#and the best part would be Cross *actually* manages to keep it a secret. like. no one finds out until one morning Killer bursts into Cross'

[spotaus]

Late Night quick thing (New Age Sillies)

Bad news: That joke post about including Reset + Orchid is definitely not canon. (I legit got sad thinking about Reset being in a universe where Orchid isn't- because their stories are so so intertwined- but Nightmare 100% would NOT risk the whole twins exploding Error's soul thing.)

Good news: This means I COULD include Kane (Reset's older brother who usually dies in timelines where Reset is born) and use it to develope his character a bit more! Also! Perhaps a Blue × Dream kiddo is finally in the stars for me to design?

[linksqueerawakening]

Miscellaneous LU Headcanons

Four doesn't cast a shadow. when questioned, they flatly state "it died" and refuse to elaborate. if pushed on the matter, they become more and more irritated, while still refusing to elaborate

Time always knows what time it is. you could wake him up in the middle of the night and before he's even fully opened his eyes he could tell you the time without having to even think about it

Hyrule has the most magic, but Legend knows the most magical theory, followed closely by Time

Warriors, Legend, and Four are the only members of the chain who are actually legit monarchists. like the others are pretty much neutral on the concept (tho Wild doesn't like how flora was treated with all the expectations and lack of freedom, but that's another matter entirely than being of the opinion that monarchy is inherently bad), they're fine with monarchy. they just don't have strong opinions one way or another, so long as the current holder of power isn't corrupt. meanwhile Four Legend and Warriors would probably fight you if you insinuated that hyrule's monarchy should be abolished

Legend and Fable are twins but it's a secret. and also due to Fable getting kidnapped and transformed in various worlds in some of their adventures, they're no longer the same age; Legend is 19, she's 16 or 17. they still look very similar so they used the excuse that they're cousins on their father's side

Legend used to want to be a knight very very badly when he grew up, because his uncle who raised him was a knight. the knights who were controlled and attacked him during Link to the Past were pretty much all trusted adults that he knew and admired. he stopped wanting to be a knight after that

Wild may be the best cook when they have good ingredients, but when the chain is down to the wire and they need to make every little bit count? Hyrules horrible concoctions are actually the best option. he can't make it taste good but he can make it keep you alive when there are no other options

Wind is the best at navigating without a map or compass due to his experiences on ships - he would rather have the tools, but he's pretty damn good at managing without

Four has a habit of referring to themselves with "we/us" pronouns ever since they were split and then reformed with the four sword. the other heroes don't know why, but sort of shrugged and started using "they/them" pronouns bc it seemed polite. Four is mostly unaware that they do this - green picked up on it but hasn't pointed it out to the rest of four bc he knows it'll make them stress, and it clearly hasn't caused any issues

Twilight is disarmingly charismatic but only when he's not trying. if he's talking to someone casually or even somewhat irritably, they tend to be completely taken by him, but if he's actively trying to be smooth it just comes across as awkward

Sky is the most mild mannered person you've ever met until you cross certain lines, at which point it's like a switch flips and he's so pissed that even the other heroes hesitate to deal with him

Discounting the hundred years in which Wild was unconscious, Warriors had the longest single adventure, with the war of eras lasting about 7 years. Legend's six adventures altogether may have lasted longer, but they were split up into multiple parts, not one long quest

Wild takes pictures of pretty much everything they can to show Flora whenever they're back home, because they know how much she wants to learn about the ancient past, like their species, their societies, and their magic

[suuuupernovaaa]

Accident

Timothee accidentally posts a picture of you, blowing your cover.

The panic sets in like ice flowing through your veins. A tingling at your fingertips shoots straight into your heart. Your eyes are wide, your palms are sweaty. It takes you a few seconds to open up FaceTime and dial his number.

He answers right away.

“Timothee, what did you do?” you ask, your voice low in case he isn’t alone. Your boyfriend is never alone.

The smile he had upon answering fades into something dark. “What?” he asks.

“Instagram,” you reply. “Look at your instagram story.”

When he disappears, you do too, going back to the story. It’s a picture of you perched on a stone wall, looking down the side of a mountain Timothee and you had just hiked. You hadn’t even known he’d just taken it. Your hair was stuck to your neck with sweat, and only part of your face is visible over your shoulder, as you turn to look at him.

His hand is on your shoulder, gripping tightly, possessively, and a hint of a smile plays at the half of your face that’s visible.

You’re wearing one of his t-shirts, an old, plain black one, and the sunset ahead of you makes the picture look like art.

Maybe no one will assume, or wonder. Timothee isn’t even really in it. Just hand.

“Shit, Y/N,” he says, and you swipe back to FaceTime. “Should I delete it?”

“Um… no. Well, maybe. I think people will talk more if you delete it. Maybe just leave it?”

It’s not like he tagged you. You’re not in his following list, because no one is. You’re a total unknown.

“Okay,” he says, the panic in his voice subsiding. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “You don’t have to be sorry. It was an accident. And you can’t hide me forever.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re hiding you. I’m protecting you.”

A soft smile crosses your lips. “I know.”

He winks. “I gotta go, but I’ll have management keep an eye on things online. Call me after work?”

You nod and he blows you a kiss before hanging up.

—

Boy, were you wrong. You’ve been wrong about some things in your life, but never something this big.

They’ve found your instagram, Facebook, and LinkedIn within two hours. You’re getting dozens of requests by the minute, and you’ve never been more grateful to have your socials private before.

The workday passes in a blur of buzzing on your phone. Most of it is follow requests on instagram, but the rest is your friends and family sending you articles about Timothee Chalamet’s ‘mystery girl revealed’.

Timothee Chalamet & the Lawyer from NYC

Timothee Chalamet’s Secret Lover

Timmy’s girlfriend: we talked to her childhood best friend!

It’s endless and you start requesting they stop sending all the nonsense your way. Your mom calls to ask if you’re okay, and your actual best friend reminds you that you knew this day would come, and she’s here for you.

The comments on his latest instagram post are hard to look away from.

user he’s dating that sweaty beast?

user she looks happy!

user who the hell is she???

user FAT GIRLFRIEDN??

reply to user fuck off with your misspelled fatphobia

Eventually, you put your phone on DND to finish your day. The subway ride home is uneventful, and as soon as you set foot in your modest apartment, you call Timothee.

“Well,” he says as an answer, “now I might have to say sorry.”

Despite the stress of the day, you have to laugh. “Maybe. But, this was going to happen anyway. Though one article called me a ‘social climbing hussy’ and I didn’t love that.”

You throw your bag onto the kitchen table and put your boyfriend on speaker phone so you can find something to order for dinner. This day calls for Thai, or maybe Indian.

“Don’t read that shit, Y/N,” he huffs. “None of it matters. I’m like, really sorry people are going to bother you now. But I’m not sorry that everyone is going to find out how in love and happy I am.”

Your cheeks heat, even though he can’t see you. It hasn’t even been a year, but Timothee is already the most special and wonderful thing in your life, and it’s no wonder when he says things like that.

“I wish you were here,” you sigh.

“Me too. Only a few more days.”

—

You stashed your phone in your room to charge, and to avoid, and turned on the TV. Sitting cross-legged in front of your coffee table in your most comfortable pajamas, you’re about to dig in to the most delicious spread of Indian cuisine when the door buzzes.

Could they have found your address?

You get up and press the speaker. “Let me in! You’re not answering your phone!”

Your heart skips a beat and you’re unable to even respond as you hit the button that unlocks the front door. You stand frozen in shock until three loud knocks sound at the door.

Once it’s open, there he stands, and he’s not empty handed. He’s got what looks to be two dozen beautifully arranged roses along with a giant bag full of what you assume is chocolate and candy.

You grab him by the collar and pull him to you, wrapping your arms around his neck. It’s been weeks since you’ve seen him, and the scent of him erases every bad thing that’s happened in the past 12 hours.

It’s worth it, your mind whispers.

He sets the flowers and gifts down on the kitchen counter. “I did something, and I don’t know if you’re going to like it, but let me explain,” he says, a wincing smile on his lips.

You bring his face to yours for a quick kiss. “I don’t care. I’m so glad you’re here.”

He takes out his phone and hands it to you. It’s unlocked already, and instagram is open.

He’s made a new post, and your heart flutters.

It’s a picture from a few months ago, taken at a friend’s house. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, and Timothee stands between your legs, both of you laughing, his hands in your hair and yours on his hips. You hadn’t even known your friend had taken it at the time, but it’s been his phone background ever since, he loves it so much.

The caption is simple. “Happy.”

Your reaction surprises you as tears gather in your eyes. “They’re going to really come after me now.”

“I know. And I am sorry. But, Y/N, I know privacy is important to us both… but sometimes, I just want to talk about how happy I am. I think we can find a balance.”

He wipes a tear from your eye.

“I’m proud to be yours, Timothee,” you reply, and his smile stretches ear to ear. “Really, really proud. I love you. I just want to be careful, okay?”

He kisses your nose, then each cheek, and pulls you into a tight embrace. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect this, Y/N,” he whispers, and you squeeze him tight.

You’ll navigate this together.

[seraphhskies]

long distance pt. 2

--⋆♱✮♱⋆--

swiss ghoul x cardinal! fem! reader

word count: 1,828

type: fluff, romance

cw: very slight sad, 18+ language

summary: In which, you are keeping an exciting secret from your favorite ghoul (who also happens to be your partner.) I had a weird dream like this a while back, and for some reason I decided it should be Swiss that I write about :) this is cross posted on AO3 as well!

Part 1

--⋆♱✮♱⋆--

It was the day. Fucking finally.

You’d spent the night packing, waking up entirely too early in order to catch your flight. Swiss still had no clue, and you were so excited- it was hard to remain professional. Other Cardinals of the church saw you off, so you truly were doing your best to maintain your composure. 

You waved goodbye to them, before you stopped in front of the man who had taken you under his wing. 

“Grazie, Cardinale Rossi. Per tutto.” The man blinked back tears, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“Sei la benvenuta quando vuoi, cara. Visit soon, mm?” You nodded in response, though you had no wish to visit again at the moment. The cardinal was lovely to you, but home was the only place you wanted to be. You left, off to catch your flight. 

As you waited for the plane to take off, you quickly took out your phone to text Copia. The satanic pope himself had been assisting you in your return, the two of you working smoothly in order to keep it a surprise. 

Luckily, you actually managed to sleep through the entire trip. You woke up groggy, but the feeling quickly faded as you walked off the plane. Two members of the clergy waited for you outside, clad in the uniforms and everything. 

The car ride was just as anxiety inducing, and you were nearly jumping out of the car the moment you saw the building. It was as big and haunting as you remembered, the giant doors in the front seeming so welcoming and homely now. 

Your phone pinged with a text from Copia, and you responded quickly- letting him know that you were pulling up now. Your heart was racing, the grin on your face contagious. 

You were opening the door as soon as the car was in park, bouncing on the tips of your toes. Your phone pinged once more, a text from Swiss. 

S: I miss you :( thinking abt you sm today

Your heart soared, but you forced yourself to put the phone back in your pocket. You’d see him soon enough, and that would be an even better reply. 

“Copia!” You grinned, running towards the man and hitting him with an ‘oomph.’ He returned your hug, patting your shoulder gently. Copia was smiling down at you. “Piccola! It is so good to see you. Everyone has missed you so.” He hummed, patting your head as you pulled away- much like a father figure to you.

You teared up a bit, unable to help it. A sniffle escaped you. “It’s so good to be back.” You replied honestly. 

“You will be busy with the ghouls soon enough, hm?” Copia replied, a knowing glint in his eye. 

A smile grew on your face as you nodded. “I hope so. It’ll be nice to have some out of work interaction.” You said. You hadn’t made any friends while away, not for a lack of trying. You just simply hadn’t connected with anyone. This was your home. 

“We won’t send you away again, piccola.” Copia always seemed to understand. “Let’s get you to your ghoul, eh?” He laughed, and you were right beside him as he began to walk. 

You tried to appear interested in the conversation, but the way your heart was pounding in your ears made it hard to really listen. Your brain was screaming to seek out Swiss, but you were going to see this plan through. You couldn’t spoil it after you’d come this far. It was mere hours to go, after all.

You breathed in the smell of home, the halls surprisingly empty as Copia led you through them to the Ghouls’ chambers. Thrilled, you practically bounded past the man as you entered the room. There were only a few ghouls out in the small living room and kitchen area that they all shared. 

You breathed in, a bright smile on your face. It smelled like home. 

Cirrus was the first to react, practically shrieking as she tossed the ghoul strewn across her to the side. You grinned, throwing your arms around her in return. “You’re back!” The ghoulette exclaimed, squeezing you tightly. 

Cirrus pulled back quickly, gripping you by the shoulders as you went wide-eyed. “Swiss isn’t here,” She began to explain. “He just left two hours ago for kitchen duty.” You grinned at Copia, giving him a thumbs up as he awkwardly waited by the door. “Perfect.” You replied. “I was a little worried we’d be too early and I’d ruin the surprise.” You laughed, and Cirrus smiled in response- though it quickly turned into a smirk. 

“He’ll probably smell you from across the church,” She snorted, before turning her attention to the ghoul pile on the couch. “We do have some new ghouls! Although you already know Dew and Mountain.” Cirrus laughed, covering her mouth. 

Dewdrop was at the bottom of the pile, Mountain next, with two more ghouls on top. “Phantom is the one closest to Mountain,” Cirrus pointed. “And that’s Rain on top. Summoned a few months ago.” You smiled, greeting them softly- especially since a few were still asleep. “Ooooh,” Cirrus gasped, tugging your hand. “Let’s go to Swiss’ room. I’m sure that’s where you’ll be staying.”

You flushed, laughing as she practically dragged you. 

“The other ghouls have jobs right now too,” She hummed, opening the door. “Should be over in about an hour or so though.” 

You walked into the room a bit hesitantly, looking around. It was a typical man’s room, except for a few things that you had mailed him. There was a plushie, similar to the one you had, that sat nicely on the bed. Near his desk, there were photos of the two of you that you’d taken before leaving. 

The room smelled like him, exactly as you’d remembered. You couldn’t help but grow more excited, thumbing over the pictures with a soft smile. 

“Here are your bags, cara.” Copia said softly, both him and Cirrus sharing a look. “Thank you.” You murmured, just now realizing how anxious you were. You hesitated on taking the bag, before shaking yourself out of it- grabbing it by the handle and rolling it into the corner. 

“What should I do?” You muttered, looking wide-eyed at Cirrus as you began to pace. “Do you think I should like- hide in the closet?” You were expressing all your thoughts aloud. “Or should I sit on the bed?” Copia gave a little wave, before he disappeared from the room. Cirrus was looking at you, and you could practically feel the pity radiating off of her. “Don’t worry so much.” She cooed, crossing the room to grasp your hands reassuringly. “He loves you. It doesn’t matter if you’re posed on his bed or hiding somewhere.” 

You took a breath, squeezing her hands in thanks. She gave you a quick pat before letting you go. “Either way, my vote’s for you waiting on the bed.” If she wasn’t wearing a mask, you were sure she was wiggling her eyebrows at you. Her teeth were bared in a huge grin, which told you all you needed to know. 

Your palms were sweaty, but you did your best to wave Cirrus off. You paced for a bit longer, freaking out even more when you looked at the time. Forty-five minutes had passed. At most, you had another fifteen to twenty before he was here. In the room. With you.

Giving up, you flopped onto his bed. You were both exhausted and wide awake, feeling as though you might go crazy from anxiety. Or throw up, whichever one happened first. You rolled over, staring at the ceiling. 

I can do this. You breathed. 

The door creaked. You shot up, heart pounding. Voices sounded from the living room, and you tried to relax. You could hear him talking almost through the walls, before he stopped. Then the other voices quieted too. 

It was silent all of a sudden, before you heard footsteps rushing to the room. The door creaked loudly, smacking the wall with a bang. 

You watched and listened with baited breath, sitting up straight. 

“Princess?” He was there, standing in the doorway with his chest heaving. It was impossible not to recognize him, even with his mask on.

You stood, and it wasn’t even a second before Swiss, your ghoul, had crossed the room and brought you into his grasp. You could hear his heart beating, feel the way his chest moved quickly- still calming down from running into the room. 

Your eyes welled up with tears, happy ones, as you felt his arms wrap around you. Relief settled in your chest, washing the earlier anxiety away. You started to cry before you could help it, pulling away a bit to look up at your partner.

“You’re really here.” He murmured, hands quickly coming up to your face to cup your cheeks. You smiled, sniffling a little as you looked at him. “I’m here.” You reassured. “And not leaving again.” The two of you shared a watery laugh.

You uncoiled yourself from Swiss, reaching up to pull his mask off. He was grinning brightly at you, and you felt your breath hitch. Ghouls were beautiful, and you’d seen his face so many times, but he always took your breath away. 

You smiled too, running a thumb over his cheek where you were holding his face, before drawing him into a kiss. 

Your lips moved in perfect sync, molding together easily. His hands pulled you closer and rested on your hips, drawing small circles into your skin. The kiss was gentle, your hands falling to rest on his chest. You hummed as Swiss gave you a gentle squeeze, sighing against your mouth before separating from you.

His hand met your cheek again, touch practically feather light as you pressed your cheek further into him. You turned your head, placing a few soft kisses into his palm. 

A cheer interrupted the two of you, the other ghouls (Cirrus in front, of course) whooping loudly and clapping. Your face flushed, and you dropped your head against Swiss’ chest as he chuckled. He waved them off, and you only moved your head once you heard the door click shut. 

He was looking at you again, so tenderly you thought you would melt. “I’ve missed you.” Swiss sighed, hugging you to him. Your arms wrapped around his middle in return. “Can’t believe you traveled all the way here and didn’t tell me.” He snorted. “Who knew you were such a sneak!” 

You laughed, smiling softly as you looked up at him. You were honestly quite proud of yourself. 

“I had a little help,” You admitted. “But it was so haaaard! I couldn’t tell you and I’d known for like months.” Your voice was little more than a whine.

“Months?!” Swiss yelped, eyebrows raising. “Damn,” He snickered. “You did good, baby. I didn’t suspect a thing.”

[sassylegshayne]

marry me, idiot. - chapter six

this chapter is so sweet and domestic I hope you guys enjoy, I love it sm!! lmk what you think mwah xx 🫶💓 3.5k words!!

series masterlist

You and Spencer groaned simultaneously as the two of you left the Smosh office after another very long, wedding themed day. You'd started off the morning by shooting for the Reddit series, reacting to a load of wedding themed stories that Shayne read. It ran for longer than planned, as shoots with the three of your tend to; it was nearly two hours later that the three of you moved to the next set.

Kiana loved your idea for the TNTL wedding party gauntlet and gave it the go ahead. She appeared for both sides, Spencer and you unwilling to cave and let the other claim your shared best friend. Shayne did the same, sitting through the first round with Spencer's team, but as the last person was set to appear, he went out as CFM.

Your team ended up losing early on when Spencer's team pretended to be male strippers, each in a different costume, hired for your bridal party.

Lisa screamed and shook her head from her stool beside you as lan stood before her, rubbing his chest hair after he unbuttoned his floral button up. You tried your best to hold it in as the sole survivor of your team but caved when Spencer approached you in the rodent stume, twirling the tail around.

"That feels like it's gonna be a HR nightmare, Lisa, I'm so sorry." You laughed, wiping your mouth.

The final stretch was here, once you two had picked your bridal parties, shooting began, again. You two had decided it best to keep it within the realms of Smosh, excluding your family and other friends. It didn't really matter, you were only getting fake married.

There'd be a real wedding in the future. What? What the fuck? Would there be? You and Spencer had spent the last nine months in a secretive, blissful fog together. You'd spent the same amount of time together, just some small things changed.

You had been so wrapped up in the planning of the fake wedding recently, Kiana helping as best as she could with her own busy schedule. It felt like every moment you weren't shooting, editing, or sleeping, you were ordering a cake, ordering decorations, booking the chapel.

The stress around every other part of your relationship had blinded you, not thinking for a moment about what you two would actually become after you wed.

Spencer is about two shirts away from moving his entire closet in with yours; you were just around the corner from asking him to move in, as soon as the timing was right.

You learned just how deeply of a boob-man Spencer is, he didnt keep his hands off of you behind closed doors, and his hands liked to wander. You never complained, you missed out on years worth of love for each other, you're allowed to make up for lost time.

Somehow you two had actually managed to grow closer, if it's even possible. You'd already been attached at the hip, but Spencer began spending almost every night with you, much to Criag's dismay.

Their relationship continued on the steady path it seemed to always stay on. They avoided each other, then followed each other, then spent time together, and the cycle would begin again.

Your cat and your boyfriend were slowly beginning to learn to co-exist.

You and Spencer had established that you're a couple, you're dating, you're actually engaged and will be getting married, but as a joke. But neither of you had thought about what would come after that?

Not once in the last nine months had the thought crossed either of your minds until now. As you walked out of the office door, hands locked together, it dawns on you.

Your wedding was just over a month and a half away and you had no clue where your relationship would stand after you got married. What a fucked up situation you were in.

Spencer tugged on your hand softly, pulling you to a halt just before you reach his car. He grins as he spins you slowly, tugging you into his embrace as soon as you face him.

You couldn't help but grin as you resting your head on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips pressed gently against your forehead.

"You gota lot on your mind?" Spencer spoke softly, his hands trailing gently up and down your back as you nod.

"I'm kinda stressin, dude." You replied, laughing softly. The squeaking of hinges in the distance sends you jumping back a bit, hand placed to your chest.

Spencer couldn't hold in his laughter as the loud parking garage door constantly startled you. You shoved his shoulder gently, blushing as you passed him, waiting impatiently at the car door.

"Stop pouting, your face is gonna get stuck like that." You rolled your eyes, flipping him the finger as the doors finally unlocked.

You talked about your dinner plans, settling on ordering in, the both of you were far too tired to cook.

When you arrived home, you were quick to scoop your meowing cat into your arms. You pecked Spencer quickly, carrying your purring kitty down the hall as you entered into your bedroom.

Craig was quick to dismiss you, springing from your arms and onto your mattress, settling himself on Spencer's pillow.

You praised your cat quietly, rubbing his head gently before you began to gather a few things.

Kimmy and Courtney had gifted you a massive basket full of different self-care itemsa few weeks ago.

Kimmy had presented it to you, claiming that you'd need these more the closer the wedding got. You gratefully accepted the gift, so overwhelmed that anyone was treating this as if it were real, and amazed with how sweet your friends are.

You had dismissed her warning before, but as you found yourself so close, so much planning still left to do or finalize, a night to yourself sounded amazing.

The thought was entertained for days, the idea of coming home and not having to concern yourself with the wedding for a few hours became more appealing each day.

Spencer had laughed softly when you brought it up to him the night before as you two laid in bed. You rested your head on his chest, fingers balled around the fabric of his shirt as you listened to his steady heartbeat.

"Spencer?" You whispered, afraid you'd procrastinated too much and that he'd fallen asleep already.

"Y/N?" He finally spoke back after a moment. Hus voice was raspy with sleep as he adamantly denied being woken up, trying to keep from upsetting you. You would profusely apologize if he admitted it.

You laid out your plan, detailing what you wanted to do for the night with every last detail, down to the face mask you were going to use. Your cheeks grew warm, the pink invisible to Spencer in your dark room as he chuckled, nodding along.

He pulled the covers tighter, shifting after he kissed the top of your head. "Okay, baby:" Spencer spoke, resting his chin atop your head as he shut his eyes, feeling your shoulders relax as you sighed.

He slowly wrapped his arms around you, peppering your face with more pecks and kisses as you giggle, squirming in his grip. Spencer slowed his assault, trailing his lips to meet yours, melting into a fevw sweet, chaste kisses.

He knew in his gut that something was wrong, you hadn't been this stressed before. You had a lot on your plate and Spencer was more than ready to help whenever you were ready to ask.

You found yourself to be much more excited than you expected as you dug through the goodies. You pulled out a few lotions, setting aside your favorite scent alongside the matching body wash.

You quickly made your way into your bathroom, grinning at Spencer as you passed by him in the living room.

"Should order now or later?" He called out, leaning over the backside of the couch to glance into the open bathroom doorway. Spencer couldn't help the giddy feeling inside of him as he caught a glimpse of you removing your shirt.

No matter how many times Spencer sees you undressed, he's always this excited. You two had accidentally seen each other naked a fewW times before you got together, and many times on purpose since, but it was different now. Every kiss gave him butterflies, and everytime he sees you naked, he practically turns into a thirteen year old.

He realized quickly what is was that had shifted. You were his now, you gave him the freedom to roam, learning every little detail about your body, and Spencer realized that he didn't want anybody touching you like he did.

It wasn't so much of a protectiveness, but moreso because he wanted to be the one to touch you for the rest of your life and his. He'd absolutely fallen for you all over again, and it felt like it was becoming a daily occurrence.

The most intimate moments with you were so much better than he'd ever imagined. It felt like you two were made for each other in every sense of the word. He told you that he loved you constantly, but showing you was was better, and moaning it in your ear was the best.

Having you in his life felt like a gift, a privilege he would cherish forever, grateful that the stars aligned or whatever it may be that brought you to him. Spencer was way beyond head over heels.

You call out to him, but it falls on deaf ears as you shimmy out of your bottoms, your back to the living room as your boyfriend remains quiet.

"What? I can't hear you?" Spencer finally calls out to you. He had gotten lost in his thoughts, your voice mumbled as he looked back toward the bathroom.

You sigh as you unclasp your bra, a grin across his cheeks as it hits the tile floor, looking over your shoulder again. Your eyes meet your boyfriend's, the blue now your favorite color, as a blush spreads across your cheeks, finally catching him staring at you.

Spencer sits on the edge of the couch, his leg bouncing as he held his phone tightly, his cheeks now tinged pink. "Come here, I didn't catch that." He felt like a kid on Christmas morning as he heard your feet patter across the floor.

You huffed, one hand pressed to your chest as your previously discarded shirt barely covered your chest, your other hand posed on your hip as you gave Spencer a playful glare.

"Happy?" Spencer laughed, resting his hands on your hips as you slipped the shirt back over your head, tugging you into his lap. The two of you held each other, enjoying the stillness and silence until a figure jumps behind Spencer, causing you to jump as well.

A chuckle rumbled through Spencer's chest as a meow echoed from your cat, earning a glare from you as he perched around your boyfriend's neck. The two of them shared a habit of startling you.

"Order later, let me take a shower real quic-" Spencer shook his head, silencing you as your brow furrowed.

"No need to rush, take your time. I'll order whenever you want." He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, but you weren't ready to part. You trailed after him, pecking his lips quickly, hand tangling gently in his hair as the other rested on his chest.

Spencer groaned softly as your teeth sunk gently into his bottom lip, his fingertips digging into the soft skin of your bare bottom. After a few moments you feel Spencer's hands wandering under your shirt, excitement building inside of you rapidly.

Your mood dissolves quickly as your hip stings lightly, Spencer snapping the waistband against you as he pulls back slowly, a smug look on his face. You glare at him playfully, lightly punching his shoulder before your press your forehead to his, smiling.

"Go, get in the shower." He squeezes your thighs gently as you pout, unwilling to remove yourself from his lap. "Go relax, we've got the rest of our lives to spend together."

You felt a strange pressure settling in your chest at his words, your thoughts once more weighing heavy on your mind and heart.

Spencer was quick to notice the small movements you make, the twitching of your fingertips as your smile falters ever so slightly. No one could notice these tiny shifts like Spencer could.

You sigh softly, pressing a final peck to his lips before you rise from his lap. You lean over him, smiling as you scratch under Craig's chin before slipping back into the bathroom.

Spencer finally released a breath he didn't realized he'd be holding as the pipes squeak, indicating that you'd started your shower. Something was off, but he knew way better than to pry. You would come to him as soon as you were ready.

It isn't how you used to handle your problems before you started dating, but now that you

You were around each other so often, your conflict resolutions had shifted. You liked to take your time thinking over exactly how you wanted to Word everything, every answer to any question he may have.

So he'd sit on the couch, and he'd let you relax. Tonight probably wasn't the night, judging by your reaction.

You tried your best to melt away your stress with the hot water, hoping your anxieties could rinse down the drain as you shampoo your hai. You follow your own, and Spencer's, demands and take your sweet time, your phone softly playing music from the bathroom counter.

You pull on a shirt of Spencer's that you've You go through your skin care routine for the first time in a while, a thin layer of dust atop your lotion bottle.

You set it aside, mentally chastising yourself over your lack of regularity. You pull yourself on to the bathroom counter, crossing your legs as you stared at your freshly washed face in the mirror.

You sat in the small room for a while, taking your time applying a facemask as you thought over just how to approach this weird relationship.

Spencer wandered down the hall after placing the order for your pizzas, furrowing his brow with a small chuckle as he glances into the bathroom, the door still open.

You grin at him in the mirror as best as you can, the mask drying quickly and pulling your skin tightly. You spun around, motioning Spencer to join you. He stood between your legs, resting his hands on your thighs. "Do I get pre-wedding selfcare, too?"

"Of course you do, sweetheart. It's very important."' You quipped as you grabbeda headband, allowing him to push his hair out of his face.

"Ya know what?" You spoke quietly as you began applying the mask to him. He hissed as the cold, thick, cucumber scented mask swiped across his cheek, unhappy with the feeling. "I'm glad you're growing out your hair again. liked the buzz cut, but the curls suit you. You're very babygirl."

Spencer was thankful for the mask as it hid his brightly colored cheeks. Once you had read one comment where someone called Spencer that a few years back, it sparked something. had been quite a while since the last time you'd brought it up, he almost missed it.

"I am not babygirl." He protests, his nails dragging softly against your skin as he lets his hands wander your exposed thighs. You smile as much as your mask would allow, giggling when Spencer gives you a confused look, wincing as the mask cracks.

His fingertips trail under the hem of your shorts as you squirm a bit, his light touch tickling your skin. Spencer attempts to grin at you as he tugs you closer, pressed up against you as you lazily Wrap your legs around his waist.

You grab a makeup wipe and clean around your boyfriend's eyes and lips before nodding curtly. "All done, now you gotta sit around and wait." You pressed a peck to his lips, quickly dissolving into a fit of giggles as Spenc refused to let you pull away. He kept peppering your lips with soft pecks in between your laughter.

"Spence." You huffed, whining softly as he finally halting his actions, still laughing as he tried his best to stifle it.

"I have something kinda serious I wanna talk about, you dick." Spencer took a deep breath, trying to take you as seriously as he could with the cracked green mask coating your face. He finally gets his giggles under control, nodding to you, encouraging you to begin.

"Okay, so we're dating, and kinda engaged, but after the wedding, where we agreed to actually get married, are we still dating or are we married?" You speak quickly, sighing as you finish, eyes filled with worry as Spencer's heart tugs at the thought. That's why you'd been so weird, hed been stressing you out without even knowing it.

Spencer quickly raises his hands to cup your cheeks but stops short as you lean away, giggling as his hands nearly smudge your mask away. He rolls his eyes, placing a quick peck to your lips, wincing as the mask pulled his face taught.

You alarm begins to ring as your boyfriend groans, it felt like everything in your relationship was destined to be interrupted as the door bell rang quickly after. Spencer groaned, catching a glimpse of his own face in the mirror, finally taking in his current state.

"You have to answer the door, I look like Shrek, Y/N." Spencer spoke, taking a step back from you, hoping you'd slip from the counter.

You huff, keeping yourself seated as you hiss back at him jokingly. "I look like Fiona, I'm not going to get it." You argued as the bell rang again, pointing your finger towards the front door.

Spencer huffed, rolling his eyes as he trudged down the hall. "At least Fiona's hot, no one wanted to fuck the ogre." He mumbled under his breath as he approached the door, shooing off Craig as he waited to pounce on whoever may be standing outside of the apartment.

You quickly grab a washcloth, rinsing the mask from your face, quickly applying your lotion after. You take a deep breath, smiling at your reflection as you admire the glow on your skin.

Spencer returned to you after a few minutes, his face deadpan as he stood in the doorway. "Dude laughed, the guy saw my self care and laughed in my face. That sucked."

You bit back a laugh as you grab the washrag once more, slowly removing the green from your boyfriend face. Spencer was quick to steal your lotion,

You mirror him, grinning before you usher him out of the small space, the smell of greasy pizza hitting your nose. You quickly dart around Spencer, giggling as you grab the pizza box from the counter.

You settle into the couch, smiling at Spencer's before sitting beside you.

The two of you wordlessly dig in, Spencer rolling his eyes as you refuse his offer of a plate again.

think that we have to decide together what we become after the wedding. I mean, I don't care what title we put on our relationship because I'm yours no matter what." Spencer spoke softly, his eyes on yours as he smiled reassuringly.

You nodded your head, chewing your lip as you mulled over the idea. You leaned forward, swiping a bit of sauce off of your boyfriend's cheek. "You're right, and agree. I mean. it may be a bit soon to get married for a normal relationship, but.."

Spencer laughed as you gestured between the two of you. You two had built a wonderful relationship full of love despite taking the strangest route to get here.

"Move in with me." You said before taking another bite, offering him nothing else as you smiled sweetly.

"Alright." Spence chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. He never thought a relationship could be so easy; the two of you just decided to get married, for real, and move in together within a few minutes.

It warmed Spencer's heart to think about how quickly his life had changed, and how much more it would in the next few months.

[senashenta]

What Foxes Like

Title: What Foxes Like

Pairing: Sterek

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Summary: Stiles and Derek have been in a relationship for over a year and still none of their friends know about it. Because reasons.

Notes: Written for Poe, originally. This is actually the sequel to a fic I haven't finished yet. I fail. I tried to make sure it made sense anyway. Also, surprise Steve Rogers and Jaskier Pankratz cameos! (I just spoiled the surprise.) You can also read it HERE on AO3.

WHAT FOXES LIKE By Senashenta

“they take their shots, but we're bulletproof I know places (Hide) and you know for me, it's always you I know places (I) in the dead of night, your eyes so green I know places (Hide) and I know for you, it's always me I know places” - I Know Places by Taylor Swift

Derek had moved in with him several months ago and there were logistical problems right from day one. Not that Stiles didn’t love having him there, but the apartment was very small, probably too small to be hiding a wanted fugitive, and whenever he had people over Derek had to hide away in the bedroom for fear of being seen.

Their friends wouldn’t turn Derek in, of course, but they hadn’t been exactly… open. About their relationship, up until this point. They had been together for almost two years and still no one knew about it.

It wasn’t like Stiles to keep secrets, especially from Scott, and in general he was terrible at it anyway. But it was really hard to tell your best friend you were in a steady, loving relationship with the man of your dreams when he was still pining for the girl he had tragically lost a handful of years before.

Besides which, the fox in Stiles privately liked that he had something special to keep to himself, no matter how inconvenient it was in reality. It was the part of himself that urged him to squirrel things away for himself, to keep all the precious things in his life close and safe. He was still getting used to those instincts, even years after the Nogitsune had left him with a bit of fox behind (okay a lot of fox behind.)

But also… there was a little bit of fear there, raw and animalistic, at the thought of being discovered. Something that he couldn’t explain or really even understand, but which was there nonetheless, and it was stupid . God, even Jackson was out! But Stiles had never actually told anyone he was bisexual before (aside from Derek, obviously) and the thought just… yeah. Yikes.

On top of that, his last relationship had been with Lydia, and after that had ended (badly), he just kind of… guarded his heart. What he had with Derek was good and going public was a risk he just wasn’t sure he was ready to take.

“You’re doing that thing where you stare at the ceiling like it’s got all the answers of the universe again.”

“Huh?” Stiles blinked out of his thoughts and turned his head to look at Derek, who was seated cross-legged next to him on the bed, hunched over his laptop, illuminated by the screen, working on either his newest article or his book. 

For obvious reasons Derek couldn’t hold down a regular job, so he wrote articles for publication online and was working on a novel in his spare time, all under the pseudonym “Tyler Shaw”, since he couldn’t use his real name. It didn’t bring much money in, but between that and Stiles’ job at the bakery cafe they managed to scrape by. (The FBI Academy? Well that… just hadn’t been a “good fit”, as his Dad liked to say. Apparently it was frowned upon for trainees to be as… insubordinate as he tended to be. The upshot of going , though, even if just for two semesters, was that he had met some of the most interesting people, a few of which Stiles figured he would be friends with for life.)

“Still staring, but now at me. And we both know I don’t have all the answers of the universe.”

“I– sorry.” Stiles shook his head, “just thinking.”

Derek grinned. “That’s always trouble.”

Stiles shot him a look with a frown, “not always .” (But often, definitely often.) “I was just thinking ,” he continued, ignoring the amused look in Derek’s eyes, “that I might invite Steve and Jaskier to come visit sometime soon. Just for a few days… I mean, if they can sneak away from the Academy for that long.”

“Mmhm.” Derek rumbled, and set his computer aside to ease himself up against Stiles’ side, one hand coming to rest against the younger man’s sternum, just feeling the rise and fall of his breath. “And where are we going to put them? This place is barely big enough for the two of us, never mind four .”

“They can sleep on the couch, it pulls out!” Stiles groused, “and besides, Jaskier has no concept of personal space.” Though he supposed Steve did , in all fairness. “Look,” a touch frustrated, he frowned up at Derek where he was leaning over him, “I know your werewolf possessiveness would love for me to just stay here alone with you all the time, but I…”

Trailing off, Stiles lifted his left arm and turned it over to show the pair of concentric circles that were tattooed on his inner wrist. The symbol of Scott’s pack– of his pack.

“You need more than that.” Derek finished for him, a tiny smile tugging at his lips.

Stiles looked up at him and, after a moment, let his True Eyes shine through, bright, almost glowing green. Derek responded by allowing his own eyes to shine, beautiful, luminescent blue, and then leaning down to kiss him firmly, decisively. “Invite your friends. We’ll squeeze them in somehow. But if they rat me out to the FBI, you’re the one that’s going to have to clean up the mess, deal?”

Stiles grinned and dragged him back down for another kiss. “Deal.”

~*~*~

Markets weren’t really Stiles’… thing. Farmers’ markets, crafters’ markets, seasonal markets, whatever. He found them innately boring (even if they were a good place to procure seasonal fruits and vegetables.) But Derek loved them and it was the time of year when they were popping up everywhere so Stiles relented and went to a few, just to make his boyfriend happy. And it did – make Derek happy, that is. He wandered around the markets they went to with a little, content smile on his face that could only make Stiles smile, too, and… okay. Maybe markets weren’t so bad after all.

It was funny, how things had kind of slowly progressed to Happy Derek over the course of their relationship. When they had first gotten together, he had been his usual grumpy self, and that had continued on, with a few short glints of lightheartedness here-and-there, for the months that they had been dating while Stiles had still been living in the dorms at the FBI Academy.

Then, when Stiles had eventually called it a day and moved back to Beacon Hills, Derek seemed to brighten and brighten until they were living together and he was just… happy. He smiled. He laughed. He genuinely seemed to enjoy life, and while Stiles was all for Happy Derek it was also somewhat befuddling at times. He wanted to ask, but every time he was about to he chickened out because he wasn’t entirely sure what the answer would be.

Now, though, Derek was looking through an assortment of decorative candles– some of which Stiles was pretty sure were made to look like zombie unicorns – with that little, contented smile on his face, probably browsing for Christmas presents (if Derek got him a zombie unicorn candle for Christmas Stiles thought he might scream.) and Stiles just. Watched him. Probably with the same tiny, happy smile on his own face.

Derek was humming and hawing over a particular candle– this time a cat with three eyes– and Stiles finally reached to catch his free hand, tangling their fingers together and tugging gently. “Hey.”

“Hm?” Derek blinked back to the present to look at him, and Stiles smiled, a real smile, and just leaned up to kiss him gently. Derek made a pleased little noise because Stiles was staunchly against PDA as a general rule, then tilted his head to kiss back with a hum.

Which was when Stiles felt eyes on him.

His hackles up, he pulled away quickly to look around the room–

–only to spot Scott and his mother two aisles down and one over. And Scott was staring at them hard , eyes wide while his Mom was completely oblivious to the entire exchange. Stiles’ eyes darted away, then back, then away again before he grabbed the candle Derek was holding and slammed it back on the table, and followed that up by tightening his grip on the older man’s hand and dragging him out of the vendor’s hall in all but a flat-out run.

“Wha– Stiles! ”

He didn’t even know if the startled voice calling his name came from Derek or Scott.

That was why Stiles didn’t do PDA.

~*~*~

“Did you at least apologize?” Steve seemed sympathetic, a few days later when he and Jaskier were crammed into Stiles’ and Derek’s tiny apartment, seated on the couch while Stiles lamented his story. Jaskier had no sympathy, instead grinning and giggling to himself because– well, because that was how Jaskier was, he supposed.

“He did.” Derek called from the kitchen where he had been working on dinner and incidentally eavesdropping, “apologize, that is. And we made up.”

Stiles had to grin at that. “ Vigorously .”

Jaskier snickered and Steve rolled his eyes and shoved at Stiles’ shoulder. Then he hesitated before asking, “okay, but not like, here , right, on the pull-out?”

“Who are you kidding, Stevie?” Jaskier laughed, “they’ve fucked on every surface of this apartment and you know it.”

Stiles just shrugged.

“Ew.” Steve commented, before adding, “and don’t call me that, Jask.”

“Ah, right, I almost forgot that dearest Agent Barnes is the only one permitted to call you that.” A grin, and Jaskier continued with, “how sad is it that all three of us have a passionate thing for older men?” Then, with a tiny pout; “and how tragic that you two have managed to snag yours, while I appear destined to pine away forever~?”

That got a quick look between Stiles and Steve because, to them , at least, it was incredibly obvious that Agent Rivia was interested. Jaskier just wasn’t seeing the signs, and neither of them knew how to tell him beyond literally smacking him up the back of the head. At this point it was kind of an unspoken thing between Stiles and Steve that they would keep their noses out of things and let Jaskier and Rivia work it out for themselves. (After all, everything had worked out for them , right?)

From the kitchen, Derek cleared his throat and interjected, “you could always start sending him random, weird gifts from the Internet in the mail.”

Jaskier and Steve both rolled their eyes, but Stiles grinned. “Worked for me!”

“I still have that shirt, too.”

“I know, you wore it last time I was mad at you.”

“Worked like a charm.”

Stiles found himself smiling fondly over toward the kitchen until Steve swatted his arm to catch his attention again. “Anyway,” The blond sighed, “what are you going to do about the whole…” Trailing off for a second, he gestured vaguely between Stiles and Derek before finishing, “I mean, you can’t keep it a secret forever… right?”

Stiles bristled for the briefest second. Then he sighed and looked down, picking absently at his jeans as he tried to come up with an answer that would satisfy his friends and not upset Derek at the same time.

“I’ve been thinking about that.”

Brown eyes lifted from the worn jean almost sheepishly. “Hm?”

Derek came out into the living room, wiping his hands on a towel as he did, to stand and look down at Stiles, expression worried and contemplative. “I’ve figured out by now that you’re not comfortable with other people knowing we’re together.” A pause, then; “except these assholes, for some reason?” He chuckled along when everyone else laughed. “But it’s been over a year since I moved in here with you, and we were dating– sort of– for months before that, too.”

Stiles wasn’t a hundred percent sure he liked where this was going, but he just nodded along anyway.

A sigh and Derek gave Steve and Jaskier an apologetic smile. “Could you guys give us some privacy for a couple minutes?”

Steve and Jaskier exchanged a glance– and then Jaskier popped to his feet and hauled Steve up with him. “No problem, we can go for a walk!” Dragging Steve over to the door, he added over his shoulder, “but we’ll be like, fifteen minutes, max, so we’d better not walk back in on anything gross!”

Steve squawked and barely managed to call out “We’ll knock!” before the door shut behind them.

And without them there, Stiles felt trapped. They were about to have a conversation that he had been avoiding for the better part of two years and he wasn’t sure he was particularly prepared for it now.

Luckily, Derek made it short and painful. He sat down next to Stiles and leaned to kiss by the younger man’s jaw gently. “The werewolf in me might want to keep you in my own pack,” he informed, and damn him for using Stiles’ own words against him; “but I also want to be able to show you off. You’re my mate, for all intents and purposes, and I want people to know that. I’m proud of it.”

Stiles stared at him, flabbergasted. When he finally found his words it was to blurt out “but I’m a fox !”

Derek snorted. “I’d noticed. But I knew that before we ever got together and it didn’t stop me. Also I scent mark you constantly ,” to make his point he leaned in to rub his jaw along Stiles’ with a rumble, “did you never wonder why I did that?”

“‘Cause you’re a weirdo.” Stiles grumbled petulantly. And then; “I didn’t say stop.”

Another little snort. Derek nibbled along his jaw and then buried his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck. “I’m possessive and I want people to know you’re mine. And Scott and the others, they won’t mind , you know that…”

“Do I know that? I’ve always been so into girls, like intensely into girls , at least as far as everyone else is concerned.” Stiles brought one hand up to card his fingers through Derek’s hair and the wolf practically purred at his touch, “not even Scott knows I’m bi.” Then, after a beat, “until a few days ago. I guess.”

Not that he thought Scott would run around telling everyone what he saw but it still made nerves squirm in his stomach at the thought.

“I think we should stop hiding.” Derek’s voice was muffled against Stiles’ shirt, “you know Lydia’s Christmas Party that we’re all invited to? I think we should go together, as a couple.”

Stiles stomach straight-up flipped upside down, but… Derek had a point. It would be nice to be out of hiding. And telling all of their friends at the same time would be convenient, at least. The party was a good idea.

“I guess… okay.” Stiles allowed after a moment’s thought, still playing with Derek’s hair, “but if it goes bad, it’s on you.”

He could feel Derek smile against the crook of his neck. “If it goes bad I’ll wear that shirt for you again.”

Stiles laughed . “Okay, deal.”

~*~*~

“Faith and Renfri are pissed they didn’t get to come.” Jaskier laughed without looking up from his phone as he texted back and forth between the two women in question. He was standing by the front door with his backpack slung over one arm, waiting for Steve to finish throwing his stuff in his own back so they could catch the next bus to Quantico.

“They can come next time.” Stiles bargained, “we can have a girls’ weekend.”

Jaskier feigned offense, “without me? ”

“Without~ you~!” Stiles singsonged, even as he was giving Steve one last hug goodbye and ushering them both out the door.

“Good luck!” Steve called over his shoulder.

Stiles smiled and waved. Yeah he was going to need it.

~*~*~

The night of the party Stiles honestly thought he was going to hyperventilate until he passed out and Derek had to calm him down on two separate occasions, once wrapping him up in a tight hug and the other staring into his eyes until the blue soaked right through him and eased him back to normal.

Eventually he did manage to get dressed and out the door, though the walk to Lydia’s place just amped his nerves up again until, by the time they arrived, he was nervous and twitchy– so basically his normal self. Derek took his hand, threaded their fingers together tightly, and tugged him along inside. 

When Lydia answered the door her eyes darted between the two of them, then down to their clasped hands– and then she just smiled widely and ushered them inside where–

–oh shit that was literally everyone, wasn’t it.

The party kind of ground to a halt for a second as everyone turned to look at them and Stiles began to panic, until Derek released his hand and slid an arm around him instead, his hand coming to rest on Stiles’ hip as they stood in the doorway and Stiles tried not to make eye contact with anyone. He resisted the urge to huddle into Derek’s side and looked around until he found– there. Scott. Scott smiling . Oh thank God. Okay.

And then from somewhere in the back of the room, Jackson’s voice called out “I FUCKIN’ CALLED IT! ”

“JACKSON!” Lydia protested loudly, “YOU DON’T GET TO TALK!”

And just like that, the tension melted away from Stiles and he did lean into Derek, just a little, before looking up at him with a smile. “Let’s go in.”

Derek leaned down to kiss him. “Yeah,” he agreed, “let’s go in.”

[milkemim]

Day 5: Sledding and Snowmen

Word count: 1466

Link to all chapters

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

Today is the 5th of December. It was also a super secret allies meeting- one that [Name], the honorary member, was of course invited to. Everyone met up at Russia’s house. The meeting was almost over and all the important topics and bickering was pretty much done.

China sighs as another fight breaks out between Enlgand and France. He looked over at [Name] who was sitting next to him. “I swear, these meetings would be at least 75% faster if those two could keep themselves from going at each other's throats over every other sentence.” He says.

“I think the sound is nice. It brings a certain livelihood to my house that I never see otherwise.” Russia joins into the conversation and smiles.

“Of course you do. I was not talking to you!” China crosses his arms over his chest. “Westerners are so nosy.”

[Name] laughs a little and pats China’s shoulder. “I like it too. Their fights are amusing, and it keeps me from falling asleep sometimes. Also it keeps America quiet… Mostly. It’s a nice break from all the seriousness.”

“The America part is true.” China says.

“Hey! What American part is true?!” America, who perked up at hearing his name, asked excitedly.

China sighs again and lowers his head, closing his eyes.

“Oh, just that we like hearing you talk.” [Name] smiles at him. “You’re not annoying at all. Never.”

“Well, of course! There’s many reasons why I’m the greatest country, and one of them is my incredible charisma and charm!”

“I do not think that is what [Name] said at all…” Russia quietly says.

Before the conversation could go on any longer, France and England bring the swords out.

“Hey, hey, hey! Let’s argue about this in a diplomatic way, no need for violence!” America steps between them, “Think about what Russia would do to you for fighting at his house and accidentally breaking something…” He quietly says to just the two of them. It thankfully seemed to snap the two out of it despite their anger enough to put the swords away

“I still hate you! Don’t think this means anything!” England glares at France.

“Shut up, black sheep of Europe! This is not nearly over!”

[Name] stands up and walks over to the two as well. “I know how to solve this! With mild violence.”

“I’d prefer no violence at all…” Poor Canada says, though no one seems to hear him.

“A snowball fight!” They triumphantly say.

“That seems like a good idea, actually…” France notes and England nods.

“Uhm… If I may interrupt, it’s a good idea, but most of the snow today is really hard and frozen. You two might get really injured.” Russia says, a little worried about the idea. “I kind of don’t want my house to get that reputation.”

“Oh…” [Name] pronounces, “Well, let’s go sledding instead! Overcome the anger with, uh, joy!” They smile and put their hands on their hips.

“I wanna go sledding too!” America shouts. “It’ll be extra fun since it’s frozen too!”

China looks back up and watches everyone get excited about sledding. With just a little encouragement from America and [Name], both the fighting parties agreed to it- but only on the count that they have a sledding match to prove the victor of today’s battle. “I am not coming. I’d rather stay inside where it’s warm.”

[Name] managed to get him outside too, though they had to borrow him their hat and gloves. Thankfully Russia also lended [Name] some spare winter clothing too.

Everyone followed Russia’s lead to the best mountain that wasn’t too far. [Name] got the privilege to ride in one of the sleds while they walked. France and England tried to fight over who gets to pull them, as a dominance tactic, but America ended up sliding in while the two were busy arguing and was ultimately the one to pull them along. Neither England or France were happy with the outcome.

“I’ll ride the winners sled back, okay? Just stop fighting…” [Name] assures. France and England share a look, now even more determined to win their epic sledding match. “Also, before you start arguing over the rules, I’ll make them! The one to reach the bottom first wins. You don’t get to call another person to push you down the hill, you’ll just have to have a running start yourselves and if you try to break the rules or play dishonorably you lose immediately!” They strictly explain.

Everyone agrees with the rules and soon everyone arrives at the mountain, which was actually just a little hill.

“Before we start the battle, I’d like to have a little bit of practice.” England says.

“Okay, 30 minutes of practice and warm up for both parties!” America says and France and England both already begin running up the hill. “Okay so, who’s betting on who?”

“We’re betting? Also, I think 30 minutes is a little too much time for a sledding competition…” [Name] steps up from the sled and joins the little circle of America, China and Russia. Along with Canada, but he was not really in the circle, but outside of it. “I don’t know… How much are we talking about?”

“I am not betting over something as childish as sledding! Especially between those two.” China says.

“I think England will win.” Russia smiles.

“I’ll bet 20 on France then!” America exclaims cheerfully.

“20 what?? Dollars? Euros, rubles, yuan?” [Name asks].

“I definitely do not think it’s either of the last two…” China mumbles.

“20 American dollars, of course!” America.

America bets on France, Russia bets on England, [Name] bets on [Your Bet] and China refuses to participate. Canada’s opinion is not asked.

Meanwhile England and France were practicing their sledding techniques, the rest of the allies decide to build snowmen. America was teaming up with Russia to make a really big one and China just went to rest in one of the sleds, but later he would go on to make a little snowpanda.

“Oh, Canada! Don’t think I forgot about you!” [Name] smiles at him and approaches him.

“Ah! M-me?” His eyes sparkle a little and he looks at [Name] hopefully.

“Yes. You. Let’s make something too. How about… A snow-polar bear! And then after, if we have time, we could make a cool big maple syrup snow sculpture.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun! Thank you…” He happily says.

The two managed to make a pretty convincing polar bear, though it wasn’t very big.

“It could be a little polar bear cub.” Canada says, looking at it from next to [Name].

“Yeah. That’s really cute, Canada.” They look at him and smile. “I think ours is much better than whatever America and Russia are trying to make.” They look over to the other two. Their snowman was a little disfigured and it seemed like they got into an argument and couldn’t find a compromise while building it.

Time went by quickly and soon it was time for France’s and England’s competition. Canada and America were at the bottom of the hill, to be able to watch who makes it through the little drawn finish line on the ground first. At the top of the cliff were [Name] and Russia, as well as the contestants of course. China had climbed up too for the occasion.

“Are the contestants ready?” [Name] asks.

“I’m ready.” England nods and gets in position.

“Ready!” France gets in position as well.

“Ready… Set… Go!” [Name] shouts.

The two both run until the hill tilts enough to remain at a good speed. It was a close battle and both contestants sledded down with fast speeds, especially with the icy snow.

“The winner is… France! Hooray!!” America cheers. Canada nods, agreeing that France was the true winner.

Russia sighs. “Do I really have to pay him…?”

“You shouldn’t have bet.” China says to him.

“Let’s think about that when we’re down the hill! It’s our turn now!” [Name] says, also wanting to sled down the hill. They urge China onto a sled and sit behind him. “Give us a push, Russia!”

Russia giggles and pushes them down. He follows them down with his own sled after. China may or may not have screamed a little from the unexpected amount of speed. “I was not expecting it to go down that fast…”

Afterwards, everyone got to sled happily as friends and not competitors, though England and France stopped after a few rounds, being already tired from practicing the perfect technique to win the battle. There was surprisingly little arguing, bitterness and bragging about the winner. The sledding had calmed their anger.

It was overall a fun conclusion to the ally meeting, even if everyone got home a little later than expected.

[dont-leafmealone]

So I've enjoyed the ATLA remake so far, but me enjoying it definitely doesn't mean it was good. Especially as an adaptation, and especially when it comes to one of the most important characters, Katara.

I really think Kiawentiio is doing amazing working with the material she's given; unfortunately there's so little of that material because they cut/changed most of the katara-centric plot so far (disclaimer; I'm only on episode 4) and also changed one of her most important flaws and strengths: her anger. Spoilers ahead.

I've talked about how Katara's openness about her emotions (which is really rare to see in a character, especially in avatar where everyone is repressed to some degree) is both a strength and flaw. It's good that she's so in touch with her feelings and refuses to hide it, making her the most genuine self she can be, but it can also culminate in her saying mean or cruel things in anger because it's *exactly* what she's feeling, regardless of whether it's true. I love that about her as a character, and it makes me sad to see it changed.

In the Netflix remake, Katara is mildly sassy and certainly opinionated, and will bicker with Sokka, but she's also very quiet and reserved, and really doesn't wear her emotions openly. This may be, in part, because so many of the moments when she had the opportunity to show them, were cut or bizarrely rewritten. Aang doesn't best her in waterbending, so there's no reason to yell at him. Jet doesn't use her to further his (ultimately less horrible than killing civilians in cold blood) goals, he just keeps it secret that he's planning it, so she has no real reason to be angry at him apart from lying to her and him trying to hurt...two people, and by the time the confrontation with jet actually happened one of them had already been exposed as a traitor, and the other had her friend imprisoned and, as far as she knew, set to likely be executed (and yeah katara doesn't like killing people, but Original Katara would absolutely have her judgement clouded by something like that).

Granted, the moment of her and Sokka fighting in the secret tunnel was amazing. Their argument over how they were both swayed by a traitor and a terrorist was interesting (Katara's OTHER big strength-turned-flaw is, obviously, how compassionate she is and how gullible she can be because of it, and I do like that they didn't change that; and comparing it with Sokka being drawn in by the Mechanist highlighted that he's not an impenetrable fortress of skepticism either). I hope we get to see more of that kind of anger when Katara crosses paths with Pakku. And her trauma regarding her mother's death is given more weight than even the original show gave it up until late season two and three, so there's a definite positive.

At any rate, if they manage to secure a deal for more seasons (the likelihood of which is questionable at this point), I do hope the creators tap into that emotional side of Katara more. Especially when it comes to things like interactions with Toph, The Desert, and the Crossroads moment. Really I hope they do More with her as a character, because right now she's kind of sidelined, and it irritates me as someone who loves how Much of a character she originally is.

[wonder-in-wings]

TIMING: Mid-December

LOCATION: The Common

SUMMARY: Knowing what Inge’s (@nightmaretist blood looks like, Parker (@wonder-in-wings requests they meet up so he can test a theory. For science.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Medical blood (mare)

Outside yet again. Recovering from more wounds that Emilio had inflicted upon him, not helped at all by whatever Teddy had managed to do and the subsequent, temporary madness that had gripped his mind. It wasn’t the first time, for both an encounter with Emilio and something that he didn’t place in his mind, grasping it with a forceful hand, digging its claws into his brain and spurning him to act irrational. Uncharacteristic. Unbecoming. Parker sat at a picnic table in the dusky, chilly evening of the Common, illuminated by one of the archaic streetlights that hovered above him.

One of his legs bounced absently, though not out of agitation; it was to keep his body moving, keeping him warm in the frigid evening. His hands rapped on the wooden table rhythmically, the base of a missing finger twitching as the metacarpal still carried the memory of a phalange with it. He felt exposed in multiple ways as the ghost of a grimace threatened his face, the cold biting at the inflamed knot that sat close to his spine, in that same particular spot on his back that he couldn’t seem to reach. The part where the tick was.

He was there because he was waiting for someone. Specifically, the ‘demon’ he had formed a strange sort of alliance with. If they could’ve been called alliances. There was something Parker still didn’t trust about her, understandably so if she was actually a demon. And yet, something still seemed off. Regardless, he asked if she would be able to assist him with an inquiry he had, and she had obliged on the condition that they do whatever it was he was wanting to do at night (which he found preferable) and not in private (which he preferred much less).

Ideally, this wouldn’t take long, though.

—

Inge had become relatively lazy during the nights, not often walking to her destinations but simply using the astral to her advantage. The common was so close to her office on campus that it would be ridiculous to pop into the park, and so she was doing the human thing. It was nice to stretch her legs during nighttime, anyway, and she figured it would still be best to keep her teleporting abilities a secret from the very-much watchful Parker. She had donned her glasses with tinted, though — for any curious onlookers.

He’d needed assistance, which tickled her. It would have been wiser to decline, but Inge found the notion of a hunter needing her assistance so very amusing that she’d said yes — on some conditions. Now that she no longer had a vial of her blood to leverage over him, she wasn’t so keen to meet him in his home or bunker. Who knew? Perhaps he’d figured out her lies by being buddy-buddy with any of the other bothersome hunters in town. Maybe he wanted a look at her insides. One could never be too careful with a hunter. 

The most careful thing was to not meet him at all, in the first place, but there was a limit to her cautiousness. And so she approached the hunter who was sat at a picnic table with the lift of a hand. Inge slid across from him, swinging her legs over and landing the heels of her boots into the hard ground. It really was winter, judging by the way people were bundled up. The cold didn’t really affect her any more, and that was a blessing. Especially for her gas bill. “Evening, Parker.” She took stock of him, noting a lack of a finger he’d discussed previously. Emilio’s handiwork. She both delighted in and despised it. She placed her glasses on the table, as it was hardly polite to have a conversation with sunglasses on. Red eyes met the other’s blue ones. “How’ve you been?” She crossed her legs under the table. “And however can I help you?”

—

The Warden had long since trained himself to be ready for anything, even if he didn’t give the outward appearance that he was. So, when Inge appeared from a direction he wasn’t anticipating and abruptly sat in front of him, Parker’s blue gaze snapped to her though it wasn’t overly aggressive. Just alert. Blue mixed with red as she placed her glasses on the table, asking how he’d been followed by how she could help.

He cleared his throat, pulling his gaze from her to look at nothing in particular. At least she hadn’t said it was a good evening, though Parker couldn’t have been sure if it was because of the weather or their communication. Might’ve been a combination, given that their online interactions never seemed to go anywhere conducive. “How I’ve been is irrelevant.” He replied first, believing it to be true. He was of the firm impression that she cared about how he had been just as much as she cared about his birthday. That was to say, she couldn’t have cared less, ergo that conversation point was a waste of time.

“I was curious if I could observe you bleed.” He asked bluntly. “Not for a collection, not for… gratification.”

—

He was so very cut-to-the-chase, not one to embellish interactions with frivolous questions and playful prods. Inge figured it was something she could appreciate, especially when he’d been showing her around his bunker and basements — but she was a little nervous now, and so would like the empty words. There was a reason she’d invited him to meet in public. She’d visited another hunter’s bunker since their last encounter, after all, and though she was not as cautious as she ought to be, she had her moments.

She shrugged, waved away his words, as if to say if you say so. She was not going to press him to tell her how he was, especially not when his request was finally spoken. Inge looked at him with a little stunned expression, raising her eyebrows. “Excuse me?” He had an interesting way with words, she thought. Was he really just as blunt as he appeared, though, or was this hiding some malicious intent? Watching someone bleed wasn’t really a kind act, after all. How much did he want her to bleed? Where? How? Why? Did he want to cause the lacerations? Did he know she could not die from being bled out? She rapped her fingers on the table. “Pray, tell. Why do you want to watch me bleed, Parker? You already have on two occasions.” 

—

Parker wasn’t sure how the conversation was going to pan out. He was also long-since past the point of trying to dance around what his intentions were. It was arguable that he never really did to begin with, even at the expense of his getting into trouble - she should’ve known that by now, given that their literal first interaction resulted in him keenly observing the glittery substance as it drizzled from her hand. “I…” And yet, the explanation caught in his throat.

But why? The answer tinged the edges of his tongue, and it was rather simple depending on the terminology he would use; she was a demon, after all, so surely she was aware of what vampires were, even if he wasn’t a vampire. ‘If dad were still alive and he found out that you’re acting like… this because of an insect, you’d never hear the end of it.’ That was it, wasn’t it? That had to have been it, the reason for this particular catching of the response. Parker felt his father’s hand tightly squeezing his shoulder as he loomed over the Warden, the memory of that oppressive strength forcing him to sit up slightly with a faint, yet sharp inhale through his nose. ‘There ya go. Gotta look presentable for your little demon friend.’

“I’m experiencing… symptoms.” He explained rather quietly, after a pause and, strangely for him, he avoided making eye contact with her now. “Well… one. But it’s been… undesirable.” He wasn’t lying as much as being more vague than he’d have liked before he heard his family members in his head, chiming into that line of thought. “And your blood is… nonstandard.” he concluded. “It doesn’t have to be a lot and… it doesn’t have to be me.”

—

Paranoid thoughts clawed at her mind, trying to understand where this request came from. Parker was a methodical man, practical — and not unnecessarily cruel, if she had to believe him. So was this how he’d approach her, should he want to do harm? Inge wasn’t sure. Her mind traveled to Rhett, another Warden in town, whom she’d been tailing as of recent. How close were these people? Did they know each other? Perhaps Parker had found out the blood he’d paid her for hadn’t been demonic in nature after all.

It took a moment for him to answer and it left ample room for her mind to work over hours. Eventually he got there, though, and she squinted at him once more. Experiencing symptoms — weren’t they all? She was certainly exhibiting some symptoms by having her mind run laps around itself to point out the dangers in meeting a hunter. Symptoms. She let out a sigh, a purely dramatic thing. At least he expressed that it just had to be a little, that it didn’t have to be him. It could still be a trick, but thus far it didn’t feel like the other was ready to jump on the offense just yet.

“What kind of symptom?” Inge wondered. “I don’t see the correlation just yet between you experiencing a symptom and wanting to see my blood.” She wanted to know more, before she’d split her skin for him again and make him witness the powdery glitter that resided within her. “I hope you can … understand my hesitation to simply cut my palm for you right here and now, without a little more context.” 

—

“I do.” He replied first, and with the appropriate amount of time dedicated to make sure he didn’t respond too quickly. There was also no trace of a lie in his tone because he wasn’t being deceptive. Parker did understand, just as he understood her wanting to meet in public instead of somewhere more private. Perhaps this would incentivize her to go to a place less open. But then again… his track record hadn’t been great lately and though Inge had been spared any of his unreasonable… tantrums (outbursts? No one in his family seemed to know what to call them either, apparently), that wasn’t to say that they were friends nor that it wouldn’t happen in the future.

Not to mention there was no guarantee that she would be willing to do this.

At least not until he stopped dodging the topic. It was something Parker wished he could be more blunt about but for some reason, the explanation was caught in his throat. It was an admission of weakness, not something that graced his mind often and on the rare occasion that it did, it brought terrible shame with it. Parker Wright wasn’t a human with weaknesses. ‘We’re starting to go in circles. The demon lady already knows you have weaknesses.’ Walker suggested. ‘You made a damn fool of yourself in that bunker.’ His father added unhelpfully.

Parker rolled his eyes at the internal conversation and, still avoiding Inge’s gaze, instead looked off to the side. “I’m not a vampire.” He started. “I got… bitten by a supernatural… creature.” His sentence caught before he could say ‘insect’; that was going too far. “And I believe it venomed me. I’ve noticed that I become… compromised when I see blood.” He inhaled, his brow furrowing slightly. “But I’m not sure if… it’s the action of bleeding or if it’s the physical appearance of human blood.” He gestured to her. “Your blood is incredibly unique, obviously. You can acquire normal wounds, but you bleed abnormally. As I said, this is… for science.”

—

Her boots squelched in the wet grass as they moved, a nervous habit she soon cut off. She didn’t want to appear like she was on edge, even if she was. To show weakness was simply not permitted. Weakness was for during the daylight hours, when she didn’t have her full powers and she felt cagey, looking over her shoulders for a bearded figure or that Cortez hunter. Wondering if Owen would turn around and fulfill whatever duty he’d been convinced he had. Inge crossed her legs under the table, the pressure of one leg onto another keeping them from moving. 

Parker didn’t want to cut her open himself. And yet, he’d asked after her horns and her wings — which were both items he collected. Never mind that she didn’t have them: if he was intent on acquiring them, he had the place, the means, the motive. Inge forced the thoughts from her mind, paranoia never serving her well. (The only thing that ever served her well was running from a place like this one, but here she was. In Wicked’s Rest, across a man she knew to be a hunter.) 

At least the Warden was explaining himself, even if it seemed to take some effort. This she could understand, as the truth revealed itself — he was compromised. It wasn’t something she found easy to admit herself, in those moments where she was frailer than she preferred to be. But what did it matter? What he said was interesting. Inge’s curiosity was never fully satiated. She raised her brows, leaned in a little. “What do you mean? Bitten … compromised? Do you feel the urge to drink the blood you see?” She tried to think about an instance of this, but all she could think of were vampires. “You’re sure you’re not a vampire, Parker? I’ve heard of people not realizing they’ve died and transformed before.” Perhaps he was in denial. “In that case, my blood won’t interest your literal bloodlust much.” She looked at her palms, then back at him. It seemed an elaborate lie to tell, should he want to get his hands on her non-existent horns and wings. “So your hypothesis is that you won’t respond to my blood? Scientific experiments require one of those, I’ve heard.” 

—

“That’s the hypothesis, yes.” Parker replied. “And… I’m certain I’m not a vampire. The only symptom I display is–” He faltered, still not sure how to word it. ���Just be clinical. You’re good at that.’ “When I see blood, I’m mindlessly driven to consume it.” Not clinical enough? He didn’t really care; the explanation was out, and he wasn’t sure how much more blunt he had to make his usually-scholarly vocabulary for her to understand what he was saying.

If he were a more paranoid man (‘oh yeah you’re definitely not paranoid,’), Parker would’ve thought that Inge was purposefully construing his words as obtuse in an attempt to get him to display this deficiency with more humiliation. He recalled the bunker, how he felt as though his insides were shutting down as he gripped the doorknob to the holding cell. He recalled how that was blatantly in front of Inge, and how the succubus could’ve easily taken advantage of him but… she didn’t. He also recalled, however, that she seemed to hold no shortage of mildly prodding comments, small, inconsequential jabs that didn’t pierce through his confidence a vast majority of the time.

“Ergo… you’re the only one I know who doesn’t seem to have standard blood anymore. I can confirm with certainty that if… I were to start bleeding and I saw it, then myself, yourself, anyone or anything else in view would be…” Parker unraveled his fingers that had since become entwined with themselves as they rested atop the cold wooden surface of the picnic table. “Attacked.” He cleared his throat. “I’d rather not do that.”

—

“Ah, so you can still walk in the sun and all?” Inge wasn’t sure what she made of that. It was probably for the best if Parker Wright wasn’t a vampire, but it would still be mildly funny. Ironic. For a hunter to become something their own ilk hunted … there was some poetic justice in that, no? But it was better if they remained mortal. “I can always ask around. I have some vampiric friends, after all … and there’s subtypes, as far as I’m aware.” She was mostly intrigued by the more ugly types of vampire. Those shiny, perfect humans were interesting, sure, but she liked the monstrous ones.

She watched his fingers unfurl, wondered how affected the other was. He didn’t appear to be an emotional type on the surface, but she’d seen him crack before. How would he look when bloodthirsty? When not only moved by greed for the parts of the fae he hunted, but by actual bloodlust? Inge tried to imagine him as one of the patrons at Dance Macabre, teeth sunk into the neck of a human, unable to stop themselves. It wasn’t something that fit Parker, but then how well did she know him, really?

At least he hadn’t met any other mares, or hadn’t gotten to know them well enough to know about their blood. Inge wasn’t sure if Parker liked liars, but she assumed he wouldn’t enjoy having been fooled. “I guess you found that out the hard way?” She considered his request, mildly curious to see what he’d do if he saw her non-blood. “And other people’s blood also makes you …. filled with bloodlust?” That had to get in the way of his ‘profession’, she figured. “Unfortunate, considering your line of work.” Inge looked at him. “And what if you do become rabid upon seeing my blood? I would defend myself, you know.”

—

“...Yes.” The question was dumb, but he supposed she needed the clarification. “But you’re welcome to “ask around”.” Parker highly doubted, even as they engaged in this awkward conversation, that he was a vampire. It didn’t fit; he knew Metzli, he could see the look in their eye when they first interacted. Was that… how he looked when everything hazed over, when his vision was bathed in red and all of his higher intelligence was replaced by an animalistic need to consume blood? The word that Winter had used when they first met flitted through his mind and he tensed visibly at it, as though being confronted with an offensive odor.

No, he was in control. He always was. Always had to be. Every member of his family except for his mother said that he wasn’t capable of feeling anything. He was a machine, not a person… and right now, the machine, unfortunately, had some sort of virus, something that urged him to power it with blood. Parker was in control. He had to be. This would go away, and he’d be back to normal. Or whatever version of normal existed for him.

Some aspect of that version of normal was something Inge brought up, of course, as she mentioned his ‘line of work’. He wouldn’t admit it to her but Parker had been unnecessarily pent-up since then, feeling the fevered heat of whatever was stuck in his back flaring slightly. An artist without an outlet. “It’s not rabid.” The Warden felt the need to clarify first. “It’s… different.” Blue eyes turned to focus on nothing in particular again, avoiding eye contact with the demon. “And I expect you to. As I’ve mentioned, this isn’t for satisfaction or to fuel any desires. If you’re attacked, I fully expect you to fight back. And I will not hold it against you.” He made this as clear as he possibly could, locking eyes with her once more.

—

It almost sounded like he was doing her a favor, if she were to ask around. Like he was humoring her and her whims. Inge raised an eyebrow and said nothing, deciding she’d not stick out a finger for him. She had more interesting things to talk about with her fellow undead, after all, and she wasn’t appreciative of Parker’s tone. That these things affected her were best left unaddressed, though. To participate in an argument with a hunter was something she figured foolish. 

But still, it was curious. Whatever was afflicting him was curious. Inge wasn’t sure if she wanted to help Parker or if she just wanted to know whatever it was that was ‘compromising’ him. Her mind went to Dīs and their antlers and how they’d look in the warden’s collection. Maybe it would be better if the other remained compromised — though maybe it made him all the more vicious. “How is it different? You said you attack without meaning to.” 

She was glad, at least, that he expected her to fight back. It wasn’t like she had much to fight back with, but the astral was hers and she’d gotten out of tighter corners. “Alright.” He seemed to mean it. Inge slipped her hand into her coat pocket, producing a switchblade that she flicked open. She steeled herself, raised the same finger she’d cut open for him a while ago and slid the blade over the top of her finger to create a small cut. Underneath her split skin the glittery energy shone. She stretched her finger so her skin would strain and held it out to Parker, some of the non-blood drizzling on the table before them. “Well?”

—

There was a pause between the two and in that space of silence, however brief it might’ve actually been, Parker’s mind was working. It was always working. It never stopped, despite how he was sure that most people likely thought that he never did. ‘What are you thinking?’ His mother asked him more than once. ‘How can you be sure he even is?’ His father replied dryly before adding ‘You know, that’s one thing I like about him. No one can tell what’s going through that head.’

‘Daddy’s little serial killer.’

Loops of thoughts racing each other, each one wanting to be the one he thought of at any given moment. He shook his head. “It’s not a neurological condition.” Parker replied rather bluntly. “...I don’t think.” He added with a small admission that he wasn’t entirely sure what it was. He had some educated guesses for sure, and viewing Inge’s blood would help in narrowing down the potential list of things that he was aware it could’ve been. He cleared his throat and his brow furrowed slightly. If there was something he wanted to add onto it, it was abandoned and his blue eyes danced indiscriminately on the table between them as a temporary uncertainty washed over him. 

When she replied with a simple ‘alright’, the Warden released a quiet exhale through his nose and the same blue eyes that weren’t focusing on much at all suddenly and astutely honed in on the succubus, flickering to her face before moving to the knife she had procured from a pocket. He kept his posture as casual as he could’ve made it, though his fingers instinctively curled inward, pulling his nails across the rough wooden surface as a sign of anticipatory anxiety that seemed to match the pulse in his back. He’d be right. Parker would be right and wouldn’t react to her blood, then they could both go on their way. And sure enough, as she drew the blade across her finger and applied enough pressure to get the wound to ooze the aesthetic, glittering powder, he leaned back after carefully observing it for a moment.

“Nothing.” He sighed, a quiet relief able to be heard lacing his monotone. He looked up and around their surroundings for a moment as his hands acted on their own, reaching into one of the pockets on his cargo pants and pulling out an adhesive strip. “I apologize for wasting your time but I appreciate your willingness to cooperate.” He said, offering the strip out to her and breathing rather deeply, almost as though he were recovering from a weight being pressed into his chest slowly but consistently, drawing the air from his lungs, suffocating him with the unknown.

—

She was waiting with metaphorical bated breath as the energy that brought her life (she thought — she wasn’t entirely sure on her own biology) slipped from her hand. Inge thought herself plenty of areas, but when it came to afflictions – no matter what kind – she knew she wasn’t the wisest. She wasn’t interested in knowing about disease and disorder in depth, as it was ugly enough on the surface. This did mean she wasn’t sure what Parker was dealing with, nor if it put her in any danger.

Her other hand continued to hold onto her switchblade, the pearl handle a comfort in her hand. It was a small blade, but it was something. But no response seemed to come. Parker let out the breath Inge would have been holding if she still needed to breathe and she watched him carefully. “Good.” She took the strip, applying it to her finger and resting her hand on the table, closer to her chest. 

“My blood doesn’t have any … nutritional value to vampires, so perhaps the same goes for whatever predicament you’re in at present.” He was relieved, though he had a strange way of showing it. Inge figured that Parker wasn’t fond of feeling weak or out of control, which was understandable — she felt that way, too. It was still something she took note of, wondering how close the warden was with another warden in town. She hoped that this gesture of goodwill would go a long way. “You’re welcome, anyway. If you ever figure out what it is that’s plaguing you, I’d be curious to hear.”

— —

When she took the strip, Parker didn’t relax per se but he did withdraw his own hands, folding his arms across his chest as his blue-eyed stare focused on something else. “I don’t think it’s the nutritional value.” He admitted after a pause. “My mind knows I don’t gain sustenance from blood consumption. I don’t…” The Warden faltered, his fingers pulling at the material of his sleeves. “I don’t keep anything I consume down. It’s not nourishment, it’s not biology or vampirism.” The familiar pulsing sensation that was subtly bothering him came back and he moved in an attempt to not apply more pressure on it as he leaned back.

“I think I was bitten by a clinger.” He replied at long last and accompanied with a heavy sigh, one that conveyed a sense of disappointment, failure… perhaps a sting of embarrassment, as some member of his family had mentioned earlier in his head. “Their saliva… can emulate different effects. Some target undead. Some have no such specifications and can strip you of your abilities entirely, sometimes so severely that you can’t get them back.” Parker was particularly glad that he wasn’t experiencing that one.

“But there’s… one that… it makes you crave blood.” He straightened up slightly as he explained it. “Not a vampire, nothing useful or necessary like that.” As much as he didn’t like to admit that he had vampire friends now, who he did prefer having around and that it was… something they had to deal with. Parker supposed the necessity didn’t bother him insomuch as when whoever had to deal with it insisted that it wasn’t them. Blaming something else for the messes they made. “Apologies. I don’t mean to waste more of your time.” He exhaled and his icy blue eyes, now expressing what could’ve been a hint of melancholy though for what reason, he wouldn’t have been able to tell her. “I’m not compensating you as healthily as last time but if you’d like for me to pay you for this experiment, I’m willing to offer one hundred.”

— —

Her face pulled into a mild grimace. “Yikes.” Quite the predicament to be in. Inge found little empathy within herself for the hunter but she could still appreciate that vomiting other people’s blood back up was nasty. “So you have drank other people’s blood?” That was interesting. She’d like to pick his mind about it, for him to retell that occurrence to her in great detail and leave nothing out. If Parker was anything to her, he was her muse. 

Her eyebrows creased a little at his explanation, new information reaching her. She’d not heard of these creatures before. Though she knew, vaguely, that there were diseases that could affect the undead she’d never really come into close proximity to it. “What can they do to the undead? Where and how do they find their victims?” There was a sheen of genuine concern on her face, a rare thing. She didn’t want to be sick. She didn’t get sick any more and it was marvelous, one of the larger perks of being undead. Disease scared her — she remembered the hospital. She always remembered the hospital. It was the dark shadow at the end of her metaphorical bed. To be unwell, to be reduced, to be helpless and slowly dying … Inge would shiver at the thought if she’d allow herself to.

“So what is the solution? Is it like an insect bite, or a tick?” She remembered being young, coming home after running in the fields, having to check her body for ticks along with her siblings before they were allowed to bathe. Inge pushed the memory aside. “Ah, it’s alright. The one thing I have plenty of is time.” She looked at Parker a little funny, shaking her head. “No, I don’t want your money for this, don’t be ridiculous.” As if she hadn’t asked for far too much money for her blood before. “It’s on the house.”

— —

“I have, yes.” Parker didn’t like admitting it, but he was able to regain his clinical approach to the whole ordeal, not to mention he had somewhat hoped that she didn’t interpret anything he was saying as grasping for attention. Perhaps that was part of the reason why he had so much trouble expressing himself to others. “Fae, human, shifter… the only one I haven’t yet is undead blood but I’m not sure if I can.” He wiped the table of the glitter that floated from her miniscule wound and rubbed it between two fingers, examining it similar to how he had done so the first time they met. “Succubus blood is also exempt.”

Then she asked about the deadclinger, and blue eyes drifted back up to the demon’s face where he could read an emotion previously unseen on it. Was she worried? Parker didn’t think he understood why; she was a demon, not undead, so surely she didn’t have to worry about something as inconsequential as a supernatural parasite. “They’re ticks. They can be found anywhere, but deadclingers can sense undead blood.” He explained. “Their saliva infects the bloodstream and reduces them to their base instincts. Mindless, starving things. The sensation goes away with time; it should be over in a few weeks.” Granted, he hoped it was sooner given his enhanced physiology but given that this was a new experience for him, he knew better than to assume it would be shortened.

Inge let him know that he didn’t have to pay this time and it was Parker’s turn to express a rare emotion: faint surprise. His eyebrows raised slightly accompanied with a small tilt of his head. From what he had gathered about her, she was opportunistic, trying to further whatever endeavors she was working on or interested in. “If that’s true, then I appreciate your time and… willingness to be involved in my scientific inquiry.”

— — 

Right — right, he didn’t know she was undead. Inge realized her slip up a few beats too late and she was lucky to not have any red blood in her system, otherwise her cheeks would have flushed scarlet. She considered his predicament, the looming threat of him going to search for undead blood. She disliked the concept, not only because she worried about him finding out about mares but because she cared about her fellow undead in a way. “As far as I know they don’t really bleed. Or well, if they have blood — it’s rather useless. Not like their heart has to pump it around.” 

The idea of becoming sick in one way or another made her feel deeply unsettled and she didn’t think that was a good way to feel around the likes of a hunter. She hoped he’d think her look of dread was one borne out of care for someone undead. It wasn’t fully untrue. She also dreaded one of her loved ones becoming sick. “I trust you’ve taken the tick out, then. I suppose we must all return to childhood and check our bodies after every walk in nature.” Raise your arms, check under your knees, in the warmest folds of the body where the creatures liked to bite down. She felt itchy. She felt almost human for it.

She felt the impulse to leave, nerves crawling. “Of course. I’m an academic,” she said casually, raising from where she sat. Inge looked at the granules of non-blood scattered on the park ground. It might as well have been a college girl’s make up. “Do let me know if you learn more, won’t you?” She’d ask Anita about this — she knew things about bugs, after all. Perhaps she knew about these kinds too. Plus she was a safer bet than a hunter. “Have a good evening, Parker.”

— —

“I was thinking along similar lines, but…” The Warden fell silent for a moment. “I’m not sure.” He didn’t want to take any risks, not after his string of violent tendencies the past week or so. “Rest assured, I have removed the tick.” Parker had Winter to thank for that, though he still associated that day with intense shame. He hadn’t intended on it turning out the way it had. He hadn’t intended on finding himself talking to Ingeborg about her blood again, either.

But… he had. ‘And to think, all’a this mess was caused by one little insect.’ His father mocked him lightly as Parker sat at the kitchen table, wordlessly and calmly applying a cold compress to an inflamed circle on his arm. Granted, at the time his father was purposefully being obtuse - it was a simple thing and the bite hadn’t affected anyone else. There was no ‘mess’ involved then, not like now. 

The hunter shook his head faintly, sharp blue eyes following the succubus as she got to her feet. An academic, right. College professors tended to be a cut above their peers in the education field, even if someone like Parker didn’t really consider ‘art’ to be in the same level of importance as ‘math’. It wasn’t his business. She had shown up when he asked and extended her assistance and Parker had a greater understanding of the bloodclinger now. His fingers that were rubbing the glitter between them pressed each other hard enough that there was an audible sound of granules being scraped against skin. “I will.” He assured her, with a quiet honesty as he stared up at her form, which was shadowed by the light of the lamppost behind her. 

He would wait until she was gone before getting up himself; for now, he was going to remain sitting, feeling the cogs in his brain moving too quickly for the naked eye to process. The scale. The pendulum. His father’s eyes boring into his back from the inside of his skull. The taste of blood oozing down his throat, meeting with stomach acid that wanted to come back up. No more hunting, at least not for the time being. “You as well, Inge.”

[positivelybeastly]

💖 Bobby Drake

How likely they are to enter a relationship with them:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

(This is one of those things that kinda depends, waxes, and wanes, because the times when they were closest and would have been the best match for each other were also the times they were least aware of their feelings and what they meant. I think if ever there was going to be a time for it, it would have been right at the start during the O5 era, or pre-Utopia. Maybe the 90s.)

Would they…

Make the first move? Yes | No (When Hank and Bobby are friends, Hank evidently treasures that friendship with Bobby immensely, and I don't think he'd go for it - and that's assuming he's aware of his feelings! These two blockheads are so incredibly dense.)

Say “I love you” first? Yes | No (Honestly, I'm kinda surprised they never did say it to each other - as FRIENDS, yeah, right, but then again, Bobby's ability to be gay appears to be inversely related to how well Hank is written, so maybe they're just cursed.)

Cheat on them? Yes | No (Hank doesn't cheat. I refuse to believe that it's within his character.)

Be the jealous type? Yes | No (I could see it becoming a bit more of an issue with Bobby than others because Bobby was Hank's best friend before he was anyone else's, and that rigidity, that claim, could get territorial. But Hank's reasonable most of the time, so I don't think it'd be a real problem.)

Plan the dates? Yes | No (Hank has the brain cells - usually - so it's him. I could, however, see it being that Bobby's the one to push to go out more than Hank is, but Hank's the one to turn that desire into a date.)

Initiate the first kiss? Yes | No (Hank doesn't initiate. Initiation of romance is scary. This scares the Beast.)

Remember anniversaries? Yes | No (Hank will remember and he WILL tease Bobby about forgetting.)

BOLD WHAT APPLIES:

Their Relationship Is:

friends to lovers | rivals to lovers | enemies to lovers | still just enemies | mutual pining | star crossed lovers | old married couple | perpetual honeymoon phase | stable and boring | stable but not boring | secret lovers | best friends hiding their feelings | and they were roommates | friends with benefits | coworkers avoiding HR | one-sided affection | weird sexual tension | it’s complicated | toxic relationship | a secret affair | an actual dumpster fire | other

(They were literally roommates, by the way. Literally.)

PUBLIC Displays of Affection:

hand holding | kiss on the hand | kiss on the cheek | kiss on the forehead | kiss on the lips | cuddling | hugging | affectionate messages or comments | pet names | pictures together | no displays of affection

PRIVATE Displays of Affection:

hand holding | kiss on the hand | kiss on the cheek | kiss on the forehead | kiss on the lips |  cuddling | hugging | affectionate messages or comments | pet names | pictures together | no displays of affection

Do they stay together?

yes, this is endgame | yes but someone is gonna die tragically | something is keeping them apart | they part ways as friends | they part ways as enemies | they’re on-again-off-again | they have a super messy breakup | it was just a fling | other

(I could see this going either way, depending on Bobby's emotional maturity when they enter a relationship. Hank can be tough to handle, his brain is his worst enemy and his best asset, and that can be hard for someone to manage at the best of times.)

BONUS

What terrible pet names would they give each other?

I would like it to be noted that Hank canonically almost always calls Bobby Robert, and I write it that he drops down to Bobby if he's annoyed or feeling like he wants to put some distance - because no-one else calls Bobby Robert. That's HIS name for Bobby.

Bobby already calls Hank Hankster and Gorilla of my Dreams (gay, gay, homosexual), and I don't know what he could do to top that, tbh.

[qzwrites]

Blackmail Boyfriend DVD Commentary Edition

This was fun! But it's a pain in the ass to figure out how to format something like this! Many of the places I looked used colored text or italics for their commentary and I hated that and thought it was inaccessible! So I have set my commentary off and also indented it. Let me know how that reads.

-

It was convenient to share a hotel room with the only teammate who knew Aidan was trans. It was unfortunate that said teammate was blackmailing Aidan into having sex with him, but Aidan did really need the help keeping their other roommate from noticing anything amiss about Aidan. Aidan figured at least with Trey in the room, Richard wouldn’t do anything.

He should have known Richard better by now.

-

I talked about this in the original author's notes but this sure is a scenario that occurs all over manga both vanilla and hentai. In high school I read a romance manga about a girl cross-dressing to go to an all-boys school to be nearer to her favorite soccer player and ending up roommates with him, and I have also read comics where it's like "Surprise! The new ace player is Actually A Girl!" which leads to, at best, dubiously consensual sex (whether or not the author seems aware this is dubious is, itself, dubious). Once I had rotated this concept in my mind enough times, I thought it would be not terribly difficult but definitely interesting to start from this extremely dire transactional relationship and end up in an actual romance, especially if, as was usually the case in these "secret cross-dresser" manga, it was about teenagers. So I had the backstory for Aidan and Richard worked out first, but I thought the part where Aidan realized Richard actually liked him was more interesting, which is why I start here.

-

Aidan was almost asleep when he felt Richard shift behind him. That didn’t alarm him on its own, but then Richard’s hand was on Aidan’s hip.

There were lots of things to dislike about Richard blackmailing Aidan into sex, and one of them was the way Aidan’s stupid pussy did not dislike it. Unlike the way flicking the bean only ever made Aidan uncomfortably aware of his dysphoria, getting pounded somehow wasn’t triggering at all. To add insult to injury, it was way easier to come from. Even though Richard was a transphobic, misogynistic asshole, Aidan’s stupid pussy lit up the second Richard touched him.

-

I actually hate the word "pussy" but I also think euphemisms and circumlocutions indicate a different type of trans dude. Since I didn't want to write about someone dealing with too much dysphoria on top of the blackmail situation (because how the fuck are you going to come around on someone who is constantly triggering dysphoria? No matter how good the sex is or how nice Richard is, it would just be an overall more negative experience) I thought straightforward but not clinical terms would be best. Also IDK man, I'm also trans, and for whatever reason I find it a lot easier to write a guy talking about his pussy than a girl doing the same. Boypussy is fine, I guess. I also started this story not long after I finished Exciting New Levels of Heresy, in which I managed to avoid using any clear words for Nic's junk literally at all. That wasn't me trying to be coy, I just found it difficult to accept the idea of Nic thinking about zeir body in any of those terms. In the extras set further in the future, ze uses the word "cunt", but freshly-deflowered Nic was just too embarrassed about having and enjoying sex to say something like that. Whereas I kind of wanted Aidan to feel like...you know, a teenage boy. "Pussy" feels like a very teenage boy way to refer to it.

-

Aidan tried to squirm away from Richard, but Richard just followed him to the edge of the bed, until Aidan had nowhere to go. Aidan hissed, “Trey’s right there!”

“So be quiet,” Richard murmured, sliding his fingers under the waistband of Aidan’s shorts. He pulled Aidan back against him. Aidan wasn’t surprised to feel he was already hard. Sometimes it felt like Richard could go from flaccid to throbbing instantly.

After weeks of taking advantage of Aidan, Richard knew Aidan’s body and how to manage his dysphoria as well as Aidan did. He only used his hand down the front of Aidan’s underwear to shove it down and out of the way. Once he had his cock nestled between Aidan’s labia, he reached up Aidan’s shirt to play with his tits.

Aidan had to bite his knuckles to muffle the sounds he wanted to make. Between Richard’s cock sliding against his pussy and Richard’s fingers pinching his nipples, he was wet enough to take it in no time at all.

Aidan resented how much he enjoyed fucking Richard. Richard misgendered him when they were alone, even if it had been a while since he did so, and he had immediately demanded to fuck him when he found out Aidan “was a girl”. But having to avoid sexual situations that would out him did approximately fuck-all to calm Aidan’s raging teenage hormones, while Richard’s stupid dick actually let Aidan blow off some steam and be less sexually frustrated. It was easier to concentrate on his schoolwork, he had less trouble falling asleep at night, he even played better since Richard started fucking him. It was monumentally unfair. Fucking someone to keep them from outing you should not be so enjoyable.

Richard stopped bothering with condoms after he found out Aidan was on birth control, which Aidan knew was irresponsible but couldn’t bring himself to seriously protest. He told himself it was because fighting Richard on it might lead to Richard outing him, but it was at least half because of how good it felt to not have to stop when Aidan was wet enough for Richard’s cock to just slip right into him, as it did now.

-

I know I'm not the only person who did stupid things I knew were stupid even as I did them when I was a teenager purely because I was horny. Aidan probably could have found a way out of this situation, even if it would have been tricky to avoid being outed, but he didn't try very hard.

-

Aidan turned to press his face into the pillow to stop his groan. Richard tugged him away from the edge of the bed, then pushed Aidan down on his stomach and rolled on top of him. Aidan reached down to shove his shorts off one leg, so he could spread his legs that much wider. Richard’s breathing grew harsh and ragged as he humped Aidan like a badly-trained dog.

The lamp between the beds clicked on. Aidan froze. So did Richard, although his cock twitched a bit inside Aidan like it was less on board with this interruption. Trey’s voice said, “What the hell are you guys doing over th–oh my god, are you fucking?”

-

I tried to push this piece back into being more cartoony, the way some of my older art is, and I'm of two minds about how it turned out. I did have a lot of fun doing the lighting! And Richard's expression cracks me up. Information Aidan does not have available that the reader is getting from this illustration, I guess.

-

Aidan’s heart raced. He was pressed against the mattress with Richard on top of him, the blanket was still mostly over them. Trey couldn’t see Aidan’s breasts or his lack of dick. It was entirely possible Richard was fucking him in the ass. That’s what Trey would assume.

Except when Richard walked in on Aidan initially, he was adamant that he wasn’t gay, even as he demanded to fuck another guy, because he refused to acknowledge the fact that Aidan was a guy. He could very well out Aidan to avoid letting Trey think he was gay. Fuck fuck fuck.

Richard turned his head to face Trey, but didn’t otherwise move, staying draped over Aidan’s back. “Ugh,” Richard said, “I thought you were asleep.”

“I was, but the sound of what I thought was one of you jerking it woke me up,” Trey said. “Are you two seriously doing it?”

“Trying to,” Richard said. He still didn’t move from on top of Aidan. It was embarrassing as hell, but Aidan had to admit it kept Trey from seeing much of Aidan’s body.

“Dude,” Trey said. He sounded more offended than disgusted, thank god. “With me in the room?”

-

I have no idea what the differences may be between spending the night in a hotel with a sports team versus a drama club or Academic Decathlon team, but I assumed they couldn't be too different. I don't think anyone ever had sex in the hotel rooms on any of my trips for competitions, but it didn't seem like it would be too hard to arrange if one was so inclined. The main problem, of course, is that they usually put us three or four to a room. But, having Trey in the room to address that and add some risk and excitement to the sex also allowed me to make Richard and Aidan talk about things. And it meant I had an easy set-up for Aidan getting walked in on and outed again, which let me contrast Richard's initial reaction to his new reaction, which forced them to talk some more. It did mean another character to keep track of, but at least I didn't have to get too in the weeds with him. (Shakes fist at all the boys in Childhood Friends, especially you, Paul)

-

“I thought you were asleep,” Richard said defensively. “We don’t usually have a bed.”

“Can you choose one or the other?” Aidan demanded, face hot. If Richard wasn’t going to be a cowardly asshole and out him, then he really didn’t want to prolong this situation. “Either talk to Trey or fuck me.”

“Uh, I hate to break it to you,” Trey said, “but I don’t think I’m going to be able to fall back asleep.”

Aidan groaned and pressed his face back into the pillow.

Richard shrugged. “I don’t care if you watch,” he said.

“Richard,” Aidan yelped, very nearly making a terrible mistake and bucking him off.

“Oh, calm down,” Richard said. He rolled his hips, leisurely. The felt good enough that Aidan relaxed against his own will. He might also have moaned a little.

“Jesus Christ,” Trey said. His voice broke on the last syllable. He cleared his throat. “Look, I don’t mind if y’all are gay or whatever, but I’m not.”

Aidan tensed back up again. Richard, confusingly, rubbed Aidan’s arm soothingly, on the side Trey couldn’t see. Richard said, “Fine, turn the light off then. I just want to finish.”

“You’re a freak,” Trey said. “Um, Aidan?”

Aidan had to pull his face out of the pillow to answer. “Honestly at this point I don’t care, I want to finish too.”

Richard put his mouth against Aidan’s ear to murmur, “Of course you do, slut.” He rolled his hips again, still slowly enough that it was torturous. His breath was hot on the side of Aidan’s head. “Slutty little faggot.”

Being called a slur should not have made Aidan shudder and clench around Richard’s cock, but it was the first time since Richard first saw Aidan naked that he’d said anything to acknowledge Aidan was a queer guy and not a straight girl. Aidan moaned before he could help it.

-

Important to establish that, despite being a crude and physically needy guy, Richard was not in fact continuing to misgender Aidan. It takes a special kind of guy to make calling the POV character a faggot an improvement, but it didn't feel like much of a stretch that Aidan would be into it. He is, after all, the kind of person who is unbothered enough by being coerced into sex to not try that hard to get out of it. Him being kind of into it makes that seem more explicable.

-

“God,” Trey said, and the light clicked off.

“Thanks, man,” Richard said, and started humping Aidan again.

“I hate you,” Aidan said. Richard only grunted and bit Aidan’s neck.

Aidan had a much harder time keeping quiet now that he knew Trey was already awake. Yeah, it was embarrassing that Trey was hearing all the moaning Aidan was doing, not to mention the extremely audible slapping of Richard’s hips against Aidan’s ass, but…he already knew. And with the light off again, the chance he’d notice Aidan was trans was effectively zero.

After a few minutes, Trey made a noise in the other bed. He said, “It does not make me gay to jerk off to this, okay?”

Aidan laughed, which made the muscles in his pussy do something that made Richard groan. “Sure,” Aidan said.

“I’m listening to people have sex,” Trey said. He was out of breath. Fuck, he was actually jerking off listening to Richard and Aidan go at it. “It’s a normal physical reaction.”

-

I did find myself thinking a lot about a time in my college dorm where I was laying awake with insomnia hearing a weird noise like "what the hell is my roommate dong over there" and didn't realize until years later that she was masturbating. I spent all year waiting until she went to the practice room with her violin! Honestly!!!

-

Aidan laughed again, and so did Richard. “Yeah,” Richard said, “nothing but normal physical reactions in here tonight.”

Thankfully, after that he settled back down to fucking Aidan. Apart from labored breathing and rhythmic slapping sounds, Trey was quiet as well. With the light off but no worry about waking Trey up, Aidan felt comfortable enough to push himself up on his knees. Richard murmured into Aidan’s ear, “God, you’re such a slut.” Still, he adjusted the angle he was thrusting into Aidan so his next stroke slammed into Aidan’s g-spot. Aidan cried out. Then he was coming, and Richard was still slamming into him, and Aidan was still coming. God, it was fucked up that Richard knew his body so well.

Richard must have come at some point in there, because by the time Aidan was cognizant of anything other than his own overwhelming orgasm, Richard was pulling out of him with some extremely wet squelchy sounds.

Aidan collapsed onto the mattress to get his breathing under control. Now that he was the one listening to someone in the other bed get off, he had to admit Trey had a point. He’d just come, after all, and he wasn’t into Trey, but his pussy still had trouble calming down while he could hear Trey panting and jerking off.

Richard tugged on the hem of Aidan’s shirt. “Roll over,” he mumbled.

“Why?” Aidan asked, but did it. He was a little surprised when Richard leaned over and kissed him. It was hot and sloppy, and he got a bit of Aidan’s nose at first. Richard had really only kissed him the first time they had sex. Considering how short Richard’s fuse was, and how humiliatingly easy Aidan was, Richard didn’t usually bother with much foreplay. He grabbed Aidan’s left boob through his shirt. Aidan groaned. This was not helping him be less horny.

“Knock it off,” Aidan tried to say, but Richard wouldn’t stop kissing him enough for it to be understandable. Richard pushed Aidan’s shirt up and pinched his nipple. “Ah!”

-

Without Trey in the room, they absolutely would have gone for another round here.

-

“God, are you still going?” Trey asked. The sound of him stroking his dick did not pause as he spoke. That was definitely not helping Aidan be less horny.

“Well, now we’re listening to someone jerk off,” Richard said. “It’s a natural physical reaction.”

Trey started to laugh, gasped, and Aidan was willing to bet that weird breath he took meant he came. That was embarrassing for him, but also pretty funny.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Aidan said, squirming out of Richard’s grasp. At least with the light still off, Aidan didn’t have to worry about the fact that his unbound breasts were clearly visible under his shirt, especially with one of his nipples all hard from being manhandled. He didn’t much like pulling his underwear and shorts up when he could feel Richard’s come oozing out of him, but even with the light off Aidan didn’t feel comfortable walking around the foot of the bed to the bathroom naked from the waist down.

Once the bathroom door was shut, Aidan turned the light on. His hair was a mess and his boobs were indeed visible in this shirt, but Richard hadn’t left any marks on his neck. He peed, and then spent a not-insignificant amount of time wiping up the mess. He knew dicks were only supposed to ejaculate a teaspoon or some small amount like that, but he would swear Richard came more than that. Although Aidan supposed it was kind of hard to tell apart what came out of his body versus Richard’s. God knew he got pretty damn wet when Richard started pawing at him.

-

I don't know that Aidan is even thinking about this consciously at this point, but vagina owners please pee after PIV sex! Our urethras are too short to not clean out whatever may have gotten in there during sex! Save yourself the UTI! Also I did establish earlier that they weren't bothering with condoms, which was purely so I didn't have to figure out how to get a condom into this scene without waking up Trey or disrupting the pacing, but also makes the clean-up extra necessary.

-

He turned the light off before he left the bathroom, then waited until he could see well enough to be sure the light in the main room was still off before he opened the door. He made it back to the bed and under the covers without incident.

“Swear to god,” Trey said from the other bed, “if you assholes don’t go to sleep now, I’m telling Coach.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Richard said. He rolled over and put his arm around Aidan’s waist. Aidan tensed, but all Richard did was snuggle into Aidan’s back. Aidan wished he knew what the hell was going on in Richard’s head, but he was too tired to think about it for long before he fell asleep.

-

Richard is totally in love with Aidan and Aidan is just like "wtf has he always been cuddly?" The answer is yes, actually, but it's pretty hard to get in those post-coital cuddles when you're having quickies in the locker room.

-

*

Being stealth at school wasn’t as hard as Aidan had worried it would be. Enough guys changed for gym in the bathroom stalls because they were shy that it wasn’t that notable that Aidan did it too. It was slightly more conspicuous in the locker room for practice, but most of the soccer team didn’t pay too much attention to him at first, and then they liked him enough because he was a good player to not give him shit about it.

So maybe he’d gotten a little complacent about changing in the locker room. He was on birth control that stopped his periods now, so he didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing pad wings or tampon strings or whatever, and he wasn’t about to bleed through his underwear. More than once he’d actually gotten down to his binder with someone else in the room, without them noticing, because no one was paying attention to him change. So one day after practice, when he was really sweaty and muddy and everyone else had already left, Aidan thought, as long as everyone else was gone, he might as well take a shower.

-

Literally I don't understand why teen media acts like everyone is fine with changing in front of everyone. This was not the case anywhere I went. Maybe sports teams were more generally blase about it, the way most of the drama kids were, but even after four years of changing in front of each other for shows, there were some people who always changed in the bathroom. I never once used a shower at school until I lived in a dorm, though. Although again: theatre kid instead of sports kid.

-

He’d almost gotten away with it, even when Richard came back in to get something he’d forgotten in his locker. The showers weren’t easy to peek into from the path in and out of the locker room. Richard called out, “Who’s still in here?”

If he hadn’t responded, Richard definitely would have come to check it out, so Aidan shouted, “It’s Aidan!”

Richard laughed, because he’d been one of the other guys who fell in the mud. “Alright, see you tomorrow,” he called back, and Aidan relaxed.

Too soon, as it turned out, because a minute later Richard was at the doorway to the shower, saying, “Hang on, you never even change in front of us, let’s see what you’re so shy about, anyway.”

-

Gee, Richard, why are you so curious about seeing Aidan naked?

-

None of the showers were really set up to provide enough privacy to keep Aidan from being partially exposed. He yelped and spun around to put his back to Richard, but Richard had already gotten an eyeful.

“Holy shit,” Richard said, “you’re a girl?”

He didn’t pay any attention at all to Aidan’s protest that he was not, in fact, a girl. His very thoughtful rebuttal was to gesture at Aidan’s body and say, “Boobs, vagina.” It was annoying enough that his suggestion he could keep his mouth shut if Aidan let Richard fuck him was almost a relief.

-

I think not writing this out as a full scene makes it stronger. Aidan's extremely judgy narration cracks me up. And it didn't feel like it needed it; the fact that it happened at all is what's important for this story, and I've already gotten the requisite S2B2 sex scene out of the way.

-

By then, Aidan was done showering. He tried to wrap himself in a towel and go to his locker to get dressed, but Richard grabbed him, pushed him up against the outside wall of the showers, and kissed him. He’d already been hard, and that made Aidan kind of dizzy even if it was based on a fundamental misunderstanding of Aidan’s gender.

“What, now?” Aidan asked, breathlessly, like Richard’s dick hadn’t made that clear.

“Why, you got somewhere else to be?” Richard asked, and didn’t wait for an answer before kissing Aidan again.

Aidan lost his virginity on a damp towel spread out on the floor of the locker room. He didn’t come, but it was a near thing. Aidan swore to himself he wouldn’t get off on it the next time he let Richard fuck him, which turned out to be comically over-confident.

*

Aidan woke up the morning after having sex in front of a teammate with Richard pressed up against his side, his hand up Aidan’s shirt. He was grabbing Aidan’s boob in his sleep. Aidan didn’t know what he’d expected. It was under the blanket, at least. Aidan nudged Richard off of him, then lifted his head to see if Trey was awake. Trey was on his side facing away from them, so Aidan couldn’t tell. It would be too conspicuous to try and wriggle into his binder under the blanket, so Aidan reached for his phone to check the time.

He was just messing around on his phone, aimlessly scrolling social media, when Trey got up from his bed and walked to the bathroom. Aidan immediately dropped his phone to grab his binder. He wrenched his shirt off, pulled his binder on, and was rewarded with the bottom edge of his binder rolling up and digging in painfully, the way it always did he when he tried to put it on too fast. Aidan kicked Richard under the blankets, while he struggled to pull his binder down.

Aidan heard Richard groan, then felt the bed shift as he moved around. Then Richard said, “Oh, shit, where’s Trey?”

“Bathroom,” Aidan said. “But I think he’s only peeing. Give me a hand.”

“Yeah,” Richard said. He grabbed the back of Aidan’s binder and pulled. He reached up with his other hand to straighten out the hem without Aidan having to ask. Since he always wanted access to Aidan’s boobs when they were having sex, he’d helped Aidan in and out of his binder enough times to be decent at it. It was one of the weird ways he was considerate even though he’d blackmailed Aidan into this.

While Aidan adjusted the way his boobs were laying in the front of his binder, Richard grabbed Aidan’s discarded shirt and turned it right side out. He held it out so all Aidan had to do was put his arms and head through it. While Aidan did that, he heard the toilet flush. Richard murmured, “You good?”

-

I think it says something about Richard (and his relationship with Aidan) that, even though Aidan doesn't realize Richard likes him, he still doesn't hesitate to demand assistance with his binder. They've been doing this long enough that Richard has clearly established that he's going to help Aidan stay closeted, despite theoretically holding the threat of outing him over his head. I don't know if anyone else even noticed this, but Richard going above and beyond by prepping the shirt for Aidan to get into is him doing a really good job of helping Aidan get dressed. I don't mention it in the story, but Richard doesn't have any younger siblings or anything; his experience dressing someone else is all Aidan. He's trying so hard to be boyfriend material without saying anything about it. Idiot.

-

Aidan yanked the shirt down and flopped back onto the bed. “Yeah,” he said.

“Good,” Richard said. He also laid back down, pulling the blanket up over their chests. He yawned. “What time is it?”

“Eight-thirty,” Aidan told him.

Richard groaned. “That’s too early to be up on a Saturday,” he said, and rolled over to press his face into Aidan’s shoulder.

“Stop that,” Aidan said, shrugging him off. He heard the bathroom door open, and then the sink ran. He was as prepared to face Trey as he was ever going to be. He would have felt more secure with another layer of clothes on, but he’d known he wouldn’t have time to get completely dressed, and it would be weird to get partially dressed and then stay in bed. Aidan wasn’t going to be able to fall back asleep, but he didn’t completely disagree with Richard that it was too early to be up. And there wasn’t much he could do in the hotel room if Richard or Trey went back to sleep.

“Are you guys up?” Trey asked from around the corner.

“Yeah,” Aidan said. Richard groaned and pulled the blanket over his head.

“So,” Trey said, coming around the corner and heading for the bed he’d slept in. “Usually I wouldn’t want to be nosy, but I feel like I earned it.” He sat down on the edge of the bed facing them and leaning back on his hands. He was still in the t-shirt and plaid boxers he’d slept in. “Are you guys gay?”

At least that was a question with a simple answer. “Only in the umbrella sense,” Aidan said. “I’m bi.”

Richard flipped the blanket down off his face. “If being into Aidan counts,” he said, “then I guess I am too.”

Aidan looked sidelong at him. That was a pretty clever way to sound like he was saying something he wasn’t. The thing about Richard was that he was inconsistent about the gender thing. He’d been adamant he wasn’t gay and it wasn’t gay for him to fuck Aidan, but he never slipped up in front of other people. That wasn’t Aidan’s typical experience with people who didn’t believe or understand that he was trans. When they had sex, Richard worked around Aidan’s discomfort with having his clit touched. Aidan genuinely couldn’t tell how much Richard was being considerate versus just humoring Aidan in order to have continued access to Aidan’s body.

And now it sounded like he was fine with Trey thinking he was bi, even though he’d been vehement at first that he wasn’t gay.

Richard saw Aidan looking. “What?” he asked. He was blushing. He was blushing?

It was early, and Trey already knew they had sex. Aidan said bluntly, “I kind of figured I was just a convenient hole to stick your dick in.”

Richard shrugged. “I feel like you’d be less irresistible if you were.”

That made Aidan blush. He always thought Richard was just horny, not that he found Aidan especially attractive. That…put some things in a different light.

“For pete’s sake,” Trey said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t make me listen to you two have sex and a relationship discussion.”

“It’s too early to be talking about this shit anyway,” Aidan said. He sat up. “Breakfast is in the lobby, right?”

It was an obvious change of subject, but they both let him get away with it. Aidan steadfastly ignored the way he was still blushing and got up to get dressed.

*

Richard was in the middle of an argument with Jake about some video game when Aidan and Trey finished eating breakfast, so Aidan and Trey walked back through the hotel to their room to get ready for the day without him.

“Hey,” Aidan said, when the door to the room was closed behind them, “sorry about last night. I did try to tell him no ’cause you were here, but, uh. Not very hard, I guess.”

Trey sighed. “I mean, it sucked to get woken up like that, but it’s not like I’ve never done something stupid because a girl put her hand down my pants, so. Don’t worry about it.” He sat down on the foot of his bed and kicked off the shoes he’d worn to breakfast. He went on, “I mean, we’ve all walked past that nook behind the band room and pretended we didn’t see whoever was making out back there.”

-

Based on a real nook behind the band room at my high school. Literally on the path to the only bathrooms in the building, and we all collectively went I Do Not See It

-

That was an extremely generous word for some of what went on in the nook behind the band room. Aidan had never walked past anyone outright fucking back there, but it went a lot further than kissing. “Well, still,” Aidan said. “It was rude to do that to you. But thanks for being nice about it.”

“You know, thinking about it,” Trey said, “I did notice Richard was being nicer to you lately.”

“Ah,” Aidan said. He hadn’t been sure he wasn’t imagining that. Before Richard called him irresistible, Aidan thought any niceness he wasn’t imagining was due to misplaced sexism. Now he didn’t know what to think. To Trey, he said, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Trey yawned. “Hey,” he said, “do you mind if I try to take a nap before we have to go?”

“Nah, go ahead,” Aidan said. “Want me to wake you up?”

“I’ll set an alarm,” Trey said. He kicked off his shoes. Aidan didn’t bother, but he made sure to pull the covers up so his shoes didn’t get in the sheets or anything. Trey climbed into bed, messed with his phone for a minute, then closed his eyes. Aidan grabbed the book he was supposed to finish this weekend out of his backpack. After a second, he realized he should text Richard to be quiet when he came back to the room, did that, then went back to reading.

*

They were playing two games today, so Coach told them to pace themselves. He looked right at Richard when he said, “Don’t push yourselves too hard. We’re trying to build stamina, not let you hurt yourselves.” Richard attempted to look innocent. Coach didn’t fall for it any more than Aidan did.

-

This got all the way to the S2B2 editorial team without anyone pointing out that I had never named the fucking sport they were playing. It was always soccer in my head, but I sure didn't have that in the initial drafts!

-

The first game was good. The other team, who they hadn’t played before, had clearly gotten a similar talk from their coach. It was a chill, fun game that felt more cooperative than competitive. It was nice, although Aidan would get bored if every game felt that way.

It made Richard noticeably restless. For a second in the locker room after the game, Aidan thought Richard was going to follow him into the bathroom when he went to change. He didn’t, though, and Aidan took a moment to be thankful he was trans and no one could tell if he was turned on through his clothes. They’d literally just done it last night, why was Aidan already soaking his shorts at the thought of Richard following him into the bathroom? Stupid hormones.

The cafeteria wasn’t staffed, but the coaches had ordered catering and set it up in there. Aidan expected the catering was better than the cafeteria food anyway, so he wasn’t going to complain. He grabbed some sandwiches and a bag of chips, then went over to the water fountain to fill up his water bottle.

When Aidan got to the set of tables the rest of the team had claimed, Jake was laughing at Richard. “Man, you need to lighten up,” Jake said. “Forget superstition, maybe you should get laid before games, work off some of that energy.”

“He did,” Trey said. “It obviously didn’t help.”

Aidan froze in his seat. He was sure Richard did too.

Jake looked from Trey to Richard, then, inevitably, at Aidan.

Trey said, “Oh, dammit, was that–supposed to be secret?”

-

A story about being repeatedly outed, RIP Aidan

-

The table roared as everyone who’d heard them demanded details. Aidan didn’t know if he was surprised or offended at how quickly everyone determined Richard had sex with him, and not Trey, before either of them even said anything. Aidan didn’t bother to fight his blush. He only ignored it and unwrapped his sandwich.

“I thought you hated Aidan,” Mark said to Richard.

Before Richard could respond, Joseph said, “Come on, that was obviously his immature little way of flirting.” Aidan had come to a similar conclusion himself, given how quickly Richard jumped to “have sex with me” when he decided Aidan was a girl. He had to have been attracted to Aidan on some level before that, and “finding out” Aidan was a girl let him acknowledge it.

-

So this isn't a thing I've only seen in one place, but the example that jumps to my mind is Eurotrip; the main character finds out his German penpal is not a dude, as he assumed, but actually a girl, and immediately is like "oh I'm in love with her she's the one". Hey? Hey dude? That's fucking gay. Richard even admits it later, that finding out Aidan "was a girl" let him realize his feelings for Aidan were a crush. Like, I don't know how "latent bisexuality" isn't the only possible answer for this very rapid conclusion. If the only thing that's keeping you from fucking your dude friends is thinking they're dudes, but as soon as you have any reason to think that's not true you're like "okay take off your clothes"...that's actually pretty gay, dude. (This also happens a lot in gender-bender hentai manga. Hey guys? Your dude friend having tits now should not immediately lead to you fucking him and feeling totally secure in your heterosexuality, actually. That's a fucking wild reaction to this situation.) ("Ani it's just a porn premise" WELL SO IS THIS BUT I PUT SOME THOUGHT INTO THE EXECUTION AT LEAST)

-

“I just thought we’re not that close, I didn’t hear about it,” Trey said. He looked wretched enough that Aidan felt bad for him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Richard yelled, to be heard over the din. “It’s not like we told you not to tell anyone.”

“Is this recent?” someone asked.

“Are you dating?” someone else asked, teasingly.

“No,” Aidan said firmly, in unison with Richard.

“You can’t say you’re friends with benefits,” Mark said. “You’re not friends.”

“Why aren’t you dating?” Joseph asked. He was closer to Richard, but he looked down the table in a way that made it clear he was including Aidan in his question.

Aidan looked at Richard, who stared back at him. Richard was wide-eyed, but the look on his face didn’t tell Aidan anything about how he wanted to handle this. Of course this was when everyone else would shut up enough to listen. Nosy bastards. Finally, Aidan said, “I don’t want to have this conversation in front of other people.”

“Yeah,” Richard said at once, “me neither.” He looked around the table. “It’s none of y’all’s business.”

-

They do not have this conversation in public because I didn't want to write this conversation with so many other people involved. I can write a big group meal talk, but it's hard, and honestly I don't think it would have been worth it in this case!

-

“God, I’m sorry,” Trey said, looking from Richard to Aidan. “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s fine,” Richard said.

It was annoying, but Aidan hadn’t heard any homophobia, just nosiness and some I-told-you-so’s. It was far and away the better outing he’d had at this school. “It’s okay, Trey,” Aidan said. He smiled, and hoped it didn’t look as forced as it was. “It’s not your fault nothing in the world can chill Richard out.”

Aidan told himself he didn’t feel bad, redirecting the teasing back to Richard alone. Richard rolled his eyes, but he let Jake resume giving him grief, so Aidan turned his attention to his lunch.

There were an uneven number of teams, so their team had a break after lunch, before their second game. They went to watch the other games that were happening. Aidan hoped he’d fall off the radar of the rest of the team, but he wasn’t that lucky.

Mark climbed over the bleachers to sit down next to Aidan twenty minutes into the game. “Hey,” he said quietly, “are you really hooking up with Richard?”

“I guess,” Aidan said. He didn’t know what else he could say. At least Richard had been just as firm at lunch about the fact they weren’t dating as Aidan had; that could have been awkward. Well, more awkward.

“And you’re…okay? With that?” Mark asked. “I mean, he was such a dick when you joined the team. No pun intended.”

Aidan shrugged. “I assumed Joey was right, and that was his messed-up attempt at flirting. Or dealing with his feelings, anyway,” he said. He wasn’t sure it counted as flirting if you didn’t know why you were doing it. He added, “I don’t think he’s ever been into another guy before.”

-

I mean, if one of your friends who was kind of bullying a guy suddenly turned out to be having sex with that guy, it seems reasonable to be concerned that something unsavory is going on there. And there is! Or at least there was! So here we see Aidan being offered an out for the first of, like, three times in this story. But he is now invested enough in also protecting Richard, as well as continuing to get laid, that he isn't even conflicted or concerned about taking it without simultaneously outing himself. It doesn't even occur to him! Mostly he just doesn't want to be talking to his teammates about this.

-

“I guess that makes sense,” Mark said. He scratched his scruffy goatee. “But I don’t know, man, my sisters always say you shouldn’t reward guys who do stuff like that. It’s kind of a red flag, isn’t it?”

Great, he thought Aidan was some kind of foolish damsel. Aidan guessed that was technically better than people knowing he was trans and treating him like a delusional girl. Not by much, though. He said, “I don’t know about Richard, but this is one reason I didn’t want to tell people. It’s complicated. And personal.”

“No, I know,” Mark said, holding up his hands. “You’re a big boy, you can make your own decisions. I just thought, I dunno, someone should check on you. We’ve all known Richard longer than you, I didn’t want you to be, you know, forgotten about.”

Aidan didn’t know what to say to that. “Thanks?” Aidan said.

Mark sighed. “I should have told Trey to do this,” he said.

Aidan laughed. “Trey wasn’t worried,” he said. “I bet he would’ve told you not to worry, too. Not to be vulgar or anything, but there is a reason I’m hooking up with him.”

“Oh,” Mark said. He made a face. “Really?” he asked after a moment. “I mean, you’re right, I don’t think Richard’s ever been into another guy before, and it doesn’t seem like that would lend itself to being good at gay sex.”

Aidan shrugged, still smiling. “I was honestly shocked,” he said. “But it’s really good.”

“Damn, okay,” Mark said. Aidan glanced at him, and saw he was blushing. About time someone else was embarrassed about this. “I guess that answers that.”

In the locker room before their second game, as Aidan walked over to the bathroom stalls, Jake said, “Ah, now we know why Aidan changes in the bathroom. To avoid inflaming Richard’s lust!” Most of the team burst into laughter.

Well, Aidan thought, face hot enough it felt like it might burst into flames, at least this was all sending them off track. No one would guess he was trans if they assumed it was all about Richard, the way he’d hassled Aidan at first, and now not being naked around the guy he was hooking up with when they weren’t having sex.

“Yeah, yeah,” Richard said loudly. “Very funny. I have some self-control, you know.”

“Not according to Trey!” Jake said, and set off another round of laughter. Great, so Aidan could assume everyone knew they’d had sex while Trey was in the room. The guys had probably already started texting other people from school about it. Not only were people going to know Aidan was sleeping with Richard, they’d know he didn’t have enough self-control to override his libido.

He did still prefer that to people knowing he was trans. At least Aidan being horny for Richard was something it made sense to treat him differently for.

The second game was rougher than the first one. This team was not taking it easy. Aidan wound up in the dirt more than once, although he didn’t get injured. Richard was in his element. While Aidan was on the sidelines, trying to catch his breath and hydrate after Coach subbed him out, he found it difficult not to watch him.

-

Former soccer player had to look up the rules of soccer for this story. Shameful. (It has been like...literally twenty years. It's not actually shameful, it's just annoying because dammit I still had an eidetic memory when I played soccer why can't I find that information in my brain it has to be there somewhere)

-

Jake elbowed Aidan. “Keep your mind on the game, perv,” he said.

“Shut up,” Aidan said reflexively, but he could feel himself turning red again. “Like you haven’t told us all a thousand times how hard it is not to pop a boner when you go to Crystal’s games.”

“Mm,” Jake said, nodding. “It is hot when people are good at things. Still, embarrassing to be into Richard.”

“If you guys don’t stop saying stuff like that, I’m going to tell you exactly what I enjoy about Richard,” Aidan said. If he chose his words carefully enough, he wouldn’t even be lying. “And I doubt he’d mind me bragging about his dick.”

Jake groaned. “He would not,” he agreed. “Okay, message received, I’ll shut up now.”

“Thank you,” Aidan said, as primly as he could. Jake laughed.

*

They lost the game, but only by a single point. Considering the other team had at one point managed a four point lead, they felt pretty good about that. After they showered and changed, there was a goofy little closing ceremony, but it was short. Not short enough that Aidan wasn’t ruing and lamenting his extremely sweaty binder. Being able to take a shower before this would be nice.

Except he didn’t know if he’d even be on the soccer team if he was out. Or be allowed to use the showers, if he was. It didn’t usually bother him this much, but two games’ worth of sweat made his binder unspeakably itchy.

-

Write what you know sometimes means writing about how fucking itchy binders are. Starting T made it so much more urgent for me to get top surgery because being extra-sweaty while binding is a nightmare.

-

Finally back in their hotel room, Aidan immediately started gathering his things for a shower. The bathroom here locked, and even if it was a pain getting back into a binder not fully dry–and if he was locked in the bathroom with his clothes, he never got totally dry–he had a clean one to change into, and he wouldn’t have to worry about Trey or anyone else seeing him.

“Hey,” Trey said, “I really am sorry about, like. Outing you both, I guess.”

“It’s fine,” Aidan said. He was dithering about if he could get out his clean binder while Trey was right here without him noticing. He didn’t keep his binders in the main pocket of the suitcase, since that was so easy to look into if someone walked by. Was that paranoid? Probably. But as much as binders didn’t look a lot like bras, they also didn’t really look like something a cis boy would have in their luggage. It might invite questions or investigation.

Richard flopped backward onto the bed, jostling Aidan’s suitcase. “I should have asked you not to say something,” he said. “It’s not your fault.”

“I mean,” Aidan said, “I don’t care if people know I’m bi. Honestly, everyone seems more shocked anyone would fuck you.”

“No one is shocked someone would fuck me,” Richard said, frowning. “They’re shocked you would fuck me.”

“Well, by the end of the day he was threatening to tell everyone all about the apparent wonders of your dick,” Trey said, “so at least the whole team understands my pain now.”

Aidan laughed. “Sorry,” he said.

Trey waved him off. “Anyway, I thought I’d clear out until dinner,” he said. “If you wanted to have sex without an audience for once.”

“Uh, thanks?” Aidan said. “But I’m going to enjoy a nice, private shower. Get all this damn dirt off.”

“Also valid,” Trey said. “Have fun.”

He left, the door clicking locked behind him. Aidan yanked off his shirt and threw it to the ground, then grabbed his binder and yanked that off, too. “Fucking hell,” Aidan said, scratching his chest. “That was too long in one binder.”

“Hey, you want me to get your back?” Richard asked.

On the one hand, that felt really intimate and kind of weird to let Richard do, but on the other hand, Aidan could not reach the itchiest parts of his back on his own. He shoved his suitcase to the foot of the bed and sat down with his back to Richard. “Please,” he said.

The mattress shifted as Richard moved over to sit behind Aidan. “My mom always asked my dad to scratch her back after workouts,” he said. “She said her sports bra was way worse than her regular bras for making her back itchy.” He ran the nails of both hands down either side of Aidan’s spine. Totally unable to help himself, Aidan moaned.

-

I spent my childhood scratching my mom and sister's backs after they took off their bras. Such an important part of being good friends to someone with boobs that require support, IMO. Also just like...the intimacy of this is so not sexual. Especially since Aidan is sweaty and feels gross right now. Although maybe that's my bias as someone who mostly did this for family members before I got married.

-

“More on the shoulder blades,” Aidan suggested.

Richard moved his hands up. “So, uh, sorry I didn’t tell Trey not to tell anyone,” he said.

“Hm?” It took Aidan a second to process that, lost as he was in the euphoria of having his itches relieved. “Oh. No, it’s okay. Like I said, I don’t care if people know I’m bi. And I mean, you heard them in the locker room, now they think I don’t change or shower with everyone because of you. That’s great for me. Not…as great for you, maybe.”

Richard was quiet for a minute. He moved his scratching down to the red mark the bottom of Aidan’s binder left, where it dug in. Eventually, Richard said, “It’s fine. Kind of weird, but whatever. It is strange to hear you’re giving out rave reviews of my dick, though.”

Aidan blushed even though Richard couldn’t see him. “You can’t be surprised by that,” he said. “Unless you think I’ve been faking it this whole time.”

Richard laughed. “No,” he admitted. He moved back up to Aidan’s shoulders. “I actually started wondering if some of the girls I was with before were faking. You know, in comparison.”

Aidan snorted. “Probably rude to assume,” he said. “I mean, if they said they liked it, I’d believe them.” Although he guessed it was possible some of them had been faking. Aidan would say this for having sex with someone just to get them to do what he wanted: he’d had no incentive to stroke Richard’s ego about how good he was making Aidan feel, which could very well have made Richard try harder. He hadn’t not tried to make it good for Aidan, at least.

“I guess,” Richard said. “Again, I don’t think any of them went around bragging about it.”

“It seemed like the best way to get a bunch of straight guys to stop asking questions about us,” Aidan said. “I don’t even have to lie.” He sighed, and stood up. “Thanks,” he said.

“No problem,” Richard said. He was looking up at Aidan with a weird expression on his face. Aidan wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe it had been a mistake to let Richard scratch his back after everything else that had happened today.

Aidan unzipped the pocket of his suitcase he had his clean binder in, then paused. He looked up at Richard. “You’re not going to be coming in and out of the room, right?” he asked.

“No,” Richard said, looking puzzled. “I was just going to sit here and watch stuff on my phone.”

Aidan nodded. “Then I’m going to leave my clothes out here,” he said. “I mean, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Richard grinned at him. “Yeah,” he said. He stopped leering and nodded his head at the bathroom. “I hate how moist my clothes get when I take them into hotel bathrooms. Even when they’re not wet, they’re, like, clammy.”

-

Richard is trying so hard to be Normal, I cannot deal with it

-

“Right?”

The water pressure in the hotel shower was crap, but the water heater was in no danger of running out of hot water. And again, this point could not be stressed enough: it was private. Aidan didn’t have to worry anyone would see him. Even on the other side of the door, there was only Richard, who already knew about him. Aidan had a long, adequate-to-satisfactory shower. He got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and draped another one over his head, then brushed his teeth and moisturized. Hotel bathrooms never had decent bathmats, either. And the towels just got completely wet right away if you tried to use them as bathmats. No wonder their clothes always felt wet.

-

Hotel bathrooms never have decent bathmats. This must be some kind of law.

-

Aidan dried his hair and tossed that towel over the door of the shower stall. He went out into the room with just the towel around his waist. Richard looked up and let out a low whistle.

“Fuck off,” Aidan said, rolling his eyes. He put on clean underwear, then the jeans he’d worn to and from the school where they’d played. Those were clean enough, although he was planning to put on a fresh shirt. He thought his torso still wasn’t dry enough to try putting on his binder, so he rubbed himself down with the towel again.

“I don’t want to prove everyone right,” Richard drawled, “but I have to admit watching this isn’t not turning me on.”

Aidan rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, there’s nothing sexier than me desperately trying to dry my back,” he said.

“It makes your boobs jiggle,” Richard said, which Aidan had to admit was true.

The door opened. Aidan jumped and completely lost hold of the towel. He snatched up his binder and held it in front of his chest, like that was going to do anything now. Richard leapt to his feet on the other side of the bed, which was about as useful.

Trey slammed the door behind him and leaned on it, as though someone was going to follow him in. His eyes were so wide they looked like they’d pop right out of his head. “You’re a girl?” he exclaimed, in the exact incredulous tone Richard had shouted those words in.

“Don’t be stupid,” Richard snapped, “of course he’s not a girl!”

Despite himself, Aidan laughed. “What the fuck,” he said. “Since when do you believe that?”

Richard flushed and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted when Trey said from the door, “Oh, are you one of those, uh, people who was born in the wrong body?”

Aidan grimaced. He kind of hated that phrasing, because Aidan mostly liked his body. Even the parts of it that other people thought made him a girl were fine, on their own. Binding was more annoying than having boobs, honestly, but people wouldn’t treat him like a guy if he didn’t do it. But that was also still the main narrative cis people heard, and the only one they really seemed to understand. If Trey didn’t remember the word transgender, he reached for the definition he had in his head. Aidan said, “Yeah, I’m trans.”

-

I try not to soapbox too much when I'm writing, but it's so hard to know what people will or won't know about trans people, even writing for a primarily queer audience. This is definitely happening after I was in high school, because Richard talks about watching something on his phone, which was only barely possible when I graduated. I think this part also establishes, if less definitely, that it must be happening closer to its 2023 publication date than the 2005-2009 period I was in high school. Obviously I don't know if anyone at my high school was trans and stealth, but I do know the openly trans kids were generally the ones who either couldn't be closeted or had way too much dysphoria to stand it. Aidan doesn't have that much physical dysphoria (or at least has figured out how to manage it by the time the story happens) but he clearly has enough social dysphoria to lead him to being stealth. I figure he got lucky, relatively speaking, with boobs that bind flat enough to pass and a figure that doesn't immediately scream "my endocrine system was estrogen-dominant during a crucial period of physical development", but I did also make sure to establish really early on that he's on period-halting birth control and his physical dysphoria causes sexual problems for him. I try not to give every character just the exact relationship to their body and dysphoria that I or my wife have, because while that is obviously easier for me to write, I don't want to contribute to any ideas about there being a right or normal way to be trans. Aidan has different dysphoria than me even though I'm drawing a lot on my own experiences as someone who was assigned female at birth but was never entirely comfortable with it. It doesn't come up in this story, although I might write a little extra about it, but Aidan is not on testosterone during the story. I would have to do research about how exactly it works, but I'm in the USA, and I wrote this from the assumption it's set in the USA, so in the back of my head was the idea that Aidan's parents' insurance won't cover transition stuff before he's 18. I guess it's possible they also wouldn't cover it before he was 16, and he didn't want to draw attention to himself by starting second puberty in the middle of everyone else's first puberty. Richard absolutely thinks Aidan is on testosterone, because he's like "well this is what trans guys do and Aidan passes, therefore". Aidan is going to roast him about how stupid that is when Richard knows damn well that Aidan does not have to shave his face. The other stuff is in comparison, so Richard gets a pass on, eg, Aidan having a smaller clit and a higher voice, but facial hair growth is usually a pretty early development in testosterone puberty and Richard should have noticed that Aidan literally never has any stubble.

-

Unfortunately, at the same time, Richard snapped at Trey, “Don’t be insensitive, that’s an outdated way of talking about it.”

-

Growing up, I didn't know about my dad's lesbian best friend, I just knew he made lots of gay jokes. I'm pretty sure I learned the word dyke from my dad throwing it around in what I'm sure he thought was a jocular manner that was fine because Denise said it. But when my wife came out to him, he did a hard 180 on her (he had previously stopped liking her the instant it became clear we were dating) and sent her an excessively girly gift as...a coming out present? I guess? (Except he was a boomer and it was 2014, so he sent her a My Little Pony t-shirt. He tried, is my point.) Anyway I'm sure that's where my soft spot for people being aggressively progressive about things they themselves have been shitty about comes from. Sometimes it's hard to understand that context changes how things are received, especially if they're not the kind of person who thinks too much about the actual meaning of their words. I do think it also makes a nice change from the, like, soft progressivism. How soapboxy can it be when the guy snapping about misgendering is also cussing and rude the whole time? Anyway anyway: Richard clearly did a lot of research if he got in deep enough to see people talking about the "trapped in the wrong body" narrative being problematic and outdated. And still, he did not tell Aidan this. A fool.

-

“Are you kidding me?” Aidan demanded. “You’re telling someone not to be insensitive? You decided I was a girl the second you saw me naked, too! And then argued with me about it!” With one hand, he gestured at the door, which Trey was still leaning against like it or he would fall over otherwise. “At least Trey didn’t demand to fuck me!”

“Dude,” Trey said, and frowned at Richard, “what the hell.”

“Shut up, you did the same thing,” Richard said. He was blushing again.

“Screw you, no I did not,” Trey said. “Even if Aidan was a girl I wouldn’t demand sex with her! Who does that?”

“Okay, yeah, I guess that was fucked up,” Richard said.

“You guess?” Aidan and Trey both asked.

Richard threw his hands in the air. “Okay, it was definitely fucked up, but it worked out okay!” He pointed at Trey. “And you’re not gonna tell anyone about Aidan, right? You can tell this is a fucking secret, I hope.”

“Of course I won’t tell anyone,” Trey said, frowning. “What do you mean, it worked out okay? Aidan,” Trey said, looking at him, suddenly alarmed, “if you want to tell Coach or someone that Richard was, like, taking advantage of you, I’ll back you up.”

-

Trey belatedly realizing this situation is sus and panicking that he shouldn't have taken it in stride.

-

“If I was going to do that, it would be better to talk about it not in front of him,” Aidan pointed out. “But I’m not–it’s fine.”

Trey looked skeptical. “If you say so,” he said.

Aidan grabbed his binder from where he’d dropped it when he was yelling at Richard. “I mean, I think we…have some stuff to talk about,” he said. “But you don’t need to be here for that.” He started the process of pulling his binder back on.

“Yeah, why did you come back early anyway?” Richard asked.

Trey blinked and looked around the room. “Oh,” he said. “I left my wallet here. I was going to give Mark money for pizza.”

“Oh, do you think I can get in on that?” Aidan asked. He yanked on the bottom of his binder to get it down where it was most comfortable.

“Sure,” Trey said. He was not looking at Aidan in a way that felt unfortunately pointed, but Aidan guessed that was better than staring. “I mean, if he hasn’t already ordered.”

“It’s only been a few minutes, I’m sure it’s fine,” Aidan said. He turned around to dig his wallet out of his backpack. He heard Trey cross the room to go through his stuff as well. Richard sat back down on the edge of the bed, where he’d been when Trey opened the door.

When Aidan walked around the bed to meet Trey and give him the cash, Trey glanced over at Richard. He asked Aidan quietly, “You sure you’ll be okay if I leave you alone?”

Aidan made an effort not to roll his eyes. “Yeah,” he said. He understood where Trey was coming from, but it was…Aidan didn’t know what it was, but it had been a long time since he didn’t feel safe around Richard. Richard never had hurt him, or even threatened him directly. Aidan apparently had no clue what was going on in Richard’s head, but he was less worried about being alone with him than ever. Maybe that was foolish. But nothing had changed for him since he reassured Mark earlier that day.

When Trey was gone, Aidan turned to Richard, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed. “Okay, first of all,” Aidan said, “since when do you actually believe I’m a guy?”

Richard blushed and looked away. “Since like…the second week we were doing it,” he said. “I got curious and looked up some of the stuff you said online, and…yeah.”

“What the hell,” Aidan said. Thinking back, Aidan guessed it was true Richard hadn’t said nearly as much gendered bullshit after the first few times. Aidan had still been expecting it for weeks afterward, and been on edge about it the whole time, but Richard hadn’t actually called Aidan a girl again. Of course, he also hadn’t said anything to imply he understood Aidan was a guy until last night, when he called Aidan a faggot. Aidan asked, “Why didn’t you say something? Jesus, Richard, half the reason I didn’t want to fuck you is because I thought you thought I was a girl!”

“I thought if you knew I believed you, you wouldn’t let me keep having sex with you,” Richard said, his shoulders up around his ears.

Aidan stared at him. At least it looked like Richard knew he’d messed up. Aidan shook his head and asked, “Why would you believing me when I said I wasn’t a girl change the fact that I didn’t want other people to know? I agreed to have sex with you so you’d keep your mouth shut.”

“I don’t know!” Richard exclaimed. “I wasn’t thinking straight, I just knew I’d somehow managed to get you to–” He snapped his mouth closed on whatever he had been about to say. He started again. “I worried if I said anything,” he said, “you’d realize this was stupid.”

-

He didn't want to say he'd somehow managed to get Aidan to fuck him, because that sounds bad. Because it was bad!

-

Aidan rolled his eyes. He walked back to his side of the bed and pulled his clean shirt on. “I already knew it was stupid,” he said. “But it’s slightly less stupid if you’re not thinking I’m a girl the whole time.”

“That’s not true,” Richard said. He looked over his shoulder at Aidan and laughed. “Aidan, it’s so stupid. I’m so stupid.”

“Well, yeah,” Aidan said, adjusting his shirt. “But, you know, on the bright side, you’re a good lay.”

-

Ani Mosity stories: yes your personality is atrocious, but you're good in bed, so it's kind of a wash tbh

-

Richard laughed again, sounding a little manic. He dropped his head and put his face in his hands. “Okay,” he said. “Can I–can we start over?”

“What?” Aidan asked.

“Ugh, no,” Richard muttered, “I’m doing this all wrong. At least I can’t get it worse this time, I guess.” He sat up and turned to look at Aidan. He was blushing again. “I already had a crush on you,” he said. “That’s why I was such an asshole all the time. I didn’t–I didn’t realize that’s what it was until that time in the locker room. And then I thought you were a girl and I realized I had a crush on you, except then you weren’t a girl but I couldn’t convince myself I didn’t have that crush on you. And the whole time you were letting me fuck you and it seemed like, you know, you didn’t hate it. So I decided if I didn’t say anything it was fine, because, like…at least you’d keep having sex with me.”

After a moment, Aidan said, “Wow. No, you’re right, that’s very stupid.”

“I know,” Richard moaned. “I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath. “I won’t tell anyone if you want to stop. I mean, I won’t tell anyone no matter what. That you’re transgender. I don’t know if it makes sense to not tell anyone we’re not hooking up anymore. And, well.” He waved at the outer wall of the hotel room, indicating the walkway. “I don’t think I’m gonna convince anyone we weren’t hooking up.”

Aidan let out a deep breath. “Thank god,” he said.

Richard looked over at him as he sat down on the bed next to Richard. “Huh?”

“Trey was worried just now because it would be really stupid to keep fucking someone who was blackmailing me,” Aidan said. “But if you’re not blackmailing me anymore, then it’s way less stupid to keep fucking you.”

Richard frowned, confused but hopeful. “You don’t want to stop?”

“I mean, we just established I enjoy sex with you enough to use it as a weapon against nosy people,” Aidan said. “So I guess the question is, do you want to just keep hooking up, or do you want to go out with me?”

Richard’s mouth fell open. “You would date me? After all this?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Aidan said, “it’s totally about the sex for me. But even when you were blackmailing me, you were, like. Less shitty than you could have been. You know, helping me in and out of my binder and stuff. So why not? You already said you like me.”

“I do,” Richard said. “Fuck, Aidan,” he said, turning to face him and grabbing Aidan’s hands, “I’ll be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had. I swear I’ll be less of a stupid asshole.”

“You’ll be the only boyfriend I’ve ever had,” Aidan said. He could feel himself blushing again. He was used to Richard being handsy and kind of smug about it. He wasn’t used to Richard being earnest. Even at practice, Richard was usually more snarky than sincere. It was disarming, as well as cute.

“Really?” Richard asked. He looked pleased.

“I mean, I had a girlfriend in middle school, if middle school dating even counts,” Aidan said. They hadn’t done more than kiss. Aidan hadn’t been out then–hadn’t really known he was trans beyond vague discomfort with the idea of being a “young woman”–but Melissa talked a lot about how hot butches and cross-dressers were. That had been Aidan’s introduction to the idea that people could play with gender for reasons other than sex. He and Melissa went to a dance once in matching dress shirts and ties.

- The idea of middle school wlw attending a dance in matching suits is very cute. I bet Melissa is also not cis!

-

“I feel like if my middle school girlfriend ever found out I said it didn’t, she’d appear out of nowhere and wring my neck,” Richard said. He leaned over, taking one of his hands off Aidan’s and putting it on his jaw. It was surreal, to have Richard kiss him gently like this. Even when he’d thought Aidan was a girl, he had been too horned up to bother being gentle.

-

Richard's middle school relationship was tsundere-for-tsundere.

-

It made Aidan perversely turned on. Or maybe he was just used to only having sex with Richard. Either way, he pulled away, then swung his leg over Richard’s lap to straddle him. He stooped down to kiss Richard again.

A little while later, Aidan pulled back just enough to ask, “How long do you think we have before Trey gets back?”

Of course, that was when the lock beeped, and the door scraped open. Aidan slumped in Richard’s lap. Richard murmured, “Not long.”

“Oh, great,” Trey said, closing the door behind him. “So talking about things just made you horny again.”

“It is our god-given right as teenagers to be horny all the time,” Aidan said, craning his neck to see Trey.

“What are you, some kind of homophobe?” Richard asked. “I’m not allowed to make out with my own boyfriend?” Yeah, Aidan already found the hypocrisy endearing instead of obnoxious. Was he that easily swayed by good sex or did he just have bad taste?

“Good lord, this trip has been a nightmare,” Trey said. He walked over to his bed and grabbed his hoodie off of it. “Joey wanted to do a movie night after the pizza got here, so I can give you two hours alone, and if you have sex while I’m in the room after that I’m going to smother you with your pillows.”

“Sounds fair,” Richard said.

“You are a lion among men,” Aidan said to Trey over his shoulder. “A diamond in the rough.”

“You sound like you’re drunk,” Trey said, rolling his eyes. “Is the sex that good?” He shook his head. “Don’t answer that. Just keep it in your pants until the pizza gets here.”

“Thank you!” Aidan climbed out of Richard’s lap, because he didn’t trust either of them if he stayed there. He looked at Richard from beside him. “You should eat dinner before that, then.”

“Yeah,” Richard said, looking back at Aidan. He started blushing again, and Aidan couldn’t imagine why. Then Richard asked, “Will you walk with me?”

“This might actually be worse than hearing you have sex,” Trey muttered.

Aidan laughed. “This is at least partially your fault,” he said, leaning over to grab his shoes.

“You must know that makes it worse,” Trey said.

“Sucks to suck,” Richard said. Yeah, Aidan probably needed to resign himself to the idea he had bad taste.

Still, once they both had their shoes and jackets on, Aidan followed Richard out of the hotel room. Richard hesitated a moment, then reached out for Aidan’s hand. Aidan took it, and they walked through the hotel and down the street to the Taco Bell, holding hands the whole way.

-

Teen romance can be complicated, and teen romance can be holding hands while you walk to a fast food joint. This was not a story I had trouble ending! It happened sooner than I expected, as you may be able to tell by the fact that it is under 10k words, but I feel good about the tight time-frame everything happens in. We don't need to see the months of having weird transactional sex, we just need to see the effects of it, with both boys being comfortable with each other, and Richard clearly being more into Aidan than Aidan realizes. Once someone else knows about it and starts asking questions, there's no reason to draw it out.

[cryopathiic-a]

Kiba's here with a delivery! It's a corpse, of course. But not any corpse. The poor thing had been handled rather roughly, chunks of flesh missing, all innards blown out from the inside. Strands of pink and green hair still sprouting from the cranium. There's still plenty of meat left to eat on it.

"... the Lord said I gotta bring you my next kills. So here you go." Kiba grumbled, dumping the body before the Upper Moon's throne. He did not judge necessary to explain why he was told to bring his gifts there, rather than directly to the only Lord he respects.

Of all the things a demon can choose to eat; a corpse would undoubtedly be the least nutritious. The human body is more nourishing when fresh; a still beating heart provides the flow to keep organs pulsating, quivering in the palate. Every oni that has tasted dead flesh knows, it is a thing one can only be driven to out of perversion or despair.

The Lord Founder suffers from neither.

There would be crunching noises when the young demon enters the room. Dōma's plush throne had been pushed aside in favor of making space for the cocooned bodies of those same people that had been spilling their deepest secrets and sharing their burdens with him in that same room a mere few days ago. A mess of amputated, half eaten limbs would not confess the true number, but three of them were still well alive and writhing in their binds. How would it feel, for a human have all senses but their hearing restrained and be wrapped in a shroud of cloth, left lying on hard floorboards in their own sweat? How did they feel when sharp fangs tore through the fabric, and the blindfold came off once and for all; revealing an ugly truth? Their incessant sobbing probably gave that answer away.

Yet Upper Two was merely sat cross-legged, hoisting a female torso by its waist and burrowing his face into the bowels. Dōma was a messy eater. He never bothered to rip the flesh from bone. He enjoyed the soft, squelchy parts the most; the viscera was spread across his face and stained everything in deep reds; a stark juxtaposition to his naturally pale colors. When Kiba entered, he turned to glare at them over his shoulder, with a femur in his mouth and then—

— CRUNCH!

" Hgkmm!! MMM! "

" Kyaaaa! Wh-What was that!? Oh dear Gods! Oh dear Gods! "

❝ Shhh— quiet, little ones. I'm doing my best to get to everyone here one by one, so, please don't rush me. ❞ A cadence calm and saccharine as ever. Bone ground to dust between gnashing jaws; his teeth cut through it like it was butter.

The humans cried. Upper Two's smile grew wider upon facing the other, bloodstained teeth barren before his penetrating glare fell on the cadaver offer. Now that was an offense if an offense had ever been made. And he was sure the little shit knew full well what he was doing, too. An unruly kid with no sense of respect for his elders. Dōma liked him! After looking it over, prismatic hues deducted it was the corpse of someone strong; with an unusual constitution. But- still a corpse. Even at the start of his life as a demon, Dōma had never sunk his teeth on dead flesh. And he sure as Hell was not about to start doing so now.

❝ ... Lord Muzan told you to bring me your leftovers? ❞ It was laced with faux shock. Upper Two of all demons would know not to mention the actual name; but he knew full well that such an order would not be given lightly, as it was considered a very offensive thing to inflict on an Upper Kizuki. To be gifted trash? No, that was a punishment. And he'd done nothing wrong. In fact, he was pretty sure he had finally managed to squeeze his way in that man's good graces. So that kid must be trying to get under his skin; and the invocation of their Master had been very intentional.

❝ Really? She- she said that? Oh my... ❞ A crimson coated palm came to hover before his chest, bottom lip beginning to quiver. He sounded sorrowful. ❝ To say something like that... she must be very upset with me... and here I was thinking I'd left her pleased... ❞ His head drooped. A sniffle, a sob; and there came the waterworks. In between sniffles, he'd reach up to wipe some crystalline tears with his knuckles, smearing blood over his own cheeks in the process. A shift to his posture would reveal more of the situation for the other to see; the mass of mangled flesh and limbs protruding, the ones still live in front of him writhing in futile effort to escape their binds. The was a whole human head wedged between his ribs; a petrified expression immortalized on her features. Her eyes were still twitching. The monster's palm came to rest on her forehead, in a fashion that was eerily tender as he cupped it with his palm and seemed to push it inward. There were crackling noises from his ribcage.

Dōma let out a big sigh of disappointment, and placed a leg he'd been holding beside him on the floor.

❝ Welp. There goes my appetite. How can I possibly offer solace to these people when I just got my heart broken... ❞ He was pouting, pensively; and the sole two surviving humans mirrored his sobbing, though theirs was laced with visceral despair. The wail of a dying lamb. Unblinking eyes snapped to the one crying the loudest, her incessant whining silenced once and for all when he placed his palm flat against her lying head and crushed it like a watermelon without expression.

❝ You can go ahead and finish that up. I'm not in the mood. ❞ Another sniffle. ❝ And besides... it feels kind of weird to eat someone that I never even knew, you know? I wouldn't want some stranger pestering my followers in there. ❞

[sapientiiae]

It’s been a rough couple of weeks, since the dance, and Sheik was doing his best to not panic every time he saw the King watching him or Zelda moved a bit too close while they were in public. It wasn’t as if their—relationship was a secret anymore, but that didn’t make him entirely comfortable either. If anything, it set him more on edge. Far more on edge than he would ever verbally tell the Princess. Especially when he knows it would probably hurt her. But lately, it seemed to be weighing on her a bit. The way Sheik pulled away. He can see it taking a bit of a toll on her and that was the last thing he wanted. Then, par for his position, he got sent off. The job wasn’t hard, not really, it was just how far away that he got sent that was the problem and then how long the job itself actually took. Collecting intel, sending it back, waiting for replies, planning the course of action itself and then—the actual execution. One week led into two and then before he knew it he had been gone for a month. Part of him, the mallituous part, can’t help but feel that the King of Hyrule had planned it too. Planned for Sheik to be gone that long to do something, whatever that actually was. Considering how rushed he actually made the job once it was pushed into action, he knows he was supposed to be gone longer too. He makes the journey back to Hyrule far faster than he had the journey to his destination, walking days without rest. At one point he had stopped in a Fairy Fountain, trying to ease his head and sleep at least a couple hours. Once he managed to cross the border back into Hyrule, sleep deprived or not, he felt much more at easy though the knot in his chest still seemed to exist. His hair was a mess, there was dried blood on his uniform, but Sheik made for the Castle instead of his house. Abnormal, usually he took the chance to clean up, but he couldn’t seem to rest his head. His mind constantly spinning and worrying. He took the shorter route around, slipping through the back ends of Castle Town without paying attention to the people of the place. Once he was through the gate he asked a soldier quietly of Princess Zelda’s whereabouts. It seemed, at the very least, he didn’t need to look too hard. They had a visiting guest, and she had been ordered to show them around. This? Wasn’t unusual either. She was to be Queen, mingling was important for her status. The irrational grip on his heart was not something he should be feeling. He found her in the gardens, that maze like place with the window into the Throne Room. He didn’t spare even a glance to whomever she was supposed to be paying attention to, his gaze entirely focused on the woman standing amongst the flowers. The sun was bright today, and the way it framed her face was simply breathtaking. A great deal of the tension that had been locked in his body seemed to simply ease away, the knot around his heart loosening just a bit. He moved silently amongst the flowers himself, stepping right up into her line of sight. A second to take her in, a moment for his eyes to meet hers, and then Sheik reached for her. The mask is pulled down, his calloused fingers brush along her cheeks before holding her face and then he just leaned down. His lips against hers, his body moving into her space. He can feel the heat of her skin, her breath mingling with his own and it’s elating, it’s warming and he simply wants all of her against him in every way imaginable. When he pulls back he doesn’t move far, wanting to keep the contact between them. He can feel his lips still brushing against her own when he speaks. “You are my home.” Soft, gentle. “And I’m home.” @guideoftime

The weeks that followed the banquet were….challenging, to say the least. She would have needed to be delirious to believe everything was okay between her and Sheik after the events that took place that night, or the ones that had followed. When Zelda had seen Sheik leaving her father’s office that day, she’d been a conflicted mess of rage and sorrow. In all their years together, she was certain she had never seen Sheik cry, not even when they were children — yet he’d left her father’s office with eyes glistening and redder than usual, and her heart had broken.

The days after that were worse. Sheik had grown distant, hardly speaking with her, pulling away anytime she tried to move close, always having an excuse to be somewhere else — anywhere else — save for when he was the only one around to look after her. Even then he’d kept quiet and at a distance, and she’d been afraid their relationship had been snuffed out far quicker than it’d ever been lit.

It was only a day or two later that Sheik left Hyrule, and she hadn’t even been given a chance to say goodbye. Was this her punishment for the way she’d stormed into her father’s office, demanding he explain himself and whatever demented manipulation he’d used against Sheik? Or had this been Sheik’s own doing? His request to go anywhere, be anywhere, other than the castle?

Days morphed to weeks, and she was used to that. But when weeks evolved into a full month, her heart ached at his absence. She hadn’t told him goodbye. And she’d received no updates on his mission or whereabouts. Was this her father’s idea of a cruel lesson? Or worse, had the King of Hyrule sent the Sheikah off to his death? Assigning him an impossible task that he knew would eventually be his demise?

To add insult to injury, a handsome lord had arrived in Hyrule, and he was to be their guest for the coming weeks. He was to speak of trade routes and ways the two kingdoms could be of aid to one another, but the Princess of Hyrule hadn’t been naive enough to believe that story. He was a suitor, carefully selected by her father, and his reason for being in Hyrule was nothing more than a carefully crafted story (with coincidentally impeccable timing). She knew this, which was why it came as no surprise when she’d been assigned to show him around the palace, help him become familiarized with his temporary home. 

It didn’t matter how handsome he was — he could flash all the pretty smiles of gleaming white teeth he wanted. He could offer her flowers or try to spoil her with sweet nothings, but that was all they would ever be, nothings. 

Because her heart still belonged to Sheik, even if he had pulled back. Even if he had left without saying goodbye. Even if he might be dead. Her heart was undeniably and irrevocably his.

A week and a half in and she’d yet again been assigned to spending the day with the lord, and Farore above how much longer could they continue with this charade? If he hadn’t grasped his bearings around the palace in the past eleven days then it was useless and he had no business remaining here. There were only so many new things she could show him when she knew they’d covered every square inch of the castle possible, even having to escort him through the gardens. This was her gardens — her special place. He belonged in the Royal Gardens no more than he belonged in Hyrule, much less the castle. 

He’d been babbling on about the unity of his country and Hyrule, what the alliance would mean for both kingdoms, and she’d given up pretending to listen or care days ago. If was in these moments of his infinite ramblings that she’d slipped away — her body was still there, but her mind was somewhere far off. Where was Sheik? Was he still alive? Why hadn’t he returned home by now?

Painted lips that matched the color of the garden’s roses were pressed into a thin line as she stared blankly at the shrubbery, allowing her mind to wander when she suddenly saw a figure creeping about the flowers. Though she’d become deaf to the lord and his ceaseless spew of words, she was still very aware of their surroundings, very aware that they were not alone.

As the figure stepped forward in her peripheral, Zelda was quick to turn her head, gaze snapping in the direction of the intruder, and that was when she saw him.

Sheik.

To be frank, he looked worse for wear, and she couldn’t decide what he needed more — sleep or a bath. His hair was a disheveled, knotted, and dirty mess. Stains of a deep red were impossible to miss on his uniform, and she knew it was blood from whatever asinine assignment he’d been given this time. Purple bags outlined the under part of his eyes, and if she squinted hard enough she could have sworn his suit was torn in a few spots.

And yet he was the most glorious sight she’d ever seen.

For a moment she was positive that her heart had stopped beating in her chest, a tight grasp constricting around it as a silence lingered between the two, their eyes locked. She hadn’t even been able to breathe, watching anxiously as he stared back at her before he reached forward. That movement, such a simple action, was all she’d needed to be coaxed into stepping forward, watching as he makes quick work of tugging his mask down. It takes only a second before rough hands are caressing her smooth cheeks, the tips of his fingers boring into her flesh before he leans down, his lips on her own. She feels the way his body, dirty uniform and all, presses flush against her, and the grime is the least of her worries. His lips are soft and warm, his taste earthy, and gloved fingers trail up his chest, finding their way to his matted golden locks as she presses closer, no longer aware of the lord that stood only feet away. 

She could have lived in that moment forever, savoring every second of it and the way he felt. It was a feeling she wished to permanently burn into her memory, but it ends all too soon as Sheik pulls away. To her relief, he doesn’t go far — she can still feel his body flush against her own, his lips grazing against her with each word he speaks. And the words, they register on pointed ears, making her heart thrum at a rapid pace. 

Home. He’d called her his home. 

And try as she might to stop herself, there was no preventing the first stream of tears that roll down her cheeks, but they were different this time. A saccharine smile pulls at the corner of her lips before she rolls forward, bridging that minuscule gap so she may kiss him once more, softer, a simple peck before returning to the way they’d been only a second before. “I have never prayed so hard to the Goddesses for your safe return. I love you, Sheik. You hold my heart.”

[adora-bd]

GOOD LITTLE GIRL

Characters : Hyuna, Kim Jisoo (her mother), Nam Joohyuk (mentioned), Choi YoungJae

Summary : Following Hyuna joining Adora, she meets with her mother/ her former manager to discuss how things will look from now on.

Warnings : mentions of manipulation, her mom being controlling, obtaining alcohol as a minor, mentions of past panic attacks, past arranged relationship

" Kim Hyuna, former star child actress and now popular Youtuber has joined KPOP group Adora as secret 6th member."

Hyuna could smile at the news headline about her, relaxing against her couch as she listened. She had always wanted to pursue being a KPOP idol alongside being an actress and content creator and now she could. It felt like she had just obtained freedom after not being able to do whatever she wanted. It may sound stupid, but she used to feel like rapunzel; sitting in a tower with her mother always telling her what to do and how she knows best. While she knew her mom meant well, she wanted to explore the world on her own, without the leash her mom had her on.

Speaking of her mother, her phone began to ring, her name flashing on the screen. Hyuna sighed as she turned off her TV, answering her phone with a polite "Yes, mother?"

"Hyuna, what is the meaning of this?!" She pulled the phone from her ear as her mom yelled, sighing before pressing it back to her ear as she tried to keep her composure, her hand though gripping the couch cushion. "I'm in Adora-"

"I can read, Hyuna. What I'm talking about is the fact that you didn't tell me, nor run it by me." When Hyuna was still a child actor growing up, her mom was her manager and made most of her decisions when it came to activities she would participate in. No one would ask how Hyuna felt about doing a project, immediately bypassing her to talk to her mom. As she grew up, she wondered if her mom was living vicariously through her, having her join dramas she didn't want to be part of but her mom loved.

"We need to meet and discuss this." Hyuna didn't have a chance to respond as her mom hung up, leaving her to talk to an empty line. She dropped her phone to lie next to her, running her hands through her hair as she tried to calm her nerves. Meetings with her mom were always stressful and nerve-racking; an argument always happened at some point. Her mom would yell at her until she gave in to her demands, not caring if she left Hyuna sobbing from her mom's harsh words.

Hyuna was asked by friends why she didn't distance herself from her mom after hearing the arguments, Hyuna replied that she couldn't She couldn't turn her back on her mom who had done so much for her, yet, she thought about it all the time. Even when she began Youtube, her mom was still part of it and took credit for her success. She wanted to gain success herself, not with her mom's forced help.

She looked down at her phone as it buzzed, a text from her mom letting her know to meet her at the same restaurant that they always met at, the same room in the back. She replied with a simple "Okay" before she began getting ready. Once she was done, she left to go see her mom.

When Hyuna arrived at the restaurant, she stopped before she entered the room with her mom. Her mom was on the phone with someone, talking about how disappointed she was in Hyuna's choices. "This is why I shouldn't have let her move out! She's out here joining random KPOP groups and will end up in so many scandals. Sometimes I hate her."

She hates her?

Hyuna gripped the doorknob, holding her tears at her mom's words. She knew her mom didn't like her choices, but to actually hate her for them? Hyuna tried to fix her breathing, trying to calm down as her mom finished her phone call, hanging up in a curt tone, the same one she used when talking to her.

"Hyuna, is that you?" Hyuna paused at her mom's words, her taking a moment to try and recover, nodding before sliding open the room's door to see her mom. She sat at the table, her arms crossed as she wore a suit. She wore the same suit she wore when they had these meetings, Hyuna having flashbacks to her mom yelling at her, removing her suit jacket to throw it at her, then thanking Hyuna when she would bring it back to her a day later. It was a vicious cycle and Hyuna now wanted to end it. She already joined Adora, so she could begin to take more steps to be independent. To be happy.

She wordlessly closed the door behind her as she went to her seat across from her mom, glancing down to see a plate of carrot cake. No matter how many times she told her mom over the years that she hated carrots, her mom just ignored her.

Her mom placed a folder in front of her, labeled "2023 plan." Hyuna met her mom's eyes with confusion as her mom opened the folder, showing the plan she made for her. "You will tell MonJin of that company you're apparently part of that you're leaving that group." Hyuna let out a weak "Mom," only for her mom to ignore it.

"After that you will release a statement to the public that something has come up and that you wish the members all the best."

"Mom!"

"Then you will end your current apartment lease and move back in with me and I will monitor your Instagram and YouTube account."

"Mom, please!"

"After you give me control, then you will begin dating Nam Joohyuk again and then get married later this year."

Hyuna paused at her mom's words about Joohyuk, asking what she was talking about. She dated him two years ago after her mom had introduced her to him. Their relationship was great until she talked about becoming independent from her mom and he kept insisting that she stay under her mom's thumb, which over time angered her. After she asked him if he would support her if she didn't and he refused, she broke it off with him. He chased after her for a while, her mom also tried to change her mind, trying to forcefully push them back together. That was the last straw that made her move out.

Her mother once again ignored her daughter's words, taking a sip of her drink before tapping the page. "I expect this to be done by the end of this week. We are on a time crunch with your father wanting to use the room as a study, so you need to tell your father that you will be moving in this Saturday-"

"Kim Jisoo!" Hyuna watched her mother's eyes widen, feeling her nerves resurface from her outburst. She took a deep breath, taking her mom's shocked silence as an opportunity to finally speak. "I will not be doing anything in that book. I will not be moving back home, I will not be dating Joohyuk again, and I will not be quitting Adora."

Jisoo curtly shut the notebook, then throwing it at Hyuna, making her flinch as the book hit her. "Who do you think you are, Hyuna?! I am your mother! I gave you life, I put you into the spotlight, and I made you a star!"

"You made me do roles I didn't want to! You forced me into the spotlight, I didn't ask to be in it!" Hyuna fired back, throwing the book to the floor. "You made me do roles with all the famous actors you liked no matter how I felt about them. You stood by while your favorite director gave me alcohol while I was 14 and try to convince me to join a new movie with someone who was 34."

Her mom's jaw clenched at the memory and Hyuna's voice, curtly telling her that she already apologized for it, which made Hyuna laugh out of shock. "No, you didn't. You told me that if I told anyone you'd go to jail and it would be my fault! You cried and asked me how would I be able to live knowing I put my mom in jail! You manipulated me into thinking that I should ensure you're safety by saying I wouldn't tell anyone and that I'd do the movie." Hyuna breathed heavily as she recalled that night: her mom on her knees in front of her, sobbing out onto Hyuna's knees. She looked so pathetic; Hyuna often thought back to her mom's sobbing that immediately stopped the minute she left the bedroom.

"Hyuna, I did so much for you. All you have to do is listen to me-" "And what, mom?! Listen to you and do what?! Be a good little girl and be your doll?"

Hyuna sighed as her mom's eyes seemed to turn almost black, letting out a shriek when Jisoo's hand crossed Hyuna's face, slapping her harshly. Hyuna cupped her now bruised cheek as Jisoo continued to yell at her, her words merging together as she only focused on the pain. Her mom actually hit her. Her mom not only hated her but hit her?

Hyuna wondered why she was still in this room with her mom, listening to her constant venom when she could've walked out. She is an adult and has the right to walk out, despite what her mom thought. It was a new year and it was giving her an opportunity to pursue the things she always wanted to.

She wiped her tears, taking a deep breath as she fixed her hair, sitting upright in her chair to meet Jisoo's eyes. "I am an adult, not a child anymore. I am not your doll, something you can live through. You can do whatever you want for yourself but not me. I'm done here."

Jisoo was shocked at her daughter's cold voice, watching as Hyuna stood up and picked up the carrot cake she ordered her. Hyuna gripped it before throwing it at Jisoo, the cake smudging all over her suit, the plate then falling to the ground, shattering.

"Oh, and I told you that I hate carrots!" Hyuna quickly made her way out of the room, rushing outside to her car. She slammed the door as she quickly started it as if her mom was going to come outside and stop her. She quickly whipped out of her parking spot, driving home. The drive felt like a blur, Hyuna only coming back to when she was sitting in her driveway. She sighed, placing her forehead against the wheel, trying to calm her nerves. She enjoyed the silence and newfound freedom she now had, both feelings interrupted when her phone began to ring. She reached over to see who was calling, noticing it was her mom, making her heart sink. She quickly blocked her number, doing the same to Joohyuk who she knew her mom had most likely already talked to before placing her phone back into her bag.

Hyuna sat in the car for a bit longer, trying to wrap her around what had just happened before getting out, making her way up to her apartment, hoping to just relax and forget about what happened. When she reached her hallway, she paused and smiled when she saw Youngjae by her door. When he noticed her, he smiled, holding up a convenience store bag, making her smile. "I got some of your favorite things so we can celebrate you being one of the best idols I'd ever seen." Hyuna nodded, jogging up to hug him before unlocking the door, letting him in.

She met Choi Youngjae at a brand company party. She thought he sang well and that's how they began talking. They instantly clicked and became great friends, becoming close fast.

As they sat at her coffee table drinking coffee milk and sharing a sweet roll cake, she told him what happened that morning with her mother, Youngjae letting out a whistle when she finished. "I'm happy that you're out from your mom's thumb as I know how difficult it was for you, but she slapped you?" He shook his head as Hyuna took a sip of her milk, nodding, her hand instinctively touching her cheek. Youngjae leaned over to examine it, getting up with a soft "hold on" before going to her freezer, and returning with an icepack.

He gently placed it onto her cheek, letting out a small "sorry" when she winced, pressing it gently to her red cheek. Hyuna thanked him, Youngjae nodding as he took a piece of the roll, offering to feed it to her as she couldn't turn her head with the icepack, which she accepted.

She always thought there was something there between her and Youngjae, but always chose to ignore it as her mom was trying to get her to go back to Joohyuk. She knew her mom would never approve of anyone who wasn't him, which discouraged her from dating him. But, now she was free from her mom's grasp...

"So, what are you going to do now that you're your own person?" Youngjae asked, smiling at her. Hyuna took a second before responding with a confident "whatever I want."

She laughed softly as Youngjae applauded her, saying that he would support her no matter what. She nodded, taking a deep breath for confidence before quickly saying "doyoumaybewanttogooutonadate?"

Youngjae paused at her words, trying to process what she had said as Hyuna looked at him with embarrassment. She never had to ask anyone out on a date, so she was a ball of nerves. Those nerves, though, disappeared when he laughed softly, nodding. "I'd love to."

Hyuna nodded, looking away from him as he smiled at her, mumbling how cute she was, making her gently shove him.

Hyuna was happy. Finally.

[drublol]

Can I request Tomoe and Yukina ship hcs? thanks in advance!

TOMOE UDAGAWA x YUKINA MINATO HEADCANONS

there wasn't much for them !! but i'll do my best to serve you anon !!

Despite her fierce-blooded ways, Yukina actually gets a bit nervous around Tomoe due to a crush she has on her. She won't ever admit this though and will keep denying when asked.

It started out as small and at first, Yukina thought nothing of it until she had kept crossing paths with Afterglow more and more-- Causing her to see more of Tomoe, the band's drummer. She was so carefree and composed...! Other than Lisa, Yukina had never met someone much like that!

It wasn't long at all until Tomoe had completely taken over Yukina's thoughts, to the point where she had begun to write songs secretly dedicated to her. Yukina didn't like this... It was interrupting her band practice-- Her DAILY life! She had to do something and quick!

So Yukina did the only thing she could think of, go to Lisa. She had told Lisa everything, Yukina trusted her the most considering she was the vocalist's childhood friend. Luckily for Yukina, Lisa was more than willing to help.

Lisa had tried her best to keep the secret, but part of her just wanted to snap and tell everyone! ESPECIALLY Tomoe! Thankfully though, she managed to stay quiet for Yukina. With Lisa's help, Roseila's vocalist managed to finally get her feelings out there to Tomoe.

Of course, Tomoe was absolutely shocked. Yukina from Roseila liked... HER!? She would've never guessed that she was her type! Yukina looked nervous, unsure of what Tomoe would say.

--It turned out that not saying anything was a good thing! Yukina was quickly greeted with a quick kiss on the lips, sealing the two's fate rather quickly.

Despite having no clue on what to do in a relationship, Yukina still tries her very hardest. She ends up taking Tomoe to a cat cafe one time for a sort of 'date'.

Tomoe quickly learned of Yukina's secret love for cats, she couldn't help but find Yukina's passion adorable.Ssometimes they'll cuddle up and watch funny cat videos for hours until they both end up passing out on eachother.

and that's all for now !! i was surprised i wrote so much !! i hope i did good <33

[theangryjikooker]

I'm truly sad I missed seeing BTS in concert. With how the solo chapters are evolving, I'm curious to see how the group manages.

I know you said no asks on your recent post - hopefully this isn't crossing that line. Even prior to the hiatus, I'm sure the members knew they weren't all truly an equal part of BTS. From the titles afforded each (lead, main), the writing contributions, etc. But do you think the members were already prepared for how different the marketing strategies would be? Do you think there is a way for the group to be cohesive and have solid working relationships if/when they do comeback as a group?

So far, it seems the members unanimously talk about this break as a good opportunity to come back bigger and stronger as a unit. News outlets have sort of dramatized what Bang PD said at the news conference, but eye-catching headlines aside, the bottom line is that 2025 is not a secured comeback year for OT7 and never has been (though they never corrected anyone for assuming so). They’re still working towards it, but when you visualize what little we know about the members’ plans for their individual careers, it almost seems like enlisting by the end of this year is unrealistic for some of them. We’ll see how that plays out.

My only reservation is what SB did at the beginning of the year. It’s not a secret, but I don’t want to create more of a fervor than there needs to be. IYKYK, but just keep in mind that that decision doesn’t necessarily indicate a confirmed trajectory for BTS. Execs who are watching BTS and waiting for their futures to unfold are basically just gambling.

I assume the titles were just stated designations. It’s not something I’d read into regarding equal treatment, and nothing about said titles rings untrue to me. If there was any upset among the members, I believe they’d have used the leverage they had to work out a compromise when they last renewed their contracts. So while I think they had their bases covered on that side, I’d be impressed if they were prepared for the American side. I see people formulating their opinions and speculations about what’s going on here, but the AMI is a totally different beast.

Just because BTS is an untouchable supergroup, according to many, doesn’t mean the AMI sees it that way. The only way for OT7 to work is if they’re all on the same page and they collectively choose each other over anything/anyone else. They would actually be the most powerful that way and hold the most leverage, and will still be for some time as long as they prioritize the group’s best interest when they’re together. But any chink in that armor is a weakness, be it insecurity or favoring their own direction. The AMI will capitalize on this if it’s sensed.

Based on what we currently know about the group, I’m hard pressed to believe that they wouldn’t prioritize one another, even if it’s for the last time (I have doubts that any renewal will be as long, but I could be wrong). For a while, I was actually the most concerned about Namjoon’s feelings on the matter, but that concern was assuaged indirectly from his last live.

BTS, as individuals, are creatively different. That would work well in their favor when they band together again, and it would be naïve to assume they wouldn’t break their own records in the process. But those creative differences will have different effects on their own careers as soon as they leave the group. How they choose to navigate that creativity will dictate the kind of support they’ll receive, assuming each of them have plans to carve out their own space in the U.S. market.