#and the rest of his adventuring party are on uh

[honkshoo-zzz]

been doodling more lately, missed my kids ;W;

[favefandomimagines]

The Alchemy (j.m)

Request: @mrslestappen “May I request ( shy!Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank ) pleaseeeeee, where she has been friends with the boys just like Kie, (Kie, her and Sarah were the trio of friends) and after they reconciled she is super happy because she has her two best friends back. And let's just say JJ has a soft spot for her, even though she's a kook he's always taken care of her. And they have matching necklaces (the shark tooth one, let's just say that when he got his he also created hers and they have always had matching necklaces) + kind of obsessed with her (in a nice way) and let's say because she's always been with the guys she's never really been in a relationship so imagine the reaction JJ would have if she tells him she wants him to be her first kiss (first kiss is soft, second one is hot/possesive poor JJ will devour her, because only he knows how long he waited) and the rest I'll leave it up to you. (In my head this sounded better sorry)”

Summary: she always was going to pick him, he just needed to show her.

JJ Maybank didn't think he'd ever like a Kook. Hell, he didn’t think he’d ever even tolerate one. The Kooks were the people who had everything he and the other Pogues didn’t.

They were the rich kids on the other side of the island, the ones with trust funds, yachts, and pristine lives. JJ had seen enough of their type to last a lifetime, and he was pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

Except for her.

Her name was Y/N Y/L/N, and she was the only Kook JJ had ever been able to stomach. In fact, he more than just "stomached" her — he adored her.

He couldn't remember when it started, but he was pretty sure it was around the time he realized girls were more than just annoying distractions during surf sessions.

Somewhere between scraped knees on the beach as kids and sharing late-night bonfire confessions, Y/N had become more than just his friend.

She wasn’t like the rest of the Kooks. Y/N might have lived in one of the fanciest houses on Figure Eight, but she didn’t act like it. She hung out with JJ, John B, and Pope since they were kids, running wild through the marshes and crashing parties on the Cut.

Her mom used to be close with John B’s mom before she left, which meant Y/N spent almost as much time in the Chateau as John B himself. She was their bridge between worlds, best friends with Kie and, surprisingly, even got along with Sarah Cameron after their recent reconciliation.

JJ had given her a shark tooth necklace that matched his own back when they were kids, and she had worn it ever since. The necklace was a symbol, a quiet testament to their shared adventures and secrets.

It rested just below her collarbone, a constant reminder that she belonged with the Pogues, even if she didn’t entirely fit into their world.

For the most part, JJ was content just having her around. But sometimes, like right now, with the sun setting over the water and Y/N laughing at something John B had said, he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in his chest that he wanted more. More than just her friendship, more than just stolen glances and the occasional accidental brush of hands.

||

It was one of those hot, sticky Outer Banks afternoons when Y/N came to find him. JJ was at the dock, cleaning up the HMS Pogue, when he saw her walking toward him. She looked like sunshine personified, with her long hair catching the light and her eyes sparkling as if she held the secrets of the universe.

“Hey, JJ,” she greeted, her voice light and carefree, but there was something nervous in the way she bit her lip.

“What’s up, Princess?” he asked, straightening up and wiping his hands on his jeans.

She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her fingers toying with the shark tooth necklace he had given her. “I, uh, need to talk to you about something.”

JJ’s heart sank a little, the teasing grin on his face faltering. Usually, that phrase meant bad news. “What did you do this time? Burn down another country club?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but laughed. “No, JJ, not this time. It’s… it’s about a guy.”

JJ froze. “A guy?” he echoed, feeling like the ground had just shifted beneath him.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice softening. “I… I got asked out on a date.”

JJ’s stomach dropped, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He’d always known this day would come eventually, but he wasn’t prepared for how much it would hurt. “Who?” he managed to ask, trying to keep his voice steady.

“His name’s Trevor. He’s new in town, just moved here from Wilmington,” she explained, her eyes flicking to JJ’s face to gauge his reaction.

He knew the guy — tall, dark hair, probably some rich Kook kid whose family had money to burn. JJ felt the jealousy bubble up, hot and fierce. “And when’s this date supposed to happen?”

“Tomorrow night,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The girl he’d been in love with for years was going on a date with some random guy who had just waltzed into town. “Do you even like this dude?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted, looking genuinely conflicted. “But… what if he tries to kiss me?”

JJ’s jaw clenched. “Then tell him to back off,” he snapped, his temper flaring.

Y/N sighed, her shoulders slumping. “It’s not that simple, JJ. I’ve never… I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

The admission hung in the air between them, and JJ felt his heart stutter. Y/N, the girl who could light up a room with just her smile, had never had her first kiss. It was almost unfathomable. He swallowed hard, trying to tamp down the tidal wave of emotions crashing over him.

“Y/N…” he began, not sure what to say.

“I know it’s dumb,” she said quickly, looking down at her feet. “But I don’t want to mess it up. What if I’m terrible at it?”

He wanted to laugh because there was no way in hell she’d be bad at anything. “Are you seriously asking me for kissing advice?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and earnest. “Actually… I was hoping you could… you know… be my first kiss.”

JJ’s mind went blank. Of all the things he expected to hear, that wasn’t one of them. He stared at her, trying to wrap his head around the idea that the girl he’d been crazy about for years was asking him to be her first kiss. But not because she wanted him in that way — no, it was just so she wouldn’t screw up with some other guy.

“Y/N, are you serious?” he asked, his voice a low rasp.

She nodded, her cheeks turning pink. “I trust you, JJ. I know you won’t make it weird.”

Too late for that, he thought bitterly. But he couldn’t say no to her, not when she was looking at him like that. “Alright,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “But if I’m gonna be your first kiss, I’m not gonna half-ass it.”

Her eyes sparkled with gratitude, and she took a step closer to him.

They stood on the dock, the sun casting golden light over the water. JJ’s heart was pounding in his chest as Y/N moved even closer, so close he could feel her breath on his skin. He could see the nervous flutter of her eyelashes, the way her lips parted just slightly.

“Just… close your eyes, okay?” he whispered, his voice thick with emotions he couldn’t quite name.

Y/N nodded, her eyes fluttering shut, her lips trembling ever so slightly. JJ took a deep breath, his hand moving up to gently cup her cheek. His thumb brushed against her skin, and he could feel her shiver under his touch.

Then, with a tenderness he didn’t even know he was capable of, JJ leaned in and kissed her.

It was soft, gentle, the kind of kiss that could be over in the blink of an eye if you weren’t careful. But for JJ, it felt like the world had stopped. Her lips were warm and soft against his, and he could feel the way her fingers clutched at his shirt, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping her grounded.

When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard, their eyes locked.

“How was that?” he asked, his voice barely more than a rasp.

Y/N was staring at him, her eyes wide and dazed. “That was… perfect,” she whispered. But then, as if realizing herself, she shook her head. “But maybe… one more time? Just to make sure I’ve got it?”

JJ’s breath hitched. This time, he didn’t hold back. He kissed her again, harder, more desperate, like he was trying to pour every unsaid word and unspoken feeling into that kiss. His hands cupped her face, Y/N melted into him, her hands tangling in his hair, and he was lost. He was completely and utterly lost in her.

When they finally broke apart, they were both gasping for air. JJ rested his forehead against hers, his hands still cradling her face. “Don’t go on that date, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.

Y/N looked at him, her eyes searching his. And then she smiled, that beautiful, sunlit smile that he loved so much. “Yeah… I think I need to cancel that date,” she said softly.

||

It wasn’t long before the rest of the Pogues found out. Kie was ecstatic, practically tackling Y/N in a hug when she found out, while John B just grinned knowingly. Pope was the most surprised, but even he seemed happy for them.

“Finally!” Kie exclaimed, throwing her arms around JJ and Y/N “I was wondering how long it would take you two to figure it out.”

JJ just grinned, pulling Y/N close to his side. “Better late than never, right?”

The group celebrated their newfound relationship with a bonfire at the beach, laughter and music filling the night air. JJ couldn’t keep his hands off Y/N, whether it was holding her hand or wrapping an arm around her waist. He’d spent so long wanting this, and now that he had it, he wasn’t letting go.

As the night drew to a close, JJ pulled Y/N aside, away from the others. “I’m glad you picked me,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

Y/N smiled up at him, her eyes shining. “I always would have picked you, JJ. I just needed you to show me first.”

He kissed her again, slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that felt like coming home. And for the first time in his life, JJ Maybank felt like he had everything he ever wanted.

The waves crashed around them, the world fading away until it was just the two of them, lost in each other. The Pogues cheered in the background, but JJ didn’t hear any of it.

All he could focus on was the girl in his arms, the girl who had always been more than just a Kook, more than just a friend. She was everything.

And she was his.

[room-surprise]

hi! i was wondering if in dunmeshi, before falin was eaten by the dragon and before present events, laios and his party were earning money for k*lling monsters in the dungeon? i don't understand if someone was paying them, how they were making money and how it worked

I want to write a proper, thorough reply to this with citations to specific references and mentions in the story, but uh, a tree fell on my house so I've been a bit too busy to do that lmao.

BUT, to give an incomplete answer:

Yes, adventurers get paid for work they do inside of the dungeon, or, they just harvest monsters/plants/treasure that they find. The dungeons are a kind of boom town, similar to a gold or silver rush, which means that the entire local economy is based on people trying to extract wealth from the dungeon, since it's dangerous but easy work, anyone can try to do it with very little resources, and the potential for profit is huge.

Someone with almost no money could, potentially, go into the dungeon and walk away with enough money to start a business, or buy a house or a boat. If they don't die. If they're lucky. Desperate people cling to the hope that they will be one of the lucky ones who become insanely wealthy.

Based on things Kui's told us in the manga and the extra materials, we know:

You pay a fee or a toll to be allowed to go into the dungeon. Access is controlled by the local government. Some people avoid this, like Senshi and the orcs since they just live in the dungeon and avoid leaving.

Many people die, give up, or fail to accomplish anything useful in the dungeon. These people probably generate a good, steady income for the island, since they pay fees but don't have to be rewarded. The lure of trying to strike it rich keeps huge hoards of people flowing in steadily. Most money in boom towns is generated by all the people who are trying and failing to get rich buying things from local people (food, supplies, lodging).

When a dungeon first appears, it is full of easy to harvest gold and treasure. "Gold peeling" is how Laios and Falin started out, and it's literally going into the dungeon and peeling gold off of the walls and statues, and taking any easy to transport treasure with you.

Various tasks need to be done in the dungeon to keep it safe, clean and accessible, and all of these result in a person either being paid by the lord of the island, or the person who they have saved. Killing dangerous monsters, finding people who have died and taking their corpses to the resurrection office, reporting changes to the dungeon, discovering new paths, etc.

When gold and treasure that is easy to find starts to run out, people turn primarily to harvesting monsters. They are probably paid a bounty for every monster they can prove they killed (bring back some body part that a monster only has one of, like a tail), and then they can also sell anything else they harvested from the monster in the market (meat, the rest of the hide, horns, teeth, claws.)

You want the dungeon to stay safe with a well-managed monster population to prevent something like Utaya from happening.

But if you kill too many monsters, now that the treasure is gone, there won't be any profit reason for people to go into the dungeon anymore, and your economy will collapse.

So you need to manage the dungeon and keep the monster population high, but not too high. This is what the Shadow Lord was complaining about. He thinks that if they evacuate the dungeon the expensive monsters they are currently harvesting may stop manifesting/spawning/being born, and all that will be left to harvest is mushrooms and slimes, which are not worth a lot of money.

Laios' group had an assignment from the island lord to try and find the giant doors on the 6th floor that nobody had been able to get past. That was what they were trying to do when they ran into the red dragon and Falin got eaten!

Despite everything, at that time Laios' party was the number one team on the island, capable of going the deepest into the dungeon.

Kabru's team is also considered pretty good, despite how often we see them dying - this should tell you how bad many of the teams that go in are! Most of them don't accomplish much or anything... Just like a boom town, where most miners go into debt trying to find gold, and only a few strike it rich.

This is what Rin is talking about in her first appearance, when she scolds Kabru for being too modest around other adventurers. She wants those other people to know that they are not going into the dungeon for profit and that they're not like the rest of them, dream-chasing fools hoping to make a payday.

She's offended anyone would mistake them for people like that, meanwhile Kabru would rather keep their motivations obscure and not advertise that they're in the dungeon on a moral crusade, not a financial one.

It should also be noted that the dungeon has a lot of criminal activity going on inside of it, because it's not well monitored and it's easy to conceal your activities. There's also a population of people who can "no longer live on the surface" for various reasons, such as being wanted criminals, exiles hiding to avoid vigilante justice, people too poor to leave because they wasted all their money trying to get rich and now they can't afford to live on the surface, or leave the island.

Essentially there is a population of homeless people living in the dungeon, eating anything they can scavenge, begging and stealing to stay alive. This could even be part of the taboo on eating monsters in the dungeon - that's something poor and desperate people do, and doing it is seen as a sign of how low Laios' party has fallen.

This is also why Kabru is so worried about the Touden party: their financials are a mess, but they keep going into the dungeon. Why? People think they are good, but maybe they're secretly criminals? Are they on the run from the law? Kabru has no idea, since "they just really love monsters and this is fun" is not a motivation ANYONE ELSE ON EARTH HAS.

The Toudens can't even say "we're monster researchers trying to write a book on monsters." They're just hobbyists, they just like them a lot. Kui tells us that Laios was encouraged to become a monster researcher but the studying was too intense for him.

It would be like finding out someone who works in a coal mine that kills 80% of the miners doesn't actually care about being paid, they just loooove coal and want to be around coal all the time.

[henry7931]

Beach Trip As My Friend’s Uncle

Miguel:

This is by far the best idea Zach and I have ever had! A few weeks ago, my best bud Zach begged his parents to let me come on their family beach trip but unfortunately they wanted to keep it a family trip.

That’s when Zach and I got a little creative. We decided to ask his cool Uncle Derek if I could swap bodies with him for a week. Now Derek isn’t your ordinary uncle, he’s pretty adventurous, single, likes to party, and is always down for some shenanigans. So when we asked if he’s willing to swap with me, he immediately said yes! He seemed to be just as excited to be me since he’s getting out of the family trip all together.

So we all met up that morning at Derek’s place. Zach already told his parents that he’s riding down with Derek. And when I arrived Derek already had a bag packed for me.

We quickly swapped bodies and it felt so cool being so much bigger.

I grinned at Derek in my body who also looked super happy. He pulled me in for a hug which felt so weird, I could have easily picked my body up like it was nothing.

As I hop into Derek’s nice truck, he says to us, “You boys have fun! And doing anything too crazy in my body!”

“Thanks Uncle Derek!” said Zach.

“Yes thanks again Derek, I’ll take good care of your body I promise!”

“Good and hey I packed condoms just in case things get too crazy. Don’t need my body coming back with anything.”

Zach rolls his eyes while I felt a warm sensation in my stomach. It just hit me that not only do I have Derek’s body for a week but I also have control of his massive package.

We get on the road and I pull off Derek’s shirt just to show off his tattooed pecs.

Zach’s sitting next to me so excited and says, “God this is so crazy! I mean look at you dude you’re inside my uncle right now.”

“I know man, this is about to be the best trip ever!”

When we arrive to the resort, Zach and I head to check in. We run into his family. We say our hellos to everyone and I’m surprised by how good of a job I’m doing at pretending to be Derek.

We get our room keys and head up. The room is huge! We even have our own bathrooms along with a balcony.

I put Derek’s bags on the bed and open them up to see what clothes Derek packed for me. But when I get to the bathing suits only two of them are normal ones— the rest are all speedos.

Zach pops in already in his bathing suit and says, “you about ready?”

“Uh no not yet give me a few,” I say to him.

“No rush bro! I’m gonna head down, I’ll see you in a few.”

As soon as Zach walked out of the room, I immediately got naked.

I look at Derek’s nude body, that’s when my eyes focus on the thick long dick that I now control.

I try my best to control my eager to touch it, laying back on the hotel bed. I didn’t want to risk Zach walking but I feel like I only have so much alone time with it.

I look down at Derek’s sexy size 11 feet, they’re beautiful and manly. I trace his fingers along his chest down to his cock and balls.

His dick is already hard, I start to stroke it and it feels amazing. It’s my first I’ve ever jerked off in someone else’s body. And it’s so different from mine.

I sit up and bring Derek’s big foot to my face smelling his toes as I wiggle them. I start licking his foot, still jerking his dick with my other hand.

I feel so close, I knew I was going to bust any minute. I let out a loud powerful grunt, inhaling his sole before cum bursts out all over.

I look over the mess I just made, damn that felt great. I whip some off of his chest and taste it. It taste’s so good.

I clean off his chest with a shower towel and grab one of his speedos.

I take a pic of myself to send to Derek and say, “you only packed speedos?”

I get a response a few minutes later, “well you look sexy in them. Send me more pics 😜”

I feel Derek’s cock start to get hard again from his text. Is he flirting with me?

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Your Crazy Life Married to A Hunter Clown Magician | Chronicle #1 

The catalogued mishaps and adventures with your clown of a husband. There’s never a dull moment with Hisoka Morrow. It’s best to keep track of all the wild things your eccentric husband does wouldn’t want to be married to mass murderer….or rather he already is, you just don’t want him to get worse.

A thing about being married to Hisoka Morrow is the totality of his obsession. Never will he fail to show in one way or another that he is inexplicably enraptured in your existence. It doesn’t rival the euphoria he’s been recorded to show when fighting a future opponent; it outright excels! It’s hard to explain what it’s like to continuously be reliving the ecstasy of owning+ being married to you. 

Your husband’s love knows no bounds.

Not even at your goddaughter’s birthday party that you busted your butt to prepare for will he relent. Smirking at your focused face while you struggle to blow into a balloon. 

Like all his prey he bides his time happy to wow your god daughter and her friends with his bungee gum as you get swept up in helping the host of the party. 

So selfless! It makes him want to behead everyone in sight. 

But he won’t. 

Not because he cares about how you’ll feel but because there are so many more fun ways to make you cry.

Even so….he can’t help but wish that this party was over.

Any one who can sense nen, knows his patience is wearing thin. The card in his hands more likely to slice the necks of the kids who know none the wiser. And while he adores when you angrily insult him for his behavior, he figures there’s another way to deal with his frustration.

“Uh Mister Magic why are you sucking from that balloon?”

“Because I adore my spouse in latex. In every form!”

“Your spouse?! Do you mean my fairy godparent?!”

“Yes!”

“....Does their spit really taste that good?”

“Like the sweetest cake ever made!”

“Can I try?”

“Haha, NO.”

Thankfully your intervention comes at a perfect time to stop both of them from throwing a tantrum. Placating your sweet baby girl with the beginning of a new game fort her party and dragging your husband from the scene.

“What is your problem?!”

“I was only answering their questions~!”

“And saying incredibly inappropriate things I bet!”

“What’s so inappropriate about a man loving his partner~?”

“It’s inappropriate when you’re insinuating an adult activity that she should know nothing about!”

“Oh~Love I didn’t know you had adult activities at this party! Now I can enjoy myself too!”

“What, there isn’t–”

“Where.”

It’s then you make the tactical move to satisfy your husband in a locked bathroom on the second floor. Thankful that none of the attendees are active nen users. Because with little you do know about it, Hisoka has a terrible habit of…showing off. Won’t need to worry about your husband for the rest of the party, though you’ll surely pay the price to that smiling piper later on. 

“Why do you have new pants?”

“Oh that silly magician over there spilled some punch on it, so I made him get me new pants.”

“But I make spills and I don’t change!"

“Well you don’t have a magician to make your dirty clothes disappear.”

“Hisoka!?”

“Oh that makes sense!”

Rules | Kofi | Commissions

[chilschuck]

HAVE YOUR CAKE (AND EAT IT TOO).

꒰ warnings: ꒱ none! sfw + typical fluffy goodness.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 2.3k

✦ happy birthday, chil!!! this is a little rushed because i wanted it out right at midnight, but i hope it turned out alright!! tumblr ate the post as i tried to save it, so lets hope it posts this time! if anything seems out of place or ooc, i’m so sorry, it’s currently late and i just wanted to write some cuteness for him and you guys!!! enjoy!!! <3333

The countdown leading up to this day had you filled with nervous excitement.

Not only was it Chilchuck’s birthday, but the day you decided you’d try to relay just how you felt about him all this time. With sweaty palms you looked at yourself in the mirror, dressed up for his surprise get-together you and the rest of the party had planned. Secretly, you hoped he wouldn’t catch on so fast that it was truly mostly your idea that had started this.

Inhaling one last breath and letting it pass through your chest, you dusted off your outfit you considered the nicest one you had. In a perfect box with sage green wrapping paper, his gift from you sat beautifully on your bed. Putting all the finishing touches on it you could, a ribbon cascades off the top along with a sweet note card with his name in curly letters. A part of you worried it was a bit too much, but for him, you’d find you’d always go above and beyond.

Turning to hold it in your hands, you considered the contents for a moment. Inside was a new pair of gloves you had sewn for him in the coming weeks, along with a favorite ale of his you had managed to purchase for him. It was simple, much more so than the intricate packaging, but you hoped he’d be pleased.

The half-foot had told you his birthday reluctantly, but now that you knew, you made sure you’d never forget. Whether writing it in your notes or pinning a paper on your calendar, there was no way you were going to let it pass by. He deserved so much more than he gave himself, and you made it your duty to ensure he was happy.

In a few minutes everyone would begin showing up, and to keep yourself busy you set the little table in your dining room with all the food you had prepared. Everything you had taken into account from your time adventuring with him, which consisted of his favorites or even things he’s mentioned liking in passing. Slowly but surely you had managed to get him to open up a little, which was a feat you pride yourself on. Because of this, you felt you were closer than you were before. Now it was time to really tie everything together with that metaphorical bow.

A knock at the door had your heart beating excitedly in your chest, and after yelling out a quick, “Coming!” you made your way to open it.

Except… It wasn’t at all who you were expecting. Suddenly you were face to face with the guest of the hour, who had a furrowed brow of concern on his face.

“Everything okay? Marcille told me to come quickly because you needed help with something.” Chilchuck spoke, studying your appearance for a moment. “Uh, did I interrupt something?”

You were going to kill her. Already picturing her mischievous expression at trying to make something happen like out of her romance novels, you gave a brisk sigh.

“Not at all, quite the opposite, actually…” With quick hands you cracked the door, before peeking out the other side. “Can you… Close your eyes and come in?”

Chilchuck looked even more perplexed at your request, before letting out a sound of confusion. Ever trusting you, he put a hand over his eyes and reached his other one out to you to guide him in. So far so good.

“This didn’t turn out how I exactly pictured it, but…” You began, leading him to the dining room where you had decorated for the supposed party that now only contained the two of you. “You can look now.”

As he removed his hand, you jumped beside him in your spot, shouting cheerfully. “Happy Birthday, Chil!”

His eyes widened, taking in the scene in front of him. A table full of food, seemingly his favorites, as well as fresh flowers from your garden. Even streamers were put up around the wall, along with a bottle of wine you only busted out for special occasions.

“Huh? You did all this for me?” Chilchuck muttered, turning to catch your eyes. That sparkle in them, the same one they always had, caused his stomach to erupt with butterflies. Especially with the way you were smiling at him right now.

“Of course I did, you think I’d let you celebrate your birthday cooped up at home?” Your voice was soft, but held true with intent to make this a night worth remembering for him. Chilchuck gave a light laugh, scratching the back of his head for a moment. You really were too good to him.

The half-foot went to study the foods you had set out, before spotting the cake placed sweetly in the middle. It wasn’t very big, about as big as the pan you usually baked with, but even so… Chilchuck swallowed.

“I know you’re not too big on sweets, but you can’t have a birthday without cake, right?” Your voice met his ears, words playful yet with a hint of something he couldn’t quite place. All of this was making him lose his voice, even more so unable to word his feelings than usual.

“It’s great…” He muttered, before turning to you. In his eyes a spark of vulnerability made itself known, and you hoped you weren’t just mistaken.

“I can’t believe you did all this. I feel spoiled.” Chilchuck reached for a cup, sheepish and eager to hide his burning cheeks behind something. All of this matched with your current outfit was making him feel a little weak.

You waved your hands, moving to grab the bottle of wine. “It’s nothing! You deserve stuff like this. Also, there were supposed to be others but I’m guessing they had other plans.” Trailing off, you grumbled the last part to yourself. The wine filled his glass easily, a sight he was always happy to take in.

Along with you. Chilchuck had to busy himself with a drink before he focused too hard on how good your outfit looked tonight, how you did your hair, the way you kept smiling at him… Clearing his throat, he tried to find something to say to fill the silence.

Before he could speak though, you perked up and went to reach for something behind the table. “Oh! I almost forgot, I got you a little something, too.”

He felt like he was going to melt into the floor. All of this to celebrate just another day for him? Sure, he would treat himself a little, but this… It was like you wanted him to dwell too hard on those feelings he’s been keeping at bay.

Setting down his glass, Chilchuck reached out to take the box from you, gaze taking in just how beautifully it was wrapped. Even the bow on top was so much like something you’d do, down to the note with his name written so nicely on it.

“You really didn’t have to.” Your name left him softly, eyes flitting back up to yours. You waved your hands at him again, before giving him that grin that always made him feel hazy.

“I know, but I wanted to. Now open it, I’ve been waiting so long for this.” The laughter that followed was so sweet, and Chilchuck had to distract himself with the ribbon on his gift.

Pulling it gently, he let it fall to his feet in a small pile. Picking at the folds in the paper, he tried to be as careful as he could with it. You noticed this, unable to hold back the giggle that erupted from your throat. “You don’t have to be like that, it’s meant to be ripped.”

Chilchuck ripped into it this time, barking out, “I know that!” Before he could say anything else, he lifted the lid of the box.

Quick to explain your gift, you interrupted his thoughts. “The gloves were something I made to help with your new business and all. The ale was just… A bonus.” Watching him pick up the gloves and study them, you added, “I hope they’re okay.”

He couldn’t even begin to word how he felt at that moment. Not only did you do all of this for him, but you made him a gift and remembered even more about him? You might as well have taken his heart right out of his chest and ran off with it. Gently, he gave a small smile at your words. “It’s more than okay! I still can’t believe all of this. I’m not sure what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything! I’m just glad it’s okay. Here, want me to get you a slice of cake or anything?” Your eagerness to make him happy had his heart race a bit, and Chilchuck couldn’t help but let out a content sigh as he turned the gloves over in his hands. Setting them down back into the box, he met your eyes.

“You’ve done too much. As expected, since I told you and all.” Chilchuck joked, watching as you cut into the baked good you worked so hard on. His hands took the plate from you, the flowery green icing hiding the wedges of chocolate underneath. Taking his fork, he took off a piece from the corner and studied it. “I should’ve known you would’ve gone above and beyond.”

Huffing playfully, you turned to cut yourself a slice of your own. “I spent all that time getting it out of you, and you think I’d just forget?” Taking a bite, you hummed, mulling over the flavor in your mind. “Hm, could’ve turned out a little sweeter, but I guess that’s a good thing, huh?”

Chilchuck brought his own fork to his lips, curious to taste some of your baking again. At no surprise at all, it turned out really light and fluffy, the icing pairing well with the tenderness of the cake. “It’s good. I like how rich it is,” He spoke up through his taste test. You beamed at him, that same smile that made him feel like he had been staring a little too long at the sun.

“I’m glad I was able to do this for you. Sorry it wasn’t very climactic of a surprise.” Chilchuck shook his head at your words, taking another piece of cake on his fork. His next sentence died in his throat at the look on your face, pausing to wait for you to finish.

“In a way, I’m kind of glad it ended up like this. There’s something I wanted to tell you ever since we stopped adventuring.” Setting your plate down for a moment, you bit your lip. Once sure you had his full attention, you continued.

And of course you had his full attention. You always did, and there was no contest for it when it came to you. Yet, the nervousness in his gut made an appearance despite how hard he tried to ignore it.

For some reason, the words never left you. Instead, your eyes were fixed on something on his face. He could practically hear the gears whirring to life in your head.

“Sorry, you’ve got… Right there, hang on.” Your touch, gentle enough to make him nearly jump out of his skin if he was not so tightly wound, trailed along his bottom lip. In the corner of his mouth was a bit of icing, which had somehow made a place there without him noticing. There was a thick tension in the air as you wiped it with your thumb, tongue darting out to wet your own lips.

His mind must be playing tricks on him, as the cake in his hand was suddenly not the sweetest sight in the room. Instead, he felt conflicted thoughts about whether or not he wanted to let you continue your work, or have you stop what you were doing and just kiss him stupid.

Before he could decide on which he preferred more, you leaned in to place a kiss right at that spot, so soft and tender that he barely could register it happened at all. Pulling away, you looked at him through your lashes, a rosy glow on your cheeks.

“What I wanted to say, was—“

Suddenly he was no longer interested in the plate in his hand or the words you were going to speak. Setting down his plate with haste, he pulled you in and slotted his lips against yours. With a vigor he didn’t know he still possessed, he kissed you with need.

This was a better result than you had imagined, reaching for his cheeks to hold him even closer to you. Pulling away only to hurriedly meet his lips again, you both fought off that need for air as much as you could. The taste of buttercream icing and the richness of chocolate was so addicting as you felt him nibble at your bottom lip, allowing him to kiss you even deeper in that moment.

Finally pulling away, you both tried to calm your panting with the realization of what just happened. Before you lost your bravery again, you sputtered out, “I’ve fallen for you.”

Chilchuck couldn’t help but let out an airily laugh for a moment, your words a mirror of his own feelings. With every ounce of strength he could muster, he replied, “I’d hope so after a kiss like that.”

Now you were giggling, your nerves subsiding for a moment at his teasing expression. “Yeah, yeah. Happy birthday, smartass.”

“For the record,” Chilchuck muttered before taking his plate back, an idea forming in his mind. “I… Feel the same. But maybe we should do that again. Just, you know—“

Your hands made home on his cheeks again before pulling him back in for another heated kiss, the cake being forgotten just for another moment.

It was so addicting, the way you let him have his cake and eat it, too.

— banners by @/cafekitsune!! <33

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Let's Be Jolly

Warnings: dubcon/noncon, drinking, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: You are on the hunt for the perfect present but the price is steeper than you expect.

Character: Sam Wilson

Day Twenty-Seven of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - who invited them to the holiday party?

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The cushion beside you jostles as something, rather someone, hits your elbow with theirs. You glance over at Sam as he stares across the room, a drink in both hands. He narrows his eyes as he continues to stare, you’d even say glare, at someone? 

“Who invited her?” He mutters. 

“Who?” You ask. 

“Did I say that out loud?” He winces and looks at you, offering a glass of the ‘festive punch’, “you’re right, it’s cranberry.” 

“Raspberry didn’t seem very festive,” you kid. 

“Well, maybe a bucket of merlot would be fitting.” 

“And just as strong,” you pull the glass away from your mouth, “wow.” 

“Zesty?” He asks and you nod emphatically. 

“So,” you swallow completely, “who was invited to your chagrin?” 

“My chagrin? Oh, uh, doesn’t matter,” he shrugs, his shoulders even wider on the couch as he crowds you in your corner. 

“Seems like it does,” you say, “but you don’t have to tell me.” 

“Hm, yeah. I guess... it shouldn’t matter, you know? It was a while ago. A long time actually.” He pauses and tastes the punch. “I shouldn’t care... ooh, you’re right about the punch.” 

“Strong but delicious,” you say, “nice party, huh?” 

“Sure,” he agrees, his eyes once more fixated across the room. 

You follow them and see a group of women. They're all very beautiful. They were dresses in varying shades of red, blue, and even gold. Very festive. 

“My ex,” he huffs. “Yeah, you know, got a few of those and somehow they always seem to find me.” 

“Oh... Oh! That’s awkward,” you giggle nervously. “Wish I could help you there. I don’t really have that problem.” 

“Ha, of course. You’re too sweet for that—shit,” he grimaces and you nearly spill your drink as he nudges you with his elbow. You switch hands as he grabs your other. “Play along. Please.” 

You barely process what’s happening as he clings to your hand. You look up as one of the women approaches with a preening smirk. She’s gorgeous. Her midnight blue dress is speckled with gemstones. The kind you would love to have if you had any sense of style. And her hair, gorgeous spiraled curls that swallow up the light. 

“Destiny, hey,” he clears his throat. “What’s goin’ on? Didn’t expect to see you here.” 

Despite his previous displeasure, he sounds casual. He's always so cool and calm. It’s what makes him such a good friend. 

“Sammy,” she grins. “Nice to see you too. You look... rested.” 

You think she means more than she says. You’re not the best at reading between the lines. Sometimes, for the worse, you assume the best. 

“You too, Dee,” he stays reclined, unbothered. “So, just you and the girls?” 

“Sure, Emma always puts on a great party, doesn’t she?” she shimmies just a little with her purr. You fidget and slurp louder than you mean to. “Oh, excuse me, I’m sorry, hon. I don’t mean to ignore you. I’m Destiny.” 

“Destiny,” you perk up, “uh, it’s nice to meet you.” 

“You too, sweetie,” she drawls, “have fun with Sammy. He’s always a good time.” 

She winks and spins, strutting back to her group. You gulp awkwardly, the burn of alcohol nestling deep in your gut. You need to slow down. 

“That wasn’t weird at all,” he says. “Sorry about that. She always has to be so extra. She’s the one who ghosted me, you know? But she acts like I'm the problem.” He scoffs and tuts, swigging from his own glass. “Don’t even let her get to you. She wishes she was as sweet as you. She’s the devil.” 

You nod and rest your glass against your leg. You wiggle your fingers between his, “uh, Sam, my hand’s falling asleep.” 

“Uh, oh, yeah,” he looks down before he lets you go. “Forgot... thanks, er, for just playing it cool. Can’t imagine if I was here alone. Wouldn’t have to worry if Buck wasn’t such a damn sour puss.” 

“He’s not coming?” You wonder. You don’t often find one without the other. 

“Just me, sorry to disappoint,” he stretches his fingers and sits forward, drinking again, this time with a hunch. 

“I didn’t mean that,” you insist as you lean forward too. “I just thought... I dunno. I’m usually the third wheel, aren’t I?” 

“Nah, that would be Bucky,” he snorts. “You really think that?” 

“I guess, but it’s not like, that deep,” you shrug. “You’ve known each other so long.” 

“Well, it’s not his fault he’s ancient and not mine I’ve been cursed with him,” he snickers. “Tell you what,” he looks at you with a smirk. “Tonight, I’ll show you that you aren’t no third wheel, alright? We’re going to have a blast. Just you and me. You’ll see exactly what you are.” 

“Oh,” you smile, “sounds like a plan, uh...” you look at your drink, feeling its warmth in your cheeks already. “It would be hard not to have any fun with this stuff.” 

“Yep,” he licks his lips and raises his glass, “strong but too good to stop.” 

🎄

You haven’t been this drunk in... well, ever. You’re not much of a drinker. On the odd occasion, you’ll have glass, but nothing excessive. Until tonight. 

The party buzzes around you; music, voices, lights. It all smears together as a dull pain sinks in behind the glaze in your vision. You need some water. Your stomach is too full of alcohol and salty finger foods. 

You look around. The bowl of punch is about empty and the cooler’s open as most of the contents have been picked clean. At least you aren’t the only one above their limit. You stagger around dizzily as you search for anything to dilute your haze. 

You clutch your drained glass down as you enter the kitchen. Where’s that girl Emma? She’s the host, right? You don’t want to just dig through her fridge without asking first. Ugh, but your stomach feels so...sloshy. 

You go to the tap and rinse out the used cup. You fill it with tap water. You take a small sip and slowly swallow. The tepidness doesn’t do much to sooth your insides. 

“Hey,” Sam’s voice startles you. You flinch so hard you splash your dress with the water. You put the glass down and face him, shaking off the droplets. “Sorry, did I do that?” 

“Hm, oh, I’m a bit... tipsy... I think,” you murmur groggily. “I shouldn’t have had so much.” 

“It’s alright, everyone’s lit,” he crosses the kitchen without even a sway. Well, he’s probably got a much higher tolerance. 

“Right, uh... I’m just not...” you clamp your lips shut before you can burp. You breathe it out your nose and gulp. “...used to it.” 

“That’s fine, baby, I’ll take care of you,” he closes in as you lean against the counter. “You wanna hold my arm? You can lean on me.” 

“I just need... a minute,” you wave him off. 

You close your eyes and frame your face with your hands. You try to sort through the fuzziness and the fire in your chest. Was it three or four drinks? More than that? You weren’t counting, Sam just kept bringing you more. 

“I think... I think I need to go home,” you exhale and force your eyes open. “Oh!” 

You flinch as you find Sam right in front of you, crowding you. You blink as his hand frightens you. He pets the side of your head as you gape at him in confusion. 

“What are you doing?” You rasp. 

“Shh, baby, I told you, I'll take care of you.” 

You lean your head into his hand without thinking. You grip the counter tight, your body heavy from alcohol and fatigue. You fight the droop in your eyelids and the yawn twitching in your cheeks. You just want to lay down. 

“You okay, baby?” He brushes your cheek with his thumb. 

Baby? Why does he keep calling you that? You giggle. It’s such a strange thing to say. 

“You’re drunk. So drunk,” he says. 

You hiccup and nod, “I am,” your voice bubbles in your throat. “So are you!” 

He grins and tilts his head, “not really.” 

“Sure, you must be... you had as much as me.” 

His eyes narrow, “did I?” 

Did he? 

You can’t remember. It doesn’t really matter now. You’re not doing to well. Your legs shake and threaten to collapse as you hold yourself up against the counter. Before you can give in to the weakness, he scoops you up and sits you on the granite. You let out a squeak of surprise. 

“Sam!” You squeal. 

“Baby,” he drags his hands away from your hips and down your thighs. You feel your dress rise above your knees as he nudges your legs apart. “You okay? Spinning?” 

Your head bobbles as lines squiggle in your vision, “a lil...” 

“Sure you are,” he growls. “Warm and soft...” 

He hooks his thumbs under the hem of your skirt and lifts it up your thighs. You squeak again and grab at the fabric. “Sam, what are you doing?” 

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” he tugs your skirt free of your resistance. “Just relax for me,” 

“I’m-- no—what?” You garble as you give a long blink. “Sam, my head.” 

“I know, baby, close your eyes,” he coos. 

“Mm, I’m too... tired,” you grumble as your lashes shut against your volition. “Sammmm...” the last consonant drags. 

“That’s it, baby, be good for me,” his warm hand cradles your skull as you tilt back. He lays you across the granite so your head hangs off the opposite edge. “I’m gonna show you... you’re not a third wheel, are you?” 

You drone mindlessly as even behind your eyelids, the world spins around you. You feel like you’re moving yet paralysed all at once. You spread your fingers wide and press your palms to the cold countertops.  

The cool air grazes your thighs and hot tickle crawls up the front of your panties. Your head lolls as you fight the dizziness. Stay awake. Awake! 

Your eyes snap open and you fight to lift your head. The warmth between your folds draws your eyes down to Sam as he reaches between your legs. His dark eyes are fixated on your pelvis, below your skirt where you can’t see. He rubs you firmly as the sensation creeps down your legs and up your spine. 

You slur but can’t speak. Your eyes roll back and your head drops down again. You tense against the granite as he continues to tease you. You waver on the edge of consciousness as his fingertips dance on your nerves. 

You’re swept up in the flurry of fire coiling around you. Your feet arch and you push your shoulders down. Your breath fills your ears as you puff and pant, your voice trickling out weakly. 

“Oh, baby, that’s it,” Sam purrs as you feel something dip into you. It isn’t until he’s wiggle two fingers deep inside you that you realise what’s happening. He groans and praises you, “you take me so good. So tight. That’s it, relax. Let Sam take care of you.” 

He rocks his hand, pressing against your clit as he does. The tension clusters there, roiling and speckling beneath your skin. You moan and mewl, writhing as your feet kick against the cupboards. 

“Fuck, baby, you got me hurting,” he pulls his fingers out slowly and wipes them down your thigh. He flutters along your skin and gives a pinch. “So fucking sexy, you know that?” 

He once more grips your hips and slides you down the counter. Your head comes flat over the surface and your lashes part, giving a glimpse of the kitchen lights as they ring in your drunken vision. He balances you on the edge and shifts between your legs. 

You force your eyes wide and turn your head. You stare at the door to the front room. In that moment, the glaze of alcohol breaks and you hear and see everything so clearly. The voices competing with the music, the clink of glasses and shuffle of footsteps. The trim of the doorway and the flawless white paint. 

The dull pain that splits you drowns your lungs with a shriek. Sam smothers it in his hand as he keeps going, pushing his tip past the seal of your resistance. He hushes you as he rocks gently, urging further and further into you. 

You shake as you fight to raise your head. You look at him as tears form on the brims of your eyes. He has a hand splayed over your pelvis as he invades you inch after inch. You warble into his palm as he bites his lip and ignore your pain. 

He sighs as he impales you to his limit and well past yours. You arch your back and curl your toes as you try to ease the pressure. You beg him with pitiful whimpers against his hand. 

He slides back, staring at his length as he does, then pushes back in. You clench and grasp his wrist, your guts tightening. His hand pushes up your skirt as it trails up to your stomach then along the front of your dress. 

He shoves your head down to suppress your rising voice. He keeps you trapped there as his hand blocks out your sobs. His other hand delves under the vee of your dress and he fondles your chest. You snivel and flick your eyes back to the vacant ceiling. You close them as you try to hide from this distorted reality. 

Sam pumps into you, groaning and grunting as his pace builds. Faster, harder, until your flesh claps loud enough to be heard against the drone from just the other side of the wall. You shudder as that fact feeds your futility. Here you are, just feet away from help, and you can do nothing. 

“Yes, baby, that’s it,” Sam moves his hand beneath your head, lifting you slightly off the counter, and his other curling under your ass as he buries himself deeper. “Be a good girl for me. Let everyone hear how much you want me? Huh? Let that bitch know she’s can’t compare to you, baby.” 

[liloinkoink]

[art by @martynsimp69]

hello to the, uh, 200+ new followers i've gained from trivia. im finally remembering to throw out a quick pitch for some of my fics to you lot. can i interest you in some lanterns

Lamplight AU

Lamplight a DnD-inspired fantasy renchanting/treebark au in which Martyn is a paladin-by-desperation and Ren is his god. if you've ever seen fanart of Martyn with a lantern / staff around, that's this!

Ren has lost his body and been left in the form of living fire, and Martyn has been separated from his adventuring party. the two of them are looking for a way to restore both of these, and doing a lot of arson in the interim. the fic is about 50k, most of which is "canon" storyline and the rest of which is "non-canon" ship fic. there's also plenty of cool art and even some animatics for the fic, all of which i absolutely recommend trawling thru the "lamplight au" tag for (on here or on my writing blog, @driflew, or checking the fanart tab on my blog). there are even a pair of spin off fics written by close friends of mine for desert duo and boat boys!

lamplight is written out of chronological order and uploaded whenever. work on it lately has been slow, but it's still ongoing

lamplight isnt my only fic (tho it is my favorite). i write a lot more renchanting/treebark aus, some of which ill list off here:

A Romance Route for the Doomed Villain?!?

(for the record. that title was NOT my idea). this au is also known as treesekai, or the treebark isekai dating sim parody oneshot. martyn is a normal man far too obsessed with the main antagonist of a poor-quality dating sim, the very same dating sim he's isekai's into. silly crack treated seriously parody fic as a love/hate letter to the many, many isekai webcomics ive read on webtoon originals over the years. it has a lot of rlly cool art and fic based of it, which you can find in the "treesekai" tag here or my writing blog

Treebark Week 2023

i also have a handful of oneshots from participating in every single day of treebark week around this time last year. these oneshots are for a bunch of different aus, such as a One Piece au, a beauty and the beast au, a lamplight roleswap au, a hero/villain au, a king/pirate au, and a mer au. all of these aus were developed with the help of other people (Rev for the One Piece au, and Cherri for the rest) and have other fics or art attached!

you can find bonus scenes from all of these aus, fanart or fan writing (including several page long comics or animatics), and even scenes from other aus i havent posted on ao3 over at my writing blog, @driflew, under the "lew writes" tag

uhhhhh. not sure how to wrap this one up. welcome to my home? woe treebark be upon ye

[lovelyjj]

omfg so i have read a lot of jj fics and never once have i come across a fic where reader or oc is as unhinged as jj. like in s1 when jj finds the gun they’re all like omg that’s so bad put it down but what if reader was like that’s so dope!!! lemme see it bam bam and takes pics with jj and shit. idk and then when he’s holding the gun to toppers head she’s like WORK IT SMOOCHIE!!!! it just makes me giggle

No because I love this idea!! thank you for this!

The pogues would always be kept on their toes with you and JJ and your behavior. The two of you always getting into trouble and being adventurous. The rest of the pogues were pretty much used to it by now.

When John B found the motel key you were intrigued. You were convinced that it would lead to something exciting. When you tried to report the sunken boat and it failed, you and the pogues decided to check out where the key leads for yourselves.

It was a no brainer that you were going with John B and JJ into the room. JJ was your partner in crime. You weren’t gonna let JJ have all the fun without you.

The HMS Pogue landed on the shore by the motel. John B and JJ got out of the boat. You followed closely behind.

“Let’s go,” John B clapped JJ on the shoulder.

“Why are all these mattresses out?” John B pondered.

“After a hurricane, they ditch ‘em ‘cause they’re all moldy,” JJ answered.

You, JJ, and John B walked up to the room while JJ tried to convince John B that Kiara was into him.

“This is it.” John B announced.

“Okay.” JJ stated.

“Here we go,” you anticipated what was gonna be inside.

JJ knocked on the door and said in a high pitched voice, “housekeeping.”

John B unlocked the door and the three of you entered the room. You all started looking through things. John B was looking through a bag and JJ was looking at a jacket.

You went into the bathroom and scanned the area. JJ went over to the nightstand and found a map.

John B eventually got the safe open, “holy shit.”

“Uh… JJ, Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“You’re gonna want to see this.” John B insisted.

“Dude dude dude!” JJ excitedly said.

“Oh my god no way!” you exclaimed.

“You grabbed the gun,” John B was mad.

“This is a SIG Sauer.” JJ acknowledged.

“Put the gun back, JJ!” John B whispered yelled.

“This is a fucking spendy gatt, man.”

“Hey! Lemme see it please,” you voiced.

JJ gave you the gun and you felt powerful.

“Bam! Bam! Bam!” you held the gun out in front of you like you were gonna shoot it.

“Y/N, stop,” John B raised his voice.

“Take a pic of me.” you ordered.

“You wanna make our own incriminating evidence?” John B deadpanned.

“Fine I’ll do it myself, JJ get in here.”

You held up the gun in one hand and your phone in the other. You angled the camera so it could get you and JJ. You took some pictures. Then you set the phone on the nightstand and leaned it against the phone.

You put the phone on a timer and went back to back with JJ. You held the gun up near your face and took a couple photos like that.

“These are so sick!” you cheered as you looked at them.

All of a sudden you herd something from outside. John B looked out the window to see Kie and Pope. Then he looked out the window closest to the door. It was cops.

You hid outside the building on a ledge. When the cops left you all got out of there.

—————

Kiara’s idea for a kegger was a good one. You were excited to let loose and enjoy the party. JJ filled up a cup of beer for you which you gladly accepted.

The party was going well, you were dancing with JJ. When you wanted to take a break you went over to the keg. JJ got a drink for John B. But when he was going to give it to him Sarah and Topper walked by.

JJ offered the drink to Sarah, but then Topper said he’ll take it. That’s when a fight started to break out.

John B and Topper were getting into. Then it started to escalate. Topper was drowning him. You were scared because you knew John B could die at any moment.

JJ was getting worried as well. He knew he had to do something and do it fast. The only thing he could think of was the gun.

JJ pulled the gun on topper and pressed the gun to his temple.

“Yeah, you know what that is.”

“Get ‘em jayj!” you shouted.

“Give it to em good!” you yelled.

Everyone else was yelling at JJ to chill and to stop as well as to calm down. You however encouraged your boyfriend.

“You’re move, broski,” JJ warned.

Topper weakly said, “We’re good we’re good.”

Then JJ took matters into his own hands.

“Okay, everyone, listen up! Get the hell off our side of the island!” Then he fired the gun in the air two times.

“You tell em baby!” You raised your voice.

—————-

JJ had the brilliant idea to rob a drug dealer. Everyone gave him a lot of shit for it. They yelled at him and told him they were fed up with his bullshit.

You however encouraged him saying, “Barry deserves it.”

All in all, you and JJ together is a force to be reckon with. You’re both very brave and strong and truly unhinged.

[3noa3]

Them leaving you in place

It's one of your only resting times and your least favorite. The other two being when you're not in the party or when the player leaves.

It's not like you hate taking a break or anything, archon knows you're not a workaholic like a few of your acquaintances.

Today the player invited a new friend into his world, low level and all that. After they afk a bit you move to comfort the scared Klee the other player had.

— More under the cut —

You sat stiffly on the chair as the player and her friend chatted among themselves.

The topic has long bored you and you resigned yourself to looking around the scenery of Mt. Aocong, or so you would if the other player's Klee didn't look so distraught.

You already met the Klee your player had but she mostly hung around the Knight of Favonius. The little kid had ample time and support so she got back on her feet after becoming self aware relatively fast but if your guess is right then this Klee probably didn't have the same luxury.

[Oh shoot! I forgot to cook rice!]

[Hahaha! You're dead!... oh wait i had to cook rice too.]

After you discreetly looked into their screen and made sure they left you stood up from the stone chair and approached co-op Klee.

She flinched and looked at you with fear before holding your hands up and showing her you mean no threat.

“Hey uh Klee, you probably don't know me but i know you. You're probably confused so feel free to ask anything.”

You spoke in an awkward albeit reassuring tone. She continues to look at you warily, archons you suck at dealing with kids.

Remembering a trick a Fontainian acquaintance once taught you you proceeded to pull out a mora.

“Here! Do you see this? It's a mora! Oh and where did it go? Right behind your ear.”

You felt tension leave your shoulder after her eyes brightened up with curiosity.

“Ohh ohh, how did you do that?”

She asked curiously as you make a shushing motion with a playful wink.

“Magicians secret, anyway how are you feeling?”

You ask while pulling out a juice from your inventory.

“Klee is a bit scared…”

She replies, looking down and twiddling with her fingers before brightening up as she happily takes the juice you gave her.

“Yeah it's… always scary the first time.”

You then went back to your seat and kept talking to her. She's actually quite nice to be around.

The small bundle of energy happily talked about her adventures, dodoco, and older brother Albedo. You didn't realize how much time had passed until Klee’s player entered the room, left the game and the co-op world ended.

You felt uneasy being left in silence once again but without your player closing the app you could do nothing but stand out in the open, doing some idle animations or dialogue every now and again.

Even when it rained. Even when a lightning struck you. Just standing in painstaking silence...

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 1

Here we go! I have it planned that I will be updating this story on Fridays, so yay! I have 10 parts set out as of now, but we'll see where this story takes me.

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Friends with Benefits, ANGST, unrequited feelings, lots more to come!

Word Count: 1,200

Prologue

You were right to doubt Natasha's words.

Waking up next to Bucky just gets harder and harder as time goes on. Listening to his soft murmurs and heavy sighs, the feel of his bare skin against yours. Every time you find yourself between his sheets, you resent him a little. But it’s not his fault, it’s yours. Every time.

Because you know that if you ever take that one crucial step towards him, you’ll lose him. Lose this closeness, this connection.

So you don’t take that step. You haven’t opened up and told him how you feel for months now. And it drives a knife into your heart with every second that passes where you don’t confess.

Every time you sneak away from parties to some hidden room for a quick fuck, or when he’s pounding into you under a street light on some deserted road with your leg hiked over his motorcycle at 3 am, you can’t help but imagine that all this passion has to mean something to him. Like it means something to you.

So you test it.

You invite him on adventures between missions, visiting museums and parks and 24/7 diners that you know are perfect date spots. He always readily agrees to hang out and stays with you the whole time, his arm slung over your shoulders while he laughs in your ear.

Spending time with Bucky like this leaves you effervescent. You always leave his arms smiling like a fool – because that’s what you are.

Because these movie tickets are just an excuse, really. 

Bucky’s been so busy these last couple of weeks that you’ve hardly seen him, let alone spent any "quality" time with him. You’re currently on your longest dry spell you’ve ever had with him, and the lack of contact leaves you delusional.

Delusional enough to do something stupid. 

Delusional enough to tell Bucky how you feel.

The air is cold as you and Bucky stroll from the movie theater, your heart buzzing in your chest as you contemplate how best to approach the topic. Bucky gives you the perfect opportunity with his next sentence.

“Damn, dollface, forgot how much fun it was to hang out with you. Feels like it’s been ages.”

“We could always hang out more,” you respond coyly, taking his hand and curling yourself against his side. You don’t think you can look him in the eyes while you confess to him.

“Yeah, we should,” Bucky says, and you can’t hold back your next words.

“We could go on a real date sometime.”

You feel a nearly imperceptible jolt in Bucky’s muscles, and his voice is slightly bemused when he replies. “What?” 

There’s confusion behind the words, but you hope against hope that it’s because he’s thinking your suggestion through.

“Well, I mean, we’ve already kind of been going on dates and doing other things that couples do? It wouldn’t be so hard to just make it more concrete, you know?” Your words squeeze around the lump in your throat, your insides shivering in desperation.

Bucky stops in his tracks and pulls you off to the side of the street out of other people’s way. He turns you to face him, his palms resting on your shoulders, his blue eyes searching your face for any sign of the joke you must surely be playing. Because you’ve talked about this. He was very clear. And you had agreed all those months ago – agreed that it was just sex. Agreed that neither of you had any romantic feelings for the other.

“Uh, doll? What are you…?”

Your cheeks burn and your fingers tingle. Your heart can’t handle being scrutinized so intensely at this moment. You avert your eyes to where you’re scuffing your shoe back and forth, back and forth, across the pavement.

“I’m saying… I–I like you, Bucky.” Heart in youth throat, you finally look back into his eyes when you say his name. 

But his expression as he looks back at you isn’t the one you were wanting to see. Bucky looks panicked. Like you’ve just told him that you’re holding a bomb that’s set to detonate in seconds. 

“Jesus,” Bucky says your name in exasperation as he removes his hands from your arms and runs them through his long hair, “why would you–”

Fuck. 

You quickly back-pedal, trying to keep the panic out of your voice while scrambling to pick your bleeding heart off the dirty sidewalk.

“No, no, no. Wait, Bucky. Listen. I know we’ve talked about this before and you said you weren’t looking for anything serious.” Your hands are flying all over the place as you try and explain away your feelings. “But we’ve been hanging out a lot and maybe I just got the wrong idea–”

“Yeah. You did,” Bucky interjects, sending a dagger into the mess of an organ clutched desperately between your hands. “It’s flattering and all, but… you know I’m not interested in you like that.”

You’re successfully holding back tears against the burning in your eyes, but the need to release all the pain you’re feeling is overwhelming. You wrap one arm protectively around yourself and grab on to your other bicep, squeezing hard to feel the physical hurt instead of the emotional.

“No, yeah, you’re right. I’m – I just thought I should be honest? But, seriously, don’t even worry about it.” You hold your hands up in a placating gesture and give as convincing a smile as possible. “This won’t change anything, I promise. And besides, I’ll get over it soon enough!”

Bucky gives you a skeptical look, but nods his head slowly. “So… we’re taking sex off the table, obviously.”

You give a breathy laugh and try to roll your eyes playfully. “Probably not the best idea at the moment,” you respond.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, “probably not.”

You both stand in awkward silence, not really looking at each other. You can only stand it for so long until you casually throw a thumb over your shoulder and suggest heading back home.

It’s a long, long ride back on his motorcycle. But at least the wind lashing your face gives you an excuse for the tears that fall.

***

You make it to your floor without seeing another person, but your luck runs out when you find Nat and Wanda watching a movie together in your bed. The sight of your two best friends smiling warmly at your entrance shatters the last of your strength.

You can’t stop the hiccuping sob that leaves your throat – it refuses to be held back any longer. Both women’s eyes widen and they immediately start to sit up, but you’ve collapsed on top of the covers between them before they could move. You can feel Wanda’s fingers in your hair and Nat’s hand rubbing soothing circles between your shoulders.

Your sobs eventually turn into sniffles, and that’s when Wanda speaks.

“What happened?” she asks softly.

You take a shuddering breath in before saying, “I was stupid.”

“What–” Wanda begins, but Natasha immediately knows what you mean.

“Fuck.” She sighs heavily and leans down to place a kiss on the crown of your head.

Part 2

[hunterwritesstuff]

Tell us more about ck in ur au plz

*Cracks knuckles* you've awoken the autism. prepare for the beam. under cut because good lord do I ramble about this guy, and this is just what comes to my mind RIGHT NOW.

(divider by @strangergraphics)

❄️ So uh. he's a guy. a fella if you will.

❄️ Married. He loves his wife with all his heart, even if he can't show it in the usual way.

❄️ He's always been a kind and just ruler, and has been helping Blackrock recover from his father's influence ever since he gained power in the throne.

❄️ Before the Ice Dagger, he was very like. almost akin to Asgore with his people if that makes sense? Like? He knows his people by their names, stuff like that!

❄️ He babysat Griefer and was good friends with Mayor Thaniyel. Source? *Undertale run sfx*

❄️ He vaguely knows Shedletsky, mostly through him swinging by every so often for..."important business"...whatever that meant.

❄️ Russian. Trust me bro.

❄️ His actual name is Alexei Romanov!

❄️ He's very quiet. Sometimes people will forget he's even in the room. Not because they don't see him, no no, it's because he just sorta. sits in silence???

❄️ He was taken care of by Kitchen Wizard for most of his life growing up. Kitchen Wizard took this as "I will have this whole-ass baby-child in the kitchen with me and complain about how Ivan(his father) never gave me ANY form of assistant at ALL!! Can you believe that?!?" "baba!" "Ah yes, wise words, young prince." "Pebut buba..." "Much too young for that, I'm afraid."

❄️ His cape is rumored to just. be his baby blanket sized up? Like, it's rumored he got so attached to it that he just never wanted to get rid of it? That's HIS? Leave him ALONE?

❄️ Banished Knight is his son. His son's name is Boris, I think.

❄️ Keep babies away from him he'll get baby fever so bad he'll actually sob and it'll be very awkward for everybody

❄️ Father was Russian, mother was Norwegian. It just feels right, yk?

❄️ This is playing into a personal HC, but I feel the voice in his head took on the voice of his father, promising that he'd be proud of him if he grabbed the Ice Dagger.

❄️ "Come now, Alexei. Don't you want to make me proud for once?"

❄️ At first it didn't move him. He'd heard how dangerous that thing was. He'd heard the tales of adventurers going mad while searching for it.

❄️ ...but what if he was different? what if he could manage it? what if he could finally be the one to wield it and control it?

❄️ he would be a hero.

❄️ then whispers of his kingdom's fate started to plague his mind.

❄️ and that's what got to him. he loved his people more than anything, his kingdom more than anything. he saved it from ruin, he didn't want his work to be all for nothing.

❄️ so he assembled a search party.

❄️ then he found it. it was everything he heard it was and more.

❄️ a gloriously carved dagger from an ancient glacier, with a crystal in the hilt, and an aura of magic surrounding it. it felt magical.

❄️ as the voices grew louder, he drew closer, and closer, and closer, until...

❄️ a flash of blue light flooded the room as he grabbed the hilt. he was practically the only survivor. well...not exactly.

❄️ the rest of his search party survived, they were just...frozen. they could observe the outside world, but couldn't move. frozen in chunks of ice, merely...observing.

❄️ meanwhile, Cruel King was frostburned almost all across his body, leaving only a small chunk of his flesh on the left side untouched, and his left eye frozen into a mere ice cube.

❄️ the fallout was devastating. the normally cheery town was quickly swept up in a deadly snowstorm, trapping the people who were in their homes inside, and freezing those who were unfortunate enough to be outside during the storm.

❄️ Blackrock dubbed this event "The great freeze".

❄️ After this, Cruel King was even more reclusive and quiet, feeling as if his people's suffering was his fault.

❄️ Technically it was, but he just wanted to do what would protect his beloved people! H-He didn't have any malicious intent! H-He swears!!

❄️ Then his defensiveness over his kingdom and people starts to grow, and fester into something more. Paranoia. Fear of outsiders. Fear of his kingdom getting destroyed even more.

❄️ Come time of Chapter 1, he increases security around the castle, using his newfound abilities to bring the statues around Blackrock Castle to life.

❄️ Whenever the heroes step onto the castle grounds, Cruel King can immediately tell the air has changed. That one of them is more than meets the eye. He tells his guards to be careful, but still defend with their lives.

❄️ When the heroes arrive in the throne room, unlike in-game, Cruel King freezes over the door out and windows. It was no longer a throne room. it was now a tomb.

❄️ The fight is long and grueling(more akin to Hatred in difficulty), but eventually, Cruel King is defeated, the Ice Dagger knocked from his hands for the first time in ages, finally rewarded with one last thing. Clarity.

❄️ He mumbles some ramblings about how he "just wanted to save my people", and how "the voices have returned...I failed him once again...I feel cold..."

❄️ and finally drops dead, cold on the floor.

❄️ Then he awakens in Nirvana. How long has he been out? Was he dead? Alive? Undead? He didn't understand.

❄️ But then his attention shifts to a more important topic.

❄️ the voices are gone. he was free.

❄️ thinking back on his final moments, he was furious with the heroes. how dare they take him away from his people, from his kingdom? how dare they strip the life he'd worked so hard for away from him?

❄️ but here he feels oddly...at peace. like all weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

❄️ Then he starts wondering what his kingdom is doing. how Kitchen Wizard is doing.

❄️ Then he hears the spawnpoint activate. He turns to the direction the sound came from, finding the party of heroes approaching.

❄️ They spar for a while, the king's anger slowly petering out as he sees their strength at its peak. yes...they could protect his kingdom. keep it afloat.

❄️ Eventually, he yields. And he gives them a card as gratitude for the sparring matches. They could call on him whenever they needed to.

❄️ extra headcanons time, WOOO-

❄️ Woe, inflicts lactose intolerance upon yon king.

❄️ He paid Kitchen Wizard visits as often as he could, he likes him :)

❄️ He dad sneezes so loud it just sometimes. echoes. it scares some of the knights sometimes.

❄️ He's always had ice magic, the Ice Dagger just amplified it to the UNHEALTHY EXTREME.

❄️ He sticks his tongue out whenever he focuses.

❄️ Shorp teefies. he could bite hard enough to make anyone bleed if threatened.

❄️ Speaking of bite, uh. he can like. have an IRON GRIP??? WITH HIS JAW??? SOMEHOW???

❄️ his favorite meal is a bowl of fully loaded baked potato soup from Kitchen Wizard :3

❄️ he WILL mope in his bathtub if needed, DO NOT INTERRUPT HIM!!!

❄️ The Snorey Bears around the area? He helped raise those mofuckers. They're fat because of HIM.

❄️ Someone tried to set up mouse traps around the castle once when CK was younger. CK sobbed deeply. They just want CHEESE!!! Said person was fired immediately.

❄️ Somehow always smells of peppermint...

❄️ Chunker. Kitchen Wizard made sure he was well fed when he was younger and CK kept those eating habits up into adulthood.

❄️ His ass could NOT survive Turitopolis' climate.

❄️ He never really got any portraits painted of himself, as he wanted to try to not become overly vain.

❄️ He sucks at showing emotion. Like, dude is terrible at it.

❄️ Usually speaks in a monotone voice, but if he yells, you better get running.

[captainsophiestark]

Not On The Guest List

Platonic!Percy Jackson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Percy Jackson

Summary: An uninvited guest shows up to Percy and Annabeth's wedding. Luckily, Percy's mortal cousin is on the case.

Word Count: 1,456

Category: Fluff

A/N: One fic a week every Friday of 2024!! We freaking did it!!! Guys, I literally have no idea how I managed to pull this off. But I did! Woohoo!!! Also, this fic and this fic also feature Percy and his cousin having adventures, although you don't need to read either of them to enjoy this one.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Hey! How's it going in here?" I called, knocking on the door as I slowly pushed it open. My cousin and favorite person in the universe, Percy Jackson, called back in response.

"It's going good."

I pushed the door the rest of the way open to find him standing in the center of the room in his tux, looking perfectly polished. I grinned, then made a show of wiping tears out of the corners of my eyes. Percy rolled his eyes, but he was grinning all the same.

"My baby cousin's all grown up," I cried, crossing the room to wrap him in a big hug. He hugged me back, tight, and when we finally pulled apart we were both beaming. "Annabeth's gonna faint."

Percy just laughed and shook his head.

"If anybody's going to faint at this wedding, it'll be me. Or maybe Grover."

"I don't think anybody'd blame either of you."

Percy and I shared a smile, but before we could do anything else, the satyr in question came bursting into the room, looking more than a little panicked. He stopped short when he noticed me and Percy, glancing between the two of us like he really didn't know what to do.

"Grover?" asked Percy, taking a few steps forward. "What's wrong?"

"Uh..." He glanced to me again, then back to Percy. "Nothing! Just... a small problem."

"What is it?" said Percy. I stepped forward, too, trying to give Grover a reassuring smile.

"I'm happy to help, whatever it is the bride and groom need. We'll figure it out."

Grover didn't look any less nervous as he wrung his hands and looked between us. He'd probably been hoping to find one of the magical members of Percy's side of the wedding party, but I'd have to make do.

"It's just... I just saw He- the goddess of marriage outside."

"Hera's here?" demanded Percy, nearly shouting the words without a care for whether she'd notice the use of her name. I scowled, even as Grover seemed to get more and more nervous.

"I guess, since this is a half-blood wedding, she decided..."

Percy practically growled, and I saw a look of pure rage on his face directed at the Queen of Olympus. Probably, if he had to, he'd go out there and start a fight himself to keep her away from his and Annabeth's wedding. Luckily, he had the best cousin in the world to help him out, instead.

"I've got this," I declared, stepping forward and putting a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Leave this to me."

"Hold on..." said Percy, stopping me short as I started to head for the door. "Are you sure? I mean... she can cause all kinds of problems..."

"I know. I've heard all about the shit she's stirred for you and for Annabeth. But I'm mortal, and almost definitely not on her radar. Don't worry about it, Perce. I've got this."

I shot him a wink, then turned and booked it out of the room before either he or Grover could second guess me.

Thankfully, despite being mortal, it didn't take me long to locate Hera once I made it outside the wedding venue. She was practically glowing, and she was the only person in range who had a scowl on her face. I cleared my throat, straightened my shoulders, and shifted into character. Then, I rushed forward and grabbed the nearest person to Hera by the arm. I didn't know her, but I didn't need to for this to work.

"Did you hear?" I asked in a very loud stage whisper. The woman looked at me in absolute confusion, but I continued, just hoping she wouldn't say anything to ruin my play. "I just heard them talking, and they're calling off the wedding."

The woman in front of me gasped, and although I didn't dare look, I could feel Hera's attention shifting to me.

"I know! But it's done. It's like a curse or something, I swear. Everything's been going wrong, and they've been fighting for, like, the past hour. We're working on putting an announcement together for the guests, but like... this is not happening. We all thought they were bulletproof. Apparently not..."

The woman I'd started speaking to looked horrified, but she stopped mattering to me as Hera walked past us, a smirk on her face. Before she reached the corner of the venue, she disappeared into thin air. I smiled.

"Are you... are you serious?" the woman before me asked, her hand flying to her heart. I straightened up and grinned, pausing for one last check that Hera was nowhere in sight before answering.

"Nope! Sorry, weird prank. I thought it'd be a hit, but... clearly not. Enjoy the ceremony!"

The woman scowled, shocked and furious, but I turned and headed inside before she could make a scene. As far as I was concerned, that was a complete mission success. It wouldn't be a forever fix, since Hera would figure out the wedding did actually go on at some point, but hopefully I'd done things well enought that none of us would get in trouble for it. I headed back towards the groom's room to let Percy know the good news, but somebody stopped me just before I rounded the corner to the right hallway.

I looked up to see someone I recognized from a few pictures Percy and Sally had around their houses. Poseidon himself, attending his son's wedding in a Hawaiian shirt and shorts. I narrowed my eyes.

"That was well done," he said, giving me a small smile and nod. I quickly schooled my expression to absolute neutrality.

"I don't know what you're talking about. On an unrelated note, any chance your magic powers would allow you to change into a suit for this wedding? Or at least pants with the Hawaiin shirt?"

Poseidon just stared at me for a long moment, then finally, he started laughing.

"I can see the family resemblance to Sally," he said, clapping a hand on my shoulder and giving me a good-natured smile. "And don't worry. I'm happy to cover for you if anyone starts asking questions."

I sighed. It wasn't an answer to my pants question, but it was a promise to lie to Hera for me, so... I guess I'd take it.

"Thanks. And thanks for coming. I know it'll mean a lot to Percy."

Poseidon gave another smile and nod, then headed off to join the rest of the wedding guests. I watched him go for a moment, then took a deep breath and turned to go find Percy like I'd been trying to do. Never a dull moment since I'd reconnected with this side of the family, but I'd also never regretted it for a second.

Percy was over the moon when I'd told him, and not long after, he and Annabeth finally walked down the isle and said their vows. The ceremony was absolutely beautiful, and by some miracle, we didn't get a reappearance from Hera. After so many pictures everyone in the wedding party was ready to drop, we moved on to an absolutely outstanding reception. With literal magical Olympians in attendance, the party got immediately into full swing, and continued long into the early hours of the next morning.

After whirling around the dancefloor for more songs in a row than I could count, I finally made my way to plop down at a table for just a few moments of breathing and taking the weight off my feet. At least half the guests had already called it a night, but a core of us were still going.

As I took a deep breath, Percy emerged from the dancefloor's crowd and made his way over to me, too. I grinned as I saw him coming, raising the glass of water I'd found in toast.

"Congratulations," I said as he sat down next to me, a massive, dopey smile on his face. "Again."

"Thanks. And thanks for the help today with... You Know Who. Don't know what we would've done without you."

I grinned. "Sure thing, Perce. I missed a lot of Olympian days when you were in the middle of the shit, and even if I hadn't, I know I probably wouldn't have been able to help much. So I'm glad I'm able to help now."

Percy smiled and leaned over to give my shoulder a squeeze, then slumped back in his chair. We sat for a few moments in comfortable silence, watching fondly as our friends and loved ones continued to destroy the dance floor.

In another moment or two, I knew we'd be dragged back into the middle of it, both with smiles on our faces. But it was nice to be able to take a quick breather with my favorite cousin amidst the festivities to just sit back and enjoy the moment.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

Riordanverse Taglist: @valkyriepirate

[hmshermitcraft]

Okay, last Gempearleo prompt (for this theme) I swear (at least from me), I'm done after this.

Pearl was bored out of her mind. There was nothing to do on this damn boat. The adventurer had hitched a ride with pirates instead of sailors so this would go FASTER! Why is this taking so long?! It's been nearly a week and they STILL haven't reached the island. Pearl wanders the boat, she has yet to properly meet anyone besides the pirate she talked to in order to get onto this ship in the first place. Scott, was his name? Regardless, she should leave probably stop staring at the ocean and talk to people.

There's a few interesting folks on the ship, from a harpy named Grian and his companions who he's constantly pranking, a vampire called Mumbo and a human named Scar, to the married couple on the crew a half-fairy named Lizzie and human named Joel.

Pearl is walking across the ship deck when she runs directly into a girl with bright red hair and navy clothes carrying a bucket of water. The water goes all over the both of them as they collapse to the ground. Pearl apologizes but the girl just laughs at her.

"It's alright! I don't mind!" She stands up and reaches for Pearl's hand "I'm Gem! The captains girlfriend. Well, I work here too, but that's how people tend to know me." Pearl freezes, Gem is beautiful. She feels her face heat up as she looks up at the woman. She snaps out of it and takes her hand before silently reminding herself that Gem is taken. By the captain no less. If Pearl even TRIED to make a move, she'd surely walk the plank. And if Gem is with the captain, she must be straight. Wouldn't be interested in Pearl if she's with the captain, and he was in charge of the whole ship anyways so...best if Pearl forgot all about this. Gem pulls Pearl to her feet and picks up her bucket. "Um, hello? Are you alright?" "Uh, YEAH! Yeah, I'm great! My names P-pearl!" "Well, P-pearl!" Pearl blushes as Gem emphasizes her stutter "Welcome to the ship. Hope to see you around some more! Bye!"

Pearl watches her walk away in awe. The avian stays there for a good 5 minutes before grinning and walking off to meet more people.

She meets a few others, but none as incredible as Gem. There's another avian named Jimmy with golden wings who keeps staring off. Some guy who was probably in a cult called Sausage. She doesn't pay either of them much attention, still distracted by Gem. Pearl saw her walking around a few more times and had to force herself to look away from her elegant antlers decorated with various charms and random trinkets, the way she bounced across the deck instead of walking, the way she sounded when she laughed and-NO! Bad Pearl! Stop thinking about her like that! Stop thinking about her adorable deer ears, stop thinking about how her freckles shine in the sun, stop thinking about her...bi flag...on her shoes...oh gods, she's bi! But...Pearl still doesn't have a chance. I mean, she's with the captain-IS THAT A POLYAMORY FLAG?! She tries desperately to pull her gaze away from the charm that had caught her eye from Gem's antlers.

Pearl goes about the rest of the day on a high, she might have a chance! The crew sets up a festival as the sun sets, there's food and drinks and music. One could say many things about pirates, but one cannot deny that they know how to party. Pearl notices the harpy vampire and human from earlier laughing and talking, the half-fairy and human are flirting with a canary avian with golden wings, and Gem is with....oh gods, is that the CAPTAIN?!

The zombie dancing with Gem is just as attention grabbing as Gem is and Pearl can't help but stare at them. So the captain ISN'T a man, but the most gorgeous zombie Pearl had ever laid eyes on. The way she holds herself demands respect, they radiate authority and control over her ship.

Pearl watches for a while as the captain twirls Gem to the song, making her skirt fly out with the motion and makes her laugh with jokes only they two can hear. Pearl almost doesn't notice as they get closer...and closer...and suddenly they've stopped dancing and are approaching Pearl. The captain is looking her up and down while Gem smirks.

"Hello there, don't think I recognize you?" "Um, Scott invited me aboard...heading the same place." "You're telling me Scott invited such a pretty thing on my ship and didn't tell me? I'll have to have a chat with him." "Wait, WHAT?!"

Gem giggles "Look how flustered she is, Cleo! It's adorable!" "Very."

The captain, Cleo, makes eye contact with Pearl and the adventurer can feel their eyes bore into her soul. Something about those eyes... "May I have this dance, my lady?"

Pearl nods and is dragged onto the deck by the two beautiful pirates that she's lucky enough to be speaking to. She spends the rest of the night wishing for this journey to never end so she can spend eternity with them.

Reaching her destination is a bittersweet feeling. As much as Pearl wants to stay on the ship forever, there are things she needs to do here.

But when she finds out the ship will be waiting in port a little longer than they usually would (for no particular reason. Not because the captain is smitten.) Maybe Pearl can speed along her business and get back before she leaves...

Adventure is far more fun with friends. And more than friends.

[2hoothoots]

In all honesty, the funniest thing about this trio (lili/dogen/raz) is the context— like Lili is the daughter of the HEAD of the psychonauts, a prestigious line dating back to the founders, known for their capabilities with fern and then you have dogen who’s the son of another line of prestigious psychics concerning both ACTUAL MURDER and animal telepathy

And then you have like

Some fucking circus dude

Like Raz is a fucking prodigy in itself but from the outside view he is really just “some dude— oh wait, oh shit.” These bitches go to parties and take smug satisfaction in introducing local circus man who also saved the world

yeah, pretty much

(BUT ALSO joking aside this is kind of one of the reasons i think they thematically work so well as a trio! mini-essay under cut)

because that’s exactly it, right – Lili and Dogen both grew up immersed in this world. they’re part of it, part of the community, their families are intimately linked with the founding of the Psychonauts. Lili’s dad is the Grand Head, the boss of this organisation that Raz, meanwhile, is so desperate to join. because Raz is the outsider to all of this – he so badly wants to be a part of the action, the heroism, the community. (and also, sure, we find out in PN2 he technically has that family connection too – but he also has, uh, really good reasons not to make that public knowledge lol)

so many of Lili and Raz’s interactions in PN1 turn on the fact that Lili finds camp so routine as to be entirely boring, whereas Raz is so unashamedly passionate about everything. he’s so completely starry-eyed to get a glimpse into this world, and meet the heroes from his comic books – and his enthusiasm ends up being infectious! it’s what Lili needs to break out of her own apathy, and they start conspiring and arranging midnight rendezvous and going on this whole adventure together… and the rest is history.

i just really like how that setup – Lili and Dogen having grown up with the Psychonauts, Raz being an outsider – manifests in a unique dynamic for each of the pairs, y’know? i write Lili and Dogen as childhood friends. they’ve known each other the longest of the three, they have so many shared experiences, and i think on some level they understand each other the best because of how they’ve come from such similar places. Lili and Raz have this incredible shared passion, they hype each other up and feed each others’ senses of wonder and enthusiasm. and for Dogen and Raz – Raz is one of the only people who treats Dogen as just a person, first and foremost. he’s not cowed by his family’s reputation at all, he doesn’t have any of the baggage that so many people do when they hear the name “Boole”... it’s so unexpected and refreshing for Dogen that he can’t help getting attached!

(and not to get too deep, but it’s especially compelling to me when you consider how the game’s narrative around psychic powers is one that parallels neurodivergence, mental illness, trauma, and broad themes of “otherness”... it’s a thread i like to tease at sometimes around how communities can form, and things can bring people together and individuals can find each other and be seen in their shared experiences. it’s funny but it’s also sweet! it’s really sweet to me.)

[darkintothedawn]

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN || Stiles Stilinski 'Teen Wolf'

Pairing — Stiles Stilinski x Gender Neutral reader

Summary — Day twenty-seven of 'THE BOYFRIEND CODE'. Casper The Horny Ghost haunts you and Stiles after a successful Ouija experiment. Out of all the ghosts you could call, it's one that has a weird fetish with your relationship with Stiles.

27. Thou shalt not, under any circumstances, allow thy boyfriend near a Ouija board. (We do not need to summon ghosts. Again.)

Memo— You can find the rest of the 'THE BOYFRIEND CODE' here. This was influenced by @bamboozledbird's writing at the beginning because I was genuinely entranced with their writing and wanted to try it out myself. I genuinely cried over Casper...

Word Count — 6793

Warnings — Fluff. Light angst if you're like me.

Masterlist | Stiles' Adventures

It starts with a whisper. A thin, slithering thought in the back of your head, curling around your better judgment like ivy.

You shouldn’t.

You really shouldn’t.

But the air is thick with something restless tonight, something that hums beneath your skin, prickles at your spine like an itch you can’t quite scratch. It’s the kind of quiet that isn’t really quiet—static in the walls, a low creak in the wood, the weight of something unseen pressing just a little too heavy against the room.

You should text Stiles. Tell him that his paranoia is rubbing off on you, that you’re sitting in your bedroom with your knees pulled up to your chest, staring at a cardboard toy like it might lunge at you.

But you don’t.

Because if you text Stiles, he’ll know.

And if he knows, he’ll show up at your house in five minutes flat, panting from the sprint, looking at you like you just shot his dad and summoned actual Satan in the same breath.

So instead, you sit cross-legged on the hardwood, the Ouija board spread out before you like an open secret. It’s old—found buried in a pile of forgotten things in the attic, its edges softened by time, the letters faded but still legible under the dim glow of your bedside lamp. It smells like dust and old paper, like something tucked away for a reason.

You run your fingers over the planchette. It’s lightweight, smooth under your fingertips, ordinary. not dangerous.

Stiles is overdramatic.

Rule #27: no Ouija boards. Ever. Period. The end.

Because last time, something happened. Stiles won’t tell you what, exactly—just mutters about cold spots and flickering lights, about things that don’t stay buried in beacon hills.

But that was him.

This is you.

And nothing is going to happen.

You press your fingers lightly to the planchette.

Breathe in. Out.

“Is there anyone here?”

The words feel stupid in your mouth, like asking an empty room if it wants a cup of coffee.

Nothing happens.

Silence stretches, thick and unbroken.

You exhale, long and slow. Of course. It’s a game, a party trick. Stiles is an idiot, and now you have solid proof to throw in his face the next time he gives you that look.

You’re already shifting to stand when—

The planchette moves.

A sharp inhale sticks in your throat. You freeze.

It’s slow. Deliberate.

The tiny plastic window hovers, dragging over the board in a lazy arc, before settling on y.

Your pulse thuds against your ribs, hard and uneven.

Wind rattles against your window. The shadows feel heavier.

Your mouth is dry when you speak. “Uh… hi?”

The planchette slides again.

H I

Your breath stumbles.

The air is colder now. Not a breeze, not a draft, just wrong.

Your fingers twitch, itching to yank away from the board, to snap the whole thing shut and shove it back into the attic where it belongs. But your hands stay put, like they’re not your own, like there’s something else pressing them down.

The planchette glides, smooth as silk, pausing between each letter.

C A S P E R

A sharp bark of laughter escapes you, high and uneven. “You’re kidding.”

Nothing.

Silence, thick as fog.

You swallow. “Is that actually your name?”

The planchette hesitates. Then:

N O

You’re shivering now, but you force your voice to stay steady. “So you’re messing with me?”

: )

The planchette drags itself over to the smiley face symbol (why there even is one you're not sure) in the bottom corner of the board.

Your stomach twists.

You should stop.

You should.

But there’s something under your skin now, a crawling curiosity that won’t let go.

You wet your lips. “Why are you still here?”

This time, the answer is immediate.

L O V E

A sharp knock echoes from somewhere inside the house.

You jump, breath catching in your throat.

Your head snaps toward the bedroom door. The house is quiet. too quiet.

When you turn back, the planchette is moving again, spelling out something slow, deliberate.

Your fingers tingle.

Your stomach lurches.

Letter by letter, the answer forms.

U & S T I L E S

And that’s when you rip your hands away from the board, shove yourself backward so fast that your spine collides with the edge of your bed frame.

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

The board sits in front of you, silent. Innocent.

But the air is different now.

The shadows feel closer.

Something knows your name.

And it wants to talk.

The air feels occupied.

Like something is sitting in the room with you, watching.

Your hands are still in your lap, fingers curled into the hem of your sweater like an anchor. You flex them, shake them out. They don’t feel like yours.

The board is still there. Still waiting. The planchette hasn’t moved since you ripped your hands away, but you don’t trust it. It feels like turning your back on an open door in the dark. Like walking away from something that might follow.

Your pulse pounds at the base of your throat. A tight, rabbit-fast stutter.

The house creaks.

A shift in the walls. The pop of wood settling. The kind of sound that’s always been there, but tonight, it feels sharper. More intentional.

You swallow. “Okay.” your voice is thin, wavering. “So that was… a thing.”

Nothing answers.

Which is worse.

You push yourself onto unsteady legs, moving fast, like if you hurry, the weight pressing at your shoulders won’t have time to settle.

The board goes back in the box. The box goes under the bed.

Out of sight. Out of mind.

(Except it’s not. it’s still there. And you feel it.)

You exhale through your nose, long and slow. Run your hands through your hair. This is fine. It’s fine. Just a dumb coincidence. The planchette could’ve moved on its own. Old boards, friction, whatever. And the name—Casper, really? What kind of self-respecting spirit chooses the most cliché ghost name in existence?

And the whole Stiles thing—

No. no. you’re not even going to acknowledge that.

It’s nothing.

You glance at the door, half expecting something to be standing there. But the hallway is dark and empty. Silent. The kind of quiet that stretches too far, like something is holding its breath just out of sight.

You shake the thought loose. Nope. Done. Not thinking about it.

You flick the light switch off and dive under the covers like a child afraid of the dark.

(Like a child who’s right to be afraid of the dark.)

You don’t check under the bed.

Because you don’t want to know if something is checking for you.

You dream.

You don’t remember when sleep takes you, only that you wake up with a shiver in your bones, the ghost of something cold trailing fingers over your skin.

Your room is wrong.

The air feels stretched, pulled.

The shadows feel too thick, too solid, like the corners of the room have caved inward, pressing close like a body curled up at your back.

And then—

A breath.

Not yours.

Right there. Close.

Like someone is whispering in your ear.

You don’t move.

Don’t breathe.

Your pulse is a frantic thing, hammering against your ribs, a desperate get up get up get up—

The whisper comes again, featherlight.

Soft.

Loving.

"You and Stiles are meant to be."

The air shifts. lightens. the weight in the room lifts, like someone has just left.

Your breath comes back to you in a rush, sharp and uneven.

You sit up so fast your head spins, fingers gripping the blankets, searching the dark.

But there’s nothing.

Just you.

Just your room.

Just the distant echo of something that had been right there.

And the soft, final flicker of your bedside lamp.

A gentle wink.

Like someone just approved.

You don’t sleep.

Not really.

You close your eyes. You breathe. You count the seconds between the rattling of tree branches against your window, between the creaks of the house settling, between the imagined footfalls just outside your door. But every time you start to slip under, something shifts.

A flicker of movement in your peripheral. A whisper in the walls. A breath—soft and warm—against the shell of your ear.

"You and Stiles are meant to be."

You squeeze your eyes shut tighter. it’s in your head. it has to be.

And then, just as your body starts to give in—

Your phone chimes.

You flinch so hard you nearly roll off the bed, fingers scrambling for the device under your pillow. The glow of the screen stabs through the dark. A single notification.

Stiles: u awake?

You stare. The typing bubbles appear. Then disappear. Then come back.

Stiles: Uhhh not to freak u out but

The bubbles pause.

Then:

Stiles: Did u break rule 27?????

Your stomach plummets.

You sit up, blanket tangled around your legs, fingers fumbling across the keyboard.

you: What. Why. No. What.

There’s no reply. Not immediately. And the longer it takes, the heavier your chest feels, the weight of something unseen pressing against your ribs.

Then—

Stiles: There is literally a cold spot in my room rn. It’s 74 degrees in here but the air by my bed is like 40. I can see my breath. This has u written all over it.

you: Stiles.

you: That means nothing. Old house. Drafts. Science.

Stiles: Ok then explain this

A photo comes through. Dark. Grainy. Just his room, the glow of his laptop casting sharp shadows across the walls. Nothing weird. Nothing—

Oh.

Oh.

There.

Just past his desk, where the shadows stretch wrong, bending inward like something is sitting there. a shape that shouldn’t be.

A shape that looks very, very human.

Your breath goes tight in your throat.

you: Ok. Listen. Don’t freak out.

Stiles: Too late.

you: …I may have done a dumb thing.

The typing bubbles explode.

Stiles: Oh my god. What. What did u do. Why. Why would u do this. U said u would never break 27. We had a deal.

you: Ok first of all I never said I wouldn’t. U just made the rule and assumed I’d listen.

Stiles: That’s how rules work.

you: U break rules all the time.

Stiles: Not when it comes to ghosts.

Another message comes through before you can respond.

Stiles: Also something just whispered in my ear.

you: ……what did it say.

Stiles: I hate u.

you: What did it say, Stiles.

A long pause.

Then:

Stiles: It said "You are meant to be"

Your fingers go stiff over the keyboard.

Something inside you curls in on itself.

Because you hadn’t told him.

You hadn’t said anything about the message you got. Hadn’t told him about the whisper in your room, the voice in the dark, the weight of something unseen, pressing, waiting, wanting.

You stare at the screen. Your ears are ringing.

Another message pops up.

Stiles: What the actual fuck did u summon.

The shadows in your room stretch.

Your bedside lamp flickers.

And somewhere, just beyond the edges of the dark—

Something laughs.

There’s a frantic knock at your window.

You flinch so hard your phone nearly flies out of your hands, pulse slamming against your ribs. The shadows haven’t stopped creeping at the edges of your vision, haven’t stopped watching, but now there’s something real, something solid, something alive outside your window and—

“Let me in!”

Oh.

Stiles.

You scramble out of bed, shove the window up, and Stiles all but falls inside, hitting the floor with a thud.

He scrambles up fast, eyes wide, hair a mess, shoulders hunched like something might grab him from behind. He’s in pajama pants, a beacon hills hoodie, and mismatched socks—one orange, one blue—and he looks so frantically Stiles that if your entire body wasn’t locked in a state of impending doom, you might laugh.

Instead, you whisper, “Why did you come through the window?”

“Because your front door is haunted.”

You stare at him. He gestures wildly. “I knocked! And something knocked back. at the exact same time. Which, first of all, rude, I initiated the knocking! Second of all, not normal!” he jabs a finger toward you, eyes sharp. “This is your fault.”

Your stomach twists. “I—”

“Nope. Nope, I don’t even wanna hear it.” he’s pacing now, waving his hands. “I cannot believe you. No, scratch that, I absolutely can believe you, but that doesn’t make me any less disappointed.” he stops. Looks at you. Points again. “You had one job.”

You exhale, long and slow. “Technically, I never agreed to—”

“One.” he holds up a single finger. “One job. Don’t let ghosts into your life. And what do you do? Summon one! And not just any ghost! A ghost that’s apparently obsessed with my love life!”

A creak echoes from the hallway.

Both of you freeze.

The silence stretches, thick and waiting.

Then—

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Three light knocks against your bedroom door.

Your breath stumbles. Stiles whimpers.

You exchange a look.

Then, in perfect synchronization, you both shake your heads.

Nope. not happening.

There’s a long, awful beat of quiet.

Then—

The doorknob twists.

Stiles launches himself across the room, slamming himself against the door, hands clutching the knob before it can turn all the way. “Nope! No, thank you! Not interested! Please take your business elsewhere!”

The pressure against the door stops.

Your chest is aching with the effort of keeping your breathing even. Your pulse is an earthquake. The air thrums.

And then—

A giggle.

Light. Amused. Like a secret shared between friends.

Then, just as quickly as it started—nothing.

The house settles. The air clears.

Stiles doesn’t move.

You don’t move.

It’s gone.

For now.

Stiles turns his head very, very slowly. “We’re burning that thing.”

You swallow. “The board?”

He nods, firm. “Immediately.”

You hesitate. “What if—”

“No what ifs.” he throws his arms out. “We don’t argue with ghosts! We don’t negotiate with ghosts! We don’t let them set us up like some kind of supernatural tinder!”

Another long pause.

Then, soft, cautious—

“…But what if it works?”

Stiles shrieks.

“I hate this,” Stiles announces. “I hate this so much.”

You don’t disagree. But also.

You kind of want to laugh.

Because this is ridiculous.

The plan was simple. Burn the board, which is now on the coffee table again. Maybe toss some salt around. Maybe—maybe—have Deaton do some weird druid thing to make sure there isn’t a spirit of romance permanently attached to you.

But no.

Because instead of letting you commit to a very rational and logical plan, the ghost has other ideas.

Like rearranging the dust motes in the air to spell out L O V E in big, swirling letters.

You watch it happen. Watch the slow, lazy formation of the word, the way the light catches on something that isn’t there.

Then you glance at Stiles.

He’s glaring at the Ouija board, poking at it with a pen, completely unaware of the spectral display happening directly in front of his face.

You squint. “Can you seriously not see that?”

“See what?”

You gesture. “The ghost spelling words. In the air. Right now.”

Stiles scoffs. “No. Because I have self-respect.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, well, it says ‘love’ now.”

Stiles makes a strangled noise. “Oh, of course it does. why wouldn’t it? You know what? Sure. Love. Great. Because that’s exactly what I wanted to be haunted by. Not, like, a cool ghost with unfinished business, or a tragic Victorian child, or literally anything else. No. We get the matchmaking demon from hell.”

There’s a shift in the air. A shimmer. The letters scramble.

Then, clear as day: K I S S

Your face burns.

“Oh, screw you,” you snap at the ghost.

Stiles startles. “What? What’d it do? What happened?”

You drag a hand down your face. “It spelled ‘kiss.’”

Silence.

Then—

“Oh, come on.”

He throws his hands up, whirls in a full circle like he’s expecting to catch the ghost in the act. “What do you want from me?! Do you want me to, like, carve our initials into a tree? Get us matching sweaters? Should I write a heartfelt confession in my own blood?”

The ghost is thrilled by this suggestion. The dust motes shift.

Y E S

You choke.

Stiles gapes. “Wait. It actually said yes?”

You nod, grinning. “Yeah. It thinks you’re romantic.”

“I am not romantic,” he huffs, crossing his arms. “I am deeply inconvenienced.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’m serious! This is a violation of my rights!”

The air swirls again.

This time, it’s just one word.

C O W A R D

You absolutely lose it.

Stiles stares at the word, then at you, then back at the word, then back at you, eyes full of betrayal.

“You summoned a passive-aggressive ghost?”

Tears are streaming down your face. “Guess so.”

He glares at the ceiling. “You’re not even a good ghost. You’re a bad ghost. You suck.”

The ghost, offended, hurls a pillow at his head.

And honestly?

That’s when you realize you might never stop laughing.

But then a knife floats into the room.

You stop laughing.

Stiles stops breathing.

It hovers. Turns. Catches the glow of your bedside lamp. A sleek, familiar kitchen knife—because, apparently, this ghost has access to your drawers.

Your stomach plummets.

“Okay,” Stiles says, voice high-pitched, tight. “So. Uh. What’s the vibe here? What’s—what’s happening? Are we in danger? Am I in danger? Is this where I die?”

You don’t blink. Don’t move. Your muscles are locked, every nerve screaming what now, what now, what now.

Then—

The knife dips. Turns. Angles downward—

And stabs into your pillow.

Stiles yelps.

You don’t react. You’re too busy watching the blade carve.

Slow, careful movements. A deliberate slice, then another. The fabric gives under the pressure, white tufts of stuffing spilling out in soft, uneven puffs.

Then, after a few long, terrifying seconds, the knife lifts.

And right there, in the jagged, hacked-up mess of your now ruined pillow—

K I S S.

A deep, echoing silence.

Stiles stares. You stare. The knife hovers expectantly.

Then, very, very quietly, Stiles says, “Did this ghost just stab a love confession into your pillow?”

You swallow. “Looks like it.”

The knife twitches. A little flourish. A signature on its masterpiece.

Stiles is still staring.

Then—

“Are you actually stupid?”

The knife jerks, offended.

“No, seriously.” Stiles waves a hand at it. “You have full control over physical objects. You can bring a knife in here. A literal knife. From the kitchen. Which means you could’ve also brought, I don’t know, a pencil and paper? A whiteboard? A damn sharpie?”

The knife spins in the air. A clear screw you.

“You are the dumbest ghost I have ever met,” Stiles continues, ruthlessly. “You’re the worst one. The bottom of the ghost barrel. The crusty leftovers of supernatural matchmaking.”

The knife wobbles. Then, just to be petty, it jabs into the pillow again. A few more aggressive slices, some extra destruction—

And now the pillow just says K I S S ?

Like it’s questioning itself.

Like it’s nervous.

“Oh my god,” you whisper. “It’s insecure.”

Stiles throws his arms up. “Good. It should be.”

A pause. A moment of profound stillness.

Then—

The knife, with great disappointment, drops to the floor.

And the ghost?

It sulks.

Stiles is frantically scrolling through his phone.

You are frantically trying to console a moody ghost.

Neither of you are succeeding.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Stiles mutters, pacing, phone gripped in both hands like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. His eyes flick across the screen, jumping from one website to the next. “How do you get rid of a ghost? Salt. Fire. Holy water. Latin? Oh my god, do I need Latin? I don’t know Latin—”

Meanwhile, you—because you apparently have a death wish—are sitting on the edge of your bed, talking into thin air.

“Hey, uh, listen,” you start, keeping your voice soft. Calm. Diplomatic. “I get it. Rejection sucks. And Stiles isn’t exactly the most tactful person when it comes to—”

“I am too tactful,” Stiles shouts.

You shoot him a glare. “You literally just called it the bottom of the ghost barrel.”

“Well, it is!” he gestures wildly at the shredded remains of your pillow. “Who carves kiss threats into furniture?! That’s not romantic! That’s serial killer behaviour!”

The air shudders. the light in your room flickers.

“Oh, great,” Stiles huffs. “Now it’s mad.”

You press your hands together, turning back to the space where the ghost is presumably still sulking. “Look, he’s a little—uh—harsh, sure, but he’s not wrong about the whole pencil and paper thing. Like, you have access to the entire physical world. why not just write a normal message instead of, y’know…” you gesture to the destruction.

Silence.

Then, with the energy of an indignant teenager—

A sharpie flies across the room and smacks Stiles in the face.

He yells. “Oh, what, now you’re taking criticism? Little late for that, buddy.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “You’re not helping.”

“I am helping.” he shoves the sharpie at you. “You’re the one trying to give it emotional support.”

“Yes! Because unlike you, I don’t want to wake up to my furniture spelling out ‘die’ tomorrow morning!”

Another shudder rolls through the air. More flickering lights. The wind howls outside your window, rattling the glass.

Then—

Your laptop turns on.

The two of you go silent.

The screen flashes. Loads up an internet browser. the cursor moves on its own, clicking into the search bar.

Letter by letter, a message types out:

“How to apologize to a boy”

You stare.

Stiles squints. “…Is it seriously googling this right now?”

A pause.

Then, in small, sheepish keystrokes:

“Yes.”

You press a hand over your mouth, trying very, very hard not to laugh.

Stiles, on the other hand, just stares up at the ceiling like he’s reconsidering every life decision that led him to this exact moment.

“…I can’t believe I’m being haunted by an awkward romantic.”

The laptop screen flickers again.

Then, with full offense:

“u r mean.”

“Yeah, well, you are a menace,” Stiles snaps back.

You sigh.

It’s gonna be a long night.

Your laptop is possessed.

Not in the oh no, my browser crashed way. Not in the whoops, I clicked on a shady link and now I have a virus way. No.

In the a ghost is actively using it to research matchmaking strategies way.

Stiles has stopped pacing. He’s just standing there, phone forgotten in his hand, watching as the search bar fills itself out with progressively more desperate queries.

“how to get two ppl to kiss”

“romantic date ideas for stubborn humans”

“does calling someone a coward make them want to kiss??”

You bury your face in your hands. “Oh my god.”

Stiles groans, dragging a hand down his face. “This is the dumbest haunting in existence.”

Your laptop screen refreshes. Another search query appears.

“how to kill humans so their ghosts can date each other”

Silence.

The two of you stiffen.

Then—

The ghost frantically backspaces.

“ignore that. Wrong tab.”

You and Stiles exchange a look.

“…Yeah,” Stiles says slowly, “We are absolutely exorcising this thing.”

That snaps you out of it. “Wait—hold on.”

“Nope.” he furiously types on his phone. “No waiting. We are skipping the part where it decides to actually murder us.”

Your laptop screen flickers again.

“not murder. Just possible solution.”

“That is literally the same thing.” Stiles looks at you, eyes wide. “Do you see what you’ve done? This is why we have rules! This is why rule twenty-seven exists!”

You sigh. “You’re being dramatic.”

“It just googled how to kill me.”

The ghost furiously shakes your mouse. The cursor jerks back to the search bar.

“no!!! Just research!!!”

“yeah? Well, so was the Unabomber.”

The ghost slams your spacebar.

“rude.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Can we please focus?”

“Gladly.” Stiles flips through a list on his phone. “Okay. Banishing spells. Holy water. Iron. Salt. Fire. Latin.” he pauses. “…I still don’t know latin.”

The ghost is offended by this.

Your laptop screen glows. a new search appears.

“how to learn latin for ur crush”

You choke.

Stiles whirls on you. “Oh, hell no.”

“I—”

“No. you are not indulging this.” he glares at the ceiling. “And you. Casper the horny ghost. Cut it out.”

The spacebar slams.

“make me.”

Stiles screams into his hands.

Stiles is having a meltdown.

Stiles is not okay.

Your laptop screen? still glowing.

The ghost? still googling.

And at this point, it’s not even trying to be subtle anymore.

“how to get two ppl to bang”

“aphrodisiac foods to make at home”

“can ghosts set the mood”

Stiles lets out a pained noise. “Why is this happening.”

You ignore him. Mostly because you’re done letting him be in charge. You snatch his phone right out of his hands, scrolling through his very frantic research.

“Hey—rude!” Stiles protests, reaching for it.

You dodge. “You were literally about to order holy water off eBay. I think I should be in charge now.”

He sputters. “I—okay, first of all, I wasn’t gonna actually order it, I was just looking—”

“You had it in your cart.”

“I was considering.”

You hold up the phone. “You also googled ‘can you fight a ghost with a baseball bat.’”

Stiles crosses his arms. “Well? Can you?”

You don’t dignify that with a response. Instead, you focus on what actually matters—getting this thirsty little menace out of your technological devices.

Thankfully, you find an answer pretty fast.

“I got it,” you announce, scrolling through the details. “We can exorcise it back into the Ouija board.”

Stiles blinks. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah.” you nod, skimming the instructions. “We just have to do a binding ritual. Some salt, some chanting, and—”

You pause.

Then groan.

“More Latin.”

Stiles throws his hands up. “Why is it always Latin?”

Your laptop dings. another google search pops up.

“how to say ‘daddy’ in latin”

Stiles screeches. “Are you kidding me?!”

The ghost spins your mouse around in a happy little circle.

“Casper the horny ghost strikes again.”

You drop the phone into your lap, rubbing your temples.

“Okay,” you say, voice tight. “Let’s get one thing straight—”

“you two should get straight into bed ;))))”

You grab the nearest object—a stuffed animal—and hurl it at your laptop screen.

The ghost giggles.

Stiles groans. “This is worse than a regular demon.”

The google searches keep coming.

“do couples ever accidentally fall into bed together”

“how to get a stubborn boy to admit he’s in love”

“is throwing objects at your crush flirting”

Stiles points. “You see this? You see this? This is why we have the rule! This is why we don’t let me near Ouija boards!”

You sigh. “Yeah, yeah.”

“No. Say it. Say ‘Stiles, you were right.’”

You glance at your laptop.

It’s already typing.

“Stiles u were right ;)))”

Stiles lunges for the power button. “That doesn’t count.”

You get up. You need salt and whatever else that dumb binding ritual requires before you lose your mind.

Meanwhile, Stiles is losing a full-on argument with a floating laptop.

And the worst part?

the laptop is winning.

“Put it down.” Stiles lunges for it.

The laptop zooms out of reach, hovering in the air like it’s mocking him. The screen glows bright, another google search filling out before his eyes.

“is it cowardly to not sleep with ur crush”

“Oh my god.” Stiles swipes at it again, but it tilts just out of reach.

You, halfway to the kitchen, pause to watch. “Are you seriously fighting my laptop right now?”

“Yes.” Stiles whirls on you, arms flailing. “Because your horny little pet ghost is cyberbullying me.”

The laptop flickers. more typing.

“Stiles is a coward”

Stiles’ eye twitches.

“Stop. Typing.”

“make me ;)))”

Stiles screeches.

You sigh. “Why are you entertaining this?”

“I’m not entertaining it.” he grabs a pillow and hurls it at the laptop. “I’m defending my honour.”

The pillow misses completely. the ghost, smug, floats the laptop higher, tilting the screen toward him like it’s watching him suffer.

Another search bar appears.

“how to get a shy boy to make a move”

Stiles freezes. “I am not shy.”

A second search bar immediately fills out underneath it.

“signs that ur in denial”

Stiles throws another pillow.

You shake your head and continue into the kitchen. “You keep doing… whatever this is. I’ll get the salt.”

“Yeah, you do that.” Stiles points a threatening finger at the laptop. “Meanwhile, I’m gonna kick this thing’s metaphorical ass.”

Another flicker.

“but u won’t even kiss ur crush ;(”

Stiles yells so loud the kitchen lights flicker.

There are only so many times a man can be publicly slandered by a horny poltergeist before he snaps.

And Stiles? is officially at his limit.

“Alright, listen here, you little freak,” he hisses, hands on his hips as he glares at the floating laptop. “I don’t know what century you died in, but here in the modern age, we don’t just pressure people into having sex, okay? We communicate. We build trust. We respect boundaries.” he gestures wildly. “Which, by the way, you have none.”

The laptop screen flickers.

“but ur so slowwww”

Stiles groans, dragging his hands down his face. “Oh my god, shut up.”

More typing.

“yr crush clearly wants u”

“Yeah, I know.” Stiles throws his hands in the air. “That’s why we’re in a relationship. a healthy one. A functional one. And I swear to everything holy, if you screw this up for me, I will find a way to murder you a second time.”

The screen flickers again, slower this time. The cursor blinks, like Casper is thinking.

Then:

“…So u like them a lot???”

Stiles exhales sharply. He presses his hands together, trying to be patient.

“Yes,” he says, voice softer now. “A lot.”

A pause. The screen flickers again.

“like. A lot a lot???”

Stiles shifts on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. His ears burn.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “A lot a lot.”

For a second—just one second—Casper seems regretful.

The laptop floats lower, the screen dimming slightly. Like they’re actually backing off.

Like they’re about to let this go.

Like they’re about to be reasonable.

And then—

the screen flashes back to life.

“oh so ur a virgin”

Stiles’ soul leaves his body.

“What—”

More frantic typing.

“that changes everything”

“No it doesn’t.”

“u should have said”

“It was none of your business.”

“omg. Stiles. Buddy. Pal.”

Stiles lunges at the laptop. “I swear to god.”

the laptop zips away.

Another search bar fills out.

“how to make ur first time special”

Stiles just stands there, stunned, as it keeps going.

“best romantic settings for ur first time”

“is slow music necessary”

“candles or fairy lights???”

Stiles grips his hair, screaming internally. “Stop googling stuff about my love life.”

“just tryna help bro”

“You are not helping.”

Casper clearly disagrees, because another search immediately follows.

“how to tell if ur boyfriend is ready to lose his v card”

Stiles shrieks.**

You return to find Stiles in full meltdown mode.

The laptop is still floating. The google searches are still coming. And Stiles—poor, suffering Stiles—is one search away from spontaneously combusting.

“Stop talking about my virginity,” he yells.

The laptop screen flickers.

“but its so cute tho”

Stiles lets out a strangled noise.

You roll your eyes, stepping past him to the coffee table, where the Ouija board sits. “Alright, enough,” you announce, dropping the supplies onto the surface. “It’s time to put Casper the horny ghost back where they belong.”

The ghost is unimpressed.

“rude”

Ignoring them, you crouch down, pouring a careful circle of salt around the board. You set up the candles next, arranging them evenly before pulling out your phone to double-check the ritual.

Stiles, still fuming, watches as the laptop types another message.

“so ur really a virgin huh”

Stiles clenches his fists. “Oh my god.”

“like. Never ever??”

Stiles turns to you in horror. “Why are you letting this happen to me?”

You barely glance up. “Because it’s funny.”

Stiles looks personally betrayed.

The ghost, apparently delighted, keeps going.

“bet u get all flustered when they touch u huh”

Stiles’ eye twitches. “I’m going to throw that thing out the window.”

You finish setting up and pat the floor beside you. “Come on, sit.”

Stiles does not move. “No. I refuse. I’m not holding your hands while Casper makes fun of me.”

The laptop jerks in the air.

“ur rlly gonna make them do all the work??”

Stiles scowls. “That is not what’s happening.”

“sounds like it tho”

You sigh, reaching out to tug Stiles down by his wrist. “Just sit, okay? The sooner we do this, the sooner Casper can stop embarrassing you.”

Casper strongly disagrees.

“but its so easy”

Stiles groans, dropping his head onto your shoulder. “I hate my life.”

You just smile, squeezing his hands. “You love me, though.”

Stiles exhales, long and suffering. Then, grumbling, he laces his fingers with yours.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “A lot a lot.”

Casper immediately goes feral.

“lmaooooo”

Stiles yanks his hands away. “Nope. I’m out.”

You catch them before he can fully escape. “Stiles.”

“Nope.”

“Stiles,” you say again, firmer this time. “come on.”

He exhales sharply, shoulders tense. Then, with great reluctance, he sits back down, jaw clenched as he takes your hands again.

The laptop wiggles in the air.

“awwww”

Stiles groans.

You close your eyes, inhale, and start chanting.

You squint at Stiles’ phone, trying to make sense of the Latin text on the screen.

Then, clearing your throat, you begin to chant.

Horribly.

Stiles winces. “Oh, that’s bad.”

You glare at him. “Do you want to do it?”

Stiles immediately zips his lips.

The laptop, which had been hovering smugly, suddenly jolts. The screen flickers, then frantically types out:

“wait wait wait”

You keep chanting.

“no seriously hold on”

You and Stiles exchange a look. He raises a brow. You keep going.

Casper panics.

“okay okay im sorry”

You are unmoved.

“u guys are so cute together”

Still chanting.

“Stiles being a virgin is actually really sweet”

Stiles freezes. His grip on your hands tightens.

The laptop shakes.

“its cute he’s saving it for you”

Stiles chokes. “Excuse me?”

You, determined to finish this ritual, repeat the Latin again, stumbling over the words but refusing to stop.

Casper is now fully spiralling.

“no no no listen”

The room grows colder. The candles flicker.

Casper, in a final act of desperation, types one last message.

“Stiles seriously u should lose it to them that would be so romantic”

Stiles makes an inhuman noise.

Then, in sheer self-defence, he starts chanting along with you.

The exorcism is working.

The laptop, once floating and taunting, slowly starts to lower. The screen flickers, its glow dimming. The temperature in the room shifts—still cold, but losing that sharp, electric edge.

Casper isn’t fighting anymore.

Instead, the laptop shakes slightly, the cursor blinking like they’re hesitating. Then, sluggishly, they type.

“oh :(”

You falter.

Stiles doesn’t, though. His grip stays tight, his voice steadier now as he repeats the Latin alongside you.

Casper types again, slower this time.

“I just wanted to see some love again”

Something in your chest twists.

You glance at Stiles. His brows furrow slightly as he reads the words, but he doesn’t stop chanting. He’s committed to the bit now, and, honestly, you can’t blame him. Casper has been an absolute menace.

And yet…

With a soft sigh, you squeeze his hands. Then, before you can second-guess yourself, you lean in and press a kiss to his lips.

It’s gentle. Just a simple press, a quiet reassurance. Stiles stills for a moment—surprised—but then his shoulders relax. He squeezes back, kissing you once before you pull away.

The laptop’s screen flickers rapidly.

Then, just before it fully powers down, one last message appears.

“thank u”

And then—

Casper is gone.

Silence settles over the room. The temperature evens out. The candles flicker one last time before steadying. The laptop—finally—stays put on the coffee table, dark and unmoving.

Casper is gone.

You exhale, rubbing your hands over your face. “Well. That’s that.”

Stiles, still holding your hands, eyes you suspiciously. “…Are you crying?”

You scoff. “What? No.”

His lips twitch. “You totally are.”

“I am not.”

“You absolutely are.”

“I just—” you huff, crossing your arms. “It was kind of sad, okay?”

Stiles gapes at you. "Are you serious? That ghost spent the last half-hour bullying me about my sex life.”

“I know,” you mutter, shifting awkwardly. “But they just wanted to see love again.”

Stiles groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh my god. You’re actually sad. You’re mourning Casper the horny ghost.”

“I am not mourning.”

“You are literally tearing up.”

“It was sweet!” you argue. "They got to see something nice before they left.”

Stiles snorts. “they also called me a coward and tried to set the mood with candles.”

You cross your arms tighter. “…I’m just saying, it was kind of tragic.”

Stiles shakes his head, grinning. “Unbelievable. I just survived a supernatural thirst trap, and you’re the one getting emotional about it.”

You glare at him. “You have no heart.”

He winks. “Nope. Just a lot of unresolved ghost trauma.”

You smack his arm.

Stiles stretches, groaning as he flops back onto your couch. “Well, that was a night.”

You sigh, rubbing your eyes. “Yeah. And it’s, like, three in the morning now.”

Stiles lifts his head just enough to glance at the clock. “Ugh. No way I’m driving home. I’d probably fall asleep at a red light and get haunted again.” he flops back down. “I’m crashing here.”

You roll your eyes. “You were gonna do that anyway.”

“Yeah, but now I have an excuse.” he grins, getting comfortable. “Y’know, ‘cause of my trauma.”

You snort. "Right. The great tragedy of Casper the horny ghost.”

“Exactly.” he pats the couch. “I deserve comfort.”

You shake your head but grab a blanket and toss it over him anyway. Stiles immediately burrows into it like some kind of gremlin, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“This is nice,” he mumbles, already half-asleep.

You hesitate, watching him for a second before sitting beside him, tucking your legs under you. He’s still buzzing with leftover energy—one foot tapping against the couch, fingers twitching against the blanket—but his breathing is evening out.

For a moment, it’s quiet. Warm.

Then, just as you’re starting to relax—

“I still can’t believe you cried over Casper.”

You smack him with a pillow.

Stiles laughs when the pillow smacks into his face, but it’s softer now—sleepier. You don’t bother arguing anymore. You’re too drained, the exhaustion of the night finally catching up with you.

Without really thinking about it, you shift closer, curling into his side.

Stiles stills for a second, like he wasn’t expecting it. Then he exhales, wrapping an arm around you without hesitation.

“See?” he murmurs, voice lower now, more tired. “Told you I deserved comfort.”

You hum, pressing your face into his shoulder. “Shut up.”

He chuckles, but his hand starts moving—gentle, absentminded strokes along your back. It’s soothing, grounding, enough to make your eyes slip shut.

After a moment, he sighs. “I really hope that ghost isn’t still watching.”

You groan, burying your face deeper into him. “Don’t jinx it.”

His fingers tighten just slightly, a protective little squeeze. “Nah. You did good. Casper’s gone.”

You nod against him, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing. For the first time all night, everything feels still. Peaceful.

Stiles shifts just enough to press his cheek to the top of your head. “Go to sleep,” he murmurs.

And this time, you actually can.

The room is quiet now. The candles have burned low, their soft glow casting faint shadows along the walls. The laptop stays dark, untouched.

And on the table, the Ouija board sits still—until, ever so slowly, the planchette begins to move.

A faint, lingering presence guides it, gentle and deliberate, letter by letter.

"L O V E"

"I S"

"W O R T H "

"T H E"

"W A I T."

"B E"

"H A P P Y."

Then, with one final, silent goodbye—Casper is gone.