing your nose, making you giggle.

"Do you?" You teased him.

"I do. I love you more than-"

"Y/N! What are you doing with him?"

Your oldest friend, Seungmin promptly pushed Wooyoung away from you, placing himself in front of you.

"Kim Seungmin, do you want to die?" Wooyoung glared at him.

"You're the one that's going to die if you keep playing with my best friend." Seungmin warned.

"Playing?" You asked.

"Best friend?" Wooyoung was in utter confusion.

"Don't give me that. Everyone in the mafia world knows you're the biggest fuck boi there is. Only making girls fall in love with you so you can get in their pants and then dump them, you sick pervert." Seungmin cringed in disgust.

Wooyoung let out a dry chuckle at his words.

"Play with whoever the fuck you want but leave Y/N out of this. She deserves better than trash like you."

Wooyoung bit the side of his cheek, finally understanding where this was going.

"Like who? You perhaps?"

Seungmin gulped slightly, confirming what Wooyoung was thinking.

"How long have you been in love with her Kim Seungmin? Wait don't answer me, it honestly doesn't matter..."

Wooyoung snaked an arm around you and pressed you to him.

"Cause she chose me and she's mine."

Wooyoung couldn't hid the smirk on his face as Seungmin looked at you in disbelief.

"Y/N.....please don't tell me.."

Your words broke Seungmin as you replied:

"I'm sorry Seungmin.... I'm in love with Wooyoung..

「𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒊 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐」

You pulled your face away from your ex, getting disgusted when he dared touch your cheek.

"Come on Y/N. Don't deny you still have feelings for me." He chuckled darkly.

You could only glare at him.

"I don't love you anymore Jeongin. So why don't you just let me go before it gets ugly?"

He got up and began laughing.

"Seriously? You really think your boy toy is going to come for you?" He asked.

"I don't think.... I know he will." You stated proudly.

"Really? You really think the Choi Jongho gives 2 fucks about you princess?" Jeongin cooed at you, his hands petting your hair softly.

Right at that moment there was a loud commotion heard outside, guns firing, and the sound of running feet could be distinguished. In less than 15 seconds, the door burst open and none other than Jongho himself came in, eyes full of rage when he saw the close proximity of your ex.

"I'm giving you 3 seconds to get your filthy hands off my girl or I'll split your head open." Jongho warned, coming closer to him.

Jeongin quickly pulled out a gun and held it to your head, prompting Jongho to halt his steps in fear of you getting hurt.

"That's what I thought Jongho. Y/N was mine first and I'm taking her back." Jeongin declared.

Jongho clenched his fists.

"Over my dead body."

Swiftly, he lunged at Jeongin, knocking the gun out of his hand. Jongho tried to punch him in the face, but Jeongin caught his fist with his hand before it collided with his face, giving him a cold stare, refusing to go down without a fight.

"That could easily be arranged..."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 6

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. There's non-explicit smut in this part!

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Remember that questionable morals remark? Yea, this chapter is the reason. Y/N, girl, you gotta stop... But at least it's kinda funny. Okay, it's pretty damn hilarious.

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She is amazing. I larb her. 💙

"And then I was like 'No Way!' and he was like 'Totally' and that's how I met Tony Stark," I finished excitedly, opposite a laughing Mr. Davies. The story of how I met Iron Man was a total hit with the teacher and my vigorous mimicking of the facial expressions that described my feelings during the time had my teacher busting a gut something loud. 

"I honestly have some trouble believing that but - hey, what the hell, he's a billionaire superhero, it's basically expected for him to be a little strange," When his laughing fit was over, Mr. Davies reminded me he was, in fact, a psychology doctor. There was serious brain power under that easygoing attitude.

I expected detention to be bearable in his company but Mr. Davies rose above expectations, welcoming me with another cup of tea and some colouring pages. Admittedly, I contemplated stealing some - those mandalas were really captivating.

"Oh, he's strange alright, but nothing I can't handle," I twirled a pencil between my fingers. 

Mr. Davies grinned knowingly, too knowingly for my comfort, and I had no choice but to make a stone face before looking him in the eye. 

He smirked. "So, anything else interesting for you going on?" 

"Nah, not much. Really looking forward to being done with high school and going out into the bigger world, y'know."

"You turned 18 already, right?" I nodded in confirmation. "Maybe get a job, something part-time? OsCorp always hands these leaflets out, they're looking for lab assistants."

I wrinkled my nose. "I don't need a job. Plus, I'm sure Bruce-err, Doctor Banner would smash me if I went to work at OsCorp," I glossed over my slip-up, hoping Mr. Davies would do the same. But no such luck happened.

"Right. Me and Bruce, we actually go way back," He smiled, stirring his tea. I perked up in interest. "We studied psychology together, sat next to each other in half of our classes. It's a shame what happened to him but I hope he's happy now," Mr. Davies was smiling earnestly, looking out of the window where rain had started flowing down on the glass.

"Really? That's cool," I said, lacking anything else to add to his statement.

"He used to skip classes and always lost his glasses even though they'd be on top of his head," My teacher continued. "Banner was actually quite a rowdy student," He added with a smirk.

"Hah, he still routinely loses his glasses, although he wears them on a string around his neck now," I chuckled fondly. Bruce was such a dork.

I chatted with Mr. Davies some more, just casual conversation about everything and nothing in between. His parents were hippies, he had two moms and one dad and according to him, Thor was very overrated. I didn't even notice we were up in each other's space until our knees brushed when Mr. Davies - "Call me Will" - was showing me the pictures of his cats, dog and lizard. I figured that as the hippy child, personal space was kind of a foreign concept to him - and that rang true, I've seen Will give out more shoulder grabs and high fives than anyone else sans the gym teacher.

The clock's ding announced 6 PM and I quickly gathered my things, hastily saying goodbye. I was stopped though.

"If you don't mind a quick stop at my house, I can drop you off. It's pouring buckets outside and I would hate you to get sick," Will spoke casually. 

Technically, I knew he was bending some rules of conduct. But it was also 55° outside and the water coming from the sky was unlikely to be warm. So I caved without any guilty conscience, obediently following Mr. Davies -Will- to the parking lot where a new-ish Jeep Cherokee proudly stood amongst several older, less gently used cars. With New York city traffic being the way it is, I didn't text Bruce yet, fully expecting for the trip to take a whole hour if not more. 

Thankfully the parking gods were merciful and Will managed to find a spot right across his two-story townhouse. "You're welcome to come in if you feel comfortable, I just need to fetch some documents," He said.

And that's where I fucked up. I nodded affirmatively, I followed him through the door and made myself as comfortable as I could on his living room couch. It was a cozy home, his iguana chilled opposite me in it's terrarium and the little mutt that was his dog really reminded me of the atrocity that my parents used to own before they had me. It yipped and yapped, wagging it's bushy tail at me and demanding pets.

The steaming tea mug was dutifully placed in my hand by Will who hopped upstairs immediately after that, skipping steps. I watched the man with a benign stare: he'd removed his sweater and I could see the defined muscles of his back and the admirable backside that he possessed. There was no harm in looking respectfully, right?

I was halfway through my mug when Will came back down, brandishing a truly impressive stack of manila folders, setting it on a nearby table before sitting down on the other end of the couch, maintaining a respectful distance between us. We chatted some more and the more he spoke about his current research, the more passionate he became; by the end of his truly epic description of the effects that anti-depressants have on the learning process of depressed adolescents, I was mesmerized by the way his pink lips formed words.

Sitting with my calves tucked under my butt, leaning against the armrest , I was a goner. He caught my eye, diverting his own stare from my exposed legs to the side, blinking furiously. It calmed my spirits somewhat, knowing that I wasn't the only one affected by the sudden change of atmosphere in the room. My mug landed on the low table with a loud clang as I leaned forward, the sleeves of my sweater accidentally brushing against his leg.

Will cleared his throat and I startled, tilting my head up towards him in confusion. He was staring at me with a mix of fear and delight in his eyes, like a boy preparing for his first kiss. I would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation if the darkness in his stormy grey eyes didn't make my own breath do somersaults somewhere between my lungs and my esophagus.

Fifteen minutes later, both my sweater and my panties were thrown somewhere in the furthest end of the room and those thin lips were making me see stars. For some reason he was convinced I'd had only typical teenage disappointing sex up to this point and was really eager to show me what a grown man can do. I mean, I wasn't complaining, he was really, really good with his mouth - but I didn't have all night, so I flipped the tables and showed off my own oral skills until he had to bodily remove me from his dick and lift me onto it. Every movement felt surreal, like I was living in a dream. Despite my common sense yelling expletives at me, I kissed Will back with twice the heat and none of the finesse, each of us reaching the peak nearly in sync.

"Can I get that ride to the tower now?"

Will let out a decidedly unmanly squeak when he realised where exactly he'd be taking me after we did what we'd done. I smiled at him in hopes of calming down the man but it seemed it came out more predatory. He shivered, his dick twitching within me.

I texted Bruce the same time I was getting into Will's car. My brain was still somewhat in a state of shock and I used the brief moment to tidy up my hair and makeup, taking note of my sex-flushed face. I only hoped I didn't stink like man-sweat and Will's cologne. 

Another realization was startled out of me: that was my first time having had sex without a condom. I was on birth control since I was fourteen so pregnancy wasn't a scare; currently, I was more worried about the mildly uncomfortable, wet feeling in my panties where my teacher's cum had pooled out.

Yikes. That moment Will took a careful monitoring of my facial expression and it took me a lot to keep it somewhere between neutral and happy. Internally, I was freaking the fuck out, torn between horror and incredible arousal.

It morphed into full fledged mortification when I saw Bruce's lab coat from afar, the man standing next to the entrance door. Having had a dumb moment, I texted Banner that a former schoolmate of his was the one giving me a ride and it really shouldn't have been a surprise that Bruce would go downstairs to greet Will.

'Fuck you, you dumbass,' was my approximate train of thought, directed at myself, when all three of us gathered, hiding from the cold rain and the autumn wind under the safety of the roof. Both men shared a brief, warm embrace before Bruce's arm snaked around my waist.

"You go upstairs, okay? I don't want you to get sick," Banner said, eyeing the disastrous weather.

I looked at Will, finding his eyebrow cocked at Bruce's frivolous gesture and a faint flush blossoming on his face. The man shuffled awkwardly, giving me a small wave and a tight-lipped smile before turning his attention back to Bruce. I wished him good night, hastily retreating into the safety of the elevator.

"What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fu-u-uck..." I chanted under my breath, acutely aware of the blossoming bruises on my hips where my teacher held me, the dampness of my underwear. 

The elevator doors opened, revealing the common room couch being occupied by Wanda. Peter, Wanda's brother and the two resident super soldiers setting the table for dinner. Tony was off bickering with Loki and Strange by the coffee maker and Thor was standing outside on the patio, doing something very strange with his hands and his hammer. Was he summoning the shitty weather?! The audacity!

"Hey," Wanda greeted me quietly. Her eyebrows raised upon seeing my face full of perplexed confusion. "You okay?.. Wait, what? Tell me you did not!" As my internal crisis reached its peak, I remembered that a) Wanda is a telepath and b) There were other people in the room.

One ungraceful landing next to her later, I turned my bleary stare onto her. "Oops?" I offered in the way of explanation. What was I supposed to say if I didn't know for myself what the devil possessed me to fuck my social studies teacher after school? He was fucking hot, okay.

The witch smirked, obviously following my defensive internal monologue. "Oops?" Her tone was laced with gleeful sarcasm.

"I'm a human disaster," I groaned, finally caving in and palming my face. Wanda began snickering. "I have zero impulse control," I continued wallowing in self-pity. The redhead just cackled harder.

"I feel so attacked right now," Tony's voice loudly announced the man's presence. I was thankful for the distraction, happy that today, out of all the days, he decided to make the situation about himself. "I am the resident hot mess and nothing you do will change that. Or get out of my tower," He made a dramatic gesture, waving along everybody to the table.

At the dinner table, with Peter on one side of me and Bruce on the other, Wanda's speech was clear. "I think you two are about on the same level, Tony," Her tone was dry. The looks she cast me were cheeky at best and downright gleeful at worst. Not only was she the resident telepath but also, apparently, a huge drama fan.

I, on the other hand, felt like a fish thrown out of water. My mind was still jumping between astounded and horrified like a rabid rabbit and Bruce's excited remark about seeing a former schoolmate only worsened the anxiety. My brain was telling me EVERYBODY knew EVERYTHING whereas in reality, it was only Wanda and it didn't seem like she was upset enough to give up my dirty little secret. If anything, the witch seemed almost impressed. And that dry, mildly interested facial expression only solidified when she put two and two together: my teacher, whom I fucked, also known as Bruce's former study buddy.

"I have some spare sweatpants that might fit you," Wanda directly addressed me as we were finishing up the wonderful chicken roast courtesy of Clint and Bucky. Nobody batted an eye at the sudden exclamation, evidently used to being around someone who could hear their thoughts. 

I nodded, mentally waving a big, red thank you note. With sparkles. And hearts. Wanda chuckled.

"Hey, did you change your perfume?" Peter's innocent remark made me nearly freeze in my spot. 

Kill Bill sirens started playing in my head on repeat as I heard Wanda choke on her asparagus, inadvertently drawing attention to the three of us. Peter looked at us in confusion: Wanda kept on gasping, but it seemed like the dam had finally burst and she was laughing in earnest, snorting, loudly, as I engaged my willpower to stop myself from doing the same. Needless to say, it was a spectacular failure and now both of us were bent over our dinner plates, absolutely losing it - much to the concern of the adults present at the table. The rest of the team was growing concerned.

"Oh my god, your FACE!" Wanda's incoherent mumbling and the accusing finger pointed in my direction did it.

"A lady doesn't... kiss... and tell...." I fervently gulped the oxygen as I tried to articulate my thoughts into something comprehendible. The hysterical laughter won by a wide margin.

"Who's the lucky guy?" Natasha seemed to get the gist, relaxing immediately and picking up her fork to continue her meal. 

I shook my head, unable to form a coherent thought, much less a sentence. Bruce chuckled from somewhere beside me and just like that, the tension broke. The adults in the room traded knowing looks, chuckling and snorting amongst themselves. 

The moments I needed to calm down went to waste really quick: my first laughing fit over, I took one look at Wanda and yet again, both of us were puffing out our cheeks to try and prevent another hysterical fit. 

"Whew," I exaggerated, eyes wide and looking ANYWHERE but at Wanda.

"What a wild ride," She snorted and I put a palm over my face, shaking my head in... 

Disappointment at myself? I wasn't disappointed. Now that I got over the WTF factor, I found the situation to be pretty damn hot. Will was hot. Eh, whatever. 

My casual mood of zero-fucks-given began returning. After few of the last bites of potatoes, I was prepared to face  Natasha. I looked the Black Widow dead in the eye as I firmly stated: "And for the record? We are NOT having this conversation."

She elegantly arched her eyebrow whilst everybody else held their breath. "That bad, huh?" The retort was immediate.

I allowed myself to radiate a bit of that newly acquired smugness I had begun to feel: "You have no idea," I hoped my smirk was as devious as I wished it to be.

"Alright, heartbreaker, colour me impressed," Natasha nodded in affirmation. We shared another meaningful look and reverted back to our plates with the menfolk observing us akin animals at a zoo. 

Somewhat amazed, slightly afraid. Bruce's stare was somewhat concerned, too: he contemplatively eyed me from the corner of his eye, the same way I eyed him, checking out the fact that he appeared somewhat annoyed. Like a proper father would, I suppose. 

Luckily for me, I finished off the remaining food and drink quickly, with Wanda being my saviour once again as she all but bodily dragged me into the elevator, promising to return me to the science den in no more than an hour. Tony went to complain but was promptly stopped by Natasha inconspicuously reaching for the butter knife: the engineer knew how to pick his battles. I didn't doubt that Romanoff was going to hear "all about it" second-hand from Wanda and I was fully prepared to face the redhead spy's judgement. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, escaped that clever woman.

A quick shower and a change of clothes later, I sat on Wanda's couch, nervously fiddling with the two sizes too big sweatpants, occasionally stopping to straighten the plain white tank top that just barely fit me. I washed my hair but didn't  dry it before Wanda was impatiently telling me to hurry up: the mess sat atop my head held up by a single scrunchie.

"Okay... Where do I start?" She asked me, looking like the cat that ate the canary. 

"Don't start," I stopped her with a raised palm. "It was a casual, one-time thing and I've no interest in pursuing that shit on the reg," I answered honestly. The fact that he was my teacher simultaneously worsened the situation and made me elated. But ultimately, I didn't want to risk the trouble that would come along with this mess. Besides, I had no feelings for the guy whatsoever. As I've said previously, it was just bad impulse control on some teenage hormone steroids.

"You're a strange one," Wanda's penetrating gaze made me shiver. "You live without a care in the world but at the same time, your mind is always all over the place. It is interesting."

"Uh, thanks? I guess?"

"I think we should try being friends," The witch remarked after a brief moment of awkward silence. I stared at her, dumbfounded. "Because of my powers, I can literally see through people and predict what they will do before they even think about doing it. With you, it's not like that," She explained, her Slavic accent making a full guest appearance.

"So...you want to be friends because I'm a fucking mess?" I couldn't help but feel a little offended. The occasional shitty decision aside, I didn't think of myself as that bad.

"I want to be friends because I like you," Wanda fondly rolled her eyes, standing up from the couch and motioning for me to follow. "Now let's get you to Tony or he'll blow a gasket. He's already insufferable as he is."

@another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem

[lune-hime]

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Tea Time #4

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

So these little Tea Times were written as little filler-memory chapters to place in between the main story line.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Freckles

↞♞♘↠

Jean sucked up his scattered feelings upon seeing you sitting in one of the library’s plush armchairs.

“Hey.” He called with feigned confidence as he rounded the corner of the last bookshelf before your resting place. He faltered a bit when his eyes met the ever stoic gaze of Levi. He was reclining in the chair opposite of you with a stack of documents in his lap.  You looked up from your book in slight surprise.

“Hey, I thought you left already.” Your statement was more of a perplexion as you regarded him gently.

“Yeah-um.” Jean started and furrowed his brow. His eyes darted back over to Levi who had quietly resigned back to his paperwork. His gaze fell back to yours, a look of worry spreading on your face. He bit his lip to contain the fountain of baggage that threatened to spill.

“Don’t worry about it-it’s fine.” He cleared his throat and nodded, trying to look convincingly forgettable. Your eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I’ll see you at the meeting later, Levi.” You said with a small smile in his direction. His head rose and he nodded once.

“Alright.” He replied curtly. Jean observed the faint blush on your cheeks and the delicateness of the captain’s features as he looked at you. Your crush had blossomed full force and it was sweetly sickening to Jean to watch you flutter secretly under Levi’s actions.

“I said it was nothing.” Jean grumbled as you slapped your book shut and came to his side.

“Bullshit.” You chided as you walked side by side out of the library. Once you were out in the hall you backed him against the wall. You stood in his personal space bubble. The way he towered over you didn’t threaten you at all. It never had.

“ Fine. I was wondering if you would come with me?” He asked, his voice shaking minutely as he tried to keep his weakness from seeping through the cracks of his pride. You tilted your head to the side in a fond grin.

“Of course.” You replied sweetly.

“Let me just drop my book off and change my shoes.” You said as you began walking again. Jean trailed behind you like a puppy, hands fidgeting behind his back accompanied by periodic sighs.

“Are the others coming too?” You asked as you slipped on your everyday sandals after having discarded your reading material. Jean didn’t answer for a moment and only the clap of the soles of your shoes against the wooden floor met your ears.

“No, I just wanted it to be the two of us. If that’s alright.” He confessed. When you stood up straight, the apprehension he had been feeling washed over you. You hummed in agreement.

“Okay.” You smiled knowingly. You gave his arm a few warm strokes as you both headed into the hall.

The walk through the village fields was lovely. The June sun was pleasant on your exposed skin and the lush flowers tickled your ankles along the stone path. The two of you stuck to the outskirts of the village until you reached a grove of trees that opened up into the eternal resting place for soldiers and villagers alike.

Jean was on autopilot as he deftly led you through the rows of graves to reach your destination. The modest stone may have represented a life no longer present, but it was teeming with life. Little daisies had sprouted in the soil where you and Jean had planted them earlier that year. Rollie pollies skittered from their hiding places within the crevasses of the engraved cadet’s name when the two of you leaned down to be closer to him.

“Hi Marco.” You greeted with the same warmth as the summer air.

“Hey Marco.” Jean echoed with a melancholy tenderness to his tone. You watched with a pang in your heart as his hands began shaking around the muffin in his hold. Eventually he placed it down in front of the stone and reached in his pocket for his matchbook. His fingers quivered when he failed to strike fire into the wooden stick. After another unsuccessful attempt, you grasped his hands.

“Let me.” You offered gently and he released his grip. You struck the match and lit the candle embedded in the plush top of the muffin.

“Happy birthday.” Jean spoke, finally giving into his bubbling grief and letting his voice crack.

“Happy birthday, Marco.” You said as your own voice began to falter. You scooched closer to Jean and embraced him from the side. Your arms wrapped around his shaking back. You were sure that if you hadn’t held him, he would have crumbled into particles as fine as the moss that grew along Marco’s grave.

It had been many months but to Jean the loss didn’t sting any less. It only grew as the grass greened and the days lengthened. He kept his profound grief bottled up compactly in a bottle closed tightly with a wax seal. But if he didn’t rip that seal off soon, it would implode and pierce his organs with glass.

“Y/N.” He called through choked sobs. You responded by rubbing a ginger hand along his back and shoulders.

“I-” He hiccuped, taking the hand you began to wrap around his.

“I loved him.” His wobbly confession was like Jean was standing on the precipice of a tidal wave. The reality of his feelings had always resided within him but felt cemented now that he had professed them to you and the earth. Every flutter he felt when Marco blessed him with his sheepish smile, every blush he hid when Marco went out of his way to help him out with the tiniest of tasks, every drop of happiness that boy had made Jean feel came crashing down on him and opened the floodgates he had so desperately tried to suppress.

“I know.” You said. Tears began cascading down your cheeks at the broken heart that bubbled from Jean’s chest. Jean never cried in front of you, it was shocking but not unwelcomed. You had known he had harbored an affection for the deceased cadet for as long as Jean had probably accepted it himself. You observed their obliviously magnetic interactions, supported him silently, and waited patiently for him to tell you about it. No matter how late he decided he was ready to.

“I really loved him.” He cried, reaching one hand out to run his fingers over Marco’s name with utter fragility.

“I was a fucking coward and couldn’t tell him how much I loved him. And now I never can.” He wailed.

“Shhh-Hey.” You released him for a brief moment to turn him towards you. You took his wet cheeks between your hands.

“You’re not a coward. It takes immense courage to realize you love someone, no matter who they are.” You consoled.

“I know he loved you too, Jean. So much.” You smiled sadly as you wiped the next wave of incoming tears from his face with your thumbs. “It was easy to see with the way his face lit up whenever you walked into the room, whenever you sat next to one another for meals, whenever you went into town together.”

“You both made each other’s lives better even without voicing your true feelings. Because your feelings were woven into every action you showed one another. Just because he is gone doesn’t mean what you felt for one another is. That will always be with you.” You said.

“Okay?” You affirmed and hiked the sleeve of your cardigan over your palm to rid his face of the salty sea as he sniffled. He held your comforting gaze for a moment before nodding and reaching out to hug you. You returned the gesture immediately, keeping him afloat as he swam through his grief. When you felt his shaking grow less intense you patted him on the back.

“Lie down.” You instructed and brought him to rest his head on your lap. You ran your fingers through his hair as he stretched out his legs in the long grass. Jean played with the strap of your sandals absentmindedly as he gazed at Marco’s grave. You sat in peaceful silence for a while.

“Jeanie?” You called to make sure he was listening. He hummed against your leg.

“Do you wanna know the moment I knew you were into Marco?” You asked tentatively, hoping the story would brighten his mood. Jean nodded silently.

“Remember when I accidentally walked into the boy’s shower room?” Your sentence caused you to giggle at the memory.

“How could I forget.” He said, a bit less sniffly than before. You smiled in nostalgia as you played with a randomly curly lock of Jean’s honey tresses.

“Well after you brought me out into the hall…and I stupidly turned back around, I saw you peeping at his package for longer than a guy normally would.” Your chuckle turned into a squeak when Jean pinched your leg. To your happiness he was smiling through reddened cheeks.

“Maybe you really are a pervert.” He snickered, damp eyes shining with teasing.

“I couldn’t help it, it was the literal heat of the moment.” You countered and poked his sides. He squirmed in your lap and let out a groan of annoyance.

“Does that mean you saw mine?” Jean asked and pinned your arms at your side.

“I’ve blocked that out of my memory.” You assured and wiggled your sides to free yourself from his grip.

Another gentle silence encased the two of you. Your eyes fell to one of the daisies as it waved its petals delicately along with the rhythm of the wind.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Jean suddenly said. His tone was laced with sincerity as you looked down to meet his gaze.

“For peeping at Marco?” You cracked a half smile which made Jean huff in amusement.

“No, dumbass. For coming here with me. For letting me get all of this out. And for listening.” He said with a sincerity that blanketed your chest in warmth. “I’m not good with emotional stuff, that’s always been more of a you thing.”

“Anything for you, Jean.” You replied with a fond pat of his cheek. “I’m happy that you felt like you could express yourself with me.”

Then, the breeze lovingly blew puffs of warm and fuzzy kisses against both of your skin. You swore you could hear a faint laugh framed by freckles.

Christmas Blizzard

↞♞♘↠

“Fucking shit .” The captain cursed as he whipped his hand back. Puddle’s ears were pinned starkly to the back of his neck as he refused to let Levi bring him into the lab. Your head whipped up at the commotion and you blanched.

“I’m so sorry! I forgot to tell you he bites…” You cried and scurried over to the entrance. Your face was blasted with incoming snowflakes as you took the reins from Levi.

“No kidding.” Levi mumbled in annoyance as he moved to make way for your horse.

“Stop being an asshole to the captain.” You chided. Puddle’s ears immediately perked at your presence and he nuzzled you softly as you led him into the loading bay of Hange’s laboratory. It was definitely not a place fit for horses, but you couldn’t have left them out to freeze in the bitter cold. This was just one of the many inconveniences the sudden snow storm had just created.

Your ears turned red to match your frost kissed cheeks as you realized your use of profanity. You really needed to stop swearing around your superiors. Your loose lips were one of the unfortunate side products of being raised by Oma. You tied Puddle to a nearby railing next to Levi’s horse.

“Sorry to drag you into all of this, Levi.” You exhaled, face stinging from the brutal winter chill. You glanced around the familiar laboratory that suddenly felt so vast and cold.

“Yeah well, neither of us knew it would get this shitty so quickly.” Levi commented. He grimaced at the pickled titan samples that were stored in the formaldehyde pods as he strolled to Hange’s office area.

“Still, I appreciate that you tried to come here and warn me.” You thanked him with a small smile.

“Thank Erwin. I had nothing else going on.” He said blandly and waved your gratuity off. That seemed like the closest thing to a ‘you’re welcome’ you were going to get. It was late into the night of Christmas Eve. After partaking in some festivities with your friends, Erwin had called you to his office in need of assistance. Apparently one of the scouts observed a strange smoke emanating from Hange’s laboratory and since the scientist herself was on a supply run in the city, the next point of contact was her pupil.

You had spent all evening trying to fix the damn incubator, knowing that if you let it smoke out it would devastate Hange to lose her precious samples. Unbeknownst to you a winter storm had been brewing; an intense blizzard that threatened to lock all inhabitants of the area indoors. Erwin had dispatched Levi to come collect you before the impending weather came, however the storm arrived a bit ahead of predictions and turned a couple hour job into a snowy expedition.

“How long do you think we’ll have to wait this out?” You asked apprehensively as you began to get back to work on your project. You heard Levi sigh as he plopped down at Hange’s desk. He reclined in her chair and propped his feet up on her workspace littered with journals.

“I don’t know. Looks like we might be here for a while, though. So take your time with whatever you need to fix, I guess.” He hummed and settled himself comfortably into the leather chair.

For a bit, you let the silence linger as you tinkered with the machine. Mechanic whirls and the sharp stabbing of snowflakes against the lab’s walls filled the lack of conversation.

“Why does four eyes have so many body parts lying around?” Levi piped up with a disgusted tone. You looked at him over his shoulder to see him lazily glancing around her experimental area.

“She likes to dissect them to see how close their anatomy is to humans.” You answered with a chuckle. “It looks a little bit like its out of a horror story, right?”

Levi hummed in agreement and met your eyes briefly. As you got to know him better, you realized the fear people harbored of him really was misplaced. Unless you were a titan, that is. You came to find he actually loved to talk, he would just let silence fill the space when he didn’t know what to talk about.  

“And?”

“...And?” You echoed unsure of his question.

“Are they close to humans?” He pressed with a slight interest laced in his nonchalant tone.

“Yeah, actually. Besides the absence of reproductive organs they are pretty much anatomically identical.” You explained as you flipped a couple switches unsuccessfully.

“So the fact they can’t shit or reproduce is significant right?” Levi wondered aloud as he peeped at one of Hange’s journals. Your giggle caught him by surprise and he felt a flutter in his chest.

“Yes, you could say that.” You agreed. The way he talked when he let himself crawl out of his shell never ceased to amuse you.

“It’s weird to believe it's Christmas Eve.” You commented, changing the subject casually.

Levi just hummed. Another icy silence filled the chamber as you made (hopefully) progress towards getting the incubator up and running again. One of the horses snorted and you were suddenly aware that you and the captain weren’t the only two living beings in the room.

“So what’s your horse’s name?” You asked in curiosity.

“Horse.” Levi’s reply was quick and curt.

“Really?” You asked in disbelief and looked back at him.

“It doesn’t have a name.”

“It?��� You narrowed your eyes.

“She.” He corrected.

“Why would I name it when I just use it for transportation?” Levi shrugged dismissively. You pursed your lips.

“Because she’s just as alive and capable of feeling as you are, Captain.” You declared with a pointed glare.

“Maybe even more.” You mumbled playfully and Levi’s brow furrowed, questioning if he heard you right. When he didn’t quip back, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“Dandelion.”

“Huh?”

“She looks like a Dandelion. So that’s her name now.” You grinned in satisfaction and got back to work. Levi regarded you in silent curiosity. The more time the two of you spent together, the more warm he felt by your sweet personality, quirks and all. Now every time he would regard the creature he would think of you and your dorky name for the animal.

The faint chiming of the HQ’s clocktower through the snow’s assault signaled it was midnight.

“Oh, a Christmas Miracle!” You called cheerily once the bells had ceased. The incubator hummed to life, the light and warmth from the engine buzzing brightly. You breathed a sigh of relief and placed your tools down. You got up and stretched your arms, turning to look at your companion.

“And Merry Christmas, Levi.” You grinned, the corners of your eyes crinkling.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas.” He nodded without much enthusiasm.

“Do...you usually celebrate?” You asked after sensing his lack of excitement.

“Not really, but my squad forces me to celebrate. At least the birthday part.” He explained and your eyes widened.

“Christmas is your birthday?” The innocence of your gasp made Levi want to smile. He nodded once more.

“Oh my-Happy Birthday then!” You said excitedly. Levi was consistently amazed by the eagerness of those he knew and strangers alike to celebrate his birthday. He never got the hype.

“Thanks.” He replied with a gentleness to his features. Your excitement towards him had melted away the ice that usually froze over his expressiveness.

“When we get back tomorrow I’ll make you and your squad some Noel tea I received from home to celebrate!” You mused as you came to sit down at an empty chair on the other side of the desk.

“I-if that is, you want to.” You added quickly, a faint blush creeping onto your cheeks after inviting yourself to something you weren’t even a part of. Oh, believe me, did Levi ever want to.

“I want to.” He replied as the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

[elaboratedbee]

Bigby x Reader

Request For: @awfullest​

Rating: E

Summary: The Mundies think that there are five love languages, and Bigby’s going to need to learn how to speak every single one of them if he’s going to get you to understand how he feels.

Word Count: 4623

Note: i loved this prompt!! i thought it would be super cute to come up with all the ways bigby could try and get the reader’s attention without being obvious :’) big thank you to @punxgal​ for teaching my dumbass what a taglist is, so i started one! just hit me with a message if you want to be added (or just want to rant about bigby lmao) ily guys!!

Taglist: @punxgal​

Five Ways To Say I Love You

 “You know, the Mundies think that there are five love languages,” Snow informed him, watching with a faint smile of amusement as Bigby quite literally banged his head against the wall of the Business Office. While usually she didn’t enjoy dispensing love advice; after all, she was a very busy woman, watching Bigby experience any kind of emotion, let alone love, was more than worth it. His pining was probably the most amusing thing that had happened in Fabletown in a long while, so she was happy to be his confident. 

“And I can think of five ways to tell Mundies how that sounds fucking stupid,” came Bigby’s gruff response, but he did finally move away from the wall and come around to join her at the desk, which she could only assume was Bigby Speak for her to continue. 

“Words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time, and physical touch.” After Snow had revealed them, the wolf repeated the list under his breath as he committed them to his memory, before he huffed in frustration. 

“Nothing I do works! Nothing I say comes out right and they’re just so –”

“ – perfect, I know,” Snow cut him off, more than familiar with this particular rant, “maybe if you ever did something about it and made it clear that you were interested, they might actually respond positively. You’ve been pining for months, Bigby! It’s getting embarrassing.” His scowl was lost on her, as she was more than used to dealing with an angry Bigby and his frustration at his own love life certainly wasn’t the worst she had dealt with. 

“Fuck off, it’s not pining,” Bigby growled at her, as he produced a cigarette from his pocket and placed it between his lips. Snow didn’t bother to argue the point, because she could tell by the long and hopeless drag he took of his cigarette that the Sheriff already knew that it was true. “I’ll try that Mundy thing.” Bigby admitted after a long time, before he nodded at her and stalked out of the office to patrol the streets of Fabletown, or whatever else he got up to whenever there wasn’t some major emergency that he contacted her about. Well, that was about as much thanks as she could expect. She sighed, and rolled her eyes as she watched him retreat. Men. 

Words Of Affirmation

Bigby was head over heels for you. Since Snow had become the Deputy Mayor, there wasn’t much about Fabletown that hadn’t improved. Not everything had changed drastically of course, and there wasn’t a night that went by on the job that the wolf didn’t wish that things could be better for all of the Fables that lived here, but he could console himself with the fact that they were getting better. Slowly was better than not at all, after all. He supposed that he should apply that same philosophy to his feelings for his current infatuation, since he did think that he was making slow progress. You had taken a job casting spells and creating glamours on the thirteenth floor almost half a year ago, now, and it had taken barely any time at all for Bigby to realise that you were everything he had ever wanted.

Every so often, a crime occurred that could benefit from the help of someone who was proficient in magic, such as covering up the scene of a particularly noticeable crime from Mundies or assisting with the aftermath. Bigby had recently found himself running to you every single time a matter like this befell, with the whispers and teasing from some of the other staff at the Business Office being more than worth the chance to spend so many prolonged hours working with you and witnessing your gift. This often came with the additional bonus of being able to show you that he was made the Sheriff for more than his strength. Most of the Fables thought that he was given the position purely due to his violent streak, so to be able to display his prowess at investigating crimes made a nice change.

Tonight, was one of those nights and the two of you had ventured out to cast a spell over a building that had been set on fire by an arsonist. Although the fire had been combatted with the help of some water nymphs, the plumes of black smoke obscuring the horizon were sure to pique the interest of any Mundies within a couple of miles radius. It struck the Sheriff that now was the perfect opportunity to use the first of Snow’s techniques as he walked you back to the Business Office, enjoying the pleasure of hearing you rant and rave about howof all of the possible crimes, arson was certainly the most pointless and dangerous. Bigby loved how passionate you were, how you could probably form a strong and justified opinion on almost any topic. He loved the way you used your hands and gesticulated wildly without even realising, like you were always casting a spell. It certainly felt like you had cast one over him, after all, he was constantly thinking about you. The first thought on his mind in the morning, and the person running through his mind whenever he attempted to sleep.

The two of you reached the business office and entered the deathtrap elevator. He took the opportunity to employ his first method as you had fallen silent when pressing the button for the thirteenth floor, before hitting the one for Bigby’s Office, too. The wolf felt a spark of happiness as he noted how well you knew him, his routines and habits. Although he hadn’t known you for very long, it was obvious that the Sorcerer was the kind of person that noticed the little things, that cared for each and every person that came into the Business Office looking for help, whether it be a standard glamour or something with far higher stakes. The dedication to their job was something that Bigby could very much relate to, and the fact that you often complimented the Sheriff on his duty to Fabletown made his heart warm in his chest – not many people did.

The only problem was, every time Bigby had tried to compliment you back, he failed miserably. Either it came out completely wrong, or it didn’t come out at all. But this time, it would be different. He had used the entire walk to plan what he was going to say, and now was the time to implement it. As the elevator rose, Bigby removed his cigarette from his mouth and met your eyes, trying not to focus on your mesmerising beauty. “Thanks,” he managed to get out, his voice rough, “I couldn’t have done it without you. You’re the best Sorcerer I know.” The words were genuine, even if they were a little bit gruff and came out a little fast, and the Sheriff internally celebrated. Finally. He watched closely as your eyes lit up with joy and pride and you stood up just a little bit taller than before. It had made every bit of stress worth it, in Bigby’s eyes.

“Thanks, Bigby. I’d say you were the best Sheriff I know, but you’re sort of the only Sheriff I know,” you teased him with a smile, and leaned forward to punch his shoulder gently. God, everything seemed to come so easily to you, he noted. The way you spoke and joked with him, managing to drag a smile out of him even on his darkest days, the way you touched him so casually. Perfect. The elevator doors slid open, and you flashed him one more bright smile before you were gone.

Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, Bigby slumped against the elevator wall and luxuriated in the feeling for a long moment. On some level, he could recognise that it was mildly insane to feel such euphoria over such a minute interaction, one that you probably wouldn’t even remember when tomorrow arrived, but he didn’t care. The elevator arrived at the Business Office and the door opened to reveal Bluebeard standing there. His eyes narrowed when he saw the Sheriff, and his mouth opened, but he was cut off as the wolf walked right past him, dropping his cigarette at the man’s feet.

“Fuck off, Bluebeard.”

Acts Of Service

“Bigby, you really don’t have to do this,” your voice came from behind him as continued his way down the hall, carrying the large wooden desk in his arms. Considering your hard work, it was really only a matter of time before they got promoted, and Bigby was incredibly pleased that your talent was being recognised. Along with the promotion came a brand-new office, that Bigby was currently help you move your things into.

“It’s no trouble, really,” he insisted once again and that was telling the truth. The desk was really no problem for the wolf to manage, but the praise made it feel even lighter. You followed along behind him with a box of personal affects, pictures and stationery, along with a little cactus that, to quote you, ‘even you couldn’t kill.’

They entered the office, which, like most of the Business Office, was somewhat in a state of disrepair. The lighting was dim, the window dirty and the paint a faded, peeling yellow. Even still, he watched you regard it as if it were a silver palace, a spark in your eyes. Unlike Bigby, you were an optimist, always able to see the bright side of life and the best in people. It was a refreshing change to the wolf, who very rarely had a reason to give people the benefit of the doubt in his line of work. You saw the best in him, having never been afraid of him for a second, and throwing him a bemused look whenever he tried to pull his ‘big, bad wolf’ act around you.

“Thanks for helping me,” he felt a hand on his arm and the warm pressure grounded him, causing him to meet your eyes, “there was no way I could’ve dragged that heavy ass desk down this hallway. You’re handy, you know that?” The compliment was strange, and Bigby huffed at the word. Handy. There was something almost domestic about it, which caused a warmth to spread through his chest.  

“Yeah, well, I’m only downstairs if you need me,” Bigby reassured you, the feeling of being needed satisfying the more primal parts of his nature. To be able to help you, provide for you, was what the wolf inside him desperately craved.

“Good to know you’re not just a pretty face,” you teased him with a wink and Bigby almost choked on his own spit. He felt hot under the collar all of a sudden and he cleared his throat before he was able to answer, much to his enchantment's clear amusement. Even though you were clearly fucking with him, the implication that you thought he was attractive was enough to imprint this very moment on his mind for what he was sure was the rest of all time.

“I’m a man of many talents,” the Sheriff managed to reply, his voice rich with sarcasm as he bumped his cigarette packet, making one shoot up out of the box. He raised it to his lips, quirking his eyebrows at the other Fable as means of asking for permission, a very rare honour that was not often bestowed upon. You nodded their approval and the wolf sparked up, taking a deep drag. After all, he was fairly sure that if he didn’t find something to focus his thoughts on, he was going to kiss you here and now. The way that you were leaning against the desk, the one that he had moved for you, was testing his self-control in ways that he hadn’t expected. What he wouldn’t give to just push you over the desk and –

“I think it just needs a new coat of paint,” your voice (thankfully) interrupted his thoughts before they could spiral any further. Bigby grunted and exhaled his smoke.

“I can help with that.”

Receiving Gifts and Quality Time

It had taken him forever to find, but Bigby didn’t plan to admit that to anyone else. He held the cassette tape in his hands, remembering so clearly the first time you had showed him one. One late night, he had caught you leaving the Woodlands as he approached, bruised and tired after a long day. He wasn’t particularly happy that you were here at such a late hour, you work ethic concerning at times; it made him worry that you didn’t get enough rest, which was more than ironic coming from him. Despite how battered he must have looked, it didn’t stop the smile from breaking out on your face at the sight of him, and it made his long day seem just a little less long. As you walked through the glass doors, Bigby noted a strange device in your hands, with wires that followed all the way up to your head.

“What the fuck is that?” He asked, amused at the sight of it. It was cold on the street, but the Sheriff was more than happy to linger outside for a little more time as long as it meant he got to speak to you.

“It’s a Walkman,” you informed him brightly, and it was immediately clear from your tone that this little device brought you no shortage of joy, “it plays cassette tapes.” The wolf had some vague recollection of what a cassette tape was, although he had never heard of the “Walkman,” so he could gather that it had something to do with music at least. His brows furrowed as he tried to decipher the little thing, when suddenly you were stepping forward into his space. With bated breath, Bigby tensed as you pulled off their headphones and held them up between the both of you, leaning close.

Don't leave me this way.

The music played and provided him with something to focus his mind on and flood his senses with, which was a welcome release now that your scent was flooding his nose so distractingly. When you were this close, Bigby could see every little detail of your face, and he found himself committing every last detail to his memory. The faint scar you had just above your eyebrow that he so desperately wanted to know the story behind, the permanent imprint on your lower lip that you had left from biting it so much, every shade in your eyes.

I can't survive, I can't stay alive.

You met his eyes, clearly waiting to hear his judgement, but Bigby didn’t offer one, wanting to prolong the moment of intimacy for as long as he could get away with it. He couldn’t help it, after all, having you so close to him was intoxicating. It was a feeling of pride and accomplishment to him, that you had chosen to share this part of yourself  with him.

Without your love, no baby.

“I like it,” he admitted, although what he really liked was the way his approval made a smile emerge on your face, illuminated by the soft yellow lights of the Woodland. The simple praise was enough, although Bigby wished that he could find better words, more impressive ones. You had a way of making him feel like that way; of making him feel that for all of his inadequacies, he was enough. It was a more addicting feeling than smoking his damn cigarettes.

Don't leave me this way.

Bigby knew that if he stayed stood there for much longer, he would inevitably do or say something that was going to get him trouble, so he cleared his throat and stepped back, watching you click a little button the stop the cassette from playing. You looked almost disappointed that you had to go, but it was late and cold, so Bigby was glad you would finally go home and get some rest. The song’s words came back to him as you bid him goodnight and retreated into the night, hailing a cab. Don’t leave me this way.

He didn’t want you to leave at all.

The Sheriff had laboured over finding the perfect gift for you after that, stopping by many Mundy places whenever he had a spare moment, or his work brought him close to the edge of Fabletown. Gently, he placed the cassette down on your desk, wrapped carefully by Snow after she had seen Bigby’s attempt at it and laughed outright.

Even better, it had become a habit of yours to sit side by side in his office every so often and listen to whatever song had become your recent obsession. He would listen to you talk about what made it good, or why you loved the band and enjoy your company much more than he enjoyed the songs themselves. It had been a long time since Bigby had done something just because he enjoyed it. Not to escape, or distract himself, or to forget, but something that made him grateful for the here and now. Sometimes, he was in a good mood and he offered his opinions, which slowly became more informed over time as you listened and asked for his favourites. Other times, he was exhausted and broken after a day of dealing with the worst that Fabletown had to offer, and he would sit in silence, letting the sound of your music and your voice wash over him. It was like the tide, eroding a jagged stone smooth, corroding away all of his edges and damaged parts so gently that he hardly even noticed.

Stepping back, the wolf smiled proudly to himself and propped a cigarette between his lips. This whole love languages thing was getting easier all the time.

Physical Touch

For all his success, this was certainly the one that Bigby was most nervous about. After all, he wasn’t exactly known for his ability to be gentle. A good chunk of the Fables probably thought that the Sheriff was directly synonymous with bruises and a ringing pain in their heads after he had used force to encourage them to comply with the law so many times.

The ballroom spread out before him, as picturesque and charming as it was every year. Bigby was so nervous that he regarded it more like a battlefield than a ballroom, the polished wood floor masking countless traps and landmines, the spinning and smiling Fables his enemies, waiting for him to slip up. The many twinkling lights gave the room an iridescent glow, but he felt like they were interrogation lights, his nerves rising in his stomach as he waited for you to arrive.

It had been the first year of the Remembrance Ball that Bigby had been the one to convince somebody else to go, considering he was usually the one to be dragged along so unwillingly by Snow. Not this year. This year, he was prepared. He had sacrificed his pride and given up far too many evenings to twirling around the Business Office with Snow once the building quietened at night and while he still lacked a fundamental sense of grace, he was now at least proficient enough that he wouldn’t stand on your feet. For the first time in centuries, Bigby had sought out a brand new suit, one that wasn’t as terribly dated as his previous one, although it was still a simple and understated design. Goddammit, Bigby had even been extra careful on the job the evening before, carefully avoiding taking any hits to the face, so that he wouldn’t be bruised and bleeding. There was nothing else he could do; he was ready.

At least, he thought he was. But no amount of preparation could have prepared him for seeing you walk through the ornate doors. He imagined that the feeling he experienced must have been akin to being struck by lightning, as it travelled through his entire body within the span of a second and paralysed him. It completely broke his brain trying to process how completely and utterly perfect you looked when you were dressed to the nines and he suddenly understood why the other Fables enjoyed this damned dance so much. For in that instant, Bigby would have done it all over again, a million times and lived a million miserable lives just to be given the chance to dance with you tonight.

To his delight, your eyes scanned the crowd and settled on him, so he lifted his glass as a means of greeting, beginning to cross the dance floor so that the two of you could meet in the middle. He quickly lost sight of you in the crowd, but eventually, he felt a tap on his shoulder. “Well, you clean up nice,” the voice was familiar and teasing, which made Bigby feel hot under the collar.

“I could say the same about you,” he returned easily, gesturing to your elaborate clothing. The Sheriff wanted to vocalise it so much better. You looked positively divine, to the point where the other Fables within a visible radius had their eyes stuck on you, either jealous or starstruck. Bigby was overcome with the overwhelming desire to make sure they all knew who you had come for and it was the push he needed to step forward and take you in his eyes. He watched your eyes widen slightly, clearly surprised that Bigby had been so forward and so confident in leading you into an, albeit very simple, dance. All those evenings were certainly paying off.

Emboldened, Bigby made a second and better attempt, “you’re breath-taking. Nobody can take their eyes off of you.” Watching the blush break out on your face, coupled by your closeness, was enough to make Bigby feel that he was in heaven. Your scent was in his nose, even sweeter tonight with whatever scent you were wearing, and you were safe in his arms, his and only his, even if it was just for tonight. Physical touch, he thought, was quite possibly his favourite love language in the world.

It wasn’t enough, he could never get enough of you. He wondered if he would ever be fully satiated, surely not when felt like he wanted to drown in you. Pulling you close, he could feel how rapid your heartbeat was in your chest, and a smile crossed his face. “I didn’t take you for a dancer,” the surprise was evident in your tone, and not at all unjustified. After all, the Sheriff had refused to dance at this damn thing for quite literally centuries, so he supposed he was equally responsible for the stares they were receiving as you spun on, unphased.

“Like I told you, I’m a man of many talents,” Bigby repeated the sentiment from one of your older conversations, which earned him a laugh that he could feel resonate through his body, which was even better than simply hearing it.

“Alright, alright, be all mysterious, then,” you didn’t push him for a real answer any further, which filled him with a sense of relief, because he was certain that once he admitted to begging Snow for lessons, he was never going to live it down. His reputation as the big, bad wolf was already sure to take a large enough hit just from the fact that he had now been seen by almost every Fable dancing, so he really didn’t think it would be able to survive that on top of it all. Slowly, he could feel you relax into his arms as one song turned into two, then three. The orchestra played beautifully, but after a few songs, he felt a murmur in his ear.

“Man, they should have let us pick the music for this thing,” you joked quietly, as not to offend anyone in the near proximity, and Bigby fought to prevent himself from laughing too loudly and causing them to gain any more attention. The novelty of seeing the Sheriff dance had mostly faded by now, the whispers and comments over with for the most part, so he was eager to retain your low profile. He nodded his agreement, struck by how pleasant he found it that you were so similar to him in some ways and different in others. You were not the type to be overly enamoured by the illusion of glamour that the Fables created for Remembrance every year, but more the type to focus on the simple and understated beauties of everyday life. That, Bigby thought, was something truly rare and special and he intended to never let it escape him.

Bigby knew that he wanted to be with you forever. For the first time, he could imagine waking up next to someone every day and falling asleep with them at night. He wanted to be the person on your mind at all hours of the day and the one to comfort you after a terrible day or listen to your stupid jokes after a good one. Bigby wanted to come home to music blaring out of the tape player, instead of the silence and damp of his apartment. He wanted to part ways not just with a smile when you shared the elevator ride to the Business Office, but with a kiss. God, he was head over heels, and no matter how he said it, any one of the godforsaken five ways, he no longer cared. He just had to say it. He needed you to know.

You moved your hand from his shoulder to straighten his tie with a fond smile and that was it for Bigby. Pulling you close, one of his rough hands came up to cover yours, pressing your hand against his chest so that you could probably feel his heartbeat, rapid and strong. The other cupped your jaw, his touch gentler than he ever thought a monster could be capable of. He watched a thousand different emotions flicker through your eyes as he leaned in, too fast for even the Sheriff to be able to process and recognise them all. Your lips met and everything just stopped. It was like Bigby’s mind went completely blank of thoughts and all he could do was feel. His arms tightened around you as he tried to put all he had into it – every last word that he could never find, every smile that he had wished were a kiss, every song that he would never be able to hear and not think of you and this very moment.

Eventually, you pulled back from one another, but not far. You stayed close, your foreheads pressed together as you recovered, breathing together. “The Mundies say that there are five ways to show someone you love them,” Bigby informed you, after a long moment of silence, not entirely sure why he had said it.

“That’s so fucking stupid,” you replied, your voice much breathier than it had been a minute ago, and Bigby grinned widely at how closely your response had echoed his own. It was stupid, and he didn’t care. He didn’t care because it had worked, and he had you in his arms and he had kissed you, and he was never going to let you go. You began to sway again, finding your way back to the music and to reality, as much as he wanted to stay wrapped up in that moment forever.

It didn’t matter how many ways there were, Bigby thought, because he was going to discovery every, damn one.

[bbnibini]

PSISLY: An Obey Me!CYOA – forty-six🔖

[ Burn the letter ]

(Mammon's affection reached MAX. You cannot raise his parameters any further.)

{ OPEN STATUS : YES

> approved > displaying capture targets

Mammon: 100♡/100♡ Satan: 85♡/100♡ Barbatos: 0♡/100♡ Lucifer: 5♡/100♡

CLOSE STATUS : YES >approved }

The piece of paper that brought you together only caused him hurt. Its scented pages filled with words of love that made you fall for him was nothing but an illusion. Your love was blind to the sides of Mammon that didn't fit the letter he had penned, forcing yourself to believe any semblance of feelings you had for him were true. Is it really love if you closed your eyes to the truth and believed everything had been perfect? Do you really love someone if you could only accept their good sides?

Such thoughts crossed your mind then, simmering there until it reached its boiling point---a love governed by ideals and strived for perfection. If that really is the love that you feel for him

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Then screw your ridiculous standards! But it hadn't been the case at all! Anger bubbled up inside you and spilled the remnants of your long-spent self-control. You wondered how your "wonderful boyfriend" had made such ridiculous conclusions. How many I love yous would it get him to understand that you didn't give a crap about the letter at all? It was him and had always been him! If your feelings for him started with an unexpected letter in your locker, then so be it. But you were free to fall in love with the real him! You wanted to shake him by the shoulders and shout at him a loud, drawn out,

"DON'T PUT WORDS IN MY FUCKING MOUTH YOU STUPIDMAMMONNNNNN!!"

…and kiss him while XXXX XXX XXX so he would fucking get that tattooed in his stupidmammon brain!!!! When you angrily texted Asmo and Levi about your boyfriend's genius conclusions, their seemingly endless spams of the laughing Blacjak stickers were already telling.

Despite your friends' best attempts to comfort you, you were inconsolable. Incensed, you held the letter near the fire and muttered stupidMammon under your breath in rapid succession, seeing it burn into ashes.

You put your phone down and groaned. You knew deep down that it wasn't good to hold onto your anger, but where the hell will you project that volatile piece of angst when every bone in your body is screaming "I want Mammon" both in a murderous and romantic fashion? You were pretty sure he was sulking right now, and any word you'll tell him won't ever register until he's calmed himself down. Well, you needed to calm yourself too, especially after you noticed that your fingers were actually burning from the fire.

Ow, was your delayed reaction, gingerly turning off the gas lamp and collecting the letter's ashes.

Wait a minute. You just had an idea.

By the time Asmo and Levi came to your room offering "tribute", they were greeted by your familiar figure laughing maniacally while looking at a pile of ashes. Judging from their nonchalant reactions, they seemed to have been already used to it. A tub of ice cream was planted on your cheek as Levi's attempt to snap you back to your senses.

"What flavour?"

"Both of them."

"Spoon."

A spoonful of mint choco ice cream was shoved in your mouth by a blank-faced Levi. The sweet and cool sensation on your tongue made you moan in happiness. Delightful!

"The Old One has finally calmed down, huh. Asmo, it's your turn." (Levi)

"Yay~ makeover time!~"

An equally cool gel was rubbed on your face, relaxing the remaining tense muscles in your body. Asmo seemed to delight on pampering you, smearing more products on your skin until your cheeks and your upper arms and legs were soft and supple as a cherub's butt.

Your nightly meetings with Asmo and Levi usually had a topic of interest. It was a universal truth in your friendship circle however that any enemy of yours is an enemy of both of them as well. It didn't matter the reason or the absurdity of your complaints. In pajama nights, it's always your ex who's evil and Lucifer who's unfair. Logic is literally thrown out the window in favour of satisfying all of your ids and egoistic desires. Saying that, it was rare on your part to initiate pajama nights on your own, as Asmo is its usual host, and his fling for the night or a completely clueless Solomon or Lucifer were your usual topics of hostility. Levi uses pajama nights as an excuse to rave about his favourite anime this season and was therefore banned from saying the word unless necessary™. Mammon was usually an avoided topic as well because your biased ass will side with the "enemy". Well fuck your usual. You've got a big ass target on his back and you're not afraid to shoot him (or maul him on the ground and have your way with him, whatever works). You realised your angry-horny highs were lingering within you so you calmed it down with another spoonful of ice cream.

"Fuck Mammon." you began your "meeting" with eloquence. Your two friends agreed by repeating your statement with malice only equalling your own.

"A question," Asmodeus raised his hand, pointing to the pile of ashes on your table. "That isn't Mammon, isn't it?"

"I wish." you rolled your eyes and pouted. "As stupid and dense as he is sometimes, I still love him. I brought both of you here today because I actually need your help."

"Just so you know, my arm strength isn't the best--"

"We're not burying bodies today, Levi."

"We're not?"

"I want him alive, Asmo…" you corrected. "...for now."

The two of them made sounds of affirmation. You spoke again. "I want to seduce him."

"Ooh~ How exciting!"

"S-seduce?!"

"We don't enter relationships to play house, sweetie." Levi threw a pepperoni at you upon your retort, causing you to giggle. "Joking aside, I was thinking of a public declaration of love! The more embarrassed he will get, the more he won't forget how much I love him, won't he?"

"How heavy~"

"Kinda creepy, dude…"

"Hey! I thought you're on my side!"

Asmo turned to the pile of ashes again and frowned. "And how is your public declaration of love related to your victim's ashes?"

"Oh! I was thinking of making it a good luck charm for him for the final exams!"

"How heavy~"

"C-creepy…"

"It's the letter. IT'S THE LETTER'S ASHES, GUYS."

Consulting both of them on making the good luck charm was the right choice. Levi's amazing at sewing while Asmo's sense for aesthetics was unparalleled. After arguing about the designs and the materials back and forth, the three of you finally agreed on one design. As they have dreaded, you only enlisted their help for them to teach you how to make the good luck charm yourself. No amount of their friendly reminders of your precious errors and sewing disasters intimidated you enough to consider probably asking for their help. If you wanted to win Mammon's heart back, you wanted to do it on your own! Time was limited however and so was the rift between you and Mammon growing further and further each day. You attempted to make peace with him despite his frequent attempts to avoid you, never losing your heart and staying close to your goals. You were thankful for Asmo's and Levi's undying support as if not for them, you would have started doubting yourself and charging through without considering Mammon's feelings. The least you could do is listen to him, even if you didn't agree with how he perceived your relationship.

Studying was done with the twins--Belphie's sleepy but academically inclined inputs helpful in answering the reviewers Satan prepared for you firsthand. It was a farfetched goal, but you wanted to top the exams and confess ala T☆kimeki Memorial under some big ass tree or maybe in an abandoned lighthouse. And going by the game's ridiculously high standards, no anime waifu or husbando would ever date a dumbass. If you want a CG event, top the exam, dammit! Forget your social life and hit the books! After all, Mammon looked a lot like your favourite capture target on the second installment. You wanted to look at the bright sides of your fight and start planning an otome-inspired way to end this pet project while you're at it. If not, you'd end up crying after Mammon rejects you for the nth time this week.

You swore you're trying to forget that already.  T_T

It wasn't like you weren't trying to text him either. It's just that he often leaves you on read or just spams you with nonsensical emojis. You attempted to send some noods once (his favourite hell-sauce flavour), but he only accepted your food and awkwardly tried to brush you off to the point that he almost ignored you. He would blush when you told him I love you, and would even look conflicted when he tried pushing you away, but in the end his stubbornness always wins. If he wasn't so cute when he's sulking, you would have already caused him bodily harm. You lied. You already karate chopped his ass a few times in your head. The several other times, you were doing…things to him.

After about 3 days, you managed to finish the good luck charm, which was actually good timing since tonight, RAD was holding a bonfire dance to commemorate the conclusion of the school festival. You had a vague recollection of the event being quite fun, but you were too tired from council work and too stressed over making up with Mammon to notice. He still had most of his stuff in your bedroom so you surmised that he got too embarrassed to tell you he wasn't angry anymore and probably, just probably, he realised how ridiculous his claims were especially after how your affections only intensified (and became all the more embarrassing) after your fight.

You began shamelessly bragging about him at random, and even hired a cheering squad (with you as their center) for Beel's fangol game. Contrary to their expectations however, you weren't cheering for the actual player himself, but one of his brothers watching on the bleachers.  

"That's my boyfriend over there! Look at him spectating! You're doing great, sweetie!♡"

The amount of angry Blacjak stickers he spammed you on your inbox was adorable. Your three days of Vitamin Mammon deficiency had finally caused you some intense withdrawal symptoms. Every demon in the vicinity received a hug. Even the angels weren't safe. A flustered Luke was your victim at breakfast. While Simeon's unsettling calm and soothing laughter accompanied you at lunch. At some point you felt like you hugged Lord Diavolo as well, because the day after, you were writing hundreds and hundreds of pages of reflection letters in Lucifer's study. Mammon had been its frequent victim of course, so most of the other victims exasperatedly told both of you to make up already(especially since it was getting kinda annoying). You agreed, but your lady love didn't. Unfortunately for them, you rather enjoyed the chase, so despite their complaints, you became even more annoying and relentless.

Levi had been understandably distant with you especially after your intense cuddling sessions the other day. You saw him visibly shiver as you called his name, only to calm down when you reassured him that you were reserving the rest of your frustrations at its source himself. Where was Mammon? Was a question you asked yourself as your eyes scanned the area. The moonlight was bright tonight, with several stars dotting the night sky. A large bonfire was placed on the center of the school grounds, dyeing everyone its warm red colour. Lord Diavolo hailed the tradition from Japanese school festivals, and was even excited to adopt a common legend that uncanningly fits your romantic agenda.

Confess your love to the one you like and you'll be together forever.

Romantic, right? It was a stuff from shoujo manga, and you were wholly supportive of it when it was suggested in the council meeting. Lord Diavolo was touched by your enthusiasm, meaning Lucifer (threatened) encouraged the other members who didn't raise their hands to approve of the proposal. Mammon was one of the demons who were "encouraged" which might explain his absence tonight. The announcer greeted everyone from the speakers and asked everyone to get into formation. Students of different realms began grouping themselves for the dance. You were beginning to feel nervous. "Where's Mammon?" you asked Levi and he only shrugged.

"Hiding from you, probably."

"That's not good. How am I supposed to confess to him?"

"With how many public displays of affection you've shown him, I'm sure he already got the message."

"I'll look for him."

You were reluctant to leave your spot, but you left anyway as you were worried about where he was. You saw him earlier when your class was cleaning up their booth, so he should still be in RAD. Probably. You looked for him in several empty classrooms, but your search had been fruitless. You bumped into Simeon who seemed to be in a hurry to go somewhere (your first social interaction for your whole search) so you decided to take advantage of it.

"Have you seen Mammon?"

"Mammon?" the angel pondered your question. "I think he's at the rooftop? He seemed to be going in that direction."

He really is an angel!

"Thank you! When did you see him?"

"Just now, I think? He said he wanted to practice for some…thing." he immediately covered his mouth. "Oh my, perhaps I shouldn't have said that. He was practicing to make up with you, isn't he?"

"Seems like it." you couldn't help but notice the plastic bag he was carrying. Demonus? Leeks? There was medicine in there too. Simeon noticed you staring and smiled. "I'm afraid I can't join the nightly activities. I need to attend to someone."

"Come to think of it, Lucifer seemed to be feeling unwell today. It's the season for colds now, isn't it?"

"Oh…so it seems." huh that was rare. You haven't heard Simeon stutter before. "I must go now; good luck making up with him."

You nodded and thanked Simeon again before parting ways.

💌💌💌

You would have been against scouring RAD by yourself at night if you weren't already decently familiar with the area. Moving paintings akin to the ones at Harrison Potter decorated the walls, and cursed statues that uttered your name and sometimes said 'seven days' were seen to be standing once every corner of a wing or two. Demons have weird aesthetics, one that clashed with the humans when it came to beauty standards--or maybe it was simply Lord Diavolo's own weird tastes influencing the interior design, you didn't know. The stairs leading to the rooftop creaked at every step, but you were too afraid to look back. There was light peeking from the crack of the rooftop door, a faint vermilion that must be coming from the large bonfire outside. Slightly fatigued, you wiped the sweat from your brows and held the doorknob, finding that it was unlocked.

Wow!

The entire rooftop was decorated with…envelopes? From a corner faraway, you saw Mammon busy scribbling something on paper. He jumped from his seat and dropped his quill once he heard your footsteps.

"W-what are you doin' here?!"

You picked up an envelope from the pile that read With Love, From The Great Mammon and held back a chuckle.

"Oi, don't touch that!"

"Is it for me?"

"...."

You noticed he was blushing adorably once you took a few more steps closer, now at skinship range, you smothered the silly demon in your chest and stroked his head, peppering it with kisses.

"So you do love me.♡"

Mammon didn't reply and only hugged you back.

"Let's stop fighting, okay?"

No response.

"I love you, Mammon."

Thinking he didn't hear it, you said it again.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you. I can be stupid at times, maybe even insufferable but, I really love you, you know? I was really angry when you told me I didn't! I would have railed you on the floor if Levi didn't stop me!"

You felt him tense at your words and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Don't worry! I won't do that anymore! (Probably). So, how did you like my love declarations?" you asked as you loosened the hug, greeted by his still blushing face.

"It's embarrassing."

"Buuuuut is it memorable?"

"Shaddup…"he buried his face on your chest once again. "It's stupid, ain't it? Being jealous of yourself; the stupid letter that ain't even worth much but you really like anyway…"You kissed his cheek in between his speech, and you felt him relax again. You saw remnants of Gentlemammon™ as he looked up at you, bashful and even shy. "Feels like I ain't livin' to your standards sometimes."

"So you asked the witches to curse you?"

"...you seemed to really like it when I was cursed, so I was shocked when you said you didn't."

"Because I do prefer the real you. I wasn't lying."

You saw him open his mouth and hesitate to speak again. The lovely flush on his face deepened as he seemed to think deeply about something.

"A grimm for your thoughts?"

Mammon pouted. "They ain't cheap."

"Then would a kiss do?" you smiled impishly.

!!!

There was a rather loud music playing in the background---mp3 files from the student council's playlist that everyone had compiled. Satan said it was traditional folk music from the human world, but you couldn't really tell. It did cause you to strain your ears to listen to Mammon's almost whisper of a reply.

"...yeah."

And who were you to decline? You bent down to reach for his lips, his, warm and soft on your own. It was chaste, almost comically innocent, for Mammon pouted once you pulled away.

"It's a make-up kiss."

"Even gradeschoolers can do better!"

"I don't know. I haven't kissed someone in ages.

.

.

.

.

.

Maybe if I read that someone's letters over here, it will jog my memory?"

Mammon looked flustered as he tried to stop you from reaching from the pile. But instead of a dreaded envelope on your hands, he saw a trinket instead.

"I burned the letter and made it into a charm! For academic success!"

"You what?"

"I don't really care about the letter, dummy. I was just happy to receive it from you." You smiled bitterly. "Even if you told me you got angry for a stupid reason, I still hurt you. I don't want you chase a shadow of yourself or think I'm loving an illusion of you." You placed the charm on his palm and closed it with his fist.

"What matters to me is the Mammon with me right now: you . I love you Mammon for who you are so please don't ever forget that."

"I think I won't be able to even if I want to…" With all the embarrassing crap you've done? You couldn't help but agree.

"So, what about me Mammon? Do you love me?"

He surprised you by kissing your lips in reply and saying,

"I love you. I really love you."

[ Mammon's Good Ending obtained. ]

💌autoload save slot

💌go back to prologue

💌exit

💌masterlist

[ You have unlocked ~KEY 3: Mammon's Letter ~ ]

💌enter password

(hint: the colour of the flowers decorating the love letter's stationery; one word, lowercase)

[tiredthinkbucket]

Setting 36 with trope V and Sentence five, please :3

this is just over 1k and i've been struggling with it for over 3 days and it’s almost 4am now so imma just chuck it out here, because i have a lot of other prompts to go thru and i feel bad i’m making you all wait so long haha

36. Hospital AU + V. Strangers to Lovers + 5. “You did WHAT?”

It’s not even thirty minutes into Tissaia’s shift in the ER, and it’s already chaos.

Which, granted, it kinda comes with the job. No one takes a position at one of the busiest hospitals in the city and expects it to be a calm and relaxing work environment. But there is a rather aggressive yelling match that appears to be going on down the hall, and when Tissaia walks closer, she realizes it’s the room she’s headed to. She double checks her chart just to be sure and, yep.

Fantastic.

She knocks, but the sound is drowned out in a woman’s very angry shouting, and Tissaia has half a mind to just turn around and come back later because this is really not how she wanted to start off her work day.

Tissaia simply sighs, turns the handle and walks in.

Right into a woman. Who has to be an actual honest to god model. A very angry model, who is clutching her chin and scowling.

“Shit, what the hell? Can’t you knock?” she gripes as Tissaia holds her forehead and winces.

She looks up at the woman and for a brief second really considers whether or not she’s just given herself a concussion, because really, there is absolutely no way this woman can be real.

“I did, but it must not have been heard, sorry about that. And for your chin.” Because it’s a nice chin. She inadvertently glances at the woman’s chin and, by association, her lips as she says this.

The woman stops scowling long enough to look curious before she’s angry again. She spins to face the man sitting up on the bed, who Tissaia assumes to be her boyfriend, and says, “I’ll be right back, try not to dislocate anything else,” before storming out.

Tissaia raises both eyebrows slightly but says nothing as she picks up the chart, scanning through it.

“Mr. Rivia, correct?”

“Yes ma’am,” the man, Geralt Rivia, whose name sounds vaguely familiar, affirms. The guy looks like he’s gotten a new asshole ripped into him, and by the looks of his girlfriend, he’ll probably end up with a few more yet. She feels a bit bad for him.

“I’m Dr. de Vries. And I see you’ve broken your hand and dislocated your shoulder in a . . . ,” she trails off, and she takes it back. This man is a dumbass.

He also happens to be a professional athlete — she realizes why his name is familiar — who makes headlines even outside the sports section.

So a professional dumbass.

“Yeah, it was stupid.”

“Not the most ridiculous injury I’ve encountered, rest assured,” she consoles. And sure, attempting to tackle your own teammate in the locker room, slipping on gatorade, ending up with a four man pileup, cleats jammed into your hand and dislocating a shoulder, isn’t the absolute dumbest injury she’s seen by far, but it certainly takes the cake this month. “Any other members of the football team here with you today?” she asks.

“Fortunately, no, this is the only moron today,” and the model is back, scowl and all.

“Yen, why don’t you just wait outside,” Geralt suggests.

“Because whatever this pretty lady has to say to you I wanna be here to hear. And I know you won’t remember.”

And, huh, that’s. Ok.

“I’m injured, not incompetent, Yen,” he sighs.

The woman, Yen, rolls her eyes. “Please, do you even know what hospital you’re in right now? Did you even call your boyfriend?”

Oh. OH.

“I didn’t want to worry him,” Geralt mumbles a bit sheepishly.

“It’s fine, I already called him while I went to pee,” she says in response.

“You did what?” Geralt exclaims, and he’s probably alarmed that she’s gone and called his boyfriend behind his back, but Tissaia’s just a little grossed that she made a phone call on the toilet. She’s never understood people that do this.

Her face must have betrayed some disgust at the thought, because the woman corrects herself, “I mean, not like actually while peeing, that’s nasty. Just when I was on the way back.”

Geralt affects a confused expression, saying, “Yen, you do that all the time, why would I —” and then he stops, realization dawning and morphing into mildly horrified, but it’s too late.

And, cleanliness and etiquette aside, the fact that this flawless woman (again, cleanliness and etiquette aside) is livid about her spot being blown up is a bit. Cute? Or something.

“Right,” Tissaia says then. “Let’s start with some x-rays.”

*

The boyfriend shows up right as Geralt is about to get discharged. He’s all sorts of worried and clingy and he asks a lot of questions, but soon enough, they’re stepping out the door and Tissaia is just finishing up at the computer. As she turns to leave the room, she’s startled to find Yen, or Yennefer Vengerberg, as she’s learned her full name to be, and who is actually a model, still standing in the doorway.

“I didn’t know you were still here. Did you need anything else, Ms. Vengerberg?”

Yennefer gives a little smile before she asks hopefully, “Your number?”

Maybe she should check to be sure she’s not concussed, because it really just sounded like Yennefer was asking for her number. And surely that isn’t the case.

Yen must have confused her hesitation for something else, because she says, “I solemnly swear I will not call you while on the toilet.”

Tissaia breathes out a little laugh, and then she walks towards the door, towards Yennefer. And normally when this happens she writes out a fake number, because she doesn’t have time for romance, but she’s on autopilot and she’s reaching into her coat pocket to pull out her business card. And now that Yennefer has seen it, it’s a bit too late to put it back.

She shouldn’t do this. She doesn’t have the time nor energy to date. She’ll just get Yennefer’s hopes up for nothing by giving her the card. But it will be fine, totally fine, she can just turn her down later. Doesn’t have to be now; it’ll be easy enough to text her and tell her she’s not interested when Yennefer does contact her, if she does contact her.

She holds the card out for the woman to take, and Yennefer is definitely brushing her fingers against hers on purpose, she is absolutely checking Tissaia out as she glances down, and holy hell this woman is forward, because she’s looking down at her lips and then she’s fucking smirking before she says, “Thanks, Doc. I’ll give you a call later, kay?”

“Make sure to empty your bladder before you do,” Tissaia sniffs and Yennefer grins, big and wide, and Tissaia feels her heart bursting a tiny bit.

“Deal.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Kauri and Keira

CW: Implied/referenced noncon/serious dubcon, implied/referenced abuse

He slides out of the bed when the world is quiet, when Owen’s breathing is deep and heavy. He doesn’t weigh that much, really, so it’s easy to shift his body slowly, back and back, without disturbing anyone. 

The sheets are soft as silk against his skin - he’s so lucky he lives somewhere with such a good bed, some owners make their boys sleep in the boxes they came in. He pulls on the black jogger sweatpants and matching sweatshirt Owen brought home last week - how lucky, so lucky that his owner lets him wear such comfortable, soft things - and he’s so quiet, and moves so slowly, that his collar doesn’t even clink against itself.

He places each step carefully, but he doesn’t really have to. This place - condo, but he’ll forget that in a second - is new, top of the line Owen says. Owen is always saying how nice this place is, how good it is that he gets to live here.

They used to not allow pets, but they make an exception for nonproductive, Owen had bragged to him once, the two of them bundled on the couch to watch movies. There are movies the booklet suggests they not watch - a short list - but Owen doesn’t seem to care.

He likes when Kauri is scared, and he can hold him and make him feel better, pet through his hair and whisper that he’ll never let Kauri get cut up like the person on TV. He’ll never let him bleed like that. All the ways that Owen hurts him don’t really count as hurt, not compared to those other owners, the other pets.

It could have been so much worse.

Owen’s touch is safe, is the only safe place, the only safe thing.

645898, what do you say?

T-Touch is safe. Their touch is s-s, is safe, whoev-ever they are.

Look at him, he’s still buzzing, don’t you think?

All their nerves buzz after a jolt like that. He’ll be fucked up all day now. 

Yeah, well, at least yours reacts. Mine just stares at me now.

Stop overusing your baton and he wouldn’t. 

He earned it, cheeky fuck. Again, 645898.

Touch is s-safe. I want to be tuh-… touched. W-Want to be. It’s s-safe. The owner’s touch is s-s-safe.

See? Was that so fuckin’ hard? Your owner’s touch is safe, right? Say it again.

Oh-Owner’s touch is s-s-safe. Soh-horry, my voice won’t-

Yeah, don’t fuck up next time. 645898, lights out.

The lights are out as he creeps through the bedroom door, closes it silently behind him. The only sound is the low whirr of the nearly-soundless appliances in the kitchen, and Kauri smiles to himself, fingertips trailing the weird stone countertops that Owen was so proud of, had spent so much money on. 

Clean enough to eat off of, and sometimes he made Kauri do just that.

In the dark, Kauri is a little nervous, but it’s not so bad. Everything has a place and stays there except for Kauri, really, and Owen doesn’t mind that he walks around at night as long as he doesn’t wake him up. Kauri doesn’t need much sleep - how long has it been, 645898, three days? - and as long as he’s back in bed before Owen wakes up, so he can be right there, it’s okay, Owen doesn’t mind.

A lot of owners don’t let their pets roam at night.

Kauri is so lucky.

“So fucking lucky,” He sneers, and feels a thrill of fear up his spine, but no one hears him. No one else is here but Owen, and Owen won’t wake up until his third alarm goes off, even though Kauri is usually up before the first

Out into the living room, where the cool floor turns to a soft carpet under his bare feet. He finds her just where he thought she’d be, in her docking station underneath the couch, beeping contentedly in the darkness. 

“Keira,” Kauri whispers. “Keira, are you up?”

Hello Kauri, the Roomba replies in its slightly digital female voice. Owen had asked for the Roomba to have a female voice - you got to pick, he told Kauri, who had only nodded silently like he understood. Time: 3:15 AM. Cleaning routine commences?

“No, not yet. You might wake him up if you get stuck again. Can you come out of your station and sit with me?”

The Roomba is silent for a moment, then whirs out of the docking station on its tiny wheels, a perfect flat black circle with two blinking red spots on the top, like eyes. Kauri smiles, a little, and pats it on the shiny part on top, where he imagines she likes it. The whirr of her little wheels changes, and it sounds like a purr. Affirmed command. Kauri directs.

“I don’t direct anything,” Kauri says softly, and when he moves back across the room Keira follows at his heels, moving effortlessly over the carpet, bumping into him a couple of times in what he pretends is affection.

The doors to the balcony don’t squeak or creak - Kauri is careful to keep the hinges nice and oiled, although he’s not sure how he knows to oil them, because he can’t remember every being taught. Kauri opens them up and lets the cooler night air in, taking a deep breath. It smells like the trees with white flowers down below, along the walkway, where he has never been.

He knows it smells like the tree-flowers, because Owen told him so.

Owen tells him all about these things, and he is so nice compared to other owners, who don’t tell their pets anything at all. Owen is very careful to be ethical and humane, and he never leaves bruises.

But there are other ways to hurt someone.

Commence balcony? Keira asks, whirring at the edge of the doorframe. Kauri assist. Kauri assist. Kauri assist-

“Yeah, I got you, girl, hold on.” Kauri drops into a crouch, picking the Roomba up carefully by the middle part where her circle is widest. The wheels keep spinning as he holds her and moves out onto the balcony, but when he sets her down again she moves over to a corner by one of the big planters - this one has some kind of miniature tree in it, surrounded by flowers that Kauri carefully waters and gives plant food at Owen’s direction - and settles in, beeping her happy little contented noise. “There, that’s better. Go ahead, we’ll be outside for a little bit, okay?”

Gratitude. Grateful. Kauri is good. Keira balcony commence.

Kauri beams at the praise, and settles into one of the thick padded outside chairs, pulling his knees up to his chest. “Thanks, Keira. I just thought maybe I could look up tonight, and you could come out with me.”

Kauri is good. Keira grateful.

“Kauri is grateful, too,” Kauri replies, but really he isn’t. Owen is very kind to him - he’s so fortunate to have someone buy him who is so kind - but he can’t be as grateful as he’s supposed to be. 

He looks up at the dark night sky, clear as glass that he can look up into and see the stars. The condo practices minimized light pollution, Owen tells him. It’s far enough from the city to avoid more than a hint of the reddish orange glow of those lights, off in the distance Here, the condo is surrounded by old trees allowed to keep growing and carefully managed. There is no one but the condo people for miles and miles and miles.

There are no lights at night between midnight and 5 AM. Instead, over Kauri’s head, the sky is a riot of white pinpricks he used to know the names for, and doesn’t remember anymore.

He sits quietly, looking up at them, letting them wash over him. All their designs turn into pictures if you connect the little dots, the sense that there is something so big out there and he is only the smallest, tiniest part of it, and so it doesn’t matter if he is hurt, because there are bigger hurts out there, and he is only dust on a planet orbiting a distant sun-

645898, what do you remember?

Kauri’s fingertips start to tap on the arm of the outside chair, nervously.

I-I-… I don’t know, it hurts, please stop, please-

Tap. tap.

No. I asked you a question. What do you remember?

Taaaaap. Tap. tap.

Taaaap. Taaaap. Taaap.

Taaaaap. Tap.

Tap.

Taaap. Taaaaap. Taaaap. Taaaap.

Tap.

Taaaaaaap.

N-Nothing! I don’t remember anything! I don’t remember, I’m sorry, I don’t know-… I don’t know anything!

Good. Get 645898 back to his Cubicle.

Keira beeps once, and he thinks she might sound worried, but he keeps his eyes up on the stars, and he lets his heart beat faster. 

Tap. Taaaaap. Taaaaap.

Tap. Taaaaaap.

Taaaaap. Tap.

Taaaaap.

Pick up the pen.

N-No! I don’t want to do this! I don’t want this!

Pick. Up. The. Pen.

I don’t want-… Stop! Stop hurting me!

Kauri’s breathing has gone shallow, stutter-skipping breaths that make Keira beep again and he shakes his head at her. It’s only safe to think at night, when Owen is sleeping. Owen didn’t buy him to think, Owen bought him to be pretty, to have blue eyes and black hair. Owen paid a lot of money, Kauri is an investment, and he’s lucky he’s worth so much money or he could have been sold to someone worse.

“L-Lucky,” Kauri whispers, but his voice shakes.

Taaaaaap.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

“I’m lucky.”

Tap. Tap.

Kauri heartbeat accelerating, Keira says, and her robotic voice drops a little, a mockery of the kind of concerned whisper Kauri sometimes uses with her. Kauri physical condition deteriorating?

“No, I’m f-fine,” Kauri says softly. “I’m fine, Keira, thank you. Thank you. Just, just give me a second. I’m okay. I just need-”

I need him to not be touching me right now.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He remembers stars, before. Lying on his back on a blanket in the grass, with Keira beside him, only it was a different Keira, then, and he was a different person. They had a book with constellations in it and they were pointing out all of the different ones, laughing like idiots.

645898, unacceptable incorrect thought aberration.

No, please, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean-

Unacceptable. Come here.

N-No! Please, please don’t do it, please-

Then learn to fucking forget when we tell you to, 645898. Dumbass

Please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I-… I-…

“I’m so lucky,” Kauri whispers. “I’m so lucky that I’m not in the facility anymore. I need to not go back to the facility. I need to not go back. I need to not-”

There’s a beep and small thump, and Kauri looks down to see Keira bumping the leg of the outside chair, scooting back, and then bumping again. Kauri reassurance require. ‘I don’t want this’. Keira provides. Reassurance Kauri. Keira provides. Kauri assist? Kauri assist. Kauri assist-

He unfolds his legs and leans down, sweeping Keira up into his arms, holding her rigid little metal body with the wheels spinning, although they settle and stop once he has her on his lap, his hands resting on the smooth curved plastic and metal shape. Her little red lights look right up into his eyes. She whirrs, softly.

Kauri reassurance require, Keira intones, and Kauri tightens his hands on her, just a little bit. Keira provides. Keira reassurance provide. Acceptable?

“Yes,” Kauri replies, and then he holds her up in his arms, vertical, hugs the rigid, unforgiving metal and plastic to his chest. “Kauri reassurance requires.”

645898, say it again.

Touch is safe, touch is s-s-safe, touch is-

“I’m so lucky,” Kauri says, voice soft and sweet. “I’m so lucky I have you. I’m so lucky I signed the contract. I’m so lucky I have Mr. Owen. I’m so lucky, I’m so lucky, I’m so lucky.”

Keira understands. Reassurance Keira provide. ‘I don’t want this’, Keira beeps, and Kauri holds her tighter. Kauri heartbeat elevated. Keira reassurance. ‘I don’t want this’.

“Me neither,” He whispers. “But I’m so, so lucky.”

Tagging @pepperonyscience who asked to be tagged but I’​m pretty sure someone else did and I can’t remember who they were! Aaaahh! I’m sorry. If you want to be tagged for Kauri updates, please leave a comment on this and I’ll make an actual honest-to-God list I can keep track of

[paradise-creator]

Hi! May I have a romantic heaven box BNHA matchup, please? :)

I'm Flo, a 19 years old bisexual girl.

Appearance: I'm 164 cm(~5'3) tall, with slim, kinda athletic body. I have medium long brown hair and same coloured deer-eyes(probably most attractive part on me), I also wear eyesglasses. I have thin mouth unfortunately. Also, I have a tiny little scar above my right eyebrow(I opened our car's door on my head years ago lolol), it's barely visible. I'm vain and always dress like a lady: so dresses and skirts, I have a classy, elegant or cute style, depends on my daily outfit. I wear light makeup, but not all the time.

Personality: Ambiverted, Virgo with Leo ascendant and Pisces moon. Needless to say, these already represent how confusingly dual my personality is. My behaviour constatntly changes, depending on who I am with: I try to sell myself, being two-faced, wearing a mask(sometimes I appear to be talkative, other times full-stoic), but to people I really do love, I'm quite blunt. Most of the time I'm caring and relatively kind person(but can be an asshole&harsh if tired emotionally). Highly critical, opinionated and rational-thinker, and I usually analyze everything: movies, books, other people, myself. HATE small talk, I always want to talk about some deep shit, sharing my opinions, thougts(only if you ask for it). Enjoy debating. Also, I'm the REALLY clumsy, like clumsy af and I have an invincible talent in getting myself into the most embarrassing, cringe situations. Hate appearing to be weak or crying in front of others(I never do), and generally I can get melancolic and depressed easily. I don't really trust even my loved ones, I always hide my deepest emotional(or whatever) issues, I just can't stand the fact being emotionally vulnerable. Also, I bottle up feelings well. But I can be soft sometimes which suprises people. One of my best friends said, I am suprising, always doing something unpredicted. Additionally, I stress over something all the time. About my humour, it's kinda ironic, dark, morbid, troll-ish; roasting, teasing people 24/7. Don't worry, despite my sometimes serious act, I can be a total dumb idiot. Selfish, vain, lazy,  snobbish hahah. Quite liberal, and I almost never judge people, I mind my own buisness. When I can talk about something I love or just sharing my opinion, I am passionate and be ready for a LONG rambling. Oh, I love alcohol and going out with friends, also I smoke those occassions. Plus, I have god-like hands, everyone told me that I could earn money bc of my massaging skills(I just know by instict how to touch people lol). Oh, and I daydream and zone out a lot.

Relationship: I don't really have a 'type' but I get bored easily: I takes a lot for me to really like in long-term a person, so I fall easier for complex and charismatic ones(but like I said, I can fall for other personalities too!!). I'm a quite difficult person to be with and to love, so I'm suprisingly flexible in a relationship. Only thing I need and without it wouldn't work at all: DEEP CONVOS AND SOME INTELLECT. Also, I have a quite roasting-bullying type humour, so my lover should understand and being able to handle that. Anyways, I'm not much of a PDA person(but I don't mid handholding, short hugs etc. if my partner really want to), and not romantic at all(also cannot flirt hehe), and for a long time I can be bit distant. Love language is words of affirmation&quality time, and if I have to express my feelings I'm best with acts of service. I love cuddling, ppl are suprised when I initiate hugs but tbh I love physical affection. I'm probably more likely the 'friend' lover. I need a lot, lot, lot alone time.

Hobbies/Likes: classical literature, theatre, politics, hiking, sightseeing, mysteries, reading about disappearances(crimes), trying out new things, yoga, running, horse riding, table tennis, listening to music

Sorry if I was too long, then just ignore me, hehe~

↬ ──:.⃗➹ +.*༉‧ᵕ̈°`*↷. ೃ₊✎⸙͎˚- ̗̀✧: ──↫

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ɴᴏᴡ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ

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Hello and Welcome my Starlight!

The Haven box includes:

- Match up

- Sun drop

- Flashes of memory

- Such a loser

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

I'd match you up with

Bakugou Katsuki, Dynamight

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Sun drops

- Honestly it took me a LONG time to think who you would match with

- There was Momo, Jiro, Denki, and Iida. I just couldnt pick

- But in the end, I choose my first option, Bakugou

- With Bakugou, one is never bored

- His sarcasm and snarky attitude can prove to be entertaining!

- Though he may not seem like it, Bakugou seem like a type of person that will never do small talk

- He's more of a listener tbh

- At first the relationship may be rough but in the end it all works out

- Bakugo is a complicated character, it's hard to read him and that's what makes it exciting

- He isn't into pda but in private, expect some INTIMATE times

- AGRESSIVE COMFORT

- He finds you so cute and entertaining whenever you tease/Bully other people

- ROAST COMPETITION NO CAP

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Flashes of memory

Bakugou: Oi, Dumass!

Requester: Yes?

Bakugou: I Fucking love you so stop being a Dumbass!

Requester: I love you too and I'M NOT A DUMBASS

Bakugo: Your MY dumb

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

Random guy: *Flirts with requester*

Requester: *Is trying not to kill the man*

Bakugou: TAKE THAT YOU PIECE OF SHIT! DON'T FLIRT WITH MY IDIOT

Kirishima: Ah, here we go again--BAKUBRO DON'T KILL HIM

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

Bakugo: OI, NERD

Requester: *ignores*

Bakugo: OI DUMBASS DONT IGNORE ME!

Requester: *Continues to ignore*

Bakugo: Fine! I'm sorry for gatting you mad

Requester: That wasn't so hard now is it?

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Such a loser

"Oi, I heard from Shittyhair you've been criticizing yourself to harshly again. What are you such a dumbass?" Bakugou yelled as she stomped his way towards his girlfriend. "And what if I am?" She replied as she looked away from her book. The brown haired girl was just peacefully reading in her dorm. Nothing much was really going on, she was just studying. She has the tendency to be harsh on herself. And with classmates like hers, it often happens. And as a Boyfriend, Bakugou thinks it's his responsibility and his problem that if his love is sad or hurt or insecure, he will make sure they are loved.

"Get off of the fucking floor and go to bed. We're gonna cuddle and you can't say no as an answer," Bakugo growled. The girl sighed and placed her book down, it's not like she wants to deny anyway. So they went to lay on the bed. Bakugo pulled her head on his chest and wrapped an arm around her." You idiot! Stop being harsh on yourself, dammit," He said as he placed his head on top of hers. "You are already perfect. That's why you got to shut taht pretty little mouth of yours and accept that you are," He added.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Author's note

Hello there! Sorry for the wait, I was quite tired but here is the Haven box as requested.

[draculaurennn]

PRERELATIONSHIP -Liona General – Cullida Love – McJunk Domestic Life - Fuujiro

S— SHIP QUESTIONS @silverblighted

PRE-RELATIONSHIP — Liona .

How did they first meet? Siona was locked in a crumbling temple under the deserts sands and best girl Nova found her! And then Link and Gan cornered them like 10 minutes after they escaped.

What was their first impression of each other? For like 5 min Link thought she was actually tricking them that she wasn’t an evil mage, and then she passed out, and he was like “ok maybe not.” Siona’s first impression was like 2 hours later when she woke back up and she thought he was really nice!

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together? Link’s fam really did not! But Siona’s only family is Nova and she did. 

Who felt romantic feelings first? Uhhhh... I think technically Siona did, but only because she thought meeting a prince like that is really romantic and was probably just projecting that ideal on him a little bit. But either way they’re both idiots smitten within 24 hours so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Did either of them try to resist their feelings? Siona does, a few times. She does because she has to go home, she does because she thinks she has to return to the Twilight Realm alone, and she does because she doesn’t think the way her story is playing out that she’ll be allowed to stay with Link. I think Link probably did for like one week and then decided it’s not worth it to try resisting people you care deeply about. 

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think? asdfghjhgfd this one’s so hard UHHHHHH i think Link would think that’s pretty fuckin swell and makes sense if it goes hand in hand with finding a lost princess in the desert, and i think Siona would say that’s not a thing but she’d be super jazzed bc she’s an idiot romantic too. 

GENERAL — Cullida .

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go? It’d ultimately be left up to Cullen, I think. I think Cressida wouldn’t have been afraid to tell him she was waiting on him to tell her when he was ready, but I don’t think she would have ever pushed it after that. So it was probably Cullen, and it was probably right after her dumb ass almost died after Haven. Went great, though, even if she was groggy and turned around. Cressida would have probably told him it was about time LOL

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like? As official as you can get when you’re in the Inquisition, I guess. I don’t even know if they count things as dates? Just nice outings with each other away from their jobs and duties. More than likely it was a nice trip to a lake to sit and chat and have a picnic and not worry about busy places and other people. 

What was their first kiss like? Their technical first kiss is in the alternate reality nightmare with Dorian, and Cressida tried kissing a red lyrium-corrupted Cullen to get through to him. For her, that was a first, but it was awful, and not even in their reality, so it doesnt really count. Their actual first kiss was in Haven right before she ran off to help Vesta, bc I think they were both pretty sure they were just doing to die there LOL. 

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)? Cressida is Cullen’s first-pretty-much-everything. I guess technically Cullen is Cressida’s first (and only) husband, which she’s pretty glad about. 

What’s their height difference? Age difference? Cullen’s about a foot taller than Cressida, and nine years her senior. 

What’s their relationship with each other’s families? Cressida’s family is... almost totally horrible. Her dad is dead, so no relation for Cullen there, and her mother is a monster of a woman who abused the hell out of her sister. Vesta is awkward with Cullen but I think she’s grown to like him over time. (Not enough to tell him, but enough to be supportive I think LOL). They’re cordial enough and can be in a room alone, even if they don’t talk a lot.  Cullen’s family is so many sisters and a brother, and they all love Cressida. Cressida was panicked to meet them; she doesn’t panic meeting anyone, but she was really worried they wouldn’t like her bc she doesn’t think she, as a genuine person, is a likable person. She was also worried they’d think she was too pompous and shallow because she just doesn’t do field work. But they really like her bc she’s earnest and forthright and tries, even if she’s awful at menial field tasks. And they joke she’s too pretty for Cullen, so that’s always a plus. 

Who takes the lead in social situations? Cressida. Hands down. It’s what she’s good at, it’s what she lives for, and it probably annoys some people that she has to open her mouth, but she commands a situation very well and in her mind, that’s how it should be. Cullen’s p fine w that though bc he doesn’t love social situations and he’d rather do his own job and be left alone.

Who gets jealous easier? Uhhh, probably Cullen. Cress doesn’t make that easy for him bc she’s flirty and commanding and winds people around her fingers to get her way. I think there’s been a few times early on where he wasn’t even sure she genuinely liked him or not bc she can pay fake attention and admiration so convincingly even to people she doesn’t like. Cressida’s also... like, so obnoxiously confident in her own outward personality but also so incredibly convinced by how much Cullen loves her (once she knows) that I don’t think she ever worries about him vying after someone else. (Although, she did get pretty upset and tilted with the Warden Surana hanging around since she knows about that LMAO.) 

LOVE — McJunk .

Who said “I love you” first? Jesse. He said it a few times. Jun-ki’s kinda mean, though; I’m pretty sure she told him no he doesn’t a few times? Idk, he’s too nice for this bitch.

What are their primary love languages? Jesse’s is pet names and touch both. He’s not really shy so he can express it in a lot of ways. Jun’s is small gestures, like sitting with someone while they’re struggling. I guess her other one is also literally fighting people for him even tho he definitely probably did not ask LOL. 

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA? All the time. All the fucking time. Their coworkers hate them. Think April and Andy, and then multiply. (And Jun literally would spit her gum in this man’s mouth just to annoy other people.) 

What are their favorite things to do together? They do... so much together uhhhh sdfghj idk, I know Jun likes doing most things with Jesse around now. Movie nights, pizza dates, annoying PDA, drinking games, weird places to fuck... they’re a little inseparable. I think the only thing Jun doesn’t like to do with Jesse around is upgrade sessions with Angela because she doesn’t want to be seen all broken up, and training segments because she doesn’t want to be responsible for him getting hurt. 

Who’s better at comforting the other? Jesse. Jun’s never been good at it. He says what he thinks she needs to hear without impressing on her a bunch of psychology she never said she had. He’s just good at offering her something to relate to and a shoulder to lean on. Jun’s not very good with words, though, so she’s not very good at or sure how to offer comfort when someone needs it, especially Jesse. But she just says she’ll hang around and if they fight about it she just says to shut up and deal with it. He’s usually better once he vents.

Who’s more protective? BIG DEBATABLE. I think it’s pretty... even. I think either of them will fight as hard as they can for the other, though I think Jun may be the only one more likely to throw herself into actual harm’s way, and that’s just because she’s definitely the more reckless of the two. 

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection? Jesse’s a more verbal person but I think physical affection and affirmation is where they’ve connected. No one has to say anything, he just does, but it’s just the cherry to the rest of it and physical communication and affection is more than enough for both of them. 

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise? THERE”S A WHOLE BUNCH ON THE SPOTIFY LET ME TELL UUUUU BUT THE BEST ARE OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD “Something About Us” by Daft Punk “Amphetamine” by MNQN and also I could add matchbox 20 but i’m not tryna get roasted

What kind of nicknames do they call each other? Yikes. Uhhhhh, Jesse’s partial to: darlin’, sweetie, sweet pea, sweet bean, juniper berry, junnie b jones, jun-bug, and the list goes onnn.  Jun’s partial to cowboy and (affectionately) dumbass. 

DOMESTIC LIFE — Fuujiro .

If they get married, who proposes? Probably Shinjiro, and it was probably something stupid and weird at the grocery store. 

What’s the wedding like? Who attends? Small, probably at a park or something, but all of their friends. They don’t have a lot, but that’s what makes it nice. I think they’d be more interested in spending money on travelling afterwards than trying to make a big deal out of a celebration.

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like? I don’t think they have any kids. I don’t think Fuu has any interest in bringing a kid into the world bc of the shit she’s gone through on her end; there’s no innate part of her that thinks she needs to have a kid to raise them better just to make up for how alone and neglected she was as a child. If they wound up with any kids, it’d probably be some circumstantial adoption of a wayward orphan they kept coming, honestly? A mentorship or personal attachment just kind of developing, really. Like Denzel LMAO. That’s the only thing I could see happening really asdfgh.

Do they have any pets? THEY HAVE KOROMARU. Otherwise, I think they just put food and shelter boxes out for their neighbourhood cats. Shinjiro probably lets them in a lot. 

Who’s the stricter parent? Shinjiro, hands down. He was the stricter parent when he was a teenager. Fuu is/ would be the parent who is also being scolded.

Who kills the bugs in the house? Shinjiro kills them and Fuu takes them outside. Shinjiro just doesn’t think bugs belong in the house, and Fuu thinks killing them is bad luck. If he kills them before she gets to take them outside, they probably “fight” about it, but it’s not a divisive convo that’ll sour the day.  

How do they celebrate holidays? Shinjiro’s not really a holiday person and Fuu’s really busy, but I know she thinks they’re worth doing. So everything’s probably pretty quiet and half-decourated for. Holidays with events to go to that they don’t have to prepare for, like festivals, Fuu definitely nags to attend. Things like Christmas, I think they just plan on nice dinners and quiet evenings. 

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning? Ooh, uhhhhh asdfg that’s hard. Probably Shinjiro? I don’t think he tries often, but he is the one more likely to sleep late. I guess it’d be circumstantial, in a lot of ways. Like if he wasn’t sleeping a lot lately, Fuu would sleep late to try and keep him around. If Fuu’s overworking, Shinjiro would try to bait her back. But otherwise, it’s probably Shinjiro, since she’s usually up early because she wants to run early.

Who’s the better cook? Shinjiro, hands down. Fuu’s okay at it; if she has to make dinner, she’s happy to do it and it’d be fine food, it just wouldn’t be anything exciting or special. She understands basic seasoning laws and how to use a rice cooker. Shinjiro’s the one who’s anal-retentive about produce quality, technique, prepwork, etc. He’s the one who literally watches home cooking network and considers buying a separate pasta cooker, after all. It’s one of the few things he’s really passionate about, and he’s always emphasized how important a good meal and diet are to health with the idiots he hangs around. 

[og-danny-dorito]

Some Really Bad Michael Myers Headcanons, Mainly Done Because I Just Felt Like It

- where do I start with this bitch

- he's a big, angry, no-fucks-given sortof dude with a knife and many mental illnesses, but he's still a person, so he's got some personal preferences deep down under that creepy exterior as The Shape of Haddonfield

- for instance, he generally likes to sleep in his spare time, or listen to people reading to him. he's not sure why he likes it so much, but the sound of someone's speaking to him without depth or meaning in their word was put him to sleep faster than anything

- he can fall asleep in complete silence, but ironically enough it feels...empty without someone or something making noise. although he personally is very quiet, he grew up in the asylum where there was almost always some sort of noise in the room, whether it be distant murmurings of an inmate next door or a nurse walking down the halls, so he's used to falling asleep to whatever noise is going on during the day

- oh yeah, he also sleeps like a rock

- seriously, its a struggle to get him up. he barely wants to move in the first place, so getting him out of bed will have to be with some bribing or very gentle pleading, although he gets annoyed of begging out of the bedroom very quickly. your best shot is to promise making dinner all week (even though you probably already do) and to make sure he gets treated very generously for his fear or getting out of bed

- a good method of giving him praise is to actually give him a kiss. you may be thinking to yourself, ‘but Danny (that's my internet name, or call me Dann), he's a big scary man with basically no emotions and doesn't speak like at all, how can you make him like soft things that imply a domestic and somewhat healthy relationship?’ well dear reader because I said so, and also it basically makes sense. he obviously wouldn't remember much from his childhood before killing his sister, so what he does remember are snippets of his family and household he grew up in

- and to be honest, pretty much all of them are bland and leave a tight frown and sour taste on and in his mouth (respectively)

- the most evident one is of his mother, who he remembers as tired and snappy, hitting him over the head and yelling some slurred words at him for a reason he doesn't remember. he remembers the hatred, the sadness that came with the childhood he had learned to forget, which fuel his desire for blood more than anything after he's had the first taste of what it's like to take a life. he wants to be treated well, but in his mind he believes all he needs is to keep himself satisfied with blood until he's at his end

- but the truth is that he's really just a man, and he needs a bit of affirmation of how he slowly cared about from time to time. he needs someone to take care of him, to wash his hair or even do something's small like curl up in bed with him when he's asleep for warmth. I know that sounds likes he's not a desperate bitch, but he really won't admit how touch starved he is at all, so yknow there's will be pushing you away when you want to juggle him or smthn like that

- sex however?

- he highkey can and will fuck whoever, he doesn't even like have a gender preference. but when he's in a relationship with someone it makes him feel,,,bad? is that the right word? it's not the issue of hurting their feelings though, it's the feeling of it not being really neccissary to fuck someone else when you have someone's waiting at home, if that makes sense. it's saving him time and trouble to just push you against a wall and do whatever he wants

- it's usually just to fulfill urges that are more than just murderous though, like animalistic ones that can only be satisfied by contact that isn't entirely violent, but there's are times when he genuinely, seriously needs physical contact

- Michael on a whole isn't an affectionate guy, obviously, and so he won't outright ask for affection if he feels needy, and that's few and far between. if you catch him in one of those moods though, he'll usually end up standing behind you menacingly until you turn to face him. this usually resorts to him just wrapping his arms around you, holding you to his chest and just,,,standing still for a few minutes

- it's kindof a personal thing to him, validation of sorts. he may not show it, but he loves you, and know she damn well he's not who you deserve. he knows that you're stable, can function, don't have to suffering the burden of animalistic urges on a daily basis, etc. it feels wrong sometimes, wrong in a sense that he doesn't belong, even with whom he should feel the best confidant

- he needs physical affection, even though he doesn't initiate it and avoids it due to not wanting to feel a specific way in your presence. I mean, you're the first person he's felt anything with besides hatred since he can remember, so as a guy who literally kills people he doesn't always feel correct touching you, like you're a holy object or something

- coaxing him eventually gets him out of it, you just need to show him you want to touch him, to be around him

- on that note, I believe he would best be matched with a particularly needy partner. yes, he'd get agitated very quickly if you were too clingy like hanging on his arm or constantly hugging him, but he doesn't mind having his face held or being told that you missed him

- it also gives him a massive hard on when you look him directly in the eyes and say “I missed you today.” or “I’ve been waiting all day for you, you know. You kept me waiting for too long.”

- while all this may seem great, he's not exactly the best at showing his own affection and devotion for you. well, better phrased, he just shows it in different ways

- someone's been bothering you at work or giving you a hard time? expect their head to be on the table as soon as he gets home as proof they won't  be bothering you anymore. some creep keeps hitting on you? ok, no head thing this time, yes he understands it's nasty but this time he'll just scare the person to death. usually he solves things with violence, so anything you complain to him about will be taken care of quite quickly

- you can imagine how easily possessive he gets. he knows that he's not the best, but that doesn't stop him from recognizing that no one else is better for you, at all. just smiling or laughing at a person’s joke when they're obviously trying to lay down something more beneath the veil of politeness is enough to get his blood boiling

- he keeps following you even after you two are confirmed as living together Andy being significant others, meaning you have to rub your temples slightly when you see a pale, emotionless mask emerge from the darkness in a fashion that would scare the shit out of anyone if they hadn't seen it and what was underneath 1,000 times

- when you finally come home, he's already waiting in front of the door and staring you down as if you've done something wrong

- you almost roll your eyes

- “Michael, don't tell me you were jealous.”

- “...”

- “Don't look at me like that! I don't even like them like that, only you.”

- he's borderline kindof a yandere, so expect to feel a little smothered by him if he's not feeling particularly mad about one of your friends but is hesitating to kill the, because you care about them. he's not the most considerate slasher, but he's not a dumbass so he won't hesitate to make sure you haven't been tipped off by a friend

- really random, but in all honesty it would crush him if you grew scared of him for this. he wouldn't recognize it first as rebellion, but after a while he would start to actually become a bit scared you didn't love him anymore. he wants to ask why you're acting like this, what he has to do to be better, but he can't get to words across so you both sit in silence, and he feels more like a monster as the minutes pass, making him more violent

- chances are if you become scared and want to leave you won't leave at all, you'll just end up being chained down to a bed in an empty room with no windows and being constantly given food by Michael as he attempts to get you back, train you like an animal to love him again

- but that probably won't happen, if you decide to see the part of him that truly is human

- he's not scared of anything really, but he does have a fear of being watched without his knowing, like a stalker. he's only ever told this to you, and it was mainly just blank ramblings as a product of his own fatigue in the middle of the night

- although he does sleep like a rock, that doesn't mean he wakes up in cold sweat sometimes, breathing and gasping for air while staring at the ceiling. he doesn't say anything for hours, merely staring and breathing heavily, reminiscing over whatever he's just dreamed of. most dreams are just black, blank canvases with nothing on them, deep and empty

- others are detailed, too realistic to be just dreams, abstract telling of a story that's familiar like a distant, unpleasant thought in the back of his head fleshed out to appear like reality. you scream at him, claw at the air a small he chokes you to death, say his name s on your lips before you turn to dust beforehand his eyes, and then silence. silence as he runs through the house, only door won't open to where they should, like a trick maze as his name through your labored breath echoes in directions he can’t follow. then the house catches on fire, and he wakes up immediately feeling shaken and disoriented as you slowly move from your place next to him to he placing a hand on his back, trying Tommy reassure him of your presence

- he blames you for this, since he never had nightmares so violently Andy so often before he met you, but he's refused to talk about them openly or try to work through them. it doesn't affect his life directly, so he pays it no mind

- and that's pretty much how it work for you two. to be honest you do most of the providing, the work, and the care, but the small moments that he finds himself confiding in you as your lover or feelings intimately close just Fromm looking at you can prove his love, although due to preconceived ideas he may not be the best at being conventional

- but who likes conventional anyway?

[eddie-boii]

Never Let You Go (part 11/14)

Fic info: Both Eddie and Stan live because I do what I want. Multichapter.

Rating: Teen and up (may change). Language.

Pairings: Reddie, Benverly.

Ao3 link: here

Summary: The Losers prepare for a wedding. They’ve had enough of reddie’s antics.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

*

By the time the Losers got back to the hotel, they were all shivering and damp from the snow, their noses red and cheeks flushed and shoes squelching on the carpet, but they were all still too elated to care and there was plenty of time before the second ceremony to dry off and warm up in front of the grand fire in the lobby.

“I can’t believe you two are married,” said Richie, grinning over at his friends who were snuggled up together in one armchair by the fire.

“Who do you think is gonna be the next out of us to get married?” said Ben.

“Ss-stan and I are already married,” said Bill.

“You are?!” cried Richie. “Why wasn’t I invited to the wedding? How could you?”

“Thirteen-year-old Stan would be ecstatic,” Bev giggled as Stan glared at Richie. He turned the glare to her instead.

“Ww-what?” said Bill.

“I had a little crush on you back then, it’s no big deal,” Stan sighed. “Everyone did.”

“E-everyone?” Bill squawked.

“Yeah.”

“Yep.”

“Definitely.”

“I’m mostly straight but yeah.”

“Oh, come on,” said Bill. “N-not Rr-Richie at least. H-he was too busy crushing on Eddie.”

“What?” Eddie blurted. 

Richie was about ready to deny everything, divert his affections to Eddie’s mom as he always did, but he was happy and warm, still on a bit of a high from the day’s events and surrounded by people who loved him, so for once, he didn’t bother.

“Okay, but there was a brief few weeks before Eds came along,” he shrugged.

“You’re not denying it?” Eddie said, his voice cracking adorably and his eyes wide as he turned to Richie. “You had a crush on me?”

“You were just so darn cute, Eds!” Richie said, leaning across to pinch Eddie’s cheek. He decided not to mention that that ‘crush’ was still ongoing. Eddie batted his hand away as usual but seemed too in shock to protest the nickname.

“So who will be the next to get married?” said Ben in a thinly veiled attempt to divert the attention off an embarrassed Eddie. “Mike?”

“Oh, no way, I’m not really the marrying type,” said Mike. “Not really the relationship type, either, to be honest.”

“That just leaves Richie and Eds,” said Bev.

“And they’ll marry each other, so that’s two at once,” said Stan.

“Will you guys give it a rest?” said Richie. Tired of his friends’ antics, he turned to Eddie. “They’re betting on whether or not we’ll get together.”

“What?” cried Eddie, who still seemed like he had yet to process Richie having a crush on him let alone this.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, who told him?” said Bill.

“Guilty,” said Bev.

“And it’s n-not a question of if,” said Bill, smirking at Richie. “It’s a question of when.”

“Stan and Bev reckoned you’d get together on or before the day of the wedding,” said Mike. He checked his watch. “So we have about nine hours before Bill and I win.”

“I’m sorry I had a little faith that one of them would grow balls,” said Stanley, rolling his eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re fucking betting on us,” said Eddie, face red and eyebrows scrunched up with fury. It was one of Richie’s favourite expressions of Eddie’s. 

“Yeah, and I would’ve won if Bev hadn’t kidnapped you and ruined my plan last night,” said Stan, turning to scowl at Bev. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“He’s my emotional support gay!” Bev defended.

“You guys aren’t ss-supposed to meddle!” said Bill. 

“None of you should be fucking meddling,” said Eddie. “My love life is none of your fucking business.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Eddie, it’s been thirty years,” said Stan. “I, for one, have had enough of this. You two have been pining for each other since you were twelve! You like each other, okay? Now can you please get a move on and bone already?”

Richie opened his mouth to retort but no words came. He looked over at Eddie who was staring right back at him, his flustered expression and red face probably mirroring Richie’s. Sure, Stan was right, Richie had liked Eddie since they were twelve. But Eddie liking him back? There was no way. Eddie was always mad at him, always fussing at him about his hygiene and how he was bound to get a bunch of infections, always complaining about his jokes. And sure, Richie loved watching Eddie get all heated and flustered, but that was out of annoyance, not anything else. Surely… 

No. Richie mentally shook his head. Stan saying Eddie liked him didn’t mean anything. The others were just on a romantic high from the wedding, just seeing things that weren’t there. Until Eddie straight up told him himself, Richie was not going to believe anything the others said. Because, honestly, he didn’t think he could handle it if they were wrong. He’d rather spend another thirty years pining then be rejected, then ruin what they had. He liked being Eddie’s friend, he liked poking fun at him and watching him get all red-faced, he liked their back and forth banter, and he liked those soft moments when it was just the two of them, when they could just exist as themselves, comfortable in each other. He didn’t want to risk losing that.

“Give them a break,” said Ben, interrupting Richie’s thoughts. “Twenty-seven of those years weren’t their fault, and they’ve been through a whole bunch of shit. We know that better than anyone. Let them take their time, okay?” He looked over at Richie and Eddie and smiled, forever the supportive friend. “We’re here for you no matter what. Even if you never get together. Right guys?”

He looked over at the other’s and they let out a series of reluctant but affirming groans.

“That being said,” Ben continued, turning back to Richie and Eddie. “Can you two at least promise you’ll have a talk about it?”

Richie and Eddie glanced at each other. 

“I guess,” mumbled Richie after a moment.

“Yeah, whatever,” grunted Eddie.

“Good,” said Ben, smiling. 

“Buddy,” said Mike, “please tell me you and Bev plan to have children, coz you are already the world’s greatest dad.”

Ben’s face flushed instantly but Bev grinned and squeezed his hand.

“All in good time, Michael,” she said which only served to make Ben even more flustered.

By the time the second ceremony was due to start, the real minister had arrived and Stan was back to being a man of honour and walking down the aisle with Mike, which meant Richie was walking with Eddie alone. He tried not to focus on it too much, which was exceedingly difficult considering the conversation the Losers had just had. Did Eddie really like him? Was this just as flustering for Eddie as it was for Richie? Had they really wasted thirty years thinking the other didn’t reciprocate their feelings? It seemed impossible, like something out of Richie’s teenage fantasies, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Richie tried his best not to fidget during that second ceremony, but standing by the aisle while Bev and Ben repeated generic vows in front of a room full of people Richie didn’t care about was almost too much. He occupied himself by scanning the room. He spotted Audra and Patty seated next to each other, and Bev’s aunt sat in the front row beside Ben’s parents with his grandmother beside them. Then there were Ben’s colleagues, the odd work friend of Bev’s who hadn’t abandoned her after her divorce from Tom, and rows of random cousins and distant relatives that probably hadn’t all been together for at least twenty years. Richie tried to amuse himself by making up ludicrous stories for each of them, but eventually, his attention strayed to the other side of the alter, back to Eddie.

He was wearing a neat black suit over a pink shirt that reminded Richie of one of Eddie’s outfits when they were kids. They’d all been fashion icons back then. His hair was neatly combed back as usual and his face was cleanly shaven. And for once, he didn’t look angry or worried or like the world was going to come crashing down on him at any moment. He looked happy as he watched Ben and Bev, his dark eyes soft and shining and a slight smile on his face, his dimples on full display. He was beautiful, and fuck, Richie really needed to get a grip on himself. There was no way - no way - someone as perfect as that could have feelings for someone as much of a mess as Richie.

He zoned back in in time to see Bev and Ben kiss for the second time that day, actually managing properly this time. They walked back down the aisle together, holding hands and waving as everyone stood and cheered them on, then Bev held her bouquet of flowers aloft.

“Ready?” she called.

There was a shriek as all the single ladies in the room fought their way to the aisle for a good spot. Richie just watched them in amusement, but when Bev finally threw the bouquet, it soared over everyone’s heads - she’d always been pretty good at throwing - and right into Richie’s hands before he could even process what was happening.

A disappointed sigh swept over the room from all the ladies who’d missed out, but Richie barely heard them, still staring at the flowers in momentary shock.

“Nice catch, dumbass,” said Eddie, snapping Richie out of his trance.

“Told you you’d be next to get married, Rich,” Stan snorted.

“Yeah right,” Richie scoffed, ignoring his burning face. “You wish.” He tossed the bouquet back into the crowd and there was a scuffle as the women realised what was happening and tried to grab it first. It eventually ended up in the hands of Ben’s grandmother who was quite feisty for a woman in her nineties. 

The reception was the part Richie was really looking forward to; free food and cake and an open bar, and a dance floor for him and his friends to embarrass themselves on.

Music rang through the air as Ben and Bev took to the dancefloor for their first dance as a married couple.

“Close your eyes,

“Realise,

“It’s you and I…”

“Is this fucking New Kids on the Block?” cried Richie as Ben pulled Bev into his arms. “Why am I not fucking surprised?”

“Beep beep, Richie. Shut the fuck up and let them enjoy themselves,” Eddie said, elbowing Richie lightly in the side.

“If loving you is right I can’t go wrong,

“Girl we’ve known each other for so long,

“Chemistry between us has grown strong,

“You are the one and only meaning to this song.”

“It’s sweet,” said Mike, watching the couple dance. Neither were very good at it, stepping on each others feet and giggling, their smiles lighting up the room as they swayed around like they were thirteen years old again and nothing else in the world mattered. “It fits, you know?”

“So fucking cheesy,” said Richie, smiling as he watched two of his best friends dance together. “But yeah, you’re right.”

“You make me feel there's no such thing as too far,

“Forever's just enough time to show you, girl,

“That I'm not acting like I know,

“I'll never let you go.”

Bev and Ben twirled around the dance floor as the crowd of guests cheered them on. The music really wasn’t the kind of romantic melody couples tended to dance to at weddings - more like something that would play at a middle-school dance - but neither of them seemed to care. They danced like there was no one else in the room, gazing at each other fondly, laughing when Ben tripped over his own feet or Bev stepped on his toes, joking that they probably should have gotten dancing lessons. They were so in love and - call him a sappy romantic but- Richie could have watched them dance for hours.

Eventually, though, the song came to an end and a new one started, and Bev and Ben beckoned the other Losers onto the dance floor.

“Come on, we need the best men and men of honour to dance together,” said Bev. “You promised.”

Mike didn’t hesitate to grab Stan and start reenacting Dirty Dancing with him, and Bev pulled Bill onto the dance floor for what she called a ‘father-daughter dance’, despite his protests to the name. 

Richie hesitated, eying Eddie reproachfully. The prospect of dancing with him after Eddie finally knew about his childhood crush, plus what all the Losers had said about them, was almost too much to handle. He thought about what it would be like to dance with Eddie, pressed up close to him, his hands on Eddie’s waist as Eddie’s arms were draped around his neck, barely a breath between them. Just an inch away from-

Nope. Richie couldn’t handle that. He couldn’t trust himself not to do something stupid and embarrassing. So Richie did what Richie did best; made a huge joke out of it.

“Come on, Eduardo!” he said, dragging Eddie onto the dance floor before immediately releasing his hand and lurching into movement. “I believe this is what the kids these days are ‘the Floss’.”

“You’re doing it wrong!” cried Bev, releasing Bill to stand by Richie. “It’s like this. Watch.”

She demonstrated some weird movements and Richie did his worst interpretation of them before dabbing.

“You are such a fucking moron,” said Eddie, but when Richie looked up at him, he was smiling. God, he’d never grow tired of that smile.

“You ever heard of twerking, Eds?” he said.

“No one wants to see that!” Stan cried as Richie went into a squat.

“You do not have alcohol in your system to blame this on,” said Bev. “And that being said, someone get the cameraman!”

Okay, so Richie was stupid and embarrassing anyway, but he figured this was better than the alternative.

*

Previous Next

[dillydedalus]

what i read in july

THAT’S MORE LIKE IT aka i’m finally out of the (relative) reading slump for good & my bro james joyce was there

men explain things to me, rebecca solnit the original mansplaining essay is great, and still scarily relevant; the others in this collection (most on feminist issues) are also quite good; some aspects are a bit dated & problematic so be aware of that. 2.5/5

erschlagt die armen!, shumona sinha (tr. from french, not available in english) short but very impactful novella about a young french woman, originally from india, who works as an interpreter in the asylum system and becomes more & more broken by this system of inhumane bureaucracy and suffering, until she snaps and hits a migrant over the head with a wine bottle. full of alienation and misery and beautiful but disturbing language - the title translates to ‘beat the poor to death’ so like. yeah. 3.5/5

fire & blood: a history of the targaryen family I, george r r martin look, it’s a 700-page-long fake history book about a fictional ruling dynasty in a fictional world, and i’m just That Obsessed & Desperate about asoiaf (and i don’t even care about the targs That Much). anyway, now i know more about the targs than any ruling family from, you know, real history, which is like, whatever. this is pretty enjoyable if you are That Obsessed, although i will say that some bits are much better than others (there are some dry dull years even in everyone’s fav overly dramatic dragon-riding incest-loving family) and the misogyny really is. a lot. too much. way too much. BUT i did really like Good Best Queen Alysanne (her husband king joe harris is alright too i guess) and i found my new westerosi otp, cregan stark/aly blackwood, who both have Big Dick Energy off the fucking charts. 3.5/5 (+0.5 points for cregan and aly’s combined BDE)

the old drift, namwali serpell hugely ambitious sprawling postcolonial nation-building novel about zambia, told thru three generations of three families, as well as a chorus of mosquitoes (consistently the best & smartest parts). there is A LOT going on, in terms of characters, of plot points, of references to history (the zambian space programme) and literature (finally my knowledge of heart of darkness paid off) and thematically, and honestly it was a bit too much, a bit too tangled & fragmented & drifty, and in the end i probably admire this book more than i liked it, but serpell’s writing is incredibly smart and funny and full of electrical sparks 3.5/5

a severed head, iris murdoch the original love dodecahedron (not that i counted). iris murdoch is fucking WILD and i love her for it. this is a strange darkly funny little farce about some rich well-educated londoners and their bizarre & rather convoluted love lives. not as grandiosely wild as the sea the sea, but fun nevertheless. 3/5

midnight in chernobyl, adam higginbotham jumping on the hype bandwagon caused by the hbo series (very weird to call the current fascination with chernobyl a hype bandwagon but you know). interesting & well-written & accessible (tho the science is still totally beyond me) & gets you to care about the people involved. lots of human failure, lots of human greatness, set against the background of the almost eldritch threat of radioactivity (look up the elephant foot & see if you don’t get chills), and acute radiation syndrome which is THE MOST TERRIFYING THING ON EARTH . 3.5/5

normal people, sally rooney honestly this is incredibly engrossing & absorbing once you get used to how rooney completely ignores ‘show don’t tell’ (it works!), i pretty much read the whole thing in one slow workday (boss makes a dollar, i make a dime so i read books on my phone on company time, also i genuinely had nothing to do). i also think rooney is really good at precisely capturing the ~millenial experience in a way that feels very true, especially the transition from school to uni. BUT i really disliked the ending, the book never engages with the political themes it introduces (esp. class and gender) as deeply as it could and the bdsm stuff never really gets TIED UP LOL. so overall idk: 3.5/5

störfall: nachrichten eines tages, christa wolf quiet reflective undramatic little book narrated by a woman waiting to hear about the outcome of her brother’s brain surgery on the day of the catastrophe at chernobyl - throughout the day she puts down her thoughts about her brother and the events unfolding at chernobyl, as well as the double uncertainty she is trying to cope with. really interesting to read such an immediate reaction to chernobyl (the book came out less than a year after chernobyl). 2.5/5

the man in the high castle, philip k dick it was fine? quick & entertaining alternative history where the axis powers win the war, some interesting bits of worldbuilding (like the draining of the mediterranean which was apparently a real idea in the early 20th century?) but overall it’s just felt a bit disjointed & unsatisfying to me. 2.5/5

fugitive pieces, anne michaels very poetic & thoughtful novel about the holocaust, grief, remembrance & the difference between history and memory, intergenerational trauma, love, geology and the weather. i’m not sure how much this comes together as a novel, but it is absolutely beautifully written (the author is a poet as well) and very affective. 3.5/5

american innovations, rivka galchen short collection of bizarre & often funny short stories about neurotic women whose furniture flies away, or who grow an extra breast, or who are maybe too occupied with financial details. very vague & very precise at once, which seems to be the thing with these sort of collections. 3/5

fool’s assassin (fitz & the fool #1), robin hobb YAASS i’m back in the realm of the elderlings!!! i thought this was one of the weaker installments in the series - i still enjoyed it a lot, and Feelings were had, but it just doesn’t quite fit together pacing-wise & some of the characterisation struck me as off (can i get some nuance for shun & lant please?) and tbh fitz is at peak Selfcentred Dumbass Levels & it drove me up the fucking wall. molly, nettle & bee deserve better. still, completely HYPE for the rest of the trilogy. 3.5/5

JAMES JOYCE JULY

note: i decided not to read dubliners bc it’s my least fav of joyce’s major works & too bleak & repetitive for my mood right now AND while i planned not to reread finnegans wake bc……. it’s finnegans wake…. i kinda do want to read it now (but i also. really don’t.) so idk yet.

a portrait of the artist as a young man, james joyce y’all. i read this book at least once a year between the ages of 15 and 19, it’s beyond formative, it is burnt into my brain, and reading it now several years later it is still everything, soaring and searing (that searing clarity of truth, thanks burgess) and poetic and dirty, and stephen is baby, and a pretentious self-important little prick and i love him & i am him (or was him as only a pretentious self-important teenage girl reading joyce can be him - because this truly is a book that should be read in your late teens when you feel everything as intensely and world-endingly and severely as my boy stephen does and every new experience feels like the world changing). anyway i love this book & i love stephen dedalus, bird-like, hawk-like, knife-blade, aloof, alienated, severe and stern, a poet-priest-prophet if he could ever get over himself, baby baby baby. 5/5

exiles, james joyce well. there’s a reason joyce is known as a novelist. this is….. a failed experiment, maybe. a fairly boring play about an adulterous love-square and uh… love beyond morality and possession maybe??? about how much it would suck for joyce to return to ireland??? and tbh it’s not terribly interesting. 2/5

travesties, tom stoppard a wild funny irreverent & smart antic comedy inspired by the fact that during ww1, james joyce, lenin, and dadaist tristan tzara were all in neutral zurich, more or less simultaneously; they probably never met, but in this play they do, as dadaist poetry, socialist art critique, and a james joyce high on his own genius & in desperate need of some cash while writing ulysses, AND the importance of being earnest (joyce is putting on a production of it) all collide in the memories of henry carr, who played algernon & later sued joyce over money (tru facts). not my fav stoppard (that’s arcadia) but it’s funny & fizzy & smart & combines many many things that i love. 4/5 

ulysses, james joyce look i’m not really going to tell y’all anything new about ulysses, but it really has everything, it’s warm & human(e) & cerebral & difficult & funny & sad & healing & i always get a lot out of it even tho there’s bits (a lot of them) i’ll never wrap my head around. ultimate affirmation of humanity or whatever. also stephen dedalus is baby. 5/5

dedalus, chris mccabe the fact that this book (sequel to ulysses about what stephen dedalus might have done the next day) exists and was published ON MY BIRTHDAY is proof that the universe loves me. 

anyway this is very very good, very very clever, extremely good at stephen (less good at bloom but his parts are still good), engages w/ ulysses, portrait & hamlet (& others) very cleverly & does some cool meta and experimental shit. y’all it has stephen talking to a contemporary therapist about how he’s stuck in joyce’s text which is all about joyce & very little about whoever stephen is when he’s not joyce’s alter ego/affectionate but slightly amused look at younger self and ithaca is an interview w/ the author about how his relationship to his dad influenced his response to ulysses and I’M INTO IT. the oxen of the sun chapter replaces the whole ‘gestation of english prose’ w/ just slightly rewriting the first pages of about 10 novels published between ulysses and now & it does lolita w/ “bloom, thorn of stephen’s sleep, light in his eyes. his sire, his son’ and i lit. screamed. anyway i don’t want to give this 5 stars (yet) bc i think some of the experimental stuff ended up a bit gimmicky & didn’t add that much to the text but fuck. that’s my boy & i want to reread it right now. 4.5/5 ALSO it’s a crime no literary weirdo woman has written ‘a portrait of the artist’s sister’ about delia ‘dilly’ dedalus, shadow of stephen’s mind, quick far & daring, teaching herself french from a 3rd hand primer while her father drinks the nonexistent family fortune away and her older brother is getting drunk on a beach & starting fights w/ soldiers bc he’s a smartarse

[uas-art]

Title: Only Straight Guys Fix Bicycles.

Rating: T for the singular F bomb dropped midway through.

Summary: Tweek finally learned why Craig stole borrowed all those bicycles.

Ships: Creek

Other: Inspired by This ask post from @cheylouwho and another post I cannot for the life of me find that broke down hints that Craig may have been gay from early on, but hiding it for his dad's sake, or something akin to that.

~~~~

Craig still had himself another forty-five minutes to enjoy curled up in his boyfriend's bed. Forty-five glorious, glorious minutes of warm cuddling, breathing in the smell of coffee, morning spring fabric softener, and the cologne Tweek accidently dumped earlier that week that continued to stubbornly cling to the sheets. Forty-five minutes of Tweek's arm around his middle and his nose pressed against his neck until Craig had to get up and sneak back out the window to go home before his own parents awoke. Forty-five glorious minutes.

Or they would be glorious, if Tweek would kindly stop tapping against Craig's stomach with his fingertips.

With a huff, Craig slipped his hand under the covers and grabbed Tweek's fingers midtap.

"Stop, babe," he mumbled. "I know you're awake at this time of night, but I'm not. Let me sleep."

"Ack!" Tweek stiffened. "Sorry, sorry, just, nnng, thinking."

Craig released Tweek's fingers and laid his arm back down. With a contented sigh, Craig began to doze back off. Just as the rest of the world began to fade into unconsciousness, he felt another tap.

Craig groan, rolling over to glare. "Tweek."

"Sorry!" Tweek scooted back a little. He pulled his hand to his chest.

Craig let out a breath. Usually when Craig snuck over to sleep with Tweek, Tweek was very considerate about Craig's sleep schedule compared to his own. Sure, sometimes that meant that Craig would wake up alone with Tweek sitting idly at his computer desk, but Tweek rarely woke him up before it was time for Craig to hurry home. For Tweek to break that routine, something must be wrong.

"What's the matter?" Craig asked as he grabbed Tweek's arm and put it back over his side. It was meant to be there, tapping or not.

"Nothing's the matter," Tweek replied. "I'm just thinking."

"About what?" Craig asked through a yawn. He wasn't going to push too hard for information if Tweek decided not to give it, at least, not that early in the morning.

"My bike. It's broken, something with the chain, I think? I have to walk the deliveries around town until I can figure out how to fix it. It's a, argh, pain in the ass."

Craig made a sound of understanding. Since Tweak Bro's had open their delivery service, Tweek had been biking around town more than ever. Tweek tried near daily to get permission to use the car, even though he still only had his permit, but his parents always refused.

'It'll build character and your calf muscles!' They told him.

Craig hummed, then asked, "Do you want me to help? I know how to fix bicycles."

Tweek snorted a laugh. It was an adorable sound that made Craig smile lazily.

"You mean when you, heh-heh, stole all those bikes back in, like, third grade?" Tweek teased.

"I didn't steal them. I borrowed them." Craig corrected. "And fixed them."

Tweek rolled his eyes. "Is that why your dad made you go and apologize for taking them without asking? Why did you even do that anyway?"

Craig rolled his eyes right back before scooting closer and wrapping his own arm around Tweek. He nuzzled against Tweek's chest, pressing his palm against the middle of Tweek's upper back, as if the action could pull his boyfriend closer than he already was. Tweek's shirt smelled even more so of the dumped cologne than the sheets. Not that Craig was going to complain. He'd take this over the Axe Bath Clyde did after gym any day.

"Doesn't matter. I fixed them." He mumbled. "Now, let. Me. Sleep."

"Tell me later." Tweek took his free arm from Craig's side and tangled his fingers in his boyfriend's dark hair. Craig sleepily grunted the affirmative in response before finally drifting back off for another forty glorious, glorious minutes of sleep.

The fresh snow crunched under Craig's feet as he walked around the back of Tweak Bro's. He adjusted his backpack as he went. The clang of metal tools shuffling around in the bag alerted Tweek to his presence. Tweek looked up from his bicycle. He smiled before hurrying over to hug his boyfriend.

"Thanks for doing this," Tweek pressed a kiss to Craig's cheek.

"No problem. I'm practically an expert repair man." Craig replied as he shrugged off his bag. Tweek led him to the bicycle, and Craig stooped down. He turned the peddles a few times and tugged at the limp chain before nodding.

"Yeah, something's up with the chain drive. Looks kind of rusted." Craig tapped the chain as he spoke. "I think I still have some parts around my house. I could replace it, but it won't be today."

Tweek swore, "Fuck! I have to make a delivery in, like, five minutes."

Craig wiped his hands on his jeans before pushing himself up. "What me to walk with you?"

"You want to?" Tweek perked up.

"Sure," Craig shrugged.

Tweek wrapped Craig in a half hug and rested his head on his shoulder. "Thanks, dude, and on the way, you can tell me about your bike crime spree."

Craig stiffened. "That wasn't a dream?"

"Every night with you is a dream," Tweek snickered, earning himself a playful shove away and a middle finger. Still chuckling, Tweek hurried into the store to grab his deliveries. After a moment, he popped back out with a large paper bag in hand. The Tweak Bro's logo printed on the front.

Craig pulled on his backpack and ambled after his boyfriend to the street.

"So, your crime spree," Tweek began, "why'd you do it?"

"It's stupid."

"I still wanna know."

Craig sighed then ran a hand through his hair. "Ok, but remember, you asked, so you can't laugh."

Tweek nodded for him to go on, watching Craig's face attentively. Or as attentively as he could without tripping and dropping his delivery.

"Ok, the reason I borrowed all those bicycles back then was..." he let out a low breath, "was because only straight guys fix bicycles."

Tweek stopped, fixing Craig with a confused look. "What? That doesn't make any sense! You're the logical one here, dude, and that is so illogical that even I can't make sense of that!"

"I was nine!" Craig defended. "Back when I was nine, I didn't know that people were born gay. I thought you became gay by doing, well, girly things."

"'Girly things'? What? Explain?" Tweek shook his head as he started walking again.

"The only gay guys I knew were Big Gay Al and Mr. Slave, and kind of our teacher. The way Dad complained about them when I was around, it was like how effeminately the talked and acted and junk was what made them gay, ya know? The issue with gay men wasn't that they liked other men, it was that they didn't act like a man 'should be' acting." Craig felt his face heating up. He knew exactly how stupid this sounded. Part of him wished he could go back six years and cuss out nine-year-old Craig for being such a dumbass.

As they came to the cross walk and waited for a car to pass, Craig looked away before speaking. "So I thought if I did some super manly things all the time, that one day I'd wake up, look out the window into the blue sky and think, 'yeah, I like boobies. Girls and only girls are the people I am attracted to and want to date!'.”

Tweek tried to cover his laughed but failed. "Did it work?"

"Considering I snuck into your house to spoon you last night? No, it did not." Craig relaxed a little. He stepped closer as they crossed the street and grabbed for Tweek's hand. A family cross the other way at the same time. The parents cranked their heads to watch Craig and Tweek with smiles on their faces. The usual reaction to Craig and Tweek's public displays of affection, even after all these years.

Tweek squeezed Craig's hand. "So, stealing is masculine, and you thought stealing bikes would make you straight?"

"No, I thought doing something masculine like fixing cars would make me straight if I did them enough, but since Dad wouldn't let me take apart the engine of our car, I went to the closest thing I had: fixing bicycles." Craig shrugged. "It just so happens that I have more gay thoughts than I had friends with bikes, so I started borrowing other people's to fix."

Craig waited for Tweek to take a jab at him for borrowing people's bicycles without permission, but instead Tweek hummed to himself before swinging their connected hands a little.

"You know," Tweek said as they stopped in front of the Photo Dojo, "I would still have like-liked you, even if that plan of yours did work." Before Craig could reply, an employee stepped out of the store. Craig took a step back, instantly wishing he didn't have to drop his hand away, and let Tweek handle the transaction.

"Enjoy your cupcakes, and thank you for choosing Tweak Bro's," Tweek told the employee in his customer voice. It was almost eerie how Tweek had trained himself to switch between his normal, somewhat jittery, voice, to a calm collected one, not too unlike his father's, when he had to deal with customers. Maybe it was a Tweak family trait.

The Photo Dojo employee nodded and shut the door, a cupcake already shoved in his mouth.

Craig quickly reclaimed Tweek's hand. "You were saying? Something about already being enamoured by my hot looks and charm before we were dating?"

Tweek breathed a laugh. "Actually, yeah, dude. Pretty much."

"Wait, seriously?" Craig stepped in front of Tweek and leaned down so their noses nearly touched. "Little nine-year-old Tweek Tweak had a crush on not as little nine-year-old me?" His lips curved up. "That's adorable."

"I got the crush when I was eight, actually. Get it right." Tweek laughed. He ducked around Craig and began to pull him back towards the coffee shop.

"Well, I can't say I blame you. I was very desirable property back in the day. Girls just clamoured for my affections. Fought each other tooth and nail just to hold my sticky little hand." Craig smirked. "And you? You, babe, didn't even have try to get me. You pretty much won the lottery."

"Wasn't I voted more attractive by the girls in our class than you, Mr. Eleventh?"

"I was twelfth on the fake list, actually. Get it right."

Tweek laughed. He paused a moment before looking a way. "You know, this is going to sound corny but," He smiled up at Craig, "I'm really am happy your bicycle plan didn't work."

Craig felt his cheeks heat up. He grinned back for a beat before bending down, pressing a kiss on Tweek's forehead.

"Yeah, I am, too."

~~~~

AN: Writing these two being dorks with each other is my favorite thing, ok???? x3

[otabottom]

Jjbek prompt anon-sorry for forgetting, you pick the category!

anonymous asked:

15-JJBek!

15 - “She’s/he’s not my boyfriend!”

When Otabek sighs for the umpteenth time like a lovesick idiot that he is, Yuri thinks, ‘that’s it’. He closes the magazine he’s been reading as forcefully as he can, slapping the pages together to get Otabek’s attention.

“All right, you dumbass. That’s enough of the pining. Please, just go text your boyfriend, alright?”

Otabek lifts his head up to glare at Yuri. He’s sprawled on Yuri’s bed like a starfish, hand over his head while Yuri has been reading on the couch like a normal person.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Otabek insists. Yuri has never heard him whine, but the tone he just used comes pretty close.

Yuri rolls his eyes and throws a sofa cushion in the general direction of Otabek.

“Then make him your boyfriend. That’s what you want, right?” 

It’s been infuriating seeing Otabek moon over that Canadian idiot. Mostly because Jean-Jacques is a huge douchebag, but also because lovesick Otabek is lethargic and lifeless, only perking up when there’s a message on his phone (and only to sulk ten seconds later when he realises it’s not from JJ). Yuri would spend all his free time dragging Otabek that the object of his affection is the literal dictionary definition of a fuckboy, but he doesn’t have the heart to do it. Yuri has never seen Otabek act like this towards anyone else. There was that awkward stage where he and Otabek tried out the whole dating thing, but that doesn’t count. They were pretty awful together, Yuri thinks. Awkward and completely on a different wavelength romantically. They are great as friends, though.

Which is why Yuri doesn’t want to sabotage Otabek’s love life, even if he thinks that JJ is no way in hell deserving of Otabek.

The sofa cushion is flung back towards Yuri, but Yuri is used to these kind of attacks so he just ducks his head while making his way towards the kitchen.

“I don’t know!” He hears Otabek’s exasperated voice from the alcove where the bed is. His voice is muffled, so Yuri suspects that Otabek has drowned his face in Yuri’s pillow (again). “Maybe! But he’s - he probably doesn’t even remember who I am!”

Yuri rolls his eyes again as he pours them both a glass of Coke. Not diet coke, but the real stuff. He also balances slices of cold pizza on top of both glasses before returning to the living room. He places the glass and the pizza on the nightstand next to Otabek’s head and returns to the couch, tapping an affirmative answer to Netflix’s ‘are you still watching Friends?’.

“Of course he remembers you, Beks. Just text him, for god’s sakes. You guys talked for hours at the banquet and he barely left your side the whole evening,” Yuri says, mouth full of pizza. He knows Otabek is going to force them to go running tomorrow morning, but before that he’s going to shove as much pizza into himself as he possibly can.

Otabek and JJ talked a lot during the banquet. Yuri doesn’t know whether Otabek had been thinking about JJ even before that (because he is a secretive asshole and Yuri has to constantly remind him to share his thoughts), but the banquet was the first time they met face to face. The Canadian boy sauntered over to Otabek to congratulate him on his creative short-program that gave him the best personal score of the season. Yuri didn’t hear the whole conversation (because apparently eavesdropping was rude), but he remembers how soft Otabek’s eyes went and how he couldn’t quite hide how nervous he was, standing in front of JJ. His cheeks were a little pink and he played with the collar of his shirt a little too much to seem casual.

Since the banquet, Otabek has flushed deep red whenever Yuri mentions anything about the subject. He spends all his free time looking through JJ’s Instagram and Snapchat, sighing and biting his lip.

“Have you seen his latest Instagram pictures, though?” Otabek asks.

“No.”

“He’s in most of them with some girl. He’s someone else’s boyfriend, Yura!”

Yuri gives Otabek an amused look. “Who, Isabella Yang? They’re not dating.”

“How can you know?”

Yuri is never going to tell Otabek that he’s done some snooping around like friends do, because, well, Otabek would murder him with his bare hands. But Yuri is friends with Mila, and Mila is friends with Sara, and Sara used to train with Isabella together in Italy. (It’s lucky the whole figure skating scene is this small.) Yuri requested Mila to ask around for him and yep - Isabella and JJ used to pair skate together when they were little before Isabella decided to drop skating altogether, JJ continued by himself. They’ve been friends their whole life, but they’re not dating. And in fact, according to Mila, JJ is very much interested in men.

“Because I listen to gossip more than you, Beka,” Yuri says with a shrug of his shoulder. “Just please, please message him. He was impressed by the fact that you mix your own music to your programs, right? Maybe you could offer to make something for him for next season?” 

Otabek has been scrolling his phone, but he pauses to look at Yuri. He’s frowning, but he’s not instantly screaming ‘no’, so that’s good.

“That’s dumb,” Otabek says slowly.

“Well, you are quite dumb to like him in the first place, but here we are.”

Otabek licks his lips and glances at his phone. “I don’t have his phone number.”

“Just DM him in Instagram”, Yuri suggests. Who the fuck even sent text messages these days? Oh, that’s right - Otabek did.

“And if I did that, what should I even say?” Otabek asks, defensive but clearly desperate for advice.

“‘Hey’.”

“That’s it?”

Yuri lifts his brows to the boy. “Y-yes? That’s what people say when they start a conversation.”

Otabek flips his overgrown hair from his face. “Are you saying that you, who’s currently seeing three different ice hockey players and who’s had more boyfriends than I’ve had kisses in my entire life, just sends messages that say ‘hey’ when you want to open a conversation?”

Yuri gives the boy a pained look. He knows Otabek is not yet very experienced with dating, but holy fuck, Yuri had no idea he was this clueless. “Yes.”

“And then what?”

“Then they say ‘hi’ back and ask you how you’ve been. You answer them and ask them how they’ve been. They tell about their day, you tell about your day. They compliment your most recent selfie and you compliment theirs and boom, you’re exchanging dick pics.”

Otabek goes deep red and opens his mouth to protest. Yuri thinks he’s going to say something about Yuri being too gross or explicit, but instead what comes out of his mouth is: “But I don’t have any pictures of me on my Instagram. There’s nothing to compliment.”

Yuri smirks and lifts up his own phone, twirling it in his hand. “Babe, this is exactly why I have a whole folder dedicated to candid photos I’ve taken of you.” He pats the place next to him on the sofa. “Come here and pick one with me. After we’ve posted it, we’re going to message JJ.”

Otabek huffs and stomps to Yuri, throws himself into the sofa like this is the worst thing he’s ever had to do.

“Fine! But if this blows up in my face, I’m going to blame you,” he says, but Yuri hears the excitement in his voice. He huffs a laugh, because he remembers how he and JJ been in the bathrooms the same time and how JJ had fussed with his awful haircut for and opened too many buttons of his shirt before returning to talk to Otabek. Yuri is sure a fuck that JJ is thinking about Otabek, too.

“Just thank me at your wedding,” Yuri sing-songs as he begins scrolling through the pictures on his phone.