#and always tease and prod to see if they’ll stay how fun

[delta-piscium]

cute aggression but it’s like ‘I’m so deeply annoyed about how attractive I find this and I need to bite something about it’

[blair-the-juggalho]

How we got here (part 2)

Dumb oc shit btw Xx ignore the cringe bro 😡🤬I made this for me and me only

Marlon looked at us and smiled before walking towards his base. We all followed after him.

“So how many people are in your group?” I asked.

“10 including me, vi, and louis.” Marlon responded

“Ah ok…” I said.

“do u think they’d be pissed you brought three strangers back…I would be if I was them.” Monica asked.

“Some will be yeah. Ya know the others haven’t seen new people since…all this started.” Marlon said

“Oh shit really?” I asked.

“Did he just lied to you.

“Did he just lie to you? fuckin’ plonker.” Jack joked.

I shot him a glare and the other just giggled.

“Yeah. We’ve always stayed inside the safe zone so it was just whatever few teachers decided to stay and the other kids.” Marlon explained.

It was a silent walk back to their base. Marlon ordered violet and louis to round up the others. After a while, Marlon walked us into Ericsson. We saw all the other 7 kids stood around us, some with shocked faces and others with distrusted looks in their eyes.

“Everyone, this is Blair, jack, and Monica. They’ll be staying a day or two with us and then after that we’ll see how it goes.” Marlon explained. Me,jack, and moni all waved when he said our names. Suddenly, a boy with an angry expression spoke out.

“What the fuck, Marlon!? Why would you bring three strangers back with you?! We don’t know them!” The boy shouted. Some silently nodded in agreement.

“I get your hesitation but these guys seem like good people.” Marlon retorted. I warmly smiled at him.

“Yeah, these guys are fun!” Louis shouted.

Me and Jack started laughing and Monica playfully rolled her eyes. The kid who was angry at our arrival grunted and stormed off with a younger boy following shortly behind him.

Marlon ordered everyone to get back to work so all the kids disbanded. He then turned to us and said he’d walk us to our room.

He put us all in room 203 for now. We dropped our shit off in the room and walked back out into the courtyard. Luckily, it was time for dinner so we all sat down on a bench with Marlon, vi, and Louis to eat. While I was eating, I felt eyes digging into my soul. I turned around to see the angry dude give me a major death glare. Ya know…despite him being a bit of a prat, he’s kinda hot. I smiled at him and he scoffed and rolled his eyes in response. I smiled and continued eating.

After eating, Louis ordered everyone to stay seated. He then pulled me,jack, and Monica up in front of everyone.

“Ok everyone introduction time!” Louis started “I’ll go first! I’m Louis.” Louis greeted. He then ushered Monica to go next.

“Oh… I’m Monica.” Monica said blandly. Me and Jack proceed to tease her. “I’m the super cool and awesome, jack.” Jack said. I pushed him slightly. “Yuh huh, and I’m the even better than jack, Blair!” I said while flipping my hair and striking my bimbo pose. Monica have a loud sigh. Jack prodded my rib which caused me to cringe. There was then the list of everyone’s name. ‘Louis, vi, Marlon, Omar, assim, tenn, ruby, Willy, and brody.’ However, one guy stood out. Mitch. He was the one who seemed to hate us. After we all talked and got to know each other a bit we all started to head to bed, except Mitch who was on night watch duty.

I woke up around 1am from a nightmare. I looked over to moni, and jack who were still asleep. I quietly stepped out of my room as I needed to get some fresh air. However, as soon as I closed my door I heard a voice behind me.

“Where are you going at this time?” Mitch asked, suspiciously.

I jumped and turned around.

“Fuck dude you scared the shit out of me.” I whisper shouted. Mitch stayed silent, giving me a glare.

“I just had a dumb dream and I didn’t wanna wake the idiots up.” I explained. Mitch eased up a tiny bit.

“We’ll just know I’m watching you guys ok? You do anything remotely out of line and your dead.” Mitch threatened. I quietly laughed.

“Yeah yeah I get it. Trust me I may be the most insufferable, annoying, and loudest person you’ll ever meet and not in a OOoOo I’m a crack head way just in a I was just born a bit obscure way but trust me! I wouldn’t do anything to hurt good people.” I explained. Mitch looked a bit confused but he still nodded his head.

“You better stick to your word.” Mitch threatened.

“I will do, edgelord.” I joked. He galered at me in silence for a bit before speaking again.

“A lot of kids here noticed your eyes.” Mitch said.

“Dawwww I knew people would come to eventually appreciate my gorgeous eyes.” I joked. Mitch scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“But seriously, why are they red? You look like a freak.” He asked.

“I don’t know I use dye. My real eye colour is blue but that’s lame.” I explained. Mitch huffed and nodded.

“Ight, thanks for this lovely talk but I’m gonna head back to bed. Goodnight Mitch the bitch.” I joked. Mitch scoffed at the nickname and walked back into his room which was right next to ours.

[yandere-daydreams]

Forest God Deku who seems a little to keen on keeping the cute little human adventurer who has wandered into his forest crawling with monsters and fairies

Somehow, I think Forest Deity Izuku might be less feral than our average, mess-of-a-hero Izuku. Or, he might just be a little more subtle about it. It’s hard to tell, at first.

TW: Threats of Harm, Mentions of Death and Torture, and Implied Imprisonment.

~

The world was spinning. Spinning, spinning, spinning.

The forest around you was darkening quickly, golden light shining through gaps in tree-tops and radiating a calming, pacifying aura you couldn’t seem to lull into. Creatures came and went, curious rabbits that came to inspect an immobilized human and scavenger birds looking for an easy meal, the latter usually discouraged by flailing movements and an onslaught of inappropriate language. The trees made lazy, meandering circles around you, in no particular rush to close their investigation, the carpet of dead leaves and decaying fauna rising to brush against the tips of your limp fingers. Like a friend, silently making sure you were alright.

It occurred to you, suddenly, that the world wasn’t spinning, nor was it upside-down. You were.

And you didn’t think you wanted to be, any longer.

“You’re awake,” An unfamiliar voice greeted, bringing your attention to the boy sitting in front of you, then behind you, then to your side, your lethargic rotations soon put to a stop as his hand latched onto your wrist, holding you still. He looked calm, too calm, sitting on the forest floor as he scanned over you, giving you time to do the same. Green hair blended perfectly with the lush flora that surrounded the two of you, and a splatter of freckles spread themselves across his pale features, painted from his cheeks to his shoulders. He was shirtless, but what wasn’t covered fazed you much less than what was, everything below his waist covered by a coat of hazel fur, more similar to a fawn than a man, backward-bent knees and cloven hooves going little to settle your unease. He chuckled when he noticed you staring, leaning forward slightly as he spoke. “You were out for quite a while,” He started, his voice soft. “Must’ve hit your head on the way up. It’s a miracle you woke up at all, really.”

“Fuck off,” You mumbled, the words weighed down by your own exhaustion. You groaned lightly, attempting to pull yourself into an upright position, but as soon as you shifted, whatever was wrapped around your ankle dug into your skin, forcing you to realize just how rough the material was. A dried vine, you guessed, braided but not dethroned. Tight, and getting tighter anytime you moved. “Is this… are you magic?”

Another laugh. You cringed, a steady pain already starting to form in the back of your skull. “It’s just a snare. A normal one, not cursed or anything,” He explained, waving his free hand through the air nonchalantly. “Humans don’t tend to mix well with anything supernatural. I’ve tried before, but then you always start screaming and panicking, and if that doesn’t kill you, the way your bodies interact with it usually will.” He paused, stopping to think. “Am I magic? I never thought to ask, and now he’s gone… If I can use it, does that mean--”

“Who are you?” You cut him off before he could go on. You had a feeling he’d never be quiet, if you let him ramble. “Let’s start with that. Who are you, and when are you going to let me go?”

“I’m Deku!” He was back to smiling, grinning too widely as he pushed himself to his feet. The spinning continued, but Deku didn’t seem opposed to following in your unwanted tracks, walking in circles around you. Your body felt heavy, your head beginning to ache, his introduction barely audible over the blood rushing past your ears. “I guess you could call me a guardian spirit. That’s why I do, really, I guard things. See, this part of the forest is special.” He stopped walking, but you didn’t have to see him. You could feel his eyes burning into you, regardless of where he was. “Dirty little humans aren’t supposed to come here.”

You opened your mouth, something between a defensive insult and an apology playing on your tongue, but Deku didn’t give you the chance, catching your ankle and driving his nails, no, talons into your skin, so much sharper than they seemed to be, last time he made contact. Like those of a predator. A mountain cat. “You understand that this is bad, right? You did something very, very wrong. You wandered into someplace sacred, and you disgraced it.” His fist flexed, pointed tips prodding further, deeper. Blood began to drip from the wound, but your feet were so numb, you could barely feel it. You didn’t want to feel it. “I should kill you. I should torture you. Maybe an agonizing death would be enough to make up for the intrusion.”

You were silent, for a moment, but the true levity of your situation hit you abruptly, as forceful as an oncoming freight train. A God, a man, a satyr, something had strung you up, knocked you unconscious, and was spouting off threats he didn’t seem opposed to carrying out. You might’ve cried, if the pressure on your eye-sockets hadn’t been so crushing. “Please.” You weren’t thinking. You couldn’t think. Not when you’d been in such a compromising position for so long. “Please, I don’t want to die. It… it was a mistake, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry--”

“’Please don’t kill me, Deku. I’m so sorry, Deku, I won’t do it ever again!’ That’s what they all say.” He sighed, shaking his head. His teasing was light-hearted, comically high-pitched, but his exasperation was genuine. Dark. “Want to know how many times I’ve heard that? Thousands. And how often do you think it works?”

He let you go, tearing his claws from your flesh. You whimpered, and his smile broadened. “N-never.”

“Never.” He reached down, tapping the end of your nose as a faux-reward. “Good mortal. But, that’s not going to happen to you.”

Hope bubbled up in your chest, boiling over before you could push it back down. “Thank you, thank you, I didn’t-”

“It won’t be what happened to you, if you do as I say.” He kneeled in front of you, taking hold of your jaw and forcing you to meet his eyes. You could’ve avoided it, if you tried, but it was all you could do to stay focused on anything. Those black, beady eyes made a good target. “Come back to my temple with me, and don’t struggle. I can’t let you leave, not once you’ve entered, and I won’t tolerate disobedience. I’d hate to have to flay you after I’ve promised not to.”

You blinked, your frown returning as quickly as it’d disappeared. You didn’t remember how you’d gotten here or why you were alone, but you knew you shouldn’t stay. The sun had gone down, by now, and the air was growing colder by the second. You didn’t want to see just how inhospitable the environment could get. “Your temple?” You asked, meekly. “I… But, my family, and my friends, they’ll be--”

“Or, I could leave you here. We’ve got a few unique animals here. They’re a little more confident than the bears and wolves you’re used to.” As soon as he finished, a howl echoed through the woods, loud and scratchy and primal. Several more followed, as if on cue, and Deku nodded in their direction. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say they enjoy having a meal that can struggle. It makes it more fun to tear apart, right?”

You didn’t respond, falling silent and thinking it over. Deku shifted, moonlight catching on fangs you swore hadn’t been there a moment ago, and you nodded before you could decide against it.

You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to be trapped. You didn’t want to be anywhere near Deku.

But, the pulse beating violently inside your head and black spots eagerly invading your vision reminded you of something more important. Something you needed.

They made you remember how much you desperately wanted to stop spinning.

[innittowinit]

Can you pick me up? my uni burnt down (Chapt. 2)

Relationships: Sleepy bois inc (all fics i write are platonic)

Summary: 

 In which Techno goes to England for University, his building catches fire in the night, and he isn't prepared for the difference in climate between England and California. SBI fluff ensues

Chapter summary: 

After waking up, Wilbur has the great idea that they should do a sleepy boys stream. Tommy doesn't get told about this id

Words: 1785

Language: English

AO3 Chapt. 1

Listen, waking up on a sofa, with a thin blanket shared with 3 men was never going to be the best morning. His back hurt and his legs were numb from Wilbur having sprawled out over the three of them as he slept. 

Stretching his arms back, he recounted the events of last night. God, it really was only a few hours ago, he was so tired. Had this been last year, he would have been able to stay up for days on end and then just crash for an entire weekend. It wasn’t last year though and Techno had gotten himself into a fairly healthy routine, he couldn’t exactly be sleeping through his uni classes anyway. 

“Alright you two” Hearing Philza’s voice, he propped his head up, “Get up, you can’t lay around all day”

A groan came from the mass of blankets and cushions that happened to be Wilbur, who was curled up in the centre of it,

“Phil it's so early and we went to bed so late. It’s fine to sleep in”

“Okay” he chuckled, humouring his tired friend “It’s midday Wil, im taking the blankets away now”

Techno thought it was much too early too, as he tugged the sleeves of Wilbur’s hoodie down a little further so they could act like gloves. 

“Do you mind if I use your PC to try and find out what’s going on with my classes at some point? They'll probably send me an email or something” He grumbled, standing up so he could stretch his back out properly, following Phil slowly to the kitchen.

“That’s fine, it's up in my room, do what you need”

Breakfast was nice, it had been a while since Techno had had time for it honestly, and even longer since he had been able to eat with people he cared about. He had a couple slices of buttered toast and a bowl of some british cereal which he didn’t really like but he didn’t want to be rude so he ate it anyway. 

“You wanna stream together later?” Wil asked through a mouth full of food, earning a snort from Phil. This was nice. 

“Yeah maybe, you use face cam though, I’m not like against showing them my face but y'know, it is what it is” he shrugged, spooning another mouthful of his breakfast into his mouth, he had to admit it was very bland, he much preferred the sweeter ones that were more popular in America. 

“Well think about it, if you decide you don't want them to see you, you can always just sit off to the side and I'll turn my monitor so you can still see it. My office is big enough for it anyway, it’ll be like where Niki was during that one MCC remember?”

Techno nodded and carried on eating, they really were 3 very sleepy boys right now. Maybe he’d take a nap once he found out what was going on with his classes. 

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

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

Streaming without any gameplay to comment about and with facecam on? Techno wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. That just didn’t really sound like something he was going to enjoy.

It was nerve wracking and he always seemed to glance at the camera too much when it was pointed at him. He knew the fans would be disappointed if he didn’t do it though, When Wilbur tweeted out saying that he and Phil would join him in a ‘you laugh you lose’ he watched as the replies freaked out. 

You could say he was just a bit camera shy, he wasn’t incredibly insecure, sure there were things he didn’t like that much but everyone had things like that, it just made him nervous to know that people were looking at him. 

He’d be okay with his friend’s though, he trusted that they’d never put him in an uncomfortable situation. He knew if he got overwhelmed he could sit outside the frame. 

It would be okay. 

“Hey hey chat” Wilbur mumbled into the mic, making it loud enough so that everyone could hear but it still sounded like he was whispering. 

“We’ve got the blade here, bet you weren’t expecting that huh chat? Or maybe you were, maybe you read the title of the stream, bet there’s someone watching who didn't think he’d be here though” he finally turned the music off and switched from his ‘starting soon’ screen to his regular camera. 

Wil went through the rules, it was the normal stuff, he added in some jokes here and there, prodding Techno and Phil to talk at times. They’d already agreed that this wouldn’t be for youtube, since that seemed to add a bit too much pressure for Techno, but hey, he still had to welcome his chat. 

“Okay!! First media share! Lets go”  

After a series of videos, some funnier than others, Techno had started to loosen up a bit. He was getting more comfortable with the camera and while he’d probably cringe while looking back at the footage, at least he was having fun right now.

He had a warm feeling in his chest that wasn’t usually there when he was streaming alone, sure it was usually fun but nothing was better than being with his friends while doing it, there was really only one person who was missing. 

As if on queue, chat started spamming Tommy’s name, for a moment Techno thought he had been mumbling his thoughts out loud, before he looked between Phil and Wilbur, who both seemed equally confused. Moving Wilbur’s mouse over the chat to pause it, Techno tried to read some of the messages. 

“Oh he tweeted something” he mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket without a care. Maybe some irl streamers would have used the computer but knowing Wilbur’s history, he doubted it could run Chrome and streamlabs at the same time. 

Looking at the tweet he felt a little pang of guilt. It was lighthearted and jokey but he knew there’d be a little truth to it. He nudged the other two and read it aloud to them. 

‘Damn guess I’m not a sleepy boy after all’

The air felt a little thick after that, they hadn’t meant to exclude Tommy; all of the excitement of Techno coming to stay had just made it a little hard to arrange to have Tommy here after all. 

Still, they probably should have still told him though. They were supposed to be each other's family.  

“Hey chat I think we’re gonna have to end stream early.” Wilbur finally piped up, deciding it wouldn't be right to carry on when they had hurt their friend, not that chat needed to know that though, he didn’t want to embarrass Tommy. 

“I feel kinda sick and I don't think you all wanna watch me vomit right? Yeah so it’s best we end it now” 

Techno sniggered to himself at that, in games Wilbur always seemed to be very cunning but he supposed he wasn’t very good at lying when it was about something he actually cared about. Said something being Tommy.  

After raiding Fundy, the trio hopped straight onto discord. 

Tommy didn't answer the first time he was called. 

Or the second. 

Finally, after three calls, Tommy decided he’d talk to them. 

“You are all a bunch of dick heads, you know that? What the hell! Why wasn’t I invited to the sleepy boy’s stream! Wilbur you bitch!” Through all the vulgar language and the constant yelling, it was clear that Tommy was genuinely upset. 

He had every right to be, as far as Techno was concerned. From his point of view his friend’s had just gone off and hung out without him. He just hoped he’d calm down once they explained everything.  

“You know I thought we were friends! I thought we were brothers! But if you don’t wanna hang out with a ‘kid’ you can just tell me and i’ll- i'll go!” He was still yelling, as usual, it was clear he was trying to make this into a joke where he could overreact but Techno noticed the small sniffles and the quiver in his voice. 

By the looks on Phil’s and Wilbur’s faces, they recognised it too.  

“Listen, Tommy” 

Wil was the first to talk, it made sense, it seemed that Tommy trusted him the most at times. Sometimes Techno could be a bit too cold and sometimes Phil could get a bit too overbearing.

Techno understood this, he didn’t take it personally, he knew it was only natural that you have people you trust with your emotions more than others. It didn’t mean Tommy didn’t love them just as much, just that they weren’t his ‘go-to’ when he felt down. 

Techno felt the same way sometimes. Feeling’s got complicated and personally he thought Phil was the best to talk to about that, the fact that he was older and had his life sorted out gave him a sense of comfort, like he could trust him because he knew what he was talking about. 

“We didn’t plan a meetup, it just sorta happened. Phil was at my place, helping me record, and then Techno’s Uni had a fire and he needed a place to stay while they’re making it safe again” Wilbur sighed as he heard Tommy moving on the other side of his mic. Techno wondered what he was doing. 

“We would have invited you, had we known that we’d all be in the same place Toms” 

Phil took over, giving Wilbur a little sympathetic smile. The brunette so obviously felt guilty about the situation. 

“But when we got the call from Tech’ it was past 3 in the morning and it was tipping it down with snow, as soon as we got home we all slept. We decided to do a stream this morning but never once did we intend to try and make you feel like you aren’t welcome with us” 

Finally it was Techno’s turn to talk...Fuck.

He wasn’t exactly the most sentimental guy, he struggled to show his emotions and he just assumed everyone he cared for just knew that he cared for them. He rarely had to say it out loud. God okay. He just had to swallow his pride and go for it. 

“Tommy you are a sleepy boy and you are our brother. We did kind of a dick move today and if I was you I’d probably be upset too. I know I didn't like seeing you guys playing without me during MCC and that wasn’t even any of our decisions. We should have called you or something. I know I kinda tease you a lot but that’s just how I show I like people. Listen Tommy if I didn’t care about you I wouldn’t be comfortable enough to make those kinds of jokes with you. It’s not funny if it’s hurting you though..”

Techno bit his lip, this wasn’t as hard as he had anticipated but it was coming out like word vomit. 

“You’re young Tommy but you’re so talented. We love you”

There was some more rustling, it sounded like Tommy was wiping his eyes. Maybe the boy had expected a yelling match, only for it to turn out to be very emotional. 

“I love you guys too.. If you ever exclude me ever again though I’m getting my vlog knife out”

[airis-paris14]

Starlight 4

Summary: Amani is an orphaned heiress who’s spent most of her life raising her younger sister. T’Challa is a widowed King and Father. Neither of them is expecting much from their night at the Lotus. But the coming months have many milestones in store for these young adults. Will becoming a family be one of them?

1 || 2 || 3 || 4

“Sis, you are killing my dating life,” Madiyson whined as she and Amani cleaned the glasses at the bar. “I’m killing your dating life? It has to exist for me to kill it.” Amani murmured.

“Haha.” Madiyson threw her rag at the other waitress. “Look, you go to all these fancy parties, with rich eligible men, and you never invite me. Girl, you’re holding me back from my husband.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to go to those parties. All the men are old and boring, and they all want something from you.” Amani sighed and began hanging the wine glasses on the rack. “Yeah, some good lovin’.” Madiyson shimmied her way around the bar laughing.

“Oh my god.”

“So you’ve never met any young attractive guy at these parties?”

“Well….”

“Well?”

“Well, He’s the exception to the rule.” Amani sassed.

“See, I’m just asking for one chance. One party.”

“Fine fine,” Amani placed the last glass on the shelf. “Amare won’t be home for another month so you can go to the next party.”

“She’s not coming home for spring break?” Madiyson frowned.

“Nope, engineering conference with her school. In France.” Amani pouted.

“Yeah, I’d choose France over you too.” Madiyson teased.

“Shut up,” Amani pushed her. “This isn’t how you get the invite to this gala.”

“Now, you know I’m just messing with you girlie.” Madiyson hugged her friend.

“I know, but sometimes it just feels like she doesn’t need me anymore.”

“That’s a good thing! You’re not her mother, and you’re young. One day you’ll have kids and get to go through it all again. Except they’ll be infants this time and you won’t be in college.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Amani smiled.

“Aren’t I always? Now, tell me all about this exception to the rule guy.”

“What do you want to know?” It’d been three months since Amani had heard from T’Challa. Not even a text or letter. “Tell me anything,” Madiyson shrugged. “Well, he was attending our yearly investor gallery. He saved me from a boring conversation and we sat out on the balcony and talked all night.”

“That’s it.”

“That’s it.” Amani turned back to putting the dishes away. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” Madiyson accused.

“No, I told you everything that happened,” she fought to hold back a smile. “At the party at least,” Amani added. “Okay, so what happened after the party?” Madiyson prodded. “Well, before the party-”

“Before the party!” Madiyson exclaimed moving closer to her friend as a couple of guests looked over at the outburst. “Yes, before the party. You remember that table I handled for you when I got into work?”

“The one with the father? He’s the dude from the party?!”

“Yeah, his name is T’Challa.” Amani blushed. “Did he recognize you?” Madiyson bubbled, pulling Amani to sit in the break room with her. “Yes, and his daughter asked that I hang out with him the next day.”

“So y’all spent the day together?”

“And they both stayed the night.” Amani blushed. “Sis-” Madiyson started. “Then me and his daughter made breakfast and we went to the park.Then he asked me on a date, and they spent the night again.”

Madiyson stared open mouthed, “This was all a few months ago and you didn’t tell us?”

“Tell us what?” Sakura interjected as she walked into the breakroom from finishing her last table. “That she has a boyfriend who spent the night.” Madiyson smirked.

“He’s not my boyfriend, and his daughter was there too.” Sakura raised an eyebrow at Amani’s rebuttal. “Besides, there’s nothing to tell, I haven’t heard from him since they left.”

Sakura frowned, “They left?”

“They went back home, out of the country.” Amani explained. “That’s good news, he may just not know how to get intouch with you from his home country.” Madiyson offered. “I guess, but he still could have sent a letter or something.”

“Just give him a chance to explain himself,” Sakura encouraged. “Yeah, I just wish I knew something,” Amani sighed. “If you never hear from him again that’s his loss sis,” Madiyson hugged Amani.

After hustling through the rest of her shift, Amani finished cleaning her tables, hugged Madiyson and Sakura goodbye, and headed to pick up some dinner from her favorite burger joint. She hopped in line and placed her order. She had just pulled out her phone to pass time when a familiar voice invaded her senses. “Is that the heiress I see?” The king chuckled.

“Your majesty,” Amani bowed smiling in return, “You're back stateside.”

“Yep, Ada and I got in earlier this morning.” The king smiled. “Cool,” Amani smiled back before turning back to the pick up counter. “I also had a special someone that I promised to take out on a date.”

Amani raised an eyebrow, “She must be real special.” T’Challa smiled oblivious to her sarcasm, “You could say that.”

“I wonder if you called her like you didn’t call me,” Amani sassed. “T’Challa’s mouth dropped open slightly. Just as he went to respond one of the worker’s called Amani’s name. She walked away from him to grab her food. The king hurried after her, “Amani, I didn’t realize until we got home that I didn’t know how to reach you from out of the country.”

“And you couldn’t write a letter? Or call someone at the company that I own and ask for it?”Amani deadpanned as she walked towards the door, not stopping until T’Challa gently grabbed her wrist. “Amani, I am sorry. I didn’t think and that is obviously not an excuse, but I would still like to hang out with you.” Amani calmed slightly as she heard the sincerity coating his voice. “Please? Let me make it up to you?”

Amani nodded in response. “Great, are you free friday? At 8:00?”

The heiress smiled, “Yeah, I am.” T’Challa beamed, “I’ll pick you up?”

“Sounds like a date,” Amani winked, “I should let you get back to Ada.” The king glanced at the bag of food in his hands. “Why, don’t you join us for dinner tonight? She’s asked about you.”

“Oh, um..” Amani tried to quiet the leaping of her heart. T’Challa grabbed her hand, “We would both really enjoy your company Amani,” the king’s thumb traced soft circles on her wrist. “I’d love to,” Amani smiled back, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks, grateful that it wasn’t too noticeable on her skin. “Great, I can give you a ride or?”

“Oh, no I drove my own car. If you give me the address, I’m pretty sure I can find my way there.” Amani smiled, pulling out her phone. T’Challa gave her the address and they hurried off to their cars. Amani smiled as she noticed what hotel they were staying at. “St. Regis huh,” Amani chuckled as she pulled off. Along the way she stopped to grab something to drink, and a box of cookies from her favorite bakery, she text T’Challa that she was on her way before beginning the drive to the hotel. Within 25 minutes, She pulled up to the valet counter and handed over her keys. Amani walked into the lobby juggling her food, the cookies and a drink. She walked towards the elevator before realizing she didn’t know where she was going. Amani sighed and gingerly reached for her phone in her pocket. Just as she went to dial the king’s number, his name flashed across her screen. ROOM 1009. She chuckled knowing he’d read her mind.

Amani used the edge of her iphone to call for the elevator and began her ascent to the 10th floor. She hummed lightly to herself and prayed that she had read the room number right. The door dinged open and she walked out into the carpeted hallway. Her sneakers padded along the floor as she read the door numbers, relieved that she had gotten off at the right floor. She made her way down to the ninth and final door. She knocked and smiled to herself when she heard the rapid pattering of feet approach the door. T’Challa laughed, “Well, are you going to let me open the door for Ms. Amani or not princess?”

“Sorry baba,” Ada replied, her bouncing feet still audible through the door. The door handle clicked and Amani was welcomed into their penthouse suite. “I brought cookies!” The older sister grinned. The former prince shook his head as his daughter cheered beside him. T’Challa grabbed the cookie box from her hand and Amani followed them into the kitchen.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take her home with me if she’s too hyper,” Amani jokes slightly. “T’Challa smiled before grabbing her a plate from the cabinet. “Where’s my hug princess Ada,” Amani grinned scooping the little girl in her arms. “Hi, Mani!” the little girl squealed.

“How are you?” Amani asked, placing the little girl back on her feet. “I’m good, I missed you.”

“I missed you too princess,” Amani reached for her own food. “I’ll warm it up for you.” T’Challa offered. “Thanks.” The two adults smiled at each other before Ada pulled Amani into the living room.

T’Challa’s heart melted at the sight in his living room. In just a few seconds Ada had pulled out all of her dolls for Amani to see. Amani sat on the floor in front of the couch greeting the doll princess Tiana. T’Challa cleared his throat, “I hope your royal highnesses do not mind my interruption, but I think that Ms. Okeke would like to eat her dinner.” Amani thanked the king as he handed her a plate with her burger and her drink.

“It’s okay baba, we were just going dress shopping for the ball,” Ada explained “The ball?” The king grinned, bending down to his daughter’s eye level. “Yeah, like the one we went to with Auntie Shuri and umakhulu.” Ada nodded excitedly. “Okay then,” the father sat back into the couch, “have fun.”

Amani took a bite out of her burger as the little girl collected her dolls and ran off. “Her first royal ball huh?”

The king nodded and sighed, “She grew up so fast. She got tired of being left out of ‘all the fun’.” Amani finished chewing before pulling herself up to sit on the couch. “You got any pictures?” The waitress finished her burger while the king scrolled through his phone. He held the phone up to her face once she was done.

“She looks adorable!” Amani squealed. “Her dress is so pretty!” On the phone, Ada was standing next to her father a smile stretching across her face. She and the king were matching in their black and gold. She wore a black halter-neck ball gown. The black silk was covered in delicate gold brocade and embellishments. Her hair was braided around the crown of her head, with a large gold halo tucked into her braids. “She’s so precious!”

“I know, she looks just like her mother,” the king smiled, Amani squeezed his hand. “You look pretty good too,” Amani playfully nudged his shoulder. “Thank you,” the king smiled putting away his phone.

“You want a cookie?” the heiress asked getting up from the soft couch. “Sure,” the king followed her into the kitchen. Amani popped open the box grabbing two chocolate chip cookies before popping the box in the oven.

“Did you work today?” The king bit into the warm cookie. “Yeah, unfortunately,”Amani groaned.

“You don’t like the work?” The king frowned. “I mean, the people are great, it's just tiring like anything.” Amani explained, finishing off her cookie. “If you don’t mind me asking, why do you work? I am assuming your parent’s set you up well enough to thrive without a job?”

The king watched as Amani grabbed the cardboard box of cookies out of the oven once more. “They did, but I’ve always been independent. I used the money to pay off bills for the foreseeable future. We already owned the house here in Atlanta and I kept our vacation homes in South Carolina,Florida, Savannah, New Orleans, and LA. Used the money to continue paying the staff’s salary and put away money for Amare to go to school and start a life. Then I got a job to pay for youtubing equipment, travel, my car, and clothes.” Amani took all but four cookies out of the box and placed them on one of the white plates from the cabinet.

The king nodded, “You don’t have a passion job you’d like to start? Instead of waitressing at a job you don’t really like.”

“I mean, I’ve thought about starting my own luxury event planning company. You know, weddings, gala’s, balls, birthday parties, sleepovers, any event you can think of really.”

“What’s stopping you?” The king stole another cookie from the plate. “Nothing hypothetically, but I enjoy doing that stuff for fun. I think I’d want to throw my own event first. Kind of build up my own brand and relationship with contractors instead of just popping up out of the blue like that.”

“I think you should go for it. Get a job as an event planner for a company, work your way up or start as an independent contractor.” The king smiled. Amani tapped her fingers on the white marble countertops. “You’ve got this all figured out don’t you?”

“That is what the king does, solve problems.”

“What about you? Aren’t you very busy as a king?”

“I am,” the father replied, finishing off his cookie. “Isn’t it a little hard taking care of Ada and going about kingly duties? Doesn’t she have to have like a tutor and a nanny or something?”

“I only bring her on trips when I know I can take her with me to meetings. Not all of the kingly duties are boring. Like the ball, or charity appearances. That is most of my work this trip and she was on spring break, I believe it is called here.” T’Challa explained. “Oh, she’s in school?”

“Yes, she attends a very prestigious boarding school back in Wakanda.”

Amani looked up “ You send her away for school? Isn’t she just barely 5?”

“It is how things must be, her mother is no longer here to take care of her.”

Amani frowned, I think the nanny is a better option, don’t you think she misses her father while she is at school? A school with all these strangers?”

“She is fine Amani-”

“Have you ever asked her if she is fine, or if she likes it?”

“No, why should I have to. I am her father!”

“Because I was her T’Challa. My parents shipped me off to boarding school as soon as I was old enough to leave. Then they sent Amare right behind me!” I spent less that 5 years of time with my parents face to face before they died. Now they are gone.” Amani confessed, tears brewing in her eyes.

“I- I am sorry. I did not know that,” the king started. “I know you didn’t. I apologize for getting upset with you. I am not her parent, but as someone who grew up in that life, talk to her, come and see her. Make sure there isn’t another way for her to stay home. It would truly be for the best.” Amani sighed.

Silence choked the room, “I think I should go,” Amani stood up from the counter. “It is getting late, we have an extra guest room. You should spend the night here.” T’Challa offered.

“It’s only ten o’clock your majesty, I think I will make it home alright.” Amani teased. “Very well, at least, let me walk you downstairs. I’ll put Ada to sleep and come back out.”

Amani nodded her consent before taking a seat on the couch. Her phone lit up as T’Challa headed into Ada’s room. She pulled out the device and saw a new message from Madiyson.

Madiyson: Whatever you’re about to say no to, say yes sis!

Madiyson: Just thought you might need to hear that.

Amani: How’d you know I was making a decision?

Madiyson: Ohh so I was right?

Madiyson: What’s going on? Don’t keep me out of the loop!

Amani: I’ll tell you in the morning.

Madiyson: In the morning!

Madiyson: Girl who you gon be with in the morning!

Madiyson: You’re finally letting someone love you down!

Madiyson: Ohh sis! Tell me!

Amani smiled and put away her purse and set off down the hall to where T’Challa had gone. She peeked into a doorway where she found the king, conversing with his daughter. Amani stepped closer to the door and inadvertently pushed it open. Ada’s eyes shot up and a grin took over her face. “Mani! Baba is trying to make me go to bed but I’m not sleepy.” T’Challa looked up in surprise at her figure. “Well princess, if you don’t go to sleep, tomorrow won’t come and then we can’t hangout more.” Amani pouted. “Really?” Ada sighed.

“Really princess. Sleep makes the clock go faster and faster and speeds everything up so that tomorrow can come earlier.”

Ada looked to her father for confirmation. The king nodded his head and she sighed. “Okay. Thank you Mani.”

“No problem princess, just count backwards from the biggest number you can think of.”

“Goodnight Ada Ade,” T’Challa pressed a kiss to his daughter's forehead. “Good night baba,” the young princess smiled back. As the king led Amani out of the room Ada called out once more, “Good night Mani.”

“Good night princess.”

The king led Amani out of the room gently before shutting the door behind them. “I hope you don’t mind me staying, I-”

“I am glad you decided to stay,”The king reassured her. “Good, I figured I couldn’t really get to know you if one of us is always having to leave,” Amani chuckled, “even after an awkward conversation… I want to apologize again for what I said, I had no right to criticize how you choose to raise your daughter.”

“Please, do not apologize. I am glad you said what you said. People are normally too afraid to criticize any personal decisions I make. I am glad you stood up for what you thought was in her best interest and I will definitely be giving the matter more consideration.” The king promised.

“Oh, good.”

“Well, the night is still young. Would you like to watch a movie or something?” The king offered, clearing his throat and moving closer to the heiress. “Umm sure, I should probably run home and grab some clothes for tomorrow. I’m just a few minutes away.”

“Okay. I will set up a movie and order some more cookies or something,” the king replied.

“Cool,” Amani jogged down the hall and to the couch, “I’ll be right back,” she smiled before heading out the door.

Taglist: @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @nyneebee @hutchj @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @strictlyashley @afraiddreamingandloving @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @gorjiss @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @yoyolovesbucky @derangedcupcake @builtalongthewayside @ilcb7 @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219 @dopegalkk @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @shesakillerkween @waitingonafriend @faatassbitch @lady-love-and-glitter-roses @cxnismajcr

[clumsyclifford]

“so you knock on my door saying that you live in the apartment above me and want me to make you food even though we’ve never talked before???” with lashton? i love your writing so much!!

hey anon? i love YOU so much! this is for you

-

Ashton is having a lovely night when there's a knock on his door. For a good minute, Ashton stays stubbornly on his couch, because he's got Breaking Bad on the TV, a glass of wine in hand, and he's just put on his pajamas. He's not really fit to answer the door, but mostly he just doesn't want to.

Is it just gone six p.m.? Maybe. But Ashton feels entitled to his own peace and quiet and to wear pajamas when he pleases. He's a grown man.

Finally, Ashton's conscience gets the better of him, and he gets up — still holding the wine — and opens the door.

"Hello?"

The guy walking away from his door spins on his heel, stumbling to a stop. "Oh," he says, cheeks red. "Sorry."

"Can I help you?" Ashton asks. He feels much more inclined to help now that it's a cute boy at his door.

"No," the guy says, and doesn't come any closer. "I mean, well, yes. Well. I shouldn’t have come, probably.”

“Well you’re already here,” Ashton says, trying to be kind. “Um, who are you?”

“Oh, I live above you,” the guys says. “I’m Luke. You’re Ashton? I only know because it’s on the mailbox,” he adds hurriedly.

“Yeah, I’m Ashton,” Ashton says. The name Luke sounds vaguely familiar, probably also from the mailboxes. “What’s up?”

“Um,” Luke says, twisting his fingers. “Okay, I’ll tell you because I already disrupted your evening, but you don’t have to say yes, I can just go and we can pretend like it never happened.”

Intrigued, Ashton motions for him to continue.

“Well, uh, I’m a shit cook,” Luke says nervously, “and I — I can smell your cooking sometimes, when I come by your door — my best mate lives next to you — so I think you’re pretty good, and, uh, my parents are coming to see me for the first time since I moved in here, so I said I’d cook to, like, prove how responsible I’ve become, but they’ll be here in like an hour and a half and I just realized I’m way out of my depth and, like, now I’ll have to order pizza and disappoint them. I mean, they won’t be disappointed, but. Well. Yeah.” “You want me to cook for you?” Ashton says.

Luke nods, then shakes his head. “I can’t ask you to do that, you don’t even know me,” he says. “It’s fine, I’ll — I can just order pizza. My parents can deal with it. They weren’t expecting me to be any good at cooking anyway. I don’t know why I —”

“I can help,” Ashton says, for some reason. Luke’s head snaps up. “I can cook. For you. I don’t mind.”

“Seriously, Ashton,” Luke says. “You’re drinking wine in joggers. I obviously interrupted a relaxing night.”

“I like cooking,” Ashton says defensively. He’d forgotten about wearing his joggers, and now feels kind of silly. “I want to help. Besides, you should make a good impression on your parents.” Also, you’re really cute, and I want to impress you with my culinary prowess. 

Luke looks hesitant. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Ashton says. God, what happened to his date with Breaking Bad? Since when is Ashton a sucker for cute guys who introduce themselves by requesting cooking services?

(Probably since always, Ashton muses. It’s just never really arisen before.)

“I don’t have any, like, cooking things,” Luke says.

“That’s fine, we can use my kitchen.” Ashton gestures for him to come in. “I’m well-stocked. And you can be my sous-chef. It’ll be fine.”

Luke looks unsure, but he says, “Um, okay, if you’re sure.”

He follows Ashton inside, and Ashton drains the rest of the wine from his glass in one gulp. He has a feeling he’ll need it.

-

It just so happens that Ashton has the ingredients to make fish and chips, so he sets Luke to work peeling and cutting the potatoes while he starts on the batter. Together they make quick work of it. It’s a bit awkward at first, but then Luke mentions off-handedly that he likes blink-182, and Ashton says enthusiastically that he loves blink-182, and has Luke ever seen them in concert? And then they’re off. It’s really easy to talk to Luke — Ashton hasn’t gotten on this well with anyone since, like, Calum, but even with Calum he’d taken a couple days to warm up. Luke feels more like an angel, heaven-sent and perfectly tailored to make Ashton fall in love with him.

Ashton keeps that thought to himself.

Apparently Luke has two brothers as well, who aren’t visiting tonight but probably will soon. Luke frets that he’ll have to learn how to cook by then, because Jack and Ben are apparently ruthless and will not hesitate to make fun of him for being an incapable chef.

“You’re doing fine,” Ashton says reassuringly. He points at the potatoes, which are sitting in a bowl of cold water. “Those look perfect.”

“I could never do this on my own,” Luke says. “It’s only because you’re telling me what to do.”

“Well, when your brothers come, we can work together again. I don’t mind.”

“Ha, ha.”

“I mean it. Any fan of blink is a friend of mine,” Ashton says, smiling at Luke. “And anyway, I’m having fun. I’m kind of bummed we never met before now, actually.”

Luke smiles bashfully. “Me too. You’re really cool.”

“You too,” Ashton says. Then, because it feels a little awkward again, he adds, “It’s been about twenty minutes, we can fry the potatoes. You wanna try it?”

“I’ll do terribly, but sure,” Luke says, in a teasing tone of voice. 

“There’s literally no way to mess this up. Just put the potatoes in the oil and keep moving them around until they’re all crispy.”

“I’ll find a way to mess it up,” Luke assures him. “I’m very good at being bad in the kitchen.”

Ashton rolls his eyes, grinning. “Well, all the more reason you’ll continue to need my help.”

“I can’t ask you to cook for me.”

“That’s okay, I accept payment in many forms.”

“Such as?”

“Wine,” Ashton says. “Someone to watch Breaking Bad with me because my awful friends think it’s not a good show. A date.”

“You’ll take payment for your services in the form of a date?”

“Maybe,” Ashton says. “Where would you take me?”

“I’m — I wasn’t —” Luke blushes. “Don’t be sneaky like that.”

Ashton shrugs. “That’s fine. You can watch Breaking Bad with me, then.”

“No way,” Luke says. “Breaking Bad is a terrible show.”

“Take that back.”

“I have principles.”

“One of your principles is hating on Breaking Bad? Boring.”

“And I don’t have any wine,” Luke says, ignoring Ashton. “Which means I suppose by default I have to take you on a date.”

“Well, you don’t have to sound so put off by it,” Ashton says. “I work pro bono sometimes.”

“No, no,” Luke says. “How about Wednesday? My parents leave on Tuesday, so.”

Ashton blanches. “Wait, seriously?”

“Well, you offered,” Luke says. “I mean, you don’t have to.”

“No, I’m — I was serious. Okay. Wednesday. Wednesday is great. Perfect. The best day ever.” He grins. Luke grins back.

“Okay,” Luke says. He prods at the potatoes in the oil for a moment. “Thanks for letting me barge into your place and make dinner for my own family.”

Ashton waves him off. “We’re starting from a good place where we’ve both seen each other at pretty low points,” he says. “Can only go up from here.” 

Luke looks delighted at that, and Ashton feels pretty much the same.

[eddie-boii]

Never Let You Go (part 14/14)

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

Rating: Mature.

Pairings: Reddie, Benverly.

Ao3 link: here

Summary: The Losers prepare for a wedding. 

This is it, guys. I’m gonna miss writing this :’)

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

*

Sunlight streamed through the screen doors illuminating thousands of specks of dust as they swirled in the air in a gentle dance. Eddie let out a low groan as the light shone through his closed eyelids, rolling over in the bed and burying his face in Richie’s bare shoulder to shield himself from the harsh light. Richie shifted slightly in his sleep, his arms tightening around Eddie’s waist and pulling him close against his warm body. Richie may have complained his body wasn’t as aesthetically pleasing as Eddie’s, but in Eddie’s mind, it was the perfect body type for warm hugs.

He smiled against Richie’s shoulder, relishing this feeling of warm bodies tucked together beneath cosy sheets while outside, frost crept up the windows searching in vain for a way to get in. Eddie could get used to this.

He cracked his eyes open a little to check the clock on the bedside table and let out another groan.

“We should get up, Rich,” he said, pressing a kiss to Richie’s shoulder to wake him. Richie let out a whine and only pulled Eddie closer. “Come on, Trashmouth, we’ve gotta say bye to Ben and Bev before they go off on their honeymoon.”

“We can text them,” Richie mumbled. His face was pressed to Eddie’s neck so his voice came out muffled. “They’ll understand.”

“Come on, dickwad, you know you want to see them off,” Eddie laughed, prodding Richie’s chest. “And we need to fucking shower.” Richie groaned but released his death grip on Eddie slightly, instead moving to kiss him, but Eddie clamped a hand over his mouth before he could. “Ew, no, your breath smells like ass. Brush your teeth first.”

Richie kissed Eddie’s palm before tugging his hand away from his mouth. “Effort,” he whined. Still holding Eddie’s hand, he pressed kisses down his arm. “I can kiss everywhere but your mouth, right?” he said, moving to kiss Eddie’s forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his jaw…

“You’re such a fucking sap,” Eddie laughed. 

Richie hummed softly against his skin. “But you love me.”

“You’re never gonna fucking let that go, are you?”

“Never,” said Richie, his mouth trailing down to Eddie’s neck.

“Don’t leave any marks, remember,” Eddie warned him.

“I have a huge hickey on my hip that says you’re a fucking hypocrite.”

“No one’s gonna see that.”

“You never know,” said Richie, making his way down Eddie’s torso, his lips brushing tenderly over the scar. 

“Come on, Trashmouth,” said Eddie, pushing Richie away before he went any lower and they really did end up never leaving the bed. “We need to shower.”

Richie whined once more. “Don’t wanna.”

“We both need to shower,” said Eddie, looking at Richie pointedly until he finally got the message.

“Oh! Yes, we need to shower right away!” said Richie, practically leaping from the bed before shivering violently from the sudden cold. “Quick, before I freeze to death.” He grabbed both of Eddie’s hands and pulled up him, tugging him in the direction of the bathroom.

Eddie didn’t make it easy for him. He flopped down like a dead weight in Richie’s arms, and Richie huffed, told Eddie he was a bastard, then picked him up and carried him giggling over to the bathroom.

Yes, Eddie could really get used to this.

*

Eddie and Richie tried not to let their change in relationship status show when they went downstairs to meet the other Losers who had all gathered around the fire in the lobby once more, even going as far as to arrive at different times. They didn’t act overly friendly, didn’t touch each other too much aside from ‘accidental’ hand brushing, didn’t even glance at each other lest they accidentally gaze too long. But even so, Stanley took one look at them and -

“You two boned.”

“What the fuck, Stan?” said Eddie instantly. “No, we didn’t fucking bone.”

“Yeah, Stan,” said Richie. “We didn’t ‘bone’, we made love.”

“Richie!” Eddie squawked as Stan’s expression turned into one of triumph.

Richie only shrugged. “What? They were gonna find out anyway.”

He had a point, but Eddie scowled at him and turned away in a huff.

“Are you serious?” cried Bev not bothering to suppress her squeal. “Oh my god! I’m so happy for you two!”

“Fucking f-ff-finally,” said Bill.

“Congratulations, guys!” said Ben excitedly, leaping from his seat to pull them both into a tight hug.

“Woah, Haystack, watch the ribs,” Richie wheezed. “Don’t forget you’ve got huge-ass muscles now.”

Ben let them go with an apologetic smile and Mike pulled them into a hug in his stead, thankfully not as tight as Ben’s hug, although Mike did have some considerable muscles on him too.

“Wait,” said Mike after he’d released them. “Important question: did you two hook up before or after midnight?”

Eddie and Richie exchanged looks.

“You know, it was all kind of a blur,” said Eddie, his mouth twitching as he tried to hide his smirk.

“We really have no idea,” said Richie, not bothering to hide his.

“But then who wins the bet?” said Stan.

“Guess none of you assholes do,” said Eddie smugly. “Which serves you fucking right.”

“You mean to say we get no compensation for having to watch you two pine for thirty years?” said Stan.

“None at all,” said Richie. “And shut up, you only had to watch us pine for like three years.”

“Felt like thirty,” Stan grumbled.

“Oh, who cares about the bet? My favourite gays are finally together!” Beverly squealed. “I better be your maid of honour, Rich.”

“We literally just got together,” said Eddie at the same time Richie said, “Duh.”

“I mean-” Richie coughed, his face getting a little red. “Yeah, calm down Bev. We aren’t about to start picking out china patterns already.”

Eddie only smiled slightly, watching as his friends teased Richie for his little slip-up. He couldn’t really blame him for it; they had some catching up to do, after all.

Ben and Bev set off not long after, not wanting to miss their flight. Richie tried to persuade them to let him have Ember while they were gone, but Bev was adamant that the dog stay with her aunt who actually knew what she was doing and didn’t have trouble remembering to feed herself let alone another creature.

Bags were piled into the trunk of the cab, hugs were exchanged, goodbyes said. Mike insisted they send him a whole bunch of postcards and Stan gave them a list of birds to keep an eye out for.

“Take care of Rich for me,” said Beverly as she hugged Eddie tightly.

“I’ll try my best,” he replied. “But I can’t promise not to kill him myself if he refers to my mom one more time in bed.”

Bev laughed then kissed his cheek before going to hug Richie, and Ben moved to hug Eddie in her place.

“Don’t let him go,” he whispered as he pulled Eddie in. “He loves you so much, man.”

“You are such a fucking romantic loser,” said Eddie.

“I know,” said Ben. He smiled as he pulled away and opened the cab door for Bev.

“It’s been fun,” said Bev, grinning at them all as she hovered in the cab doorway. “I love you guys.”

“Love you too,” said Bill. “Have a ss-safe flight.”

“See you all at the next wedding if not sooner,” said Ben, winking at Eddie who scowled back at him.

“We won’t have long to wait,” Stan said, smirking at Eddie’s glare.

“See you soon, then, Losers,” said Bev, and with that, they were off, and the remaining Losers waved until the yellow cab faded into the distance.

The others headed back into the hotel to warm up and pack for their own flights home, but Eddie and Richie stayed outside for a little while longer watching the still steadily falling snow cover the tire tracks on the road.

“So,” said Richie after a moment. “You going home today, or…?”

“That was the plan,” said Eddie. 

He hadn’t been looking forward to going back to his cold lonely flat, sparse and empty after Myra had gotten the house in the divorce. He’d never liked it there - it was always a temporary thing until he figured out what he wanted to do - and he despised the loud upstairs neighbours and the landlord who looked like he never washed his hands. He remembered Richie’s house, alive with his merry friends as they got up to drunken shenanigans, full of good memories. It was a nice place after Eddie had thoroughly cleaned it, but, he thought, far too big for just Richie.

“Coz,” said Richie who was fidgeting with the zipper of his coat agitatedly and quite obviously avoiding eye contact, “if you wanted, I could get an extra ticket to LA… I mean- Unless you-” he added quickly, fumbling over his words now. “Unless that’s too fast. Yeah, fuck, that’s way too fast. Forget I said anything.”

“No,” said Eddie. He reached out and took Richie’s hand, his fingers like ice in the January air, and Richie finally looked at him, eyes wide and lips ever so slightly parted. “No, I’d like that. We’re catching up, right? Let’s fucking commit.”

Richie’s mouth split into a grin. “Hell yeah, spaghetti!”

“I’d have to actually go get my stuff at some point, though,” Eddie added.

“Well, yeah. And we should redecorate,” said Richie. “Make it a proper reddie home.”

“‘Reddie’?”

“Richie and Eddie, keep up,” said Richie. “It’s what the kids call a ‘ship name’.”

“Thanks, I hate it,” said Eddie. “Redecorate how?”

“Oh, you know, making it more artsy,” said Richie casually, though that shit-eating grin was still on his face. “Add a few black lights, and if we get a move on, we could have our own Jackson Pollock-themed digs.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” said Eddie immediately, turning and walking back towards the hotel. “I’m going to live with Mike or something. Bye.”

“No, wait!” Richie cried, grabbing Eddie’s hand before he could move any further and falling to his knees at Eddie’s feet. “Oh, Eddie spaghetti, love of my life! Angel from the heavens! Please oh please move in with me, Eddie my love.”

“I hate that song,” Eddie grumbled, trying and failing to hide his smile at Richie’s theatrics. “Get the fuck up, dumbass, your pants are getting soaked.”

“Not until you say yes.”

Eddie heaved a great sigh even though there wasn’t really any question about it. Of course he wanted to move in with Richie. He wanted to wake up next to him every morning and receive those lazy kisses. He wanted them to cook together and sing along loudly to the cheesy eighties rock they both secretly loved, slipping on the kitchen tiles as they danced around in their socks. He wanted to fall asleep next to him on the couch in the evenings, wanted to adopt a dog with him, maybe adopt other things too. He wanted every sickeningly domestic thing he’d been dreaming about since he was twelve.

“Fine,” he said. He tried to sound exasperated but was unable to hide the smile fighting its way onto his face. “Yes, I’ll move in with you, Trashmouth.”

Richie leapt to his feet and grinned before sweeping Eddie off his feet and kissing him like some sort of Disney princess.

“Don’t you dare fucking drop me, asshole!” Eddie shrieked, clinging to Richie until he pulled him back upright.

“Couldn’t resist,” Richie shrugged, still grinning. “Now, our flight’s not until this evening, can we at least turn our hotel room into a Jackson Pollock painting before we go?”

“You are fucking disgusting,” said Eddie.

“But you love me.”

“Yeah,” said Eddie softly, lacing his fingers through Richie’s as they made their way back to the hotel. “Yeah, I do.”

*

Previous

[thejeksburyguy]

Autism

There is a boy in my english class

He says something stupid, we laugh, he laughs, we all tease each other

It is playful and fun

Then the words become different

'Exuding autism'

'What are you, on the spectrum?'

'That was so stupid, I must be autistic'

They are laughing

I am not

Autism

My therapist says I should be tested for it

I tell my doctor, she agrees

Multiple adults and peers in my life, insulting me or prodding me or gently bringing it up, asking if I'm diagnosed, or telling me their parents can 'tell I have asperger's'

Parents of friends with autism telling me they love having me over, it's so nice to have someone who thinks just like their kid, who understands what it's like- wait, you're not on the spectrum? Not diagnosed? But we could have sworn..

My mother refuses to schedule an appointment

My mother gets angry if I mention this 'disease'

My mother would rather have no child than an autistic one

Autism

I have to rely on research on my own

Wikipedia, medical books, reading posts and literature written by people with autism

I analyze my own behaviour, things start to make sense

Sensory overload

Social awkwardness

Special interests

Why that one texture makes me rub and scratch at the area of skin that touched it

Why that sound drives me to tears and makes me shake

Why that smell is unbearable, that light is too bright, that specific food makes me sick to my stomach just looking at it because it feels awful in my mouth, the taste is Wrong, and mother please don't make me eat it please can I just make myself a peanut butter and syrup sandwich instead? Or tuna with miracle whip, no it HAS to be miracle whip, mayonnaise doesn't taste Right, no, miracle whip, and no no NO you made the ramen Wrong, the steps go in THIS order, you're disrupting how it's supposed to go, and I'm trying to keep my mouth shut, trying not to irritate you, but I'm watching you make it AND YOU'RE NOT DOING IT RIGHT AND IT'S DRIVING ME NUTS sorry I'll stop twisting my hair tapping my fingers on the table jumping my leg I'm sorry

Why my voice cuts out sometimes, selective mutism kicking in, only capable of verbal ticks and the occasional repeated word

Mother I'm sorry, I don't know why I pop my lips, I don't know why I ramble for hours about one thing and can never let a topic go, I know the weird noises I make irritate you but I can't help it, you're telling me I'm mature enough to know better, to 'be able to help it', but the noises just happen and they make me feel better and I know I ask a lot of stupid questions, I know it should be obvious, but I can't understand how you want me to do this I don't understand why are you YELLING-

Why I flap my hands they call it stimming why I twirl my hair on my finger getting yelled at for distracting the class despite it making no noise why tones, jokes, instructions go over my head idiot it should have been obvious just LISTEN why I'm obsessed with that specific soft texture and I need it okay I need that plushie I need that sweater they're perfect they're the perfect feeling mother please-

Sloths

Sloths are a special interest of mine

I know a lot about sloths

Did you know some of them grow moss in their fur? They move so slowly, and the air is so moist, that plants grow on their backs, and sometimes they eat them, like a personal garden you carry on your back

I get excited when I see anything to do with sloths

I have a sloth shirt, two sloth plushies, a sloth on my pencil pouch, I'm trying to convince my mother to let me buy a giant sloth plush I always see in the store but she says I'm too old

Wolves as well, I love wolves, I know even more about wolves, I have so many wolf plushies but my mother keeps telling me to get rid of them, she made me get rid of my wolf shirts even though they still fit, I get really upset when I catch her trying to get rid of my plushies, they're mine and they need to stay together, don't you understand they're a pack? Don't you understand they'll be lonely without one another? You already made me throw out my figurines (you're still mad that I bought more) let me keep my stuffies

My fidgets, my quirks, my thought process

Autism

They are still laughing

.

I am not

[golden-redhead]

with flowers in your hair (tell me it's real)

I know that I posted a big part of this on Tumblr before and that it’s on AO3 but I just wanted to have the complete story here on Tumblr.

Read on AO3.

It was still dark outside when Shuichi’s eyes suddenly snapped open, abruptly pulling him out of the realm of dreams without any warning. He stared at the dark ceiling above his head, the memory of his dream slowly fading away.

He was just about to turn and try to fall asleep again when he caught the sight of Kaito who was grinning wildly over Kokichi’s sleeping form on the other side of the bed.

“Mm, Kaito?” Shuichi rubbed his eyes, words slightly slurred and voice still laced with a heavy layer of sleep. “Why are you awake so early?”

Kaito’s eyes looked soft in the dark room, the gentle glow of the moonlight being the only source of light. The long dark shadows danced on the walls and the eerily quiet atmosphere tempted to lull Shuichi back to sleep.

“He’s blooming in his sleep,” whispered Kaito excitedly, a wide grin stretching on his face.

Shuichi blinked, unsure if he’s heard that right. He was just about to open his mouth and ask him to repeat it when Kaito leaned in to plant a gentle kiss on Kokichi’s shoulder, one of his hands reaching out to brush aside a few stray petals that fell on their smaller boyfriend’s forehead.

Shuichi blinked again, slowly, the sight before him slowly registering in his still hazy-with-sleep brain.

Kokichi was laying on his side, lips parted slightly and quiet, barely audible snores escaping his mouth every now and then. Nothing unusual, considering that it was the middle of the night and the previous day proved to be quite exhausting. What was unusual, however, was the flower crown made of blue hyacinths and gardenias that was wrapped loosely around his head, petals intertwined together and resting gently against a mess of dark hair.   

“Oh.”

The last traces of sleepiness were gone as Shuichi watched with fascination as slowly more flowers started to cover his smaller boyfriend’s body, sprouting out of the sleeves of his pajamas and getting tangled in the dark strands of his hair. The sweet aroma filled the air, making the detective feel a little light-headed. The sight of it all was enthralling and Shuichi found himself breathless, unable to look away, mesmerized by the way the flowers were slowly wrapping around Kokichi’s lithe body, pulling him into a gentle embrace.

And it wasn’t only Kokichi who was blooming. The boy must have unconsciously felt his boyfriends’ presence in his sleep, because when Shuichi raised his eyes again he noticed a rose tucked behind Kaito’s ear, its vibrant red petals brushing against the astronaut’s cheek and clashing horribly with the color of his hair. Shuichi also became vaguely aware of something tickling his neck and when he looked down there was a small sunflower perched on his shoulder, its long stalk curling along the length of his arm.

He let out a quiet sound, something between a sigh and a laugh, affection swelling in his chest. It all felt like a dream and for a moment he humored the idea of pinching himself, just to make sure that it’s all real, just to make sure that it’s not just a figment of his imagination, courtesy of sleep deprivation and his never-ending fascination with Kokichi’s unusual abilities.

“The little shit is gonna drown us in flowers,” complained Kaito jokingly, his eyes bright in the darkness, affection clear in his gaze.

Shuichi hummed in response, his eyes following a long vine of morning glory wrapping along the length of Kokichi’s arm, curling along the curves of his body and reaching out in the direction of his boyfriends, brushing against their skin gently, almost shyly.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, resisting the desire to touch his smaller boyfriend, dot his face with dozens of small kisses before he presses his lips against Kokichi’s and takes his breath away. While it was a tempting idea, something about it felt wrong. There’ll be time for that later, when Kokichi wakes up, when the flowers’ grip around him loosens. Something about this moment felt special, like something that shouldn’t be interrupted.

The feeling of a vine prodding at his hand interrupted his thoughts as if the plant was prompting him to lift his wrist slightly. Hesitant but trusting, he raised his hand, pale gold eyes widening with curiosity as he watched the vine wrap around his index finger, clinging to his pale skin. He watched in silent awe as a single flower bloomed right before his eyes, a small bud spreading its petals slowly and gracefully.

Shuichi’s breath caught in his throat.

“Did he just propose to you in plant?” laughed Kaito from the other side of the bed and when Shuichi pried his eyes away from Kokichi’s sleeping form to look at his other boyfriend, he noticed more roses tangled into his hair, framing his face like a flowery halo.  

What Kaito failed to notice, however, was a twin vine that started to coil around his own index finger like a ring, the petals springing out of the bud and the flower’s sweet fragrance filling the room that’s already smelled like a greenhouse.

“I think he proposed to both of us,” whispered back Shuichi, not quite trusting his own voice and afraid that he’ll wake Kokichi up if he speaks too loudly. His chest was aching but it was a good kind of ache, a nice one. It felt like his chest would burst out with affection, like it simply couldn’t contain the intensity of his feelings.

He almost laughed out loud at the confused expression that flickered through Kaito’s face at his comment. It quickly turned into surprised recognition when he finally noticed the vine coiled around his finger. Shuichi watched with quiet amusement as a blush spread over Kaito’s cheeks and nose, visible even in the darkness of the room.

They stayed like that for a long time, watching as their boyfriend bloomed right before their eyes until the early hours of the morning. It was almost time for Shuichi to start waking up and getting ready for work when Kokichi finally started to stir, his nose scrunching in a way that made the detective’s heart twist in his chest.

It took him a while to wake up fully, cloudy with sleep, eyes blinking rapidly as he slowly slipped out of the land of dreams only to find himself face-to-face with twin wide smiles of his boyfriends staring at him with intent. He frowned slightly but before he could voice his confusion the reason of their smiles became apparent. A few months ago he would have been startled by such an awakening but by now it was almost part of the routine.

With a long-suffering groan he propped himself on his elbows, taking a moment to take a proper look at his boyfriends, himself and the room, the disgustingly sweet aroma of the flowers hitting his nose all at once. The sunflower snuggled against Shuichi’s neck contrasted horribly with the pale blue shade of his pajamas and the big goofy grin spread on Kaito’s lips along with the roses nestled in his messy hair made him look even more ridiculous than normally. The bed was a disaster, too, petals of all kinds of flowers littered all over their bedsheets, which matched the bedsheets that just happened to have a floral pattern on them.

“Ugh, not this again,” he complained loudly, slumping back on the pillows, multicolored petals rising up when the mattress dipped under his weight.

Kaito laughed openly at his disgruntled expression, which only made Kokichi’s expression darken some more, a protuberant pout tugging down at his lips.

“Shuiiichi, Momo-chan is making fun of poor little me,” he turned to the detective with glassy eyes and crocodile tears gathering at their corners, clinging to Shuichi’s arm tightly as he hoped to get his sympathy.

Kaito only chuckled in response and scratched the back of his neck.

“I just think they are pretty,” he informed Kokichi sincerely.

He reached out to help untangle a particularly stunning gardenia that was tucked behind Kokichi’s ear, long fingers brushing against dark strands of hair. He had that dumb, lovesick expression on his face that always made Kokichi’s heart do weird things in his chest.

How hideous.

“Only a dumbass like Momo-chan could think so!” Whined Kokichi plaintively, pushing the blankets away and attempting to stand up, pulling Shuichi up after him.

Once he stood up - shivering slightly at the loss of warmth and comfort of the bed - he shook off himself energetically like a dog, petals and flowers falling down and adorning the floor. Despite his best attempts many flowers remained in their place, tangled up with his messy hair. When he finally straightened himself, he looked Kaito in the eyes with a bright-eyed challenging stare of his own.

“One day they’ll suffocate me in my sleep, we’ll see how you’ll like them when that happens!” He huffed childishly and then reached for Shuichi’s hand, fingers wrapping around the detective’s wrist in a vice-strong grip and stomping out of the bedroom, very confused Shuichi in tow.

“Come on, Shumai, you have to help me get rid of the rest of these flowers, I can’t show up like that in DICE’s headquarters.”

Kaito stared dumbfounded after them, catching one last apologetic smile that Shuichi sent him over his shoulders as he was dragged out of the room, when suddenly a thought occurred to him.

“Wait!” Protested Kaito. “What about the flowers here?”

“Dunno, clean them yourself if you like them so much!” came Kokichi’s sing-songing response from the other side of their little apartment, a teasing giggle clear in his voice.

Kaito grumbled under his breath but obediently climbed out of bed and stretched. Then he reached for the broom hidden behind the door for occasions exactly like this one and got to work, determined to finish as fast as possible and join his boyfriends for breakfast, the familiar smell of Shuichi brewing coffee spread all over the apartment.

[elane-in-the-shadows]

Red Queen Fan Fiction - Growing Up

800 followers celebration! Thanks for joining <3

This is set in the same universe as the Fade Modern AU, to be found here:

A New Place

Growing Up

The Dinner

Roman Holiday

The Wedding

A/N: This is actually a prequel

Find this on wattpad and on AO3

Mare POV

I wake up with a gasp. I squint at the sunlight, quickly occupied with making sure that I’m home and that I’m alone. The relief about this is embarrassing, meaning I’ve believed I really could’ve done something very stupid last night, like going home with my date, or bringing him here. It would’ve been easy, since I’m the only one at home for the next nine days while my parents and Gisa are on vacation in Mexico, my brothers having already moved out. And here I am, staying behind in the void between graduation, college and all that’ll come after, to decide what I’ll do with my life. But instead of finding myself, I hug my pillow at 1 pm, confused over boy issues.

I still feel his warm hands on my waist, his lips on my neck and mouth. He tasted of the fruity cocktails we had. No point to deny it, a look in the mirror assures me he’s left his mark on me. Oh great, as if I don’t look wasted enough. My hair, with its ends recently dyed purple, is a shaggy mess and my make-up’s all-over the place. From the bathroom, I glance over my shoulder, as if Cal would magically appear after all. But no. Despite how it seems, despite the hangover lingering in my stomach, head, and muscles, I did say no to him. The memories are coming back. It came very close to it, because if I’m honest, I have considered spending the night of our fifth date with him, especially during the event. If only he’d never told me about that.

In the end, I decide for a run to chase off last night. Funny that I literally try to run away from my problems and decisions to make, but I guess physical activity is better than playing around with my phone. I don’t fool myself with pretending I’d look up colleges or jobs again, because I know I won’t. I mean, I’m sure I want to spend this year with work and travel, even if it’s another kind of procrastination. But I know I’m not ready, and this is the best chance to live on the road and see the world, as I’ve always dreamed of. Then I’ll have enough time and freedom to figure out if I want to study electric engineering (“that’ll mean a lot of extra learning, Ms. Barrow, do you have the stamina for that?”), politics (“not many career options there”), or something “reasonable” and wholly boring like economics.

I won’t feel bad for choosing freedom when the savings of my family, myself and my scholarship allow me to take a gap year – maybe I’ll even earn some extra money during the time. But that isn’t the reason, that is –

I curse. Just when I’m at the door, I realize I don’t have the key. Great, that’s the reason. I’m not even responsible enough to think of locking and unlocking the flat myself, as I’m still used to someone else being at home. It’s strange to be alone here, although loneliness hasn’t kicked in yet. I have my friends, even Cal, and for now, having the place to myself has been fun. But I gulp at imagining several months without my family. My lovely, chaotic family who always –

The bell rings, just when I’ve grabbed the key. I sigh, rushing to the door. Who I meet isn’t some post guy or neighbour, but my brother Shade, with his baby daughter in his arms. Their sight alone lifts my mood immediately.

“Hi,” he greets me. “Is everyone here?”

I grin. “You got the week wrong. They went on vacation three days ago.” I stand akimbo. “There’s only me.”

“Oh.” He flushes and curses silently. How controlled he is, since although the baby’s only a few months old, he doesn’t curse in front of her. “Well, I’d hug you, but I don’t have a hand free.” He winks at me.

“I’ve missed you too,” I say, a little sarcastically. “Wanna come in?”

“I see you’ve been almost out anyway, and what’s the point if there’s no one else? Let’s have a walk, Clara will like it too,” he says and even baby Clara smiles back at him.

He hugs me once we’re on the corridor and he’s put Clara back in her basket. It’s irksome, but I still have to go on my toes to reach his neck and he laughs at it, which quickly turns into a yawn. While I’m at it, I use the chance to rub his head. “Tired dad, hmm?” I tease.

“You’ve no idea,” he murmurs and sighs, then picks up Clara and walks ahead out of the building. “Could be worse,” he admits. “She only wakes like three times a night, and Diana’s already decided to adapt to her sleeping rhythm. Which means my girls sleep basically all day.”

His girls. There’s always this spark in his eyes when he talks about his girlfriend Diana, or now of their daughter, and I can’t not be envious of his easy and beautiful and perfect relationship. “Where’s Diana now?” I ask.

“Ill, down with a summer cold. I thought I give her some time to rest where she won’t fuss over Clara instead of herself, and go visit the family.” He tries to smile but actually, he looks regretful. Like he missed the chance to fuss and worry over a sick Diana. I assume he sees something in that, that Diana, who’s a very austere person at first glance, opens up to him the most. And because she makes the same eyes at Shade as he does at her.

Yet, despite the apparent stress and worries, he looks so happy, on top of it all. He has a cool girlfriend, lives with her in their own flat, has a job, attends college and now has a baby to take care of as well. All of him screams “responsible adult” at me and tells me how I lack, how I fall flat in comparison. I wish I could be like him, so determined, without doubts.

But I also miss the not-so-long-ago days of our childhood and our pranks and parties and fun together with Kilorn. Kilorn had the ideas, Shade planned, and I executed them. Now, I think we’re still the same people deep down, but Shade managed to move on and grow up while I’m stuck.

“Mare?” His face is a question mark, he must’ve talked to me before.

“Oops, I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head to hide the flush. “What did you say?”

He squints at the sunlight as he looks down the road. “Would you like some ice-cream?” he asks.

“Sure.”

“Good. Is the shop still on Yew Street around the corner?”

“Yes – “

“Cool, will you hold Clara for a second?”

“Umm, what?!” I gasp. “And you didn’t ask what I’d like.”

He winks at me. “Trust me. I think I can still guess your favourites.” And thus, he shoves the basket into my arms and dashes off.

Trust me, huh? I move us to a bench close-by. A slightly bigger thing to trust me with his child. Fortunately, she’s asleep. Please God, let her stay that way. It’s difficult enough to wield the big basket in my short arms, I couldn’t deal with a wailing babe as well. A really cute babe though. So tiny – compared to anyone else at least. Shade said something about her being a big baby once, but looking at her small fingers and features makes me almost forget how terrible I am with children. Almost.

Her eyelids flutter. Damn –

“Already done, Mare!” I hear Shade call, extending his hand with the ice cone.

“Thank you so much!” I exclaim with relief. He’s bought me mango and cherry, truly what I would’ve ordered for myself. Although I’m hungrier than that, with a very empty stomach that two balls of ice cream will hardly fill. Suddenly I’m glad he didn’t notice that. I’d feel bad if he bought me something larger, and idiot me didn’t bring money with me either. Shit. I know he has to be frugal with money, yet I let him invite me. Better I offer him dinner later on, if I manage to prepare something halfway delicious.

Shade’s attention is back on the baby. She has woken up, but instead of crying, she smiles at her father rubbing her belly and grabs for his fingers. It’s lovely. But I also see the rings under his eyes, or how my skin has gotten much darker from time in the sun than his. Shade doesn’t have time to spare with hanging out in the sun, I remember. Maybe this is the first free time outside he’s had in weeks, and he chose to spend it with me. Let’s make it worth it.

I start to talk about my graduation, Kilorn, Gisa, and the stuff our parents were up to lately. He laughs frequently, but glances back at Clara every few seconds, his hand always close to her body.

“Now, what about last night?” he asks out of a sudden, almost jokingly.  Like he’s unaware what a delicate topic this is, not even guessing it when I stare at him with an open mouth because I don’t know how to begin.

“It was fun yesterday,” I say. “I went out, with Cal. We’ve been on dates for a few weeks now, and … and …” Shade nods in understanding, but he has no idea. Not about how good it felt to have this boy smiling at me like I was the most desirable person in the world, how a touch of his chased away all my insecurities – for a moment at least – and lit me up with confidence, only to let these feelings extinguish and crush with his off-hand revelation that then filled me with bitter guilt.

My cheeks heat, my eyes water. No. I don’t want to remember, but –

Suddenly, I’m in Shade’s arms, listening to his sorrys. He even has a hanky ready for me. “Shh,” he mutters, “shh, Clara, everything’s alright –”

I jerk away. “Did you just call me ‘Clara’?!”

He goes red as a cherry. “Umm … did I? Sorry Mare, I must be used to it already, hehe.”

I cackle, or try to, because it hurts with my tearstained face. The drops won’t stop rolling and I hold on to the new hanky Shade produces. He continues to hold my hand while Clara, in her basket, looks up to me from the ground.

“Cal is …” I begin, “I mean, yesterday, he told me about his own plans. He starts college soon, and now he’s found out his half-brother will study at the same one. They’ll have a family dinner soon, a premier for them. That all sounded odd, of course, but I didn’t prod openly. So I wondered whether he and his brother have the same age, and then he looked embarrassed and nodded. ‘It’s a long and complicated story, Mare,’ he said. ‘Nothing to be proud of.’ And I thought, ‘oh saucy details, cool that he trusts me with them’, ignorant fool that I was.” I sniff. “He explained that his mom was his father’s paramour, and when she got pregnant with Cal, his father divorced his first wife. Months later, the ex-wife sent a letter with a photo of their newborn son and called her ex out terribly, but then she wouldn’t let her child meet his father or brother.

“Over the years, the relationship improved little and they got actually very worried about … ‘Maven’, since his mother didn’t seem like the best of people. And that,” I stress, “was the moment I went from curious to shocked.”

“You mean,” Shade guesses, „Maven as in your ex-boyfriend?”

“Yes,” I hiss. “Exactly him. And Maven even told me about his horrible mother, the father he never sees, and the half-brother he doesn’t know!” I bury my face in my hands and hanky to mute my sobs.

Maven, my first crush and boyfriend, with who I shared our first kiss and first sex. During the last year of middle school and the whole of high school, he meant the world to me. He understood all of me, the doubt and the dreams, the dark days and the light, and I hoped to be the same to him. Yet, in the last months, there grew a distance between us. He became extremely ambitious, almost obsessed about getting into a certain college. He was much less open to me, even when I would’ve needed support to find my way, too, or to decide whether a gap year was the right choice. I knew he had problems with anxiety, more severe than the melancholy lingering in me, but never before did that separate us. I didn’t want to leave him because it was too hard to deal with him, but in the end, three months ago, I decided to make a clean cut before my travels and his studies put also a physical distance between us.

“I felt bad about it, about breaking his heart, immediately. And now, imagining he learns I dated and made out with his estranged half-brother?” My voice goes up with a wail, and Shade pulls me closer again.

“It’s okay, Mare, you’ll see,” he whispers. “Don’t ... feel guilty. You aren’t, well, indebted to care for him.”

“But – “

“Nor do you have to erase him from your life. Maybe offer him another goodbye, like invite to your farewell party?” he proposes.

I snort. “As long as Cal doesn’t show up there too.”

The corners of his mouth twitch. “Well, how they reunite and maybe become a family isn’t your problem to solve either. Look, you could also chat with, ah, both of them while you’re away? Perhaps it’ll work out with a little distance.”

I nod, knowing how reasonable his ideas are. And possibly he’s right, and all will work out. But knowledge won’t heal my heart, not Maven’s. Nor will it make an apology to Cal.

“I really like him, you know. Cal, I mean.” I sigh. “Of course, I’m aware it can’t last while I’m abroad. And that was okay, because he started as a mere distraction. But now …” I shrug. “Sometimes, I think it’d be nice if he came with me. Or if we met every now and then, if possible. He has the money for it.”

Shade snorts.

“Yes, you can get annoyed about that,” I admit.

“That’s not what I mean,” he objects.

“Oh?”

“No, I wondered if he’s aware what it’ll mean for you to travel alone.”

I straighten. “Don’t.”

“Mare – “

“No, Shade, I’m not a baby,” I insist. “I want this, and I always did. I might be irresponsible, reckless, and up in the clouds at times, but I’m not a naïve fool. I know what I’m getting into, that it may be dangerous, or that I’ll have to sleep under a bridge for a night, or wear my clothes for a whole week. But that’s the challenge of freedom, and I’m excited for it.” And despite my former tears and the hangover, I smile. “I’ll be on my own, and I’ll miss you, but the prospect fills me with confidence.”

He sighs and embraces me. “Sorry, I totally understand that,” he says. “It may sound a little odd, but Clara felt like a challenge too, before she was born. Diana wanted her so much, but she was insecure too. And we had to encourage each other all the time, assuring us we’d make it.” He sighs deeply.

“I think you’re doing great,” I say.

He smiles weakly. “Thanks. But once she was born? Everything changed. She was laid in my arms, Dee couldn’t stop crying, and I thought, ‘damn, you can’t fuck this up.’ Now we had all the responsibility for this little person, to raise her and make her happy, and it was just … too great.” He swallows and looks down at his child. “Great as in good, but also …” He hesitates.

“I know.” I nod. As in heavy, huge, incomprehensible.

He inclines his head. After a while, he adds, “so, besides all that, I need to keep her safe, and myself and Dee too. I can’t just do what I want, I have to think of her first. I can’t be on my own any longer.

“But that doesn’t mean what you’re doing is irresponsible in any way, Mare. You’ll look after yourself. You may f… make mistakes or not, but you’ll learn a lot anyway, and not before you’ve done it. You have to dare it first, as we had to dare to have Clara.”

I smile. “I knew you’d phrase it better than me.”

“I major in philosophy.” He grins and gives me a shove. “We have new priorities now, and live away from each other, but I’ll always be your brother.”

“My favourite one,” I say and hug him.

A/N: Sorry this rather alludes to Marecal than being about them. i hope I didn’t wake false expectations and enjoed anyway ^^°

Thanks to @clarafarleybarrow @moikorolrezni and @inopinion for advice!

@lilyharvord  @mareshmallow @redqueenfandom @selenbean-beany @wrenskonos @kihlorn @greenfeldbramlouis @head-full-of-books @eurydicel @morebooks-pls @scarletguardsource @choosemarecal @duqrte @hannaharies @proudsmiler16 @indiefangirlflash

[disarmingly]

about yoonkook, studio visits, and subtlety (or lack thereof)

*

"they're catching on." yoongi shrugs. namjoon sighs, arms folded, shoulder digging into the doorframe of genius lab. "i see no reason to lie," yoongi says. namjoon makes a sound half choke half laugh and all desert dry. says, "sure you do."

the joke among the seven of them is that the real married couple isn't even dating and yoongi guesses that's fairly accurate. it feels sometimes like he and namjoon did date and it's not the first nor the last time that it occurs to him how crucial the word 'relationship' is; because it carries the weight of words society more often recognizes such as boyfriend or girlfriend without actually being either one. sometimes when yoongi looks at namjoon he sees the sea and sometimes when he looks at namjoon he sees the sky and sometimes he just sees namjoon -- the boy he fought with mercilessly for a long long time; the boy he has grown up with for a long long time. he sees what he maybe was afraid for a while he would never see: his friend. pushing his hat back off of his head, yoongi runs his fingers through his hair -- fond of this shade despite not being fond of the process to get it there -- and leans in his chair, blinks slow and cat-like. "it's honestly funny to me that it's taken this long," yoongi says and namjoon will give that one to him because it's funny to him too -- funny and extremely stressful, but that's being the leader for you. "at least jungkook tries," namjoon says and yoongi rolls his eyes so hard it looks like they'll stay that way. "'only heard of'," yoongi imitates jungkook's little behind the scenes foray into his studio. namjoon nods. "did you really have to out him like that?" and yoongi can hear what namjoon really means so he shrugs, stands and winces when his knee cracks. he's not old but he definitely feels old, sometimes. "i was just being normal." "yoongi." "look," and the way yoongi gets into namjoon's space once would have been a challenge, would have been a fight, would have been the ground shifting underneath both of them; right now it's just how they are, how yoongi sees them as he straightens namjoon's sweater -- askew because it's a little too big in the shoulders -- and says, "it's not like i'm going to come out and say 'my boyfriend, jungkook' any time soon." the way namjoon exhales has yoongi's brows shooting up. "you were really worried." "am worried. present tense please," namjoon says but he's smiling because he can't help it; because he loves yoongi, loves jungkook, and as a result wants all the things for them he cannot actually provide. at least, not yet. continues, "but if you say you've got it under control--" "i do." pause. "we do." "we who?" they turn to see jungkook -- freshly showered and pink in his cheeks and still showing the paper thin edges of having been sick (and then nearly having made himself sick anew feeling guilty for getting seokjin sick as well) and glasses sliding down his nose. he gives the impression of a buoyant sixteen even though he's definitely not. underneath that both yoongi and namjoon see the same subtle proofs of their life together: the clever sunshine that jungkook got from hoseok, the shifting of his weight that says he's looking for dialogue that hasn't happened yet (this from namjoon himself), the biting of his lip a habit from both jimin and taehyung as well as the uncertain half-laugh, his arms full of food because he knows yoongi doesn't eat enough when he's creating -- good practice gleaned from seokjin, and-- "is that mine?" yoongi squints at the plaid wrapped around jungkook's trim waist. jungkook ignores him. "here," he says passing the bags of food to him before turning his gaze to namjoon and repeating, "'we'?" namjoon claps a hand down on jungkook's shoulder, squeezes, leans down to whisper something against his ear, and leaves. "i thought you were staying!" yoongi sort of yells after him. namjoon waves a vaguely dismissive hand. "later," he calls back without looking. yoongi blinks at all the food. "i didn't ask for--" "are you going to let me in or what?" jungkook interrupts again. yoongi makes a face but does as he's asked (read: demanded) of and steps aside. jungkook wastes no time in flopping back onto the couch, bouncing slightly. "seriously i can't eat all of this," yoongi frowns even as he takes things out carefully on the floor -- far away from the equipment, or as far as he can get. they've eaten in here countless times and it's fine but taking the basic precautions is always a good idea. he rifles through until he finds the second set of chopsticks and uses his extended reach to prod jungkook's leg. "hey you better help me." sleepy eyes open and yoongi just stares because he can never quite get used to it: how jungkook smiles at him. and it's not even accurate anymore to say 'how jungkook smiles when it's just them' because it hasn't been that way in a long time. namjoon says fans are catching on and most of yoongi has one feeling on this: well took you long enough. but he knows what their leader means, what his best friend means: be careful. but jungkook makes it so easy to just be...whatever they are, in private, in public, in between; sometimes yoongi forgets the difference.  at least right now they're alone, so when he smiles back he can say, soft the way love can be soft, "glad you're feeling better." "mmhmm," jungkook rolls off the couch onto the floor, folds his legs up under him neat and childlike. they sit in silence for a while except for the divvying of food -- which is actually just sharing, jungkook pretending to steer an airplane of chopsticks and noodles at yoongi's mouth until he just lets him. "water?" yoongi offers at one point, passing his bottle to jungkook's half-nod, watching absently as jungkook tips his head back and swallows. he must stare longer than he means to because suddenly jungkook is waving the bottle in front of yoongi's face. he takes it back and ignores the small warmth of jungkook's smile, reddened by the spicy food and distracting as anything. "he's worried," jungkook says when they have finished a shocking amount of the food, both of them leaning back against the couch, containers swept neatly to one side, their legs stretched out lazy, yoongi's ankle crossing with one of jungkook's. yoongi nods. "that's his job." "mm." it's when jungkook doesn't say anything else that yoongi lets his head loll to the right. he stares at the mole under jungkook's lip, his unconcealed scar, the soft sweep of his damp hair, the improbably long curves of his eyelashes, his mouth. yoongi stares at everything in his immediate line of vision, stares and thinks: this really isn't my fault. the kiss he presses to the corner of jungkook's jaw is soft, so feathery it makes jungkook giggle and yoongi wonders if his heart will ever fail to flip a few hundred times at the sound. 'weak', jimin once teased him while they were lying in bed in hawaii, yoongi sleep-mumbling about jungkook alone on the couch. no stranger to savagery, yoongi kicked jimin's shins and faced away, muttering something about how a certain someone would know All About being weak where a certain kim taehyung was concerned. it backfired though because all jimin had done was cop to it before returning to making fun of yoongi. merciless. kids these days. but since yoongi actually thinks jungkook's eyes actively sparkle -- like some kind of shoujo manga protagonist -- he supposes jimin isn't wrong. weak? well yeah. "just look at you," yoongi finishes his thought out loud, pets his hand back through jungkook's hair a few times watching his eyes flutter open closed open closed before removing his glasses for him, carefully setting them on the arm of the sofa. enough time passes that yoongi thinks jungkook might have actually dozed off when his boyfriend surprises him by speaking, voice a little plodding on the edge of sleep but still there, slow soft warm. jungkook. "should we be less...?" he murmurs. yoongi's fingers still in his hair. "'s stupid," yoongi says. "we're not nearly as touchy-feely as you and jimin or you and taehyung." "that's why it stands out," jungkook says. right. yoongi half crawls and half stumbles to his feet just to sit on the couch behind jungkook who remains on the floor, yoongi's legs at either side of him. from here it's easy to gently rub along jungkook's scalp, his temples, his jaw. the contented hums that escape jungkook are familiar, tell yoongi he's grateful in not so many words. "maybe," he says eventually, index and center fingertips pressing down either side of jungkook's spine in his neck down to his shoulders. jungkook's head falls forward but yoongi braces him. based on how sluggish he is now, he suspects despite jungkook feeling better, his body still needs all the rest it can get and while that's true for all of them, it's doubly so for jungkook and seokjin right now -- both trying to not get sick again or aught else. at some point yoongi coaxes jungkook up onto the couch and it's not really made for this but they make it work: yoongi holding jungkook close, jungkook half asleep for real as he says, "sorry." "idiot," yoongi kisses the back of his neck. "go to sleep." jungkook can't help it; he does. yoongi draws a hand up and down his side and thinks about namjoon's words, about their industry, about their success and how success is still just a reminder sometimes that the lack of it is always possible. this sea used to be a desert. when he breathes in jungkook, sometimes yoongi thinks about how that line means so many things to all of them. because they mean their careers, yes; but they also mean each other. the 'now' they have become is defined by their 'before'. they won't forget it. listening to jungkook's dreaming inhales and exhales, yoongi mumbles against his back: "i don't want to hide but," he holds jungkook tighter. "in a way, it's none of their business. is it." they fall asleep like that. it's one of the many reasons namjoon suggested yoongi get the extra passcode. it's a given that they all know the first, including bang pd and the others. but the second is a newer addition and it's been easy enough to not remember to let anyone outside of their actual household know. after the first time namjoon came in and caught them literally sleeping together, he pulled yoongi aside and said: you're lucky it's me. and it's not that their larger family wouldn't accept them. it's just that nothing is ever quite so simple when you don't belong only to yourself. this, they all know better now than ever. so to keep it simple a little longer, to keep it theirs, yoongi got a second passcode. *

later, when yoongi wakes up, it's to jungkook touching his hair and humming some unfinished melody. he blinks. "morning," jungkook smiles. "is it?" "4 or so." "ah." this translates loosely to: namjoon will kill me. also to: but i've had worse. jungkook, seeming to understand this, shakes with stifled laughter. "well if we're already in trouble..." jungkook trails off, but yoongi doesn't get it, brows knitting until jungkook leans in to kiss him. this goes on for some time. * at the next fansign someone asks who comes the most to his studio, and yoongi answers reflexively with the truth. when that particular post-it gets a surge of attention on twitter, he pretends not to notice. *

[obsidianmichi]

Enfenim var vhenan him’sa?

“You got a lover back home, Bright Eyes?” Varric asked.

“No,” she laughed.

“I figured as much. Besides, no elven guy or girl who stayed instead of following you across the Narrow Sea is worth keeping.”

Eirwen glanced at Varric, aware they’d grown closer to a large building just off the central square. From the way humans constructed their towns, she suspected this was the inn. “I suppose,” she ventured. “I never gave it much thought.”

Solas cleared his throat. “Perhaps that is for the best.”

I’m going to get whiplash, she thought, watching him out of the corner of her eye. Her heart squeezed in her throat. I am completely lost. “Why do you ask?” There was an obvious, natural progression to this conversation but it couldn’t possibly…

“I’m just thinking. If we’re going to keep traveling in places with people, we should come up with a system.”

“I thought we had a system,” Eirwen said.

“No, not that one. A different system,” Varric said. “One to keep every eligible bachelor, and some less than eligible, in a five mile radius from descending on us like swarm of locusts. Hawke and I used to pull this when Fenris wasn’t available or couldn’t. Sometimes, Isabella stepped in or Sebastian helped out. It kept Hawke sane.”

“I’m not a hero like Hawke,” Eirwen said.

“Not yet,” Varric said. “Hawke didn’t start out a hero either, but like you she had that talent smell on her. Drew the eye, drew the people. No one could say no to her, and nobody forgot her either. Not even magic powers and that staff of hers were enough to drive suitors off. I don’t think even she knows how much work Carver and Rabbit did while they still lived in Lowtown.”

“Varric may indeed be correct,” Solas said. “Such a method would be an acceptable means of ending trouble before it began.”

She glanced from one to the other. Neither of them could be serious, this sounded like a plot straight out of Swords & Shields. “You can’t be suggesting that I… I… I pretend to be in relationship.”

“Think of it this way, Bright Eyes. We get to the tavern and they’ll try to split us up,” Varric said. “This way one of us always stays with you.”

Eirwen paused. “There is a certain logic in that.”

Varric let go of her elbow, and clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Exactly.”

“Who do you plan to play my fictional lover, Varric?” she asked. “You?”

“No, no,” Varric laughed. “I don’t think I’d be the best choice, the best lies are always hidden inside a truth.”

Inside a truth, Eirwen echoed. Had Varric just admitted to being a little in love with his best friend? She smiled. “So, Iron Bull is out.”

“You two just don’t have that kind of chemistry,” Varric said with one of his sly grins. “When we run cons, we want to be convincing.”

She glanced at Solas, he was the only remaining possibility. He’d never go for it. The thought left her vaguely unhappy. That was for the best, she reminded herself. If they went through with it, she’d never hear the end of it from Ellana. I am supposed to be helping her with Solas. Though, Ellana’s relationship with the Iron Bull was the subject of more conversation than whatever might be fomenting between Solas and herself.

“I would be willing to take part in this pretense,” Solas said.

Eirwen’s head whipped about, her eyes widening. “You wouldn’t!”

He smiled, his eyes glinting with a mischief she’d glimpsed before but only rarely and in fleeting moments. There and gone before he lost himself again in solemnity. “I see no reason why we should not make an attempt, especially when pretending ensures the safety of all involved.”

“Solas,” she began.

“Do you object?” he asked.

“No, but—”

“We are in agreement then.”

Eirwen stared at him, mouth agape. She knew she looked a bit like a landed fish, but found she couldn’t keep her composure. Words failed her. Pretend  to be in a relationship. Ellana is going to murder me. Worse, she had no clear idea of what pretending to be in a relationship looked like. He knew she’d next to no experience. How is it different from a regular relationship?  “There will be discussions,” she said at last, taking a moment to prod his arm with her finger.

“Certainly,” he agreed, looping his arm through hers.

Her eyes narrowed, where was his embarrassment? He should be offended, stiff, annoyed at others inserting themselves into his business and demanding privacy. He was taking this far too well. “There will be ground rules.”

He bowed his head. “Ma nuvenin.”

Eirwen paused, for a moment she saw the shy wandering woodsman vanish only to be replaced by something… someone else. Whoever he’d been before, she decided, when he wasn’t who he was now. Loose rather than restrained, almost relaxed. Amused, even. Amused by her horror if she went by his expression. He... her eyes caught on the light dancing in his stormy gray-blues, he’s teasing me.

“You are staring, lethallan,” Solas said. “Should you fail to recover your composure, we shall not convince anyone.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Chuckles,” Varric said. “You’ll convince everyone. All we need to do is say the relationship is new.”

Solas laughed. “So I am to play the part of the annoyed, protective lover irritated when his territory is invaded.”

“Exactly right,” Varric said. “The best way to drive off a potential rival is to do what you’re good at. Give ‘em a threatening ‘I’ll eat your dreams’ stare when they stick around too long, and if they don’t take the hint lash them with some condescending wit.”

“Who is going to inform these men of my ability to curse them with nightmares for the rest of their natural lives?” Solas asked.

“That’d be me,” Varric replied.

“Excellent,” Solas said. “It would be far less impressive were I to threaten them, a third party is far more convincing.”

“I agree. Suggestion is both more frightening and gives the mind room to imagine.”

Eirwen groaned. “I’m never having conversations with men ever again.”

“Yes, but consider the fun we shall have fooling the humans,” Solas said. “You will always have aid should it become necessary to divest yourself of uncomfortable conversations.”

“I’m sure I had that before,” she replied. “I think you’re going along with this because you like to tease me.”

“Enfenim var vhenan him’sa?” he murmured, too low for Varric to hear. Afraid our hearts will become one?

She blushed. “Tel’enfenim, Solas. Tel’enfenim mala harel.” I am not afraid, Solas. I am not afraid of your tricks.

This is from the latest chapter of In A Dreamer’s Eye. You know how this goes, it starts with a faked relationship and ends in one inn room and only one bed. (Also cultural conflict regarding baths and general nudity.) Companion Eirwen AU is all self-indulgent fun.

[ajuimaginary]

Seungkwan drabble. Extra fluffy. Secret Relationship revealed. 

Anon requested a scenario “where the reader is dating a member without the rest of 17 knowing but they come over to the dorm after a really bad day and just start cuddling them on the couch without even caring that the boys are all there watching a movie or something. Extra fluffy please ❤️”

Your secret relationship with Seungkwan has been quite a success so far. Neither of you are entirely sure why it seems so important to keep it a secret: perhaps just to avoid the teasing, perhaps to make sure you’re completely certain of each other before you get others involved in the relationship, since it’s pretty much guaranteed that they’ll go crazy and get invested as soon as they find out.

There’s also something fun about the sneaking around - the quiet giggling in corners and the private glances you share - even though it would be silly to keep up such a secret solely for a little thing like that.

The rest of Seventeen know you two are close, of course. Seungkwan has been your best friend for as long as you’ve been hanging out with them all. And their awareness of your close relationship has resulted in a lot of teasing over that time.

Somehow, magically, a few of the more emotionally observant members (Jun, Jeonghan, and Minghao) managed to work out you had a crush on him from day one. You still don’t know how. And they quickly spread the news around the rest of the boys (though they never betrayed you by telling Seungkwan). Since then, they’ve all made it their mission to try convincing you to confess. Every time the topic comes up they insist that they know he likes you back and there should be no fear in approaching him (though they never quite betray him by telling you that he has also directly admitted it, only saying they are pretty sure he does and why don’t you ask him, Y/N?).

The prodding and poking still hasn’t stopped, of course, since they don’t know you two finally got together. They don’t know about the bold explosion of courage on Seungkwan’s part and the kiss in the empty mirrored practice room and the pact to not tell anyone.

They don’t know that both of you admitted to having liked each other this whole time and being too scared. They don’t know that you realized they’ve been trying to make you notice the obvious from the very beginning, getting less and less subtle as time passes. They don’t know how you laughed about the whole situation and kissed again.

In fact, they don’t know anything. And you’re very impressed that they haven’t caved and become traitors, considering how frustrated they seem at the two of you for apparently being too scared to confess. It’s almost funny to watch them get so highly strung now that you have less emotional angst of your own.

And still, the teasing continues, and you brush it off with the same flustered reaction as always, letting them roll their eyes and tell you there’s no need to be scared. Letting them run over the same arguments of what could possibly go wrong??? as they attempt to convince you to ask him out. Each time, you pretend to be uncertain. Then later, when Seungkwan walks you home, you swap stories of their latest attempts to convince each of you separately, and then you kiss in your doorway for a while before he leaves you, giddy with the excitement of the secret and his beautiful smile.

But then comes the Bad Day. The Bad Day to end all Bad Days.

You don’t think you’ve ever had a worse day. And that’s saying something. So as soon as you get home, despite being so exhausted you want to fall into bed, you dump your bag of stuff and go right back out the door again, taking your phone to text Seungkwan as you walk toward the Seventeen dorm like a homing pigeon.

What are you doing right now? You ask him, with a little sad face following.

About to watch a movie with the members. Are you okay?????? he replies.

You consider his message for a moment, type out a couple of admittances of your bad day, and then delete them, until you finally settle on one question, not wanting to talk over text right now. Wanting to see him in person. To feel the soft warmth of him against you.

How important is it that the other members don’t know we’re dating?

He takes a moment to reply.

Not very important at all really. Why?

I’m on my way to the dorms. Save me a space on the couch?

Of course, he says, with three red heart emojis. And then your phone buzzes a few more times, probably him asking for clarification, but your soul feels too weighed down to check them, and you power on, the dorms finally in sight.

Bumzu, Woozi’s favorite co-music-writer, is leaving when you get there, so you don’t need to knock and wait for someone to answer the door. He lets you inside.

“Hi, Y/N!” he says cheerfully, and then sees your sad face. “Are you okay?”

“I will be soon.” you say. “I’m just going to watch a movie with the boys. Have they started?”

“Yeah, but only just,” he says, nodding his head toward the direction of the room they’re in. “I was dropping some sheet music to Jihoon, but I decided to leave rather than stay and watch, so they were pressing play right as I left them.”

“I’ll go join them then,” you say.

“Alright,” Bumzu agrees. “Good to see you, Y/N. Hope you feel better after your movie.”

You manage a smile. “Thanks. Good to see you too.”

You kick off your shoes and head on down the corridor to push open the door. The members look up at the sudden intrusion. Your eyes immediately focus in on your boyfriend, soft and beautiful in his favorite pink jumper, the promised space saved for you on the couch between him and DK. Seungkwan looks incredibly on edge, fiddling with his phone in his hands, biting his lip. His eyes fix on you, and his posture tenses, he sits halfway up, clear worry all over his face, mouth open like he’s about to speak.

“Are you okay?” Seungcheol asks before he can say anything. “You look upset.”

That question is too much. Your lips quivers, your face crumples.

“Not really,” you choke out.

“Y/N-” Seungkwan says, sounding heartbroken, his hand extending.

You step forward, feet moving of their own accord. And then you’re folding into the space on the couch beside him, curling yourself into his arms, which wrap so easily around you, tucking your feet up onto the seat and your face into his chest. He coos softly to you, presses a kiss to your hair, and you let your tears begin to leak out, barely caring that a room full of people is watching.

Seungkwan, of course, is a sympathetic crier. So you’re pretty sure he’s started crying too when his voice breaks as he asks. “What on earth happened, baby?”

“I had the worst day.” you whisper, clinging to him, feeling him breathe, feeling it relax you. “The worst day.”

You keep crying, and you can hear a quiet mumble around the room. A few people offer vague words of comfort. You feel a new hand on your back and numbly process the fact that when you fell onto Seungkwan, you ended up in the space between him and DK.

After a minute or so of quiet, broken by the sound of increasing puzzled whispering from the boys, and Seungkwan whispering comfort so softly in your ear you know no one else can hear, things feel a little more settled, and you straighten up a bit. Seungkwan reaches out and gently dries your cheeks.

“Sorry,” Wonwoo says, and at least he’s a little less blunt than Woozi might have been, actually bothering to apologize first. “To interrupt. But….?”

He can’t seem to finish his sentence.

“Are you guys…?” Mingyu says, taking it over, and then stopping too.

Seungkwan glares at them, his face transforming.

“Now is not the time,” he snaps. “But yes, we got together like three weeks ago, get over it!”

They all gasp. Hoshi explodes with a loud “WHAT?!” but Jeonghan elbows him in the ribs. They all talk over top of each other, trying to work out how this even happened, and then trying to silence each other because now is not the time.

It’s loud and over the top, but you start to smile, because they’re all so dramatic and somehow it was just what you needed. As Seungkwan takes a worried glance at you, you see his face suddenly soften to see how their silliness calms you. You burrow a little closer to him, and he presses another kiss to your head.

“Feel better?” he whispers softly.

You nod. The room around you explodes into even louder noise as Vernon admits that he already knew you two were together. Seungkwan apologizes quietly to you for that one.

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “They all know now anyway. And crazy as they are, this is just what I needed.”

“Family?” Seungkwan asks you, looking absolutely smitten.

Tears fill your eyes again, but for a good reason this time.

“Family.” you confirm, reaching up to pull him in for a kiss that makes everyone scream.

[theclaravoyant]

Sounds Like a Song - Ch.9

AN ~ more Bobbi Ann verse! ft. FitzSimmons! This is one of the angstier instalments but I hope you like it anyway! </3  ps - nobody dies I promise

Based on two prompts: 1) Bobbi-Ann and Kiki find some ~magic crystals~ they just HAVE to have for their costumes and it doesn't end well, and 2) after a weekend babysitting Bobbi-Ann and Kiki, FitzSimmons decide not to have kids.

I’d just like to apologise in advance to Daisy Louise Johnson and I hope she knows I love her very much. Okay, here goes.

Read on AO3 (~2500wd)

Sounds Like a Song - Ch.9

Fitz beamed, and dropped down to one knee as Bobbi-Ann and Kiki cheered his arrival. They ran to him and he embraced them, looking over their familiar faces – they grew so much every time he saw them! - and the brightly coloured costumes they were wearing. Patched together from old clothes and bits and bobs and someone’s amateur but passable sewing skills, the girls had matching outfits straight from a comic book.

“Hey girls, what’s this?” He prodded the crest on Bobbi’s chest: a crudely drawn cartoon of a dog’s face.

“We’re superheroes!” Kiki declared, and Fitz noticed the cat drawn on her chest, matching. His heart warmed.

“Oh, are you?” he checked. “You’ll fit right in. This is a real life superhero base, you know. Aunty Jemma can even get you a special card if you’re really superheroes.”

“Like your one?” Bobbi-Ann tugged at Fitz’s security card. “All the grown-ups have one.”

“Well, yours won’t be able to open doors yet. But I’ll see what I can do.”

Fitz winked, and the girls laughed. He was making quite a name for himself, tinkering with half the things they owned and making what all the aunties called ‘improvements.’ Usually with the quotation marks implied, although some of them were genuinely quite good.

Mack, laden with the girls’ bags, rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Fitz stood up to greet him, as the girls scampered off to find their Aunt.

“Don’t go giving these two any ideas,” Mack warned. “They’ve got plenty of their own.”

Fitz shook his head. “Come on, they’ll be fine.”

“Fighting words.” Mack raised an eyebrow. Fitz decided to pull his head in, and helped Mack offload what seemed like all the girls’ belongings. Two backpacks, a duffel, and two very important-looking shoeboxes. (For the superhero costumes, Mack explained). And a scooter? Fitz stepped back with his hands on his hips and examined the pile. All this, for a one-night sleep-over? In an underground secret army base? Maybe Mack was right to warn him. After all, it wasn’t like he’d been the most demure and obedient of children himself. Kids with Daisy and Elena’s blood would be bouncing off the walls in no time – and probably busting through police tape and bringing down the patriarchy to boot.

Still, it was just one night. And that’s when he found himself thinking that fateful, accursed phrase:

How bad could it be?  

-

At first, it wasn’t too bad at all. It was quite fun, in fact. Jemma found them each a cardboard flashcard that they coloured in – rainbow colours, because the Spectrum of Security made about as much sense to them as it did to anyone else here – and they ran around the place delightedly ‘activating’ the fridge and the bathroom door and anything else they could think of. Then Fitz took them out the back to a hangar-sized training facility, and pretended to be the monsters and villains to their play pretend games. Between their fast legs, Bobbi’s scooter and Kiki’s wheeled shoes, the girls had him rethinking his cardio routine (or lack thereof). At least he got a good laugh out of them with very dramatic finger-gun antics.

“You’re funny, Uncle Fitz,” Kiki said, sitting on his chest after having ‘captured’ him. “Can we have lunch now?”

Fitz sighed with relief. He’d thought they’d never ask.

Fortunately, Jemma had anticipated them, and prepared a spread of finger foods. The girls’ faces lit up and they ran for the table, chanting yes Aunty Jemma when she warned that they must have at least two sandwiches before any fairy bread.

“Party pies! Yes!” Fitz cheered. On his way past the table, he scooped up a fun-sized sausage roll and stuffed the entire thing into his mouth. Jemma turned to him, glaring sharply, about to tell him off, but laughed instead when she saw the exaggerated exhaustion in his shoulders. She nudged him playfully.

“Did they run you off your feet, old man?” she teased.

“Many times, Jemma,” Fitz replied, with a wizened tone, pretending to favour a sore back. “Many times.”

“I told you, you should be doing stair runs.”

Fitz couldn’t argue with that, so he just rolled his eyes. Jemma smiled to herself, smug in her victory, and bit into a cucumber sandwich as she turned her attention back to the girls.

To the girl.

Fitz and Jemma shared a glance.

“Kiki?” Jemma asked, trying not to let her voice show the sudden worry that had clutched at her heart. “Where’s Bobbi? Did she got to the bathroom?”

Kiki twisted in her seat, bread and sprinkles hanging from her hand like nothing was wrong. She frowned at her Aunt and Uncle. They looked really nervous for some reason, and it made her uncomfortable.

“She had an idea,” Kiki explained. “For our superhero costumes. Well, it was kind of both our ideas.”

“What kind of idea, sweetie?” Jemma asked.

“We found some cool stuff before. Some lights and stuff and these crystal things. Bobbi said her mum said they have magical powers.”

Jemma and Fitz looked at each other again. Don’t panic.

“Did Bobbi’s mum also tell her that she shouldn’t ever touch them?” Fitz asked. “And neither should you?”

Kiki shrugged and pressed her lips together, apologetic that she did not have answer. Fitz ground his teeth together. Jemma flapped her hands, and pressed them to her neck, fighting to stay calm.

“Okay, okay,” she said. “You stay here. I’ll go find Bobbi. It’s fine, right? She can’t get into the lab storage anyway. I’ll be right back. Everything’s fine.”

-

Everything, needless to say, was not fine.

So not fine, in fact, that within seconds, alarms began blaring overhead. Down the hall, lights flashed. Doors began automatically sealing.

Jemma bit back a curse and near-sprinted off toward them. Kiki’s discomfort transformed into keen distress and she found a helpless wail building up in her throat. Should she go after Jemma, and try to find Bobbi? Was Bobbi okay? Was she in trouble? The telling-off kind of trouble or the really dangerous kind where, Kiki knew, they were supposed to tell an adult anyway?

“I’m sorry!” she cried, tears wetting her cheeks and tugging at her voice. “I didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to touch it! Don’t get Bobbi in trouble, please!”

Crooning reassurances, Fitz lifted Kiki from her seat. He quickly sat down again in her place, with her on his lap – she was getting too big for him to carry for long periods of time - but she nuzzled closer to him and tried to hug his wide chest, and Fitz felt sorry for her. She must be terrified. He was scared enough without the dramatic imagination of a ten year old. He rubbed her back. She was shaking.

“It’s going to be okay,” Fitz promised. “All those loud sounds are just warnings, like what a fire truck does. They help keep people safe.”

“Is Bobbi Ann going to be safe?”

-

Jemma almost skidded to a halt outside the lab doors. They were sealed, but she had an override. She just had to make sure it wasn’t…. That it wasn’t….

Her breath caught.

On the other side of the glass, grey powder covered the floor. A broken crystal. A few stranded lab techs looked on in horror, their eyes fixated on a point. The same point that Jemma’s eyes slowly, reluctantly found.

Bobbi Ann.

Encased in stone.

Oh, God. Oh my God.

Meaningless sentences of distress circled around and around in her mind but now Jemma moved with surprising calm. She had a job to do. She had to figure out what kind of stone this was, what had happened, what had happened to Bobbi. She had to figure out what to tell Daisy, but that was later. She felt sick – sick with worry, sick with fear, sick with guilt. She’d only turned her eyes away for a minute. Maybe two.

She knelt by Bobbi Ann. That minute, maybe two, could have been the difference between life and death. That orange card, dropped from Bobbi’s fingers. Jemma clenched her jaw.

“Who gave her this?”

Nobody came forward. Later, she told herself. Now was the moment of truth. To look into Bobbi’s eyes. That was the easiest way to tell; the place where the different densities of the stone was most obvious. Would she find the flaky, ash-like substance of doom, or the granite-like encasement of a terragenisis pod?

The latter. Slightly shiny. Rough to look at, but smooth to touch. It did not crumble beneath her fingertips.

Jemma breathed at last. She let her hands find balance on the floor as relief washed over her and she remembered that the crystals here were not Jiaying’s weaponised ones. They were never going to have hurt her. And Bobbi-Ann, with two Inhuman parents? She’d always been headed for this. Daisy was going to be pissed. Pissed beyond all belief. She could probably look forward to the biggest fight they’d ever had over this, but Jemma couldn’t help but be relieved, as the shell began to crack and Bobbi-Ann looked back at her. Just the same. Crying, terrified, but safe after all. Jemma swept her into a hug.

“Aunty Jemma?” Bobbi confessed, from the cocoon of her Aunt’s protective arms. “I’m really scared. I think I wet my pants.”

Jemma almost laughed with relief as she pulled back to hold Bobbi more loosely. She wiped the tears off her face, and gently smiled.

“Oh, that’s okay, sweetie,” she promised. “It’s okay to be scared. And Daddy brought lots of spare pants. Let’s go change, okay?”

Okay. Okay. Okay. Jemma’s heart pumped with it. Bobbi-Ann nodded, and gripped her hand firmly as Jemma led her back to the others. Aunty Jemma nattered on about how they were going to use Granddad’s special private bathroom because the real showers here weren’t very nice for little girls. Bobbi Ann didn’t pay much attention, but she was glad to see Uncle Fitz and Kiki again, even though she had wet her pants.

Aunty Jemma kept asking her if she felt okay, and she couldn’t answer that question. She just wanted her mother. That would make everything okay. Even though she was getting big and she was in school and this was all quite embarrassing and she’d probably get in trouble, she couldn’t help it. She was used to understanding things and she didn’t this time, and Daisy did. Daisy would.

“I want my Mommy,” she confessed at last. Aunty Jemma nodded, very serious and sad, and promised that she would get her, so Bobbi Ann had a bath and Jemma had a difficult conversation.

-

It was a conversation so long and difficult that Jemma didn’t leave the side office she’d taken it in for some time. Bobbi Ann finished her bath and she and Kiki had a more subdued conversation, and went to bed without protest. Fitz tucked them in alone, since Jemma was busy, but they expressed no interest in a bedtime story. Instead, they apologised. Fitz accepted it as gratefully as he could; he was angry, and scared, and not looking forward to the likely coldness between himself and Jemma and Daisy over this, but at least the girls now understood what they’d done wrong. They understood now, why they had these rules in place. Why they weren’t allowed in the lab, or to open the cabinets, or to touch certain things. Sometimes these were lessons that had to be learned the hard way.

Still, the air hanging over them was heavy when Jemma at last retired from her phone call, and crawled back into the lounge with exhaustion written all over her. She collapsed onto the couch, and curled up by Fitz’s side. There were tears on her face.

“Daisy’s mad,” she confirmed softly.

“I know,” Fitz said. He stroked her hair, and passed her a cup of tea he’d prepared. “It’s just because she’s scared. We’ll be alright.”

“We could have killed her little girl!” Jemma lamented.

“No, we couldn’t have,” Fitz replied calmly. “Those crystals were not dangerous, remember? Nobody would have gotten hurt. Just changed.”

Jemma bit her lip. That was a whole loaded topic she didn’t feel like touching.

“It was irresponsible,” she said instead.

“It was. But irresponsible like letting an eight year old get their ears pierced, not like, letting her walk out in front of a truck. Right?”

Jemma hummed uncertainly. Fitz swallowed hard. He was doing a good job keeping calm, but he wasn’t sure how long he could keep it up. That fear they’d felt today, it would be worse for Daisy. No matter how logical it was or was not, it was hard not to be mad at somebody who’d inflicted that much fear. And the change was not entirely a harmless one: Daisy had been labouring over questions of Bobbi and identity and terragenisis for years. It was a change that put her at risk. At society’s risk, but maybe even at her own, especially given the volatility of each of her parent’s powers. In the scheme of overarching morality, they were in the clear, but nobody could deny that it was dangerous.

Fitz and Jemma sat in silence for a while, letting the day settle over them. It weighed on them, and turned their minds to other questions. Questions like, if it had been our daughter. Answers that they could not ignore.

“Fitz?” Jemma murmured, her head in his lap.

“Yeah?” He looked down at her; her eyes were pained and earnest.

“I don’t think we should have kids.”

He blinked, and looked away. It hurt to realise that he agreed.

“We live in too much danger,” Jemma continued. “What I felt today, I couldn’t – I couldn’t take that every day. I couldn’t have the kids around here. I certainly couldn’t send them away. And even if we moved, we’d keep working with Shield wouldn’t we? And even if we didn’t… We’ve done too much now. I couldn’t let them be. I’d never stop worrying if they’d been hurt, or attacked, or kidnapped…” Her voice hitched, eyes shining. “And that’s aside from everything else, like – like, who knows if I can even carry anymore or…”

“Jemma. Stop.” Fitz squeezed her hand gently. “I agree with you. I understand.”

“I wanted to,” she insisted, and her body started shaking with sobs as tears began to pool. “I wanted to, but I was so scared. I was so…”

She shook her head, finally falling victim to her tears as they flooded down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook. Fitz scooped her up and wrapped her in his arms, and she cried and cried. She cried for herself, for Fitz, for Bobbi-Ann and her fear, for Daisy’s fear and anger and the blow their friendship had taken today. She cried a lot, and soon enough, tears were slipping down Fitz’s cheeks, too. He held her tighter, until the tears were finally drained. Only then, and only gradually, did he peel back.

“Are you okay?” he checked.

Jemma nodded, wiping away tears again. “You?”

“I’ve been better,” Fitz confessed, and Jemma smiled sadly. With one arm, Fitz pulled her against his chest and she cuddled up to him. Daisy was on her way and they had to wait up, so this cocoon of warmth was not going to last long, but as they’d promised each other time and time again, they were going to endure it together.

[cywscross]

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4 | Pt.5 | Pt.6 | Pt.7

Lookee what my brain coughed up~~

Peter stays the night again. The man cooks for the two of them, Stiles finishes his homework, Peter uses his shower and poaches more of Stiles’ clothes, and they end up in the fort again, knees and arms knocking together, blankets piled on top of them.

“Should we be expecting your father tonight?”  Peter enquires idly, not sounding like he cares much either way.

“Mm, no, he’s working on a case out of town.”  It’s instinct to check his phone, but there’s no text message waiting for him, and that’s to be expected too.  He sends one off to Scott though, just to check in, just to ask how he’s doing after everything that went down.  He doesn’t get a reply this time either, which doesn’t surprise him one bit.

He tosses the device aside and sighs before pulling his laptop over.  “Wanna watch a movie?”

He feels more than sees Peter shrug, so Stiles goes about setting up Tangled.  He wants fun and light-hearted, and if Peter doesn’t, the werewolf can deal.

Peter mostly just seems entertained though, and interested because oh yeah, coma equals six years of missed media.  Amongst other things.

So they watch Rapunzel venture out into the world and beat people up with her frying pan and defy her mother and finally get her happily ever after, and it’s a nice distraction from the death and destruction here in good old Beacon Hills.  After that, he goes further back and puts on Enchanted.  Stiles has a soft spot for musicals, so sue him, and he refuses to be embarrassed by it even when Peter slants an amused look at him.

As it turns out, Peter doesn’t mind a bit of singing and dancing either, especially when the movie gives such a unique twist to the classic fairy tale, combining live-action and animation together.  Still, he must’ve been more tired than Stiles thought because by the time everyone gets their happily ever after in this one (except the bad guy, obviously), Peter’s dozed off, still sitting but slumped against the wall behind them.

The movie ends, everything goes silent, and Stiles just sits there for a while, watching Peter sleep. Then he sighs, powers down his laptop, and sets about getting ready for bed.  It takes two trips out of the fort because he forgets to line all the windows and doors in the house with the bag of mountain ash under his bed, at least for the night.  He doesn’t feel like dealing with any werewolves who might swing by and break into his house just because they can.  Granted, it isn’t likely.  Scott’s (getting) busy with other people, Boyd and Erica have run off to god knows where, if Isaac shows up, Stiles might actually strangle him with his scarf, and he hasn’t even seen Derek since that night with the kanima and Gerard.  But just in case, Stiles does it anyway.  If any of them do show up, it’ll be because they’ll want him to do something for them, and helpful is about the last thing he feels like being right now.

Peter’s the exception only because the dude’s already inside, and it would be a hassle to shove him back out the window.  Besides, it’s pretty clear the werewolf doesn’t want anything from him aside from a place to bunk, and even if he does, Stiles figures Peter’s allowed to at least ask, if only because he’s cooked for Stiles and even taken his pain a few times.

Although admittedly, the former was still on Stiles’ dime.  But not even Peter Hale can produce money out of thin air, or he wouldn’t even be in Stiles’ house right now.  He came though, to check on Stiles.  Which, pathetically enough, is more than anyone else has done.

What exactly does it say about Stiles that the only one who cared enough about him to come at all is the formerly dead former psycho on a former vengeance bender?

Probably nothing good. Best not to think about it then.  And the pain-drawing thing is true enough.  He’s done that pretty regularly as Stiles’ injuries heal at glacial speeds.

He crawls back into the fort and starts prodding Peter into something more horizontal.  Blue eyes flicker open, hazy to sharp in about 0.5 seconds, but they go drowsy again when they recognize Stiles, and Peter doesn’t do anything to stop him from piling a couple blankets on top of him.

It only takes another minute for Stiles to get comfortable himself, and another few minutes for sleep to creep up on him.  He doesn’t even open his eyes when he feels the bedding shift and the warm line of a body press against his own.

The rest of the week goes about the same.  Peter camps out in Stiles’ bedroom, cooks him meals, and spends the hours between nine and three probably apartment hunting and doing other hopefully not too illegal things.  Stiles goes to school, sits through his classes, and doesn’t bother eating in the cafeteria anymore because it makes him feel like he’s trying too hard to get Scott’s attention, and that’s just pathetic.  Downside, he hasn’t been this alone at school since junior high when Scott transferred in and Jackson stole his inhaler so Stiles tripped him down the stairs.  But on the other hand, every other hour that he isn’t in school means he’s with Peter, and Peter… somehow, Peter makes it very hard to feel lonely, even if they’re not doing anything except sitting side by side and working on their own thing.

By the weekend, Peter’s found a place, a small apartment building on the corner of Wisteria and Clove, near the edge of town.  The paint is faded, the floorboards creak, but the place seems sturdy enough, if a bit shabby and actually not at all what Stiles would picture Peter choosing to live in. It isn’t smack in the middle of downtown either so there doesn’t seem to be many tenants.  Still, even though Peter’s the one who suggests giving Stiles the grand thirty-second tour of the single bedroom, bathroom, and sitting room and attached kitchenette in the first place, a defiant, defensive slant remains in his shoulders the entire time, and he watches Stiles like he thinks Stiles might laugh at him or something.

The mighty ex-Alpha brought low.  Stiles wonders if Derek would taunt him about it.  He’d like to think no, ’cause that’s just kicking someone when they’re already down, and… yeah okay, Stiles is exactly the type to do that if the person is high enough on his shit list, but he’d never do it to his dad no matter how… absent the man is from his life or how much he drinks, or even his mom, no matter how many times she hit him, or even Scott, even though Stiles doesn’t know where they stand these days.  And he won’t do it to Peter.

Peter’s family to Derek though, no matter how much history there is between them, and yet Peter seems used to expecting the worst from those around him.

Of course, then Stiles remembers Derek ripping Peter’s throat out without a beat of hesitation just a month ago, remembers him leaving his crippled uncle behind all those years ago, remembers each and every one of his own interactions with Derek and how Derek’s go-to methods were always to threaten or insult or use violence to get Stiles to do what he wanted or even just to tear him down for whatever reason.  He even remembers the tiny smirk on Derek’s face as he stood by and watched Erica mock Stiles like he thought it was funny.

Right.   Never mind.  Christ.  No wonder Peter killed Laura.  Leaving him to rot was enough of a crime.

Stiles’ absolute favourite part of the tour is the collection of furniture Peter’s amassed. There isn’t much, and it’s not overly expensive stuff, but what the werewolf has somehow managed to get his hands on are new and elegant and moveable, and if he turns all of it over and throws a couple sheets over it, the resulting fort would be almost as spacious as the sitting room.

“I love it,” He announces before he can stop himself, already eyeing the furniture greedily.

Peter blinks, follows Stiles’ line of sight, and then his shoulders finally relax, as if Stiles has passed some sort of test.  He even huffs a laugh and overall looks pretty happy for someone whose guest is more excited about building furniture forts in their home than complimenting the decor.  Then again, Stiles is sort of doing that.

“I thought you might,” Peter smirks.  “Feel free to do some… rearranging anytime you want.”

Stiles gapes at him a bit because he didn’t actually think Peter would- “Wait, you’re gonna let me build-”

He cuts himself and flushes a bit.  Saying furniture forts out loud makes him sound a lot more childish than he’d like.

But Peter just shrugs. “You’re welcome to it.  It isn’t as if I need to sit down to watch the evening news, Stiles.  I don’t even have a TV, and I’m not planning on getting one.”

“…Oh.”  Stiles pauses, uncertain of what else to say.  Thanking the man for something like this just feels plain awkward.

“On one condition of course,” Peter continues, all smug cheer again.  “I get free entry and sleeping space in there.”

Stiles sort of just stares, because for an adult, Peter is so weird.  Only his mom ever called Stiles creative when he upended the house’s furniture, and she was sort of obligated to, being Mom and all.  Dad always called it a mess, exasperatedly amused at first, then just… long-suffering at times, annoyed at others, and forever confused over why his son never seemed to grow out of this phase even as he got older.

“…Well,” Stiles flaps his hand in the vague direction of everywhere.  “It is your place.  So yeah.  But don’t you want to sleep on a bed?”

“I don’t have a bed,” Peter points out, because yeah, Stiles did notice that, but he just thought Peter hadn’t gotten around to buying that yet.  But the werewolf only glances thoughtfully at the sitting room.  “And I don’t think I’ll buy one.  Who needs a bed anyway when I have my own personal professional fort designer?”

Stiles’ ears go pink. Peter grins but it lacks bite despite the teasing.  Stiles rolls his eyes at him.

“I’ll bring my spare blankets over then,” He offers.  So you won’t have to buy any, he doesn’t say. He thinks about the text he got today from Jenna.  “Dad’s case is wrapping up and he’ll be returning sometime late tomorrow anyway so I have to clean the house before he gets back.  Actually, we can do it now.  I mean I guess it’ll look kinda weird since neither of us has a working vehicle but we can just stuff them in bags and carry them over here.  You’re a werewolf anyway so it’s not like it’ll be too heavy for you.”

Peter arches an eyebrow and looks like he wants to say something sarcastic.  But he restrains himself and just nods.  “We can straighten up your house first.”

Stiles blinks at that, startled, but Peter’s already heading for the door.  He hurries after the werewolf, tripping over the doorstep and almost doing a faceplant before Peter catches him by his good shoulder and hauls him back up without missing a beat.

He didn’t actually mean for Peter to help him with the cleaning, but he can’t complain either.  It’s always just been his job though, household chores, for almost as long as he can remember.  Nobody’s ever given him a hand before, even in the early days when he was messing up the laundry and burning the food and his fingers.  It’s weird that Peter’s willing to help.  Peter is just… weird.  So weird.

He gives himself a hard mental shake and shunts it all aside.  Whatever. Four hands make faster work than two anyway.

Peter stays one more night at the Stilinski home, and they end up hauling the blankets over to the man’s new apartment in the morning instead, and then Stiles just goes to town on pushing furniture together with all the glee of a five-year-old on a sugar high.  Peter sits at the kitchen counter, half his attention on whatever he’s doing on his laptop, the other half on Stiles, a fond quirk playing at his lips that Stiles pointedly does not look too deeply into.

Noon comes around, and Peter cooks them lunch.  Then they both hole up in the fort with part of the blanket-ceiling pulled back to let the sunlight and breeze filter in through the open window.

It’s four in the afternoon before Stiles finally gets up to leave.  Peter sees him to the door, expression indecipherable, but he reaches out to cup a hand around the back of Stiles’ neck for a last pain extraction before they say their goodbyes.  Stiles wants to ask when (if?) he can come back, and when would be a good time, but in the end, the words get stuck in his throat, and he scarpers without voicing his questions.

He’s back in his bedroom and shucking his sweater before he realizes there’s an extra key on his keyring.

He’s still smiling when his dad walks in through the door.

[gillytweed]

Snow and Sleep (Clanya)

Notes: Seems I forgot to post this here, but oh well, better late than never. This was a fic with Clanya for my amazing coauthor @kendrene

“You’re an idiot.” The warrior huffed as she helped the younger blonde stumble into her tent. They’d gone hunting together, Anya intending to show Clarke the proper technique of using a bow when searching for actual prey, when a snowstorm had blown in. Unfortunately, the Skaikru had yet to truly figure out that their thin clothing would do little to protect them from the harshness of winter, meaning Clarke had quickly gotten much colder than her fur swathed partner.

“How exactly am I an idiot? You say it so often the reasons blend together.” Clarke bit out as she shivered, pressing closer to the warrior in an attempt to steal some sort of heat from her heavily bundled body. The snow had come unexpectedly, so she’d only worn her leather jacket along with a pair of sturdy gloves, gloves that Anya had gifted her when she’d managed to hit the center of an archery target from several meters away. It had been a bit of a surprise, both the achievement and the gift, but it had shown that the warrior did indeed care about her progress. Even just the thought of Anya caring had her chest warming a little, however it was quickly chased away by another wave of shivers.

“You Skaikru need to work on getting better winter clothing. It was one of the first things we told you to focus on.” Anya guided Clarke to the cot, setting her down and wrapping a fur around her shoulders. Once the younger girl was as covered as she could be in that moment, the warrior turned towards the fire pit in the centre of the tent. It only took a few minutes for the fire to catch and begin blazing merrily, but throughout Clarke’s teeth had chattered so much it was like her jaw was vibrating.

“That’s not my fault. The council makes those decisions and the rest of us have to live with them.” Clarke huddled under the fur as Anya worked at the fire, every few words being cut off as her teeth clacked together. “They decided to focus on winterizing the Ark so we didn’t freeze while inside.”

“Well, your people are in for a hard winter if you can’t even go outside.” Anya sighed as she stood and began shedding her outer layers as she returned to the cot. “Can you still feel your toes?” At the small shake of a head she received, she sighed again and moved to take off the younger girls boots. “I’ll warm them up then.”

“Uh, you don’t have to…”

“Do you want to keep your toes?” The older blonde raised an eyebrow as she began to unlace the boot. Clarke sighed and nodded then choked on a giggle and jerked as Anya tickled her bare foot. “Good, I’ve heard it’s not a fun experience to lose them.” She then tucked the small foot under her shirt, pressing it against her warm stomach. She smirked as she felt the toes curl at the sudden warmth. Her smirk grew wider as Clarke glared at her, which would normally look a bit intimidating, but her uncontrollable shivers and being bundled cutely in furs had her looking more disgruntled than threatening.

“So, once we ensure my toes aren’t going anywhere, what’s the plan?” Clarke groused, wrapping the fur more tightly around herself. Before Anya could respond, the howl of the wind had them looking to the entrance, the tents flaps waving wildly as the wind picked up, bringing a rush of snow into the shelter. The warrior lunged for the snapping fabric, fastening it down securely.

“We won’t be able to go anywhere for the next while, so I guess you’ll be staying here until the storms over.” The warrior grunted as she wrestled with the straining flaps, huffing out a sigh when they were finally tied down. Clarke shuffled worriedly. She’d promised to be back at the Ark by nightfall. It was safe to say that wasn’t going to happen. She just hoped her friends didn’t do anything reckless when she didn’t return on time.

Anya shuffled over to the fire, prodding it lightly with a long stick. “Let’s get into something more comfortable then we’ll see about dinner.” Setting the stick aside, she made her way to a chest at the end of the cot. Digging within, she pulled out two shirts and two pairs of dry pants. Clarke only had a moment to realize what the older girl was doing before the clothing was hitting her in the face, accompanied by a snort of laughter that she couldn’t resist smiling at. Pulling the garments from her head, she scowled at the warrior, trying to hide her amusement but obviously failing as Anya continued to chuckle softly.

Her scowl quickly turned into a blush as Anya began to change, stripping off her shirt without hesitation. Swallowing, she averted her eyes, instead focusing on the shirt in her hands. Running the fabric through her fingers, she toyed with it until she was completely certain that the other girl was finished changing.

“Get changed, then stay close to the fire until the rest of the tent warms.” Clarke nodded at the instruction, double checking in the corner of her eye to ensure that Anya was indeed wearing all her clothes. After seeing that the warrior was focusing on something other than herself, she quickly began to strip, shucking her jacket, shirt and pants, all of which were moderately soaked from the snow, before pulling on the new clothes. They were more comfortable than she realized, soft against her skin and a bit big, but warm.

Shuffling to the edge of the cot, she gathered her wet clothes in her hands, pausing as she wondered where to put them, but before she thought for too long, a bag was presented in front of her, already half full with Anya’s clothes. “Toss them in there and we’ll deal with them later. They’ll just freeze if we try to dry them now.” Anya explained quickly, shuffling from side to side where she stood on the cold ground. There were some furs lining the floor of the warriors tent, but most were in places where someone could comfortably sit around the fire pit, so Anya’s feet were most likely freezing as much as hers were.

Dropping the clothes into the bag, she took it from the warrior and before the older girl could protest, pulled Anya over to the fire to sit. Food could wait until they were both warm enough to properly bend their fingers. She pulled Anya down with her, staying so close that their sides were pressed together. She hummed happily at the feeling of warmth coming off the other girl and rested her head on the warrior’s shoulder, enjoying the closeness. She felt the older blonde sink into her side, sighing, before stiffening again, like she had only just realized what she was doing.

“Um, Clarke?” She hummed again. “Shouldn’t we get food started?” Anya fidgeted, toying with her pant leg as she stared intensely into the fire pit.

“In a minute, I’m comfortable.” To ensure Anya didn’t move, Clarke wrapped an arm around her waist. “What, don’t like my company?” She teased, wanting to see if the normally stoic warrior would become flustered. She’d only managed it once before when they’d been sparing and had fallen in a rather intimate position. After the fact, the blonde had wondered if Lexa had had ulterior motives when she’d paired Clarke with Anya as a mentor. Other Skaikru had been paired with warriors to learn hunting and fighting, but none had been put under the tutelage of a general, besides Octavia that is, but she was a special case.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a blush darken Anya’s collar bone, making her smirk. When they’d first met, Anya had seemed always so in control Clarke would have laughed if someone had told her that she would be able to break the warriors stoic facade, yet here they were, cuddled close and blushing.

Anya let out a deep sigh as she shifted a bit, trapped between the thoughts of running and moving closer. She rather liked Clarke, quite a bit actually. The younger blonde challenged her and forced her to think in different ways. Of course, she could be extremely frustrating, especially when she was trying to teach, but Clarke had come a long way from the weak sky girl who had known nothing of the ground. Now, she was becoming a slowly blossoming warrior; a warrior that made Anya feel the warmth of pride heat her chest every time she saw her.

Clarke could feel the warrior shift against her, slowly relaxing the longer she was forced to sit still. The heat of the fire was helping, warming the tent and burning away the first layers of chill from their skin. The younger girl stifled a yawn, having started to feel sleepy after becoming so comfortable.

“We should get dinner then bed. We’re both exhausted.” Anya mumbled, her head having somehow come to rest atop Clarke’s. The younger blonde hummed in agreement but made no effort to move, her weight now resting heavily on the warrior. Anya sighed as she stretched, reaching for her pack while also trying her best to not to jostle the girl practically sleeping on her shoulder.

They hadn’t managed to catch anything on their hunt before the storm blew in, but the lunches they’d packed hadn’t been touched. Which was particularly lucky for them, because beyond that Anya had absolutely nothing edible in her tent, and the food stores of Ton DC were a trek across the entire village through a blizzard away.

Pulling their lunches from the pack, she carefully unwrapped them, pulling out the bread, cheese and cooked meat they’d packed and set it near the fire to warm. Along with the food she pulled out two drinking skins, one filled with water, the other filled with a sweet juice concoction made from the last of the fruit harvests.

It didn’t take long for the smell of heating food to waft from the fire, prompting Clarke to finally move. Anya had to hold in a chuckle as she lifted her head with a low groan of ‘food’ but as the younger girl reached for one of the small loaves of bread the absence of her warmth made the warrior frown. It was an odd feeling, suddenly missing something that was right there.

Shaking herself to rid her mind of the thought, she reached for her own meal, stacking the cheese and meat on the bread before taking a bite. They ate in a comfortable silence, side by side until all the food was gone and the drinking skins were empty from being passed back and forth.

“You ready to sleep?” Clarke asked softly when Anya let out a loud, jaw cracking yawn. The older blonde nodded, too tired to try and deny otherwise as she tried her best to rub the exhaustion from her eyes. The warrior didn’t protest when Clarke pulled her to her feet and guided her to the cot, the feeling of the younger girl’s hand intertwined with hers distracting her.

Anya didn’t move when Clarke pushed her down on the cot, watching as the younger girl moved to bank the fire. The older blonde swallowed thickly as she watched Clarke crouch next to the fire pit, the glow from the flames creating a golden halo around the younger girl. The sight and feeling of domesticity had her chest tightening until it was just on the edge of painful.

She forced herself to look away, taking a deep breath to calm the sudden feeling of desire, yet it persisted. It wasn’t even a feeling of sexual desire. No, sexual desire she could ignore with ease, this desire was for partnership, closeness, something far harder to obtain. Swallowing again to rid herself of the steadily growing lump in her throat, she tried to distract herself by running her fingers over the furs on the cot, grabbing fistfulls of the softness and then letting it slide from her grasp. She did this over and over, only stopping when Clarke plopped down beside her, her task of tending the fire done.

“Come on, time to sleep.” Clarke said mid yawn as she crawled to the far side of the cot and burrowed under the covers. The warrior waited a moment, measuring her breaths to calm her suddenly quick heart beat.

They’d slept beside each other before, having gone on overnight trips where they’d had to share a tent several times. However, they’d never shared a cot or had so few layers between them. The idea was making the sound of blood rush through her ears.

Biting the inside of her cheek sharply to focus, Anya lowered herself onto the cot. She could feel the hair on her arms rise as she tried to settle in, hyper aware of Clarke radiating heat only inches away. Positioning herself right on the edge of the bed, she let out the breath she’d been holding in one long whoosh, forcing her muscles to relax and her eyes to close.

There was silence for a time, the only sounds being the howling of the wind and the steady beat of the tent canvas snapping over and over. The fires crackle was almost drowned out by the wind, but the banked coals glowed softly, casting soft shadows across the tents walls.

“Aren’t you going to fall off the bed?” Clarke’s voice had her stiffening, and the sound of the furs rustling had her holding her breath again. “Come’re, it’s cold.” The feeling of Clarke’s hand tugging her arm until she shifted had her almost choking, and the feeling of the younger blonde’s head resting on her chest had her brain practically shutting down. “Calm down, I can hear you thinking.” She tried her best to relax, to let her held breath out in small bits so Clarke couldn’t tell exactly how frazzled she was actually feeling. Swallowing thickly, she did her best to get comfortable without disturbing the lightly snoozing girl that was seemingly making a habit of resting on top of her.

After what felt like hours of fruitlessly staring at the ceiling and praying to whichever deities she could think of for sleep, she felt her eyes droop, the warmth of Clarke and the blankets cocooned around them forcing her exhaustion to the surface. It was only as sleep was creeping over her that she felt a gentle press of lips to her jaw and a whispered “Good night.”