#and then the other half is me absolutely hating his guts and being so annoyed by his decisions

[noelles-legacy]

Ignorant?

Let’s just say this was Noelle’s breaking point into why she can’t stand Sebastian… the audacity of this bitch. I know a lot of people really like him (and I for one absolutely love him as a character💚🤍) but Sebastian gets on my nerves SO much playing the game, and to that I reflect that onto Noelle.

but also when he almost forced Ominis to cast Crucio in the scriptorium, like bro stfu cause like hell are you making my baby do that, that’s messed up😭👿

What I wish my choices were

>that was cruel

>you’re not thinking straight

>I WILL TURN YOU TO ASH YOU FOOL

[vauxxy]

SETTLE DOWN!

luke castellan x reader

★ “for crying out loud, settle down!”

ABOUT - you hate his guts. he hates yours. but you’d by lying if you said you didn’t want to make out with him until his lips start bleeding. and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like that idea.

WARNINGS - sexual references, sexual comments, enemies to lovers, steamy makeout scenes, no explicit smut. both luke and reader are very horny and very mean sooo two red flags lol

A/N - please don’t make fun of my english/australian vocabulary. i know americans don’t use the word ‘fit’ but LET ME LIVE IN PEACE!!!let me know if you’d fancy a part 2 <3

WC - 3.7k words

it’s hard to recall when exactly your distaste towards luke castellan first developed.

maybe it started off as rude comments and shoved shoulders, or simply the act of tripping over each other's shoes, paired with a few nasty glances. either way, you hated his guts.

this sentiment was obviously returned by luke, who was eager to constantly egg you on and rile you up. maybe he found it amusing- watching the ever so calm and collected eldest daughter of the hypnos cabin going absolutely ballistic whenever luke did something slightly annoying. he loved the way her mature and gentle persona shattered as soon as he provoked her.

it was rather strange how quickly they let their masks slip, letting themselves shout foul obscenities at each other as soon as a conflict arose between the two of them. it was like being near each other was the primary catalyst for their arguments and squabbles- not the actual contents of the disagreement itself, but the players involved.

curiously, luke’s terrible attitude was never extended to anyone other than you. around everyone else at camp half-blood, luke was the perfect gentleman. warm and welcoming to anyone who happened to walk past him, a great swordsman, well-kept, respectful and polite, the list goes on. he was perfect. but as soon as his eyes met yours, his entire body shifted. he became something colder, something ravenous- something hungry. he was out for blood, he just didn’t understand why.

you were slumped over a picnic table near the cabins, tiredly observing all handful of half-blood kids from various cabins making friendship bracelets.

it was dark out, the moon and the embers of the nearby fire acting as the sole providers of light for the camp that night.

truthfully, you didn’t want to be there. you would rather be in bed, coddled up between your sheets for hours before heading down to the infirmary to help out the younger kids with their sleeping troubles. maybe afterwards you could go down to the theatre and join in on a few songs with the apollo kids, or even practice sparring with clarisse.

whatever it was, you didn’t want to be there. not with luke castellan’s eyes studying your every move. you didn’t need to lift your head to know he was looking at you- you could feel it. the arrogance was radiating off him and you could smell his pride from across the picnic table. your nose easily picked up on notes of wet grass, a neutral deodorant, pure spite, and vanilla candles.

after what seemed like an eternity, you eventually shot your head up to meet luke’s unwavering gaze.

“someone’s sleepy.” he smirked, his voice calm and cold. he looked satisfied; content with watching you slowly rise in anger as he began to coddle you and patronise your every move.

you ran a hand through your hair, fixing the messy state it was in after laying down for so long. “i’m not sleepy, just bored.” you retorted, letting your hands hold up your head as you stared deeply into his eyes, not breaking eye contact.

luke played along, refusing to blink as he picked up on the competitive gesture. “bored, huh?” he mused, shooting you a cocky grin as he leaned forward over the table. “you’re never satisfied, are you, princess?”

you rolled your eyes, letting your pupils meet the back of your head as you stifled a groan. you slowly covered one side of your face in your hand, hiding your pink cheeks as a result of his use of the nickname ‘princess’.

“don’t you have a loser convention to get to?” you asked, referring to the cabin councillors meeting that he was supposed to be at.

luke shrugged, looking to his side as he watched a young demeter boy making a bracelet. “got cancelled. now i get to look at your pretty little face for an hour straight.”

“i’m going to bed.” you grumbled, standing up from the picnic table, an unfinished friendship bracelet left discarded. you walked away, hearing little to no protests from the rest of the table.

luke’s eyes met the bracelet you left behind, studying it for a moment. the colours were cute and the beads were placed strategically along the string, creating an interesting and visually pleasing combination of textures and shapes. luke’s hand wandered over to the bracelet, quickly snatching it before securely tying it and stuffing it in his pocket.

luke wasn’t sure why he stole the bracelet. maybe he thought he could taunt you with it, or maybe he could just wear it for shits and gigs. it was a pretty bracelet- why wouldn’t he want to wear it?

a week passed by, and it was time for capture the flag.

luke had consistently come out of the games a champion, securing his place as the best swordsman at camp half-blood whenever possible.

you were tired of it. you promised yourself that when the opportunity arose, you would beat him to it. you would earn the praise he revived so effortlessly.

your determination to win capture the flag was also partially encouraged by the events of the previous tuesday.

you, luke, and a few other older demi-gods were forced to monitor the younger campers on a trip to the nearby lake. simple, right? wrong.

things went south fast when luke ‘accidentally’ nudged your shoulder a bit too hard, forcing you to fall into the lake. luckily, you were a strong enough swimmer and were able to get back on land safely.

“sorry about that, y/n. maybe next time you should keep out of the way?” he leaned in close, whispering in your ear.

luke smirked lightly as his dry hand rubbed the soaking wet and now transparent fabric covering your shoulder. his lips softly grazed your neck as you released yourself from his grip, shooting him a dirty look.

“you should watch your step, castellan. things like this happen to anyone.”

luke scoffed, looking you up and down as he took in the sight of your shivering body. “do they now?” he asked, his head turning to follow your figure as you walked past him.

as you walked away, luke couldn’t help but study your body as it became revealed by the fabric of the camp t-shirt sticking to your skin. how could he not admire the way he could see the vague outline of a lacy black bra underneath your top? or the way your wet hair was framing your angry little face? how you stared him down as your friend offered you a towel.

if you weren’t so acutely aware of how your figure was on full display, you would’ve pushed him in as well- but you were way too infuriated to even get close to him at this point… as well as the fact you didn’t think you could handle the idea of him taking off your shirt in front of you, all wet as his hair let water droplets roll down his torso.

maybe you could handle hitting him with a baseball bat a few times, but the idea of his face all beaten and bloodied was strangely appetising as well.

in all fairness, luke’s actions were not unprovoked. it’s not like you didn’t also tease him and fuck around with his temper.

for example, the very day before the incident at the lake, you had used your abilities as a daughter of hypnos to put him to sleep… for 19 hours, causing him to miss out on camp activities and lose hours of valuable training time.

you felt pure bliss watching him as he stepped out of the hermes cabin, confused and disoriented as hoards of campers instantly surrounded him.

“are you okay luke?”

“i heard you were in a coma!”

“we thought you were a goner,”

luke blocked out the concerned comments of his peers as soon as he caught you gazing over at him from the deck of the hypnos cabin.

with that ‘i got you good’ smirk plastered across your face, luke knew he had to get you back. getting to see your semi-exposed and cold, shuddering body in the process of doing so was only a bonus.

he felt a high from getting to see what he caused. what he did to you. it made him hungry for more. how else could he anger you? get you to show him more? how could you return the favour? would you? he didn’t know if you realised the effect you had on him- but he was going to do anything in his power for you to feel it too.

but those incidents were nothing compared to what was about to go down.

2 hours into capture the flag, and you had managed to fool and scare off enough members of the blue team, causing many individual members to go off track. those hours practising sword fighting with clarisse were definitely worth it.

you leaned against a nearby tree, closing your eyes for a moment as you fiddled with your sword. lost in thought, you heard something coming. more specifically, someone. you didn’t even have to open your eyes to know who it was.

“oh, hey castellan. isn’t it past your bedtime?” you asked, rubbing your eyes open as you lazily swung your sword back and forth.

luke scoffed, taking a step towards you. “i think i like you better when you’re drenched in lake water.” he smirked, looking into your eyes without breaking contact. he couldn’t look away. it wasn’t even because he wanted to intimidate you; he simply couldn’t stand to have you exit his field of vision. not right now, at least.

you look a step backwards, getting into position as you use your shield to protect yourself. “are you gonna try to maim me or what?”

luke took another step forward, mirroring your stance as he took the defensive. “and hurt your pretty little body? i’d rather die.”

you turned red, your mouth agape as you processed what he had said. “excuse me?” you spat, your voice breathy as your eyes widened.

“you heard me,” he smiled innocently, deceiving you before beginning to attack. you blocked every move, pacing around the area as you swung your sword at him. “you’re such a fucking prick!” you grumbled, trying to catch your breath as you struggled to mark him with your blade.

“language, princess.” he scolded, still smiling at you as he continued his attempts at disarming you.

that was the moment when you realised something.

you can play dirty.

not with your sleep-themed party tricks or your weak little fists, but with the power of unpredictability. the element of surprise.

you let him get closer to you, pretending to settle down before him. luke chuckled at the sight of your loosened grip on your shield and increasingly tired eyes, noticing the way your footsteps shuffled backwards and forwards.

“someone’s getting tired-“ his cocky sentiment was quickly cut off by the feeling of your hands tightly gripping his arm- his shock only furthering as your teeth dug into the soft skin on his wrist.

he instantly dropped his shield, his sword still held firmly in his other hand. you quickly released him from your bite, taking a step forwards as you put your weight on his shield. “ow- what the fuck?!” he stammered, looking up at you with red cheeks and a bleeding hand.

you were stumped. you hadn’t thought further than getting rid of his shield. “i didn’t mean to break skin to be honest. sorry.” you shrugged, picking up his shield and throwing it far away while he was still frozen in shock.

luke continued looking at you, silent as he became overwhelmed by the feeling of a ruthless war finally coming to an end within his mind.

obviously, he found you attractive. you were a pretty girl. sure, a lot of girls at camp half-blood were pretty. but for some odd reason, he thought you were much prettier. the type of pretty girl that deserved to be called cute nicknames every day and covered in gentle kisses every night. he wanted to kiss you softly, hold you tightly, say you looked gorgeous, make you tacky beaded bracelets that were the same colour as your eyes. he wanted to make you feel loved.

but he also thought you were a brat. always teasing him and only him. driving him insane with targeted comments and insults. purposefully making him look stupid in front of the younger campers and even patronising him for it. luke wanted to put you in your place. he wanted nothing more than to push you onto his bed in the dead of night, marking you as his. he yearned to hear your strained voice whimpering his name as he towered over you. he wanted to exchange knowing glances and pretend nothing had changed, despite the images of your hands gripping his bedsheets as you let out stifled moans etched into his mind.

luke often wondered how the two could overlap. how the fuck could these two perceptions of this one girl coexist? but luke didn’t wonder how it was possible to think about anymore, he didn’t care about that. now, he wondered if it was possible to act on both of his separate desires for her. he wondered if she even wanted him as much as he wanted her- if she wanted him at all.

“hey, i said i was sorry for making you bleed!” you called out, snapping him out of it.

“stop sulking! what, do you want me to kiss it better or something?”

luke blinked for the first time in what felt like centuries, shrugging as he let a sly smile creepy onto his face. “oh, im not sulking.” he insisted as he stepped closer towards the shorter girl.

he extended his wrist out towards you, a deep and bleeding bite mark engraved into the skin. “you gonna kiss it better, or…?”

you turned red, shaking your head. “i was just joking, castellan.” you murmured coldly, trying to avoid his gaze.

he kept his hand extended towards you, temping you to just take it and kiss it to get him to leave. “fucking loser…” you grumbled, holding his hand in yours as you gave his wrist a soft kiss.

“there, better?” you scoffed before luke’s hands began to tightly grip your wrist, spinning you gently onto your back as he pushed you to the ground, hovering over you. luckily, you still had your sword in your hand. you quickly moved it in front of you, holding the blade close to his neck.

“be careful, princess” he cooed, his sword digging into the dirt ground, standing upright in is position as the skin of your right thigh pressed against the blade. his hands gripped your shoulder and waist, keeping you bound to the floor as you began to squirm under his grip. “ugh, are you kidding me?!” you huffed, your face red from the feeling of intimacy between the two of you arising.

luke was basking in it, relishing the moment as he became almost addicted to the feeling of your skin against his. he let out a hitched breath, his eyes trailing down her frame as he finally realised just how close they were. the vulnerable yet stubborn look in her eyes set off a switch in him. you watched him curiously as he suddenly became a flustered mess, quickly scrambling off of you and standing up.

you lifted your back off the ground, using your hands to rid yourself of the dirt that had accumulated on your shirt.

“are you gonna explain whatever the fuck just happened, luke?” you asked, calling out to him from your spot on the ground.

he rolled his eyes, turning around to face you. “shit, y/n- are you fucking stupid?” he questioned, his voice reeking of irritation and frustration. you furrowed your brows, standing up as you approached him, sword and shield in hand. “oh, alright. forgive me for wondering why the dickhead who threw me into a lake a few days ago was pinning me to the ground in the middle of capture the flag for no reason?” i explained, seething as i pushed him back by the shoulders.

“what the fuck is your problem?” you asked again, letting yourself back him up against a nearby tree.

the game didn’t matter to you anymore. what mattered was getting to the bottom of why this prick was fucking around with you. sure, you liked how it felt being pushed against the ground. you liked the feeling of his blade pressing against your thigh. but you liked the boy more than his actions. you hated yourself for it, of course. this was the dude who’s been teasing you about and pushing you around for 3 summers straight- so why the fuck did you think he was the fittest guy you had ever laid your eyes on?

why did you want him to run his hands through your hair? suck on your neck till it went purple? why on earth did you spend countless nights dreaming about him holding you close as he slept next to you?

you were the eldest hypnos daughter at camp half-blood. you could’ve changed your dream easily; came up with literally any other fantasy at the drop of a hat- but you didn’t. you let it continue. because as much as you hated to admit it, you liked him. you wanted him bad. every last inch of him.

luke let your words echo through his mind for a bit. ‘what is my problem?’ he thought, his expression blank as he stared at you. “i don’t know, y/n! maybe my problem is you?” he said, his voice strained, yet still snarky and somewhat dramatic.

you rolled your eyes again, stepping forward. you kept your hands on his shoulders, pressing him further against the tree he was pinned against. “i’m your problem?!” you asked angrily, holding your sword against his neck once more.

“yes! you make me feel fucking weak.” luke confessed, gripping your wrist tightly as he pushed your hand away in order to create some space between his neck and the sword. “i can’t control myself around you.” he exclaimed, pushing his hand against yours as you retracted the blade from his neck.

“you bring out the worst in me, and i hate you for that.” you arched your brows, leaning forward. “that sounds like a you problem.” you quipped, defeatedly pushing the top of the blade of your sword into the ground as you let your newly free hand grip his chin- forcing him to look down at you.

luke’s hand wandered over to your face, his thumb softly grazing your bottom lip as you tilted his chin downwards, letting him look you in the eyes.

“don’t act like you don’t get exactly what i mean, princess.” he cooed, his voice low as his fingers traced over your lips and cheekbones, his other hand gently caressing your jawline as his fingertips wrapped around your neck.

you grumbled, standing on your toes to reach his height. “you’re a prick.” you scoffed, your eyes fluttering closed as you eagerly kissed him on the lips, his cheeks turning red as he mirrored your movements. he let his hands run through you hair, his other hand resting on your waist as he turned you around- pushing you against the tree now.

his hands ravenously scattered across your delicate frame, trying to feel every curve and dent on your face, back and waist. you pressed your body against his as his hands travelled across your form, closing any and all distance between the two.

after a few straight minutes of violently making out, you pulled away for air, staring into his eyes as your lower lip trembled in shock. you both tried to steady your breathing, lost in each other's eyes as your heartbeats returned back to normal.

“i’ll kiss you again if you turn around and let us win.” you said quickly, the offer seemingly the first thing you could think to say.

luke stayed quiet for a moment, before bursting out into hesitant laughter. “i mean, that’s a pretty good offer…” he said softly, letting his fingers trace your facial features as he studied the colour of your eyes.

“sure.” he said, a little smile on his face as you both leaned in again, the kiss a lot more passionate this time around. you held a clump of his hair in your hand, lightly pulling on on it as luke’s fingers jumped between gripping your neck and shoulders- the other hand running up and down your waist and hips.

you felt his knee hit the bark of the tree, slightly bent as it lightly pressed against the inside of your thigh. that’s when your hands began to grip the back of his shirt, your lips gliding down to the side of his neck. quiet moans escaped luke’s lips, only encouraging you to keep going. he moved his hand downwards, tracing circles into your hips as he moved his other arm hand upwards, cupping the space on the side of your breast with his thumb, lightly rubbing your ribcage.

the moment was only increasing in intensity- before luke was cut off my the sounds of someone calling his name. he quickly pulled away, leaving a gentle kiss on your lips before stepping back.

“right, time to hold up my end of the deal.” he chirped up, leaving one more needy kiss on your forehead.

“oh, by the way-“ he paused, before quickly pulling the bracelet you made the week before out of his pocket. “did you want this back, princess? or can i have it?” he asked cheerfully, his voice low as he looked over you.

“keep it.” you said hastily, your cheeks a vibrant shade of red. luke nodded, giving you one final kiss on the lips as he put the bracelet on the same wrist you had bitten earlier. he gave you a subtle wink and a smile, before jogging away- leaving you frozen in place.

you could hear him talking to his friend from a distance, noting on how he lied to effortlessly- saving your arse over a few kisses.

needless to say, the red team won capture the flag. but luke couldn’t bring himself to care about losing. how could he care about anything other than y/n and her hands and her smile and her eyes? her witty comments and remarks? the way she tilted her head up to look up at him? the way his face fits perfectly in her palm? how could he care about anything else ever again?

[penkura]

Inspired by this post from @xxchaosjojoxx, I had to run with it and do one for Shachi, it just came to me and I couldn't NOT do it. 💚

Orca man needs all the love, too. 💚

Oh shit oh no gotta hide!

Nearly throwing himself around the corner, Shachi does his absolute best to hide from you. He cannot see you right now, not when he’s being forced to tell the truth no matter what question he’s asked! All was fine and dandy when he went into town with Penguin and Bepo, until they were ambushed by some other pirates. Of course they were no match for this trio, but unfortunately Shachi was hit with a devil fruit that has left him unable to even tell a little white lie for the next 48 hours, and he’s terrified at the thought of having to speak to you right now.

What if you ask just the right question and he reveals the crush he’s had on you for years now?? He can’t risk it! Every time he’s seen you today he’s run and hid away, confusing you immensely. You think you’ve done something to upset the red head and hate the idea that you did so, but you can’t even pin him down long enough to ask. Penguin won’t even tell you! He just laughs and pats your shoulder, telling you to keep trying, you’ll trap the orca man eventually and get the reason why out of him.

It’s not like he wants to see Shachi suffer through an unplanned, likely fumbled confession, but it would be entertaining after he’d gotten the two in trouble last week for falling asleep on the job. Law wasn’t happy about it and neither was Penguin even though he swears Shachi fell asleep first. At the very least it stuck the two of them with you on kitchen duty the next day, Shachi spent most of the time joking around and trying to flirt with you, but you didn’t seem to catch on.

Penguin has half a mind to shove you into his and Shachi’s room, forcing the confession and subsequent response from you. He’s sick of hearing his friend moan and whine about how much he likes you but how he's so convinced you don’t have even the slightest but of romantic feelings for him, even though Penguin knows that’s not true. Ikkaku and Hakugan have told the older man how many times you’ve done the same thing as Shachi, yet somehow you can’t tell when he’s flirting with you. It’s so annoying.

Shachi just watches you and Penguin from around the corner, ducking back behind it when you nearly see him. He’s already been asked some embarrassing questions by Uni, Ikkaku, and Clione once they found out, but he’s begged everyone to keep this incident from you. He just can’t deal with this, he’s going to hide for the next 48 hours until he’s absolutely sure that the powers have worn off and he’s not going to spill his guts about his feelings to you if you ask a simple question like “what’s up” or “can you help me out” or “Hey why the hell have you been avoiding me”. He’s sure you’re wondering what’s going on, but he’s got to hide, he’s not ready to tell you anything yet!

“Not ready yet?! It’s been five years, dude!”

He knows Penguin’s right but Shachi just hasn’t figured out the words to tell you. He wants it to be perfect even if it takes a few years more.

He's not too keen on the idea of it just being blurted out because of an enemy’s powers. Instead of hanging around any longer, stressing about if his feelings for you are going to be revealed today, Shachi takes off down the hall, trying to be quiet so you don’t realize you really did see him. He doesn’t want you coming after him right now.

Penguin has other ideas though. Once he’s sure Shachi is gone to their room, he puts an arm around your shoulders and starts leading to that way himself.

“He’s just been ignoring me ever since you guys got back…every time I try to talk to him he runs off, did I do something?”

“No, no, don’t worry, you didn’t do anything, “ Penguin pats your shoulder while you hum like you don’t believe him, “I’m sure he’s back in our room, I’ll stay outside while you talk to him, okay?”

“So you can eavesdrop or keep him from running away?”

He laughs which makes you smile, once you get to their room and he grabs the doorknob.

“Just stay behind me and don’t say anything.”

You nod and hide behind Penguin, holding onto his boiler suit, while he enters his room and greets Shachi, who is laying face down in his bed.

“Come on, you can’t hide for the next two days, man. [Y/N] thinks she did something!”

“But she didn’t!!” Shachi whines into his pillow, Penguin rolls his eyes while you listen, “It’s not her fault, I just…uuugggghhhh this is the worst….”

“You should just tell her dude, whether or not you’re forced to.”

“That’s not how this should go, man!” Sitting up, Shachi lets out a trusted sigh before taking off his hat to run his hands through his hair, “I…she deserves a better confession than me being unable to control my mouth cause of a devil fruit, you know?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Confession??”

Penguin sighs while Shachi’s eyes widen when he hears your voice, you finally stick your head out from behind Penguin. Shachi sends a glare at his friend who shrugs and starts to leave, saying he’ll give you two some time, before a pillow hits the door.

“Not cool, Penguin!!”

“Oh well! Have fun talking!”

Neither of you say anything but Shachi’s bright red face tells you enough, even as he picks his hat back up and tries to pull it fully over his face to hide from you. When you still don’t say anything to him, he starts mumbling to just forget about it, this isn’t right, you obviously don’t feel the same for him. He still wishes he could’ve told you in a different way, even though he hasn’t even said anything more, he doesn’t fully notice you coming over and seating yourself on his bed until you take one of his wrists in your hand to make him look at you.

“Shachi, do you have feelings for me?”

“Yes, I do.”

“How long have you liked me?”

“…five years…”

That’s a surprise to you, just like the fact he actually does like you too. You never guessed it, you always thought the flirty comments he made were just him joking around and trying to get a rise out of you, despite Ikkaku trying her best to convince you that he really did have a crush on you. But the fact it’s been five years, you can’t believe it! You’ve been with the Heart Pirates for six years, and only had your own crush on Shachi for the last two years! It makes your heart flutter and your chest feel warm, especially when you hug Shachi tightly, even though he’s a bit slower to return it.

“I’m so glad because I like you too~”

He’s just as surprised as you were, even with the smile you give him that he returns before laughing.

“I…sorry, I should’ve just told you…”

“Mm…yeah, probably, but I should’ve told you two years ago when I realized my own feelings.”

“Wait, wha—”

Shachi doesn’t get to say anything else because of you shutting him up with a kiss, but he’s completely fine with it. It’s definitely not how he would’ve liked to tell you, though he really can’t complain when it worked out positively for the both of you.

It's unfortunate you ended up asking him a lot of different questions that he had to answer because of that devil fruit. At least you were sweet enough to give him a kiss for every answer.

[paperstarwriters]

Muriel & Physical affection HCs

I always feel so weirdly torn about Muriel & physical affection because on the one hand I do realize that he's kinda uncomfy with it in the first half and he's only better with it in the later half because he's grown familiar with MC, but like...

my gut instinct (aka, my need to project my traits onto him) is telling me that Muriel (like myself) is a little touch averse with strangers/people he doesn't know well, and even his friends since he doesn't know whether or not they're comfy with that and is too afraid/awkward to ask, but when given the chance/opportunity to he really really really likes cuddling, and will just absolutely creep up behind you to hug you while you do something. When he works on his carvings, he likes to either have you lean against his back while he works or have you sit in his lap (Only if he's painting/varnishing/whatever tho, he's not going to get wood shavings on you lol) Sometimes he even likes lying down in your lap if you're reading something.

also, also surprise kisses are most certainly a thing between the both of you lol (I know I've already written about this lol but I can't help it I love this idea too much) He just loves to shock you with a little kiss somewhere sensitive on your skin just to see you react with embarrassment or melt in his hands for once. Of course, he's no safer from kisses but he still takes great delight and joy in seeing you get all squirmy for once.

also, Imagine the chaos of the both of you bathing/swimming in a lake or something. With less clothes, Muriel has more access to your skin and will definitely leave some kisses in places he wouldn't have been able to reach before. And even if he practically freezes at the contact, rest assured that he loves you taking advantage of the same thing just as much as you do.

Also I imagine that he has a sort of love-hate relationship with PDA. On the one hand he hates the attention it draws to himself from onlookers. It makes him kinda spiral as he worries about what other people are thinking at seeing him with you, do they think that it's an imbalanced match or something? Do they think you're out of his league? Do they find PDA annoying and see his actions as uncomfortable or gross or rude or annoying??

On the other hand he cannot deny how giddy it makes him feel when he laces his hand with yours and gets to stroll through the streets quietly showing off to everyone else that you are his and he is yours. It's even better and even worse with a kiss. Especially since, if you give him a quick peck on his lips he'll probably want more, but will feel too uncomfortable in the crowds for another kiss, let alone asking for one.

and yet despite that he feels almost entirely fine with feeding you and being fed by you when you buy food in the market. Of course "almost entirely fine" might be a little inaccurate, he's not fine, but only in the best ways possible. He doesn't pass up the chance to lick up crumbs or juice or sauce from your fingertips or down your palm and wrist if it had gotten that far, and he gets very, very giddy when you do the same for him. He'll blush bright red, but it won't impede on him eating more of what you feed him. The only time it'd probably come to a halt is if he catches someone staring at the both of you. You'll be able to thank that random stranger for having to stop your little meal early.

Oh also, also Muriel definitely reads fiction stories. I just can't help but grin at the idea of him reading about some sort of knight in shining armor who gets to kiss their love interest on the back of their hand or along their knuckles as a sign of loyalty and respect, and Muriel just, with almost no explanation at all does the same for you.

Idk just Muriel & physical cuddly affection

[v1rtualv4mp]

hello! I was wondering if you had any headcannons for the bloodpack from blade ii? Specifcially snowman but honestly a lot of them didn't get their chance to shine imo before being killed which is too bad :(

⋆♱ 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ♱⋆

Genre: Romance/fluff

Disclaimer: Ever so slightly suggestive but it's just a little bit

A/N: AAA u have no idea how excited I was when I got your request!! It caught me so off-guard, I didn't think anyone would be interested in other characters other than Blade and Scud. And I totally agree with you bro, how can they introduce a bunch of cool characters and just kill them all off. I wish we got to see more of each ones personalities, especially Snowman! He was my favorite :( It wasn't sure if you wanted romantic headcanons or just general stuff, so I did a little bit of both! And also, I am so so sorry for the long wait, I'm new at this 😓 Goddamnit I feel so bad.

☆ PRIEST

– Had the prettiest, most healthy, defined and smooth curly hair as a child but then he fucked it all up with chemicals

– Owned a boat in his teenage years

– Talks in his sleep

– Definently a little addicted to crack

– Is the type of guy who claims to be a player but actually doesn't even know where the clit is

☆ CHUPA

– Used to be a mama's boy, I feel it in my guts I can't explain it

– And he was definitely a little spoiled, too

– Hear me out, he has such a mean face but I BET he's in reality such a loser, like, he has absolutely no game

– He gets really shy when flirted with, then he just pretends to be annoyed by scoffing and walking away (screaming on the inside)

– Is secretly into men but he's in STRONG denial

– Is super sensitive please don't friendly tease him, that guy will take it seriously and lose his shit

– Loves animals, especially big dog breeds and ducks

– Purple is his favorite color

☆ LIGHTHAMMER

– As much as he acts all tough on the outside he's a sweetheart once you break his shell

– Wants to express his love for his partners too but has a hard time doing it so, ends up feeling guilty

– Used to have an underbite

– Is the oldest one of the group, being 279

– Has one of the most nasty, juicy and aggressive coughs you'll ever hear

– Hates the singing of birds, it pisses him off for no reason

☆ VERLAINE

– As the movie shows, she's really really affectionate with her loved ones

– I'm guessing she already had a lot of romantic partners during her life but they were all short-lived, Lighthammer was the only one who lasted for a long time

– I'm assuming they didn't know each other before the whole Damaskinos's training thing, so yeah, they fell in love during it ♡

– Cannot leave her hair alone for shit, is always dyeing it and getting new haircuts

– Is part of the goth subculture (mall goth)

☆ SNOWMAN

– I think Snowman would probably be kinda aromantic

– Like, I think he chooses to focus more on important things such as training. In my opinion, he looks way more experienced than the rest of the Bloodpack so I'm guessing that he has trained for a really long time.

– Virgin

– Loves incense

– Eating sand was his main hobby as a kid

– Is a great cook

☆ REINHARDT

– Has difficulty forming actual bonds with people. As shown in the movie, he didn't even care that half of the people he knew for two whole years were all dead

– Maybe he's had only few friends during his lifetime, maybe 15 or 20 (not a lot since I'm assuming all members are 100+ years old)

– His mom forced him to go to church as a kid

– Second most old member (216)

– His favorite color is pink but no one can find this out

[isehne]

i finished the farseer trilogy last night and i loved it SO MUCH. i love you Fitz and the Fool and Nighteyes and Patience and Kettricken and Verity and Kettle and. I really loved it

rambles under the cut (mostly about assassin's quest)

Overall

Assassin's Apprentice was my favourite overall, but the second half of Assassin's Quest was my favourite experience. I read it so obsessively and went through so many feelings, it was such a great experience

Hobb is SO GOOD at character writing, however her villain's were a bit flat in the first 2 books but reaaaally picked up in Assassin's Quest. Regal had been very unnoteworthy to me but Assassin's Quest made me enjoy him as a character and villain. Her writing for minor character's is so good too, like Cook Sara, Small Ferret, Rurisk.

I love you the Fitz and the Fool (relationship written for me, I became entirely obsessed with them starting with their reunion), Nighteyes (pack!!), Patience (she is SO autistic. Love her very very much), Kettle, Kettricken, Verity.

Chivalry/Patience/Burrich. That's all (actually not all, Burrich wanted to take Fitz to Chivalry and Patience wanted to come back for him. They could have been a family and how would that have changed things?)

Assassin's Apprentice

Fitz’ bond with Nosey forming read as naturally to me as it happened to him. That felt magical to read.

The first note I wrote on Storygraph was 'I have only had Patience for 2 chapters and I love her'. I really did love her.

I gave it 5 stars but I didn't write much because I wasn't entirely hyperfixated yet.. so that's it.

Royal Assassin

My least favourite (but I still enjoyed!), I loved every aspect of it except Fitz and Molly's relationship which kind of ruined this book for me in the moment. However, I forgive it now because Kettle confirmed my thoughts that they didn't love each other but the idea of each other and a relationship. I felt SO validated when she said that you have no idea. My initial ramble about them: 'their relationship annoyed me so much and i hate that it ruined the book and characters, the flip flopping was so irritating, they did not feel in love, they felt like they thought they wanted to be in love. in the 3rd book they still don’t feel in love, they want the comfort of each other. they remind me of guts and casca’s relationship but more extreme'

Honestly the fact Fitz was a teenager in this one was probably what made him more difficult to read. In the first he's mostly a child, in the last he's mostly an adult.

It was SOO obvious Rosemary was a spy. And that the coterie was Regals. And that Molly was going to get pregnant.

I gave it 3.5 stars sorry Ms Hobb.

Assassin's Quest

As you can probably see this is where my brain got intense over this series lmao.

The second half I absolutely adored and went crazy over, the first half I enjoyed a lot but it really did nooot have to be so drawn out. I was going to give it 4.5 because of the unnecessarily slow first half but in the end I loved the whole experience so much I gave it 5 stars.

Then again, I think the very long anticipation of him going to Verity and the Fool and Kettricken made it even better when it finally happened. It was very very good.

Nighteyes and Fitz' separation and Nighteyes learning a life of his own was so needed and really improved their bond. It hadn't felt so natural as with Nosey to me until they came back together. They felt complete again when they reunited and the story did too.

TO SEE YOU TAKE BREATH PUTS THE BREATH BACK IN MY LUNGS. IF THERE MUST BE ANOTHER MY FATE IS TWINED AROUND, I AM GLAD IT IS YOU.

Fitz and Nighteyes being accepted by their pack and free to be themselves… The relationship between the pack was so beautiful I cried over it several times. I love them... I knew Kettle would die but I hoped the others could stay pack but Kettricken is queen now. I know the Fool will at least return to them. The easy acceptance and domesticity, trust and safety between Fitz, the Fool and Nighteyes I absolutely loved so much from the start.

Very much enjoyed how worried and desperate Fitz was about the Fool when he was ill :) He even said if he couldn't keep going neither would he?? Despite Verity's call and the desire to get to Molly and Nettle??

The Fools thoughts on gender and sexuality. I love him very much.

From the rooster crown vision/memory, are the White Prophet and the Catalyst reincarnations…? I know they are soulmates but if they are also reincarnations who find each other in every life I'll lose it. (Also their skill fingertips/fingerprints…. soulmate marks)

The Elderling/dragon (still not entirely sure if all Elderlings are the dragons or they were an older race who also made dragons) lore and the dragon building and the city are SO COOL. I assume/very much hope we will learn more about them.

Kettricken named their son Sacrifice.

The joining between Fitz and the Fool and Nighteyes was stunning, I love them so much.

I can never trust my reading on relationships again because I entirely thought Burrich saw Nettle as his granddaughter and Molly as his daughter-in-law and she saw things the same way. I'm still losing my mind over this (negative).

I got so excited over them awakening all the dragons and the dragons being pack and!! They did it!!

Did the Fool cry when Girl on a Dragon dropped him off because he wanted to go back to Fitz. And Fitz hoping he wears the earring….. I need them all back together.

Honestly I probably cheered hardest for Small Ferret, even though in the end I actually felt badly for Regal and Assassin's Quest made me like him as a character and villain.

Verity went through so much and tried so hard.. Fitz too.. but Verity was more alone than Fitz I think. And Kettricken. I hope she will have friends at Buckkeep. Those 3 are so brave they never quit. I'm so glad for them that they won.

I loved this series!!!!!!!!!!!!

[stargazersmut]

A Trade | Pt. 9 Streams (18+)

Joel X Reader (First Person) 18+

Includes: Smut, threats of violence, dubious consent, teasing, verbal humiliation, manhandling, mild violence, weapons, rough sex

Check out my Ao3 profile for more! StargazerSmut

You're ready to hit the road, but Joel has other plans. You'll have to find another way to keep yourself occupied.

I wake up, throat dry, and my mouth covered in a thick film, I cough, trying to clear my throat, and I see Joel’s hand extending to offer me a thermos. I swallow thirstily and have to stop myself from choking on the water.

“Thanks,” I muster.

“You snore,” he says dryly, raising his eyebrows.

He’s sitting on the bench of the kitchenette table next to me, already dressed. I look outside and the sky is bright and the air feels chilled. I think it’s early morning.

I stretch, my body aching in places I didn’t know existed, and groan at the sharp pain in my shoulder. I rub the spot, and it still stings, but feels better than it did yesterday. I feel a certain clarity to my thoughts that wasn’t before, thanks to a full night’s sleep, but I still feel wiped out.

I look up at Joel, tapping a nervous finger against his thermos.

“Why do I feel like absolute shit?” I say. “I feel hungover.”

He reaches into his pack and tosses me a bottle. Ibuprofen. I groan. “We left the good stuff at the hospital.” I bury myself against my sleeping bag.

“You’re welcome.” He nudges me hard in the back with his boot.

“You’re fucking chipper this morning. Are we heading out early?” I ask, hopeful. I’m eager to get back into town and back towards the outpost. I don’t like being so far out from town. I don’t know what’s out this way, and I’m not eager to find out.

“No,” he says gruffly.

“No? Nightfall then?”

“No,” again.

I look at him questioningly, waiting for him to elaborate but he doesn’t. “What do you mean ‘no’ Joel?”

He looks me in the eyes for just a moment and then starts rifling through his pack. “Not taking you back out while people are looking for us. We’ll lay low here for a couple days and then head back.”

I’m furious. “Are you kidding me? I’m not waiting out here in the wilderness for fucking days. I want to go back home.” I cringe a little. There’s no “home” that we’re going back to, not really.

“Wilderness…” he chuckles to himself. “We’re waiting it out.”

“Is this funny to you? Maybe I’ll just leave by myself then,” I say coldly. As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I know that we both know I won’t. But I’m irritated.

He takes a deep breath and sighs at me. “Look, you’re not okay to travel.”

I scowl up at him, waving my arm and ignoring the pain shooting up through my shoulder. “I’m fine, it doesn’t even hurt.”

“It’s not up for debate.”

“I’m fine!” I yell at him. The thought of having to hide out here in the woods is giving me hives. I try to collect myself. “I’m fine.”

I was hoping we’d reach the outpost by the next few days at most. I feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut. All I want is for life to go back to normal. It will never be normal, but at least the small bit of normal that I’d carved out for myself. Even just getting to be around some familiar faces, somewhere safe and warm.

Instead, I’m out in the woods, sleeping in a molded over old trailer with a man who doesn’t know if he hates me or wants to fuck me on a daily basis.

“You had a fever last night. You were shaking and sweating through your clothes.”

I ignore that. “You need to take me back Joel.” I try to convey my earnestness in my voice, try to to plead with him to change his mind.

He gets up and heads towards the door of the trailer. “No,” he says, not bothering to disguise how annoyed he is with me. “End of discussion.” He points angrily towards the floor. “Get some rest.”

“Fuck you, seriously Joel.”

He postures at me, pointing to the floor. “Rest.”

And with that, he’s out the door, slamming it behind him.

I laugh half-heartedly to myself in disbelief, irritated and exhausted, falling back against my sleeping bag. I stare up at the ceiling and consider how to get him to change his mind. He’s so goddamn stubborn.

I get up, willing the pain in my shoulder to go away, and open my pack. If he’s going to be an asshole, I’m going to make myself some coffee to pass the time, and this time I won’t be sharing.

—

We spend most of the day carefully ignoring each other, circling from opposite sides of the outcrop in an attempt to busy ourselves. In the daylight, I’m able to get a better look at things, but there’s not much to take in.

There are five small trailers, all overgrown and water damaged, each filthier than the next. The one we’ve taken up residence in is far from habitable, but the only one not completely inundated with filth. Anything worth taking has long been picked over.

I sit in the dirt, leaning against the side of one of the trailers, and watch Joel out of the corner of my eye. He’s picking apart some kind of motor he found. Every once in a while he lets out a string of curses and throws down a tool in frustration.

Seeing that he’s just as irritated and in a foul mood as I am makes me feel better. I shade my eyes against the glare of the midday sun and think about all the things I wish I would have brought with me when we left my house. A book, a journal, some cassettes… something.

The thought of having to wait even a few more days here is unbearable. I know some of the antsy energy I’m feeling is from all the unresolved tension from what went down between Joel and I the last few days, but I don’t want to admit it to myself.

A small part of myself knows that the frustration I’m feeling is sexual frustration. If nothing had ever happened between us, he’d never touched me, I’d be fine. But now that I’ve had a taste of it, something so raw and human, not having it feels excruciating.

That familiar urge to pick at him returns, and I try to ignore it. I’m ashamed of myself for wanting it when he told me, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn’t interested.

My mind goes back to his thumb stroking against my stomach last night, the gentleness of it, and my cheeks start to burn.

I glance over at Joel and his pile of metal, and study him. His face is worn, worried, but his body looks good in the shining sun. His shoulders are broad and the way the sleeves of his shirt strain against his arms as he works sends a little shiver of electricity down me.

He looks my way, and I avert my eyes, feeling like an idiot for staring.

I get up and brush the dust off my jeans, walking towards the edge of the circle of trailers.

Joel looks up at me and yells in my direction, “Where you going?”

“What do you care?” I yell back.

“I have better things to do than chase your ass down in the woods.”

I pause at those words, and then brush them off. I flip him off, not bothering to look back, and keep walking. “Gotta take a piss.”

I wander around the perimeter of the grounds, and towards a small stream flowing downhill. The area is thickly covered in trees, and under any other circumstances, it would be a nice place to spend a weekend. The air is clear and full of chirping birds.

Despite the city being overgrown with plants and wildlife, there’s a deadness to it that’s hard to ignore. That’s part of the reason I loved living out on the homestead so much. Being around plants and animals and nature makes it easier to feel like the whole world isn’t falling apart.

I spend a good while walking down the path of the stream and daydreaming. It’s the first time in a long time that I’ve felt a sense of ease. Despite wanting to get away from here, I can’t deny that it’s beautiful and peaceful.

I spend longer than I realize, just walking and contemplating, untiI look up at the sky and see the sun in the distance, beginning to set.

As I walk back up the path, the sun begins to sink in the sky more and more quickly, and I hurry to get back up the hill as the sky turns orange and dark.

I don’t realize how far I’d walked. I know I’ve been following the stream, so there’s no way I’ve gotten turned around, but my heart begins to race a little as it gets more difficult to see what’s around me.

I keep walking, trying to keep up my pace, when I finally hear something in the distance, and my heart drops to my stomach.

It’s Joel, yelling my name, and he sounds angry.

I feel a thrill come over as I walk in the direction of his voice, hearing it get louder and louder.

I remember what he said about no lights and no fires. He’s not going to be happy that he has to shout my name trying to call me out of the woods.

I walk a few minutes more and then I see him. His large, dark form looking into the forest in my direction. I see him before he sees me, but when I finally walk up out of the trees, he stops his yelling mid-name.

He says nothing as he storms towards me. I can see the rage written across his face in the pale moonlight, and for a split second I consider running back into the woods.

I back up as he approaches me and attempt an explanation. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

Before the words are out, he hauls me over his shoulder.

“Fucking let me down!” I scream into his back.

He says nothing, only grunts as he wraps his arm tighter around the back of my legs.

I feel disoriented, being hauled across the grounds upside down in the dark. I attempt to kick against him, beating against his back, but he continues on until I hear the familiar sound of the trailer door hinges squeaking and my stomach burns as he steps us up into the trailer.

“I’m serious Joel, let me go.”

He flips me down on my back, onto the kitchenette table, all but slamming me down, and stands over me. I go dizzy from the roughness, and my shoulder screams in pain.

I grit my teeth, ready to berate him, when his large hand comes down over my face, muffling me.

“No. Nothing more out of your goddamn mouth tonight,” he warns.

I struggle against him as he positions himself between my legs, and leans over the table against me, using his free hand to grip my hair, holding me flat against the cold formica.

“Do you have any idea how much fucking trouble you’ve caused me today?” he rasps.

I try to kick my legs and buck up against him, but he shoves against me with his hips, not letting me gain any leverage. I can feel cold sweat starting to bead up on my forehead as I let out muffled yells against his hand.

“Fucking stupid.” He says it into the air, seemingly more to himself than to me.

This is the angriest I’ve ever seen him, even more than the night we first met. Part of me is sure that he wouldn’t actually hurt me, but my body still strains against him, panicked and desperate to get away.

“It’s a miracle nobody’s found us out here, having to shout your name all up and down the goddamn place.”

He lets out a scoffing laugh, but doesn’t ease up on me.

“You want to know what happens when someone finds you out here?” He whispers roughly into my ear.

The hand gripping my hair slides down, and he’s suddenly palming me through my jeans. I let out a cry against his hand, but he ignores me.

“And I’m not here to rescue your dumb ass?”

His hands wrap around my waist and I’m flipped onto my stomach against the table. My feet can’t touch the floor, and his body presses against me. I try to push up, but he’s like a cement wall, I can’t move.

“Joel, please, I’m sorry.” My words are breathless and desperate.

His hand reaches up my coat and to the waistband of my jeans. He feels around until he finds the button, roughly undoing them.

“You’re not sorry, you’re naive,” he snaps. “Or just plain stupid.” He’s breathing hard against my ear, and I smell that familiar, masculine scent. My body is on fire.

He yanks my pants down, and I feel his warm hand between my legs. He slides two fingers into me, roughly and without warning.

I cry out but he presses against me harder, pinning me in place.

“Is this what you want?” He adds a third finger. “Someone to find you out here and do whatever they want with you?

I can feel the slick mess I’m making against his fingers, his words burning into me. I feel disgusted but my body keeps begging for more, to be filled.

He pulls his fingers out and I take a shaky breath as I listen to him unzipping his own pants.. He grabs one of my hands and pulls it roughly behind me. He spits into it, and forces it around his cock, making me stroke him.

I let out a scream in protest, and his hand shoves into my mouth in response. Tears stream down my face and I have to focus on suppressing my gag reflex.

Moments later, he lets go of my hand and I feel him pressing at the entrance to my cunt, and I can’t help but press back against him.

“Is this the only way you’re going to listen to me?”

He slams inside me and I go dizzy. It’s so much all at once. My body tenses at the sharp, delicious pain.

He pulls out, repositioning himself at my entrance once again.

“Out here.”

He slams into me again.

“No protection,”

Again.

“No sense.”

He slips his hand up my top layers and digs into my waist, thrusting into me faster. It hurts and feels so good, and I struggle to catch my breath as he hammers relentlessly.

I can’t help myself, and a moan escapes my mouth.

“You’re soaked,” he says, disgust dripping from his voice.

"Can't control yourself," he muses, slowing his thrusts a bit as he whispers in my ear. “You’re no better than a dog, maybe I should make you hump my leg again.”

His words sting, and I scream in protest against his fingers. This seems to emblazon him and he goes even harder than before.

I feel so raw and so exhausted that I give in and relax under his grip, let him use me. I shake in his arms as he pushes me harder, over and over again, against the table. I hear the loud sounds my cunt is making as he pushes in and out of me, and pleasure rolls through my body.

Finally, I feel him tense behind me, and I’m flooded with warmth.

His heavy form drops against me, and we both go still, panting and letting our breaths synchronize. I lay there with him on top of me for a long time, hurting and exhausted, totally satisfied, praying that he doesn’t get up.

[mushroom-witch-writes]

Act Like You Forgot

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader 18+

pt.1

Warnings: smut, swearing, fwb, angst(?)

Genre: smut, enemies to lovers, fwb

Summary: you and Eddie hated each other's guts, being the sub in their D&D session helped you talk about something that's been bugging you for a long time.

a/n: I have to start posting more, this is a start. Hope you like <3 also FIRST SMUUUUT WOOO

Word count : 2.046

Eddie Munson. You could swear this kid’s life purpose was to make your days insufferable, but things weren’t always this way. Most of the time you and Eddie would ignore each other’s existence in school. You both had the same style , same movies and music preferences ,but found yourselves in different groups. All was fine until that god forsaken day. The cafeteria incident as you and your friends called it. Eddie had made another one of his famous speeches and you couldn’t help but talk back. “right, so whoever doesn’t enjoy the same things as you is lame, right Munson? Yea I’m sure you’ll get much more acceptance now.” You had said and Eddie felt threatened by his own ‘kind’ at that moment or whatever. He would make comments when he saw you on the hallway , always making sure you heard and you would snap back immediately, never missing the opportunity to shut him up.

You worked at the family video in the afternoons so you ,Steve and Robin had gotten pretty close which of course meant that you had befriended the kids that followed them everywhere as well. Once you walked in for your shift that afternoon your friends gave each other a knowing look as you stormed around the place looking like a crazy person. “okay what did he say this ti-“ Steve started ,but you cut him off “ He called ME, ME of all people, a fucking POSER. Like , what the fuck Munson, look at yourself, with your long ass hair and all the band patches. Wonder if he even listens to them.” They both laughed at you “don’t laugh he’s fucking annoying as shit” “his long curly hair and soft smile and ringed fingers ,that Munson?” Robin said half laughing. You had said those things, but you were drunk and it was before he became THIS annoying. “yea yea Robin, that one. And by the way I don’t stand by those words anymore” Steve then chimed in “is that why you keep looking at him in awe every time?” you shot him a glare “shut up Harrington”. They started laughing again. Some time passed and suddenly the two shits burst into the store. “ y/n!” Dustin yelled “ I’m not here,  fuck off ,no “ “ y/n please he will kill us, we just need a sub” you came out of the counter and folded your arms “ What’s in it for me?” he smiled “You’ll get to play after a long time and if we win you’ll have something to tease him about , please pleeeease” you looked at mike and he gave you a smile “fine”. You hated the fact that you accepted ,but what else could you do. Dustin was right, it would be fun beating Munson at his own game.

Friday came and you got ready. Picked the too shits from their places and headed to school. You regret saying yes the moment you walked in the hall. They opened the door and motioned you in. “what’s this?” Eddie said half laughing when you walked in “she’s the sub” Dusting smiled and Munson started laughing “absolutely not ,forget it” you sighted “what’s up Munson? Afraid you’ll lose?” he came closer. You could smell cheap cologne and cigarettes on him “no no my dearest y/n. I’m just scared that you’ll spoil our night” he said  smirking and bending down to your level “look , I’m doing this for the kids, if you want me to go I will ,just make something up so they won’t be too disappointed. I don’t want to deal with this today.” You whispered and his face softened. “ Let’s see if you can even get close to beating me. Welcome to Hellfire” he smiled and gave you his hand to shake. The session went on for about one hour and ended with success. Everyone cheered for you and hugged each other “ told you we’d beat him” Dustin yelled excited. “yea yea it was fun. Now, time to head back yea?” you said and they frowned “I can take them” Jeff said “oh , uh sure yea, thanks” you replied and started organizing your stuff in your backpack while they left “you actually care about the shits huh?” Eddie said behind you in a low voice. “why wouldn’t I ? besides, you should have seen their pouty faces. Not even you would be able to refuse.” He looked at you puzzled “ not even me?” “oh you know heartless and mean and basically a major asshole” he touched his chest as if he got hurt by your words “how could you say something like that about me y/n?” truth is , you and Eddie had history, even if you both pretended you forgot. You and him had been in a party once ,one thing led to the other and before you knew you were bent over the bathroom sink looking at yourself getting absolutely destroyed by him. You blamed it on the drinks and the weed and never really talked about it. Well , you tried talking about it , but he pretended to be clueless so you dropped it. You zoned out while looking at him because of the image that popped in your head.” y/n, hellooo” he waved his hand in your face “sorry, yea , it’s pretty easy to say such things about you Munson, given the fact that they’re true” now he looked actually hurt. “oh, y/n all these days I was just playing along, I don’t actually hate you” you huffed and looked at your feet “ no I know, but I should hate you. I’m going, it was fun” you said leaving the class and walking in the empty school to your car. How could he not remember. Sure you were tipsy ,but you drank just as much as he did. Steve and Robin had told you not to pay too much attention to it. You couldn’t. It’s been almost a month and you couldn’t get his image out of your head or the way he made you feel that night. That was maybe what made you turn around and walk back into the class. “hey, I can’t keep this inside anymore ,we need to talk” you said when you walked in and he just dropped his things and sat on the table facing you “ we can talk” you walked closer “ I know you said you don’t remember anything about that night at Rick’s, but I do and I can’t seem to get it off my mind no matter how hard I try” he looked down ,he knew you’d bring it up again. “ why can’t you just leave things be? We were drunk and we fucked” this man had a talent pissing you off “ so that was it, you just got horny and thought I look desperate enough so why not ?” he got up and walked around not looking at you “ y/n we just fucked, I don’t like you and I know for a fact that you don’t like me. We both needed a warm body, that’s all” you stared at him with tears threatening to spill. You were tough, not tough enough to just stand there and hear him talk about you like you were nothing but a way to blow off steam. “ I was too drunk and made a mistake” he said.

A couple of tears slid down your face “so I was just a warm body to you. You know what my mistake was Eddie? My mistake was not being drunk enough. If I was maybe I wouldn’t remember and it would be best for both of us. Also fuck you Munson because you are an asshole, the biggest one of them all. Congrats !” you said fully crying now and wishing you never told him anything. You stormed off not caring about the fact that he just saw you cry for him.

The whole ride home all you could think about was how much you hated your self for not hating him. Once you got to your place you dropped your bag on the floor next to your door and headed upstairs to your room. You’d normally lock your door so your family wouldn’t burst in , but they weren’t home. You got undressed and curled up in a little ball on your bed ,crying your eyes out and feeling embarrassed for even thinking he would ever care. Time passed and you had fallen asleep naked. A soft knock on your window woke you. For your own sake your curtains were closed and behind them you could make out a long haired figure with a leather jacket. ‘is that man serious?’ you shot up and wrapped a sheet around your bare figure before drawing the curtains and opening the window “ what the fuck do you want psycho?” you asked looking at him wide eyed. “ I fucked up, I – we need to talk ,for real this time” he said and you sat away form the window letting him in. he jumped on your bed after taking his boots off and throwing them on your floor. Why would you even give him a chance to speak after everything he’s said? Oh yea, because you couldn’t resist this boy and the effect his eyes and words had on you “what is it Eddie?” you asked rubbing your eyes and yawing. He wasn’t talking , he couldn’t talk. He had just realised that you were standing on your bed with him with just sheets covering your naked body, the one he had tattooed  in his mind, the one that he would see every time he closed his eyes, trying to find some peace. “hey!” you spoke again getting him out of his thoughts “yea sorry , I , uh , I remember everything that happened and I know that I’ve been acting stupid for a month saying I didn’t.” you folded your hands on your chest and looked at him with the most disgusted look you could muster. “also, the only thing I regret about that night was being too drunk and high and not being able to last longer” he joked leaning his head to the side and smiling “ that doesn’t make up for the fact that you used me because you were horny” you replied bitterly and truth is, he didn’t. Every time he saw or even thought about you he would go crazy, even before you and him got intimate. He couldn’t tell you that, he wasn’t the kind of guy to confess his utter admiration and love for you right there and then  and get rejected. Still he wanted to be close, he wanted to be able to talk to you and piss you of , make you smile, worship you, use your beautiful body in any way imaginable and make you come all over him like no guy ever had. “ I know, I also know that you couldn’t keep it in your pants either, well, your torn up fishnet tights or whatever.” He felt himself trailing off in the thought of him tearing up your tights and bending you over. God Eddie felt as if he could listen to the desperate little sounds you made one more time , he would die happy and complete. “my point is , dear y/n , the sex was great and I personally would do it again, no strings attached, no labels and shit. Pure, filthy fucking here and there. What do you say?” your mouth fell slightly open at his words. Not because they socked you or anything ,but because the way he talked about it gave your entire body goosebumps. “no strings no labels?” you asked again and his smile grew “exactly sweetheart” you grinned and rolled your eyes “ I’m afraid you won’t be able to live up to that term Munson, but yea fuck it” he smiled and gave you his hand to shake. He held it for a little longer and you could feel this simple touch do things to your mind, things you had promised your self you wouldn’t allow to feel for him again.

_______________🍄✨🌼_________________

Pt2 coming soon <3

Feel free to request anything via message or ask box✨

[baby-beelzeburger]

Oh my gosh if you’re still taking Solomon requests, I dare you to give me your favorite headcanons of him, HE’S SO CUTE AND I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. Solomon deserves so much love. I would LOVE to hear how you perceive him

Challenge accepted >:) Thank you for requesting! Coming up with these was a lot of fun.

Solomon is very fascinated by different cultures around the world. He's spent a lot of time studying them, and knows a lot of languages as a result, ancient and modern. 

He's super romantic. Like, candlelit dinner, walk in the park at sunset, rose petals on the bed kind of romantic. Probably the most romantic of the whole cast, right next to Barbatos and Satan.

He really cares about Asmo. He didn't at first, but he's had a lot of time to get to know him. Despite being total opposites, Asmo ended up growing on him a lot.

Satan is his second favorite of the brothers.

He has abandonment issues, or something similar to it. He's watched people he loved and cared about grow old and die around him for thousands of years, all while he stayed young. That's done a lot of damage to him. He's hesitant to get to know MC for this very same reason. 

He sees Luke and Simeon as a sort of pseudo-family, like they’re his own brothers. He really cares about them.

He’s fascinated by astronomy. He tried for a while to get Belphegor to teach him about the Devildom sky, but after Belphie refused so many times, he eventually gave up and read some books on the subject instead. 

Despite the leniency on MC regarding the difficulty of their classes, Solomon's are just as advanced as everyone else's at RAD. Diavolo decided that Solomon didn't need the handicap that MC had, and Solomon wouldn't have wanted it even if Dia had chosen otherwise.

He secretly knows that no one likes his cooking. He's not really offended, but he is annoyed that no one will tell him straight up, so to mess with them he offers to make food at any and every given opportunity until someone finally has the guts to just tell him it sucks. 

Solomon absolutely hates lying to others, but he finds it necessary sometimes. When he can, he tries telling half-truths over full lies.

He’s so touch starved that even gently brushing hands with MC while they walk beside each other is enough to get his heart fluttering.

His main love languages are quality time and acts of service

He’s one of those people who you can just exist in the same room doing your own separate things, and he’ll consider it valuable hang out time. He’ll cherish that time spent with you, even if neither of you are talking.

He's the best at keeping level-headed in a crisis, even when he's freaking out on the inside.

He gives the best advice. Somehow always knows exactly what to say. 

If Simeon is the mom friend of the group then Solomon is the dad friend. 

I like to think he really enjoys making bad puns. He thinks they're funny, and other's annoyed reactions to them is like candy to him.

He's got a major sweet tooth. He considers himself very lucky that he is friends with Luke because of it.

He's a puzzle guy. Luckily, so are Luke and Simeon. They spend a lot of time around Purgatory Hall drinking tea, eating sweets, and putting together puzzles. 

[koiotic]

Fuck it, posting the glass eye fic I’ve been sitting on for a few months

•••

Katara didn’t trust Zuko as far as she could throw him, and based on past experiences, she couldn’t throw him very far without waterbending. Not that she’d hesitate to waterbend at him if he tried anything- and at this point, she was just waiting for him to slip up.

Which was why she was immediately ready to water whip him off the side of the temple when she heard Sokka’s terrified shriek. Okay, so maybe she didn’t exactly have proof he’d done anything, or even that he was anywhere near Sokka, but she ran towards the noise, water pouch at the ready, planning the best way to toss him out a window anyway-

And it was Zuko! She let herself have the vindication for a moment. Just a moment. Then asked “Sokka, what did you do?”

Look, she hated Zuko’s guts, but he didn’t look like he was actively hurting anyone right now, staring at Sokka in shock and clutching his face (the scarred side, she noted).

For good measure, she repeated the question at Zuko, because Sokka had screamed and he didn’t usually do that for no reason.

“I was just getting dressed!” Zuko protested, halfway between confused and afraid. “And he just came in and started screaming!”

Sokka made a strangled noise and gestured emphatically at Zuko, which cleared up absolutely nothing. “He- he- his- I-“

“Sokka!” She snapped. “What happened?”

Zuko lowered his hand a little and Sokka let out another half yelp. The firebender glared, then winced a little, still not uncovering his face.

“Wait, Sokka, did you hit him?”

Katara was a responsible person, who disapproved of hitting people on principle. She was not frowning at Sokka because she was jealous.

“No!” Sokka managed to get out. “Zuko- he- his eye fell out!”

Oh.

“Sokka...” she sighed. “Are you high again?”

“Wait-“ Zuko cut in, looking a little less confused (Katara would be angry with him for interrupting later, when she was less desperately perplexed). “You were freaking out because I took my eye out?”

“You... you what?” Katara was now matching Sokka’s confused horror. “You took your what out?”

Zuko lowered his hands, and yep, one eye. One eye and one not-eye, because Zuko only had one eye, and an empty eye socket, because what in Tui’s name was-

“What the fuck-“ She wasn’t sure if that was her or Sokka.

One - one - creepy gold eye blinked at them. “It’s a glass eye,” Zuko said slowly. “I kinda have to take it out sometimes.”

That explained everything and nothing at all. “It’s a what?” Sokka demanded.

“Glass eye,” Zuko said, then waved something small and eye-shaped in their general direction. He looked slightly more annoyed than usual, and then it struck Katara that someone screaming when they saw your face probably didn’t do wonders for self-esteem. “An eye. Made of glass.”

Sokka looked outright terrified. “But... how did your eye turn into glass? That happens? Do I have to worry about that?”

Katara did not slam her head into the wall, showing incredible self restraint. “Sokka, you idiot!” she groaned.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, eyes wide. “Katara, why didn’t you tell me this could happen?!”

As a healer, she had a duty to tell him he was being an absolute idiot and that it was clearly a prosthetic.

As a little sister, she had a duty to fuck with him, and that was a far more sacred duty.

“I’m sorry, Sokka,” she managed to sigh. “I didn’t want you to worry, with all the stuff you do that- no, don’t worry. It’s not so bad.”

“What?” His voice was strangled in fear. “Katara, what? Katara what am I doing?! How do I stop it?! Katara?!”

She’d almost forgotten about Zuko until he very sadly said “why do you think Aang doesn’t eat meat? The Avatar needs two eyes, and if one falls out, it could cause problems.”

She did not like Zuko at all, but right then, she loved him.

Ten minutes later, Sokka had sworn off meat, and then the other contributing factors to eyes spontaneously turning into glass and falling out: sarcasm, boomerangs and being an annoying big brother.

“He knows we’re joking, right?” Zuko asked cautiously after Sokka sprinted out to apologise to the spirits for making fun of waterbending.

“Eh, he’ll figure it out.”

———

“So,” Toph said as they settled down for dinner - with Sokka being late for a meal for the first time in his life, “why is Snoozles throwing seal jerky into the canyon?”

“I have a glass eye,” Zuko explained.

The earthbender nodded sagely. “Yeah, makes sense.”

Aang was slowly looking between the three of them like it would make any of this any more sensical. “Uh... what?”

“Long story,” Katara sighed.

Her brother strode up to the campfire with his usual level of theatre, then remembered that being dramatic was also a risk factor and very calmly and slowly sat down. “I think I’m safe.”

“What about your hair?” Zuko asked, completely blank faced.

“... please tell me this isn’t why you had the bald ponytail.”

“You think I did that willingly? No, I needed at least one eye working.”

Sokka sprinted into the temple.

“You’re not actually going to let him shave his hair, are you?” Zuko asked, looking mildly concerned.

Okay, this was perfect and Katara would remember it lovingly for the rest of her life, but even her natural little sister sadism wouldn’t stretch that far. “Toph, please bring him back here.”

———

“Toph, let me out of the rock! I need my eyes!”

———

“Wait... what?”

———

“What do you mean it’s not a medical condition?!”

———

“What do you mean it’s a prosthetic!?!”

———

“YOU LET ME THROW THE SEAL JERKY AWAY!”

———

“Okay,” Sokka said calmly, two hours and a lot of yelling later. “That was a very cruel prank and I’m never forgiving any of you.”

“Shut up, Snoozles,” Toph scoffed.“There are more important things than your dignity. For example,” she turned to Zuko with a huge grin, “can I touch it?”

“It’s been in his head!” Sokka screeched. Apparently the dramatics were back on. “It has head goo on it!”

Katara frowned. “Sokka, how do you think bodies work?”

“Please?” Toph begged, giving very impressive polar-puppy-dog eyes for someone who couldn’t see. “No one ever lets me touch their real eyes.”

“Because you’re a menace,” Katara scoffed.

“Please, Sparky?”

“Ugh, fine,” Zuko sighed. “Give me a second.”

It occurred to everyone a moment too late that, oh yeah, if anyone was going to spontaneously invent glassbending, it would be Toph.

[thelost-in-time]

Hi, Anon, just a note before we start. I'm sorry, but Tumblr posted my unfinished fic for me, so I had to start it from scratch again so it's not posted half completed. That's why the ask isn't shown as an actual ask and it is a screenshot. Other than that, I'm sorry and I hope you enjoy this nonetheless

Absolutely you can. I love that idea, thank you, Anon.

I enjoyed this, so it's a bit long.

I burn for you.

Ayato x gender neutral! reader

Synopsis: From being a commoner to being Ayato's betrothed, exactly how does your relationship progress?

Tw: None? A brief mention of death?

Ayato had simply been strolling through the streets of his kingdom, helping out anyone who needed it.

Ayato was a prince who was loved by all for his good and kind heart, always smiling at those who he saw.

Almost everyone loved him.

Ayato bumped into someone, who looked at him with disgust.

"Oh, are you alright?"

Ayato asked with concern, scanning the stranger for any injuries, but they just scoffed and moved away from him.

This startled Ayato, never getting such a reaction from anyone in his kingdom before.

"Stay away from me, you moron."

The person spat, causing Ayato to go wide eyed in surprise at the person's words.

As fiery as their actions.

"I'm... sorry? What did I do?"

Ayato asked, unsure of himself as he retracted his hand away from the person to not make them uncomfortable.

"You're Prince Ayato. What haven't you done?"

The person spat out, turning their back to him and started walking away.

For some odd reason, Ayato was oddly intrigued by the person.

So he walked alongside them, keeping a small gap between the two of them.

"Stop stalking me."

The person spat out at him, a chuckle of annoyance emitting from them as they tried to shake him off.

Ayato was more stubborn though, persistent as he would say.

"Come on. I surely would have done something to make you annoyed with me."

Ayato said, smiling at yet another passerby while his companion simply scoffed once more.

"You exist."

The stranger spat out, and Ayato admits that those words actually stung him more than actual wounds.

"That doesn't answer my question, darling."

Ayato said and he swear the glare of the person behind him could kill him if they wished for him to be dead.

"You're the fakest person around! Prince of the fakers."

The person snapped before their eyes widened and they began to run.

This confused Ayato greatly until he realised that his right hand man, Thoma, and his sister, Kamisato Ayaka, was right behind him.

"Your majesty! The wedding proposals have come in again!"

Thoma exclaimed, panting as he hunched over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

"Oh... right.... that."

Ayato sighed, his previously interested expression faded into one of boredom.

Wedding proposals were his least favourite part. He just had no interest in his potential partners.

But the stranger he met today, that was a person who had finally peaked his interest. He had to see them again.

"Brother, who was that?"

Ayaka asked, looking in the direction that the stranger ran.

"A worthy companion."

Ayato said with a shrug, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he thought about how to meet the stranger next.

The next day, Ayato was at a café, picking up his favourite drink. Boba milk tea.

Please tell me I'm not wrong with the name.

That's when he saw them. The person who had his interest.

He approached them cautiously, not wanting to scare them off once again.

"Buzz off, 'your grace'. I hate your guts."

They said, sarcasm dripping from their lips, without even looking at him, yet he sat next to them, casually drinking his boba drink.

"What's your name?"

Ayato asked the person, smiling gently as he took in their features. Breathtaking.

"Cass."

The stranger said, eating their snack, and then interrupting Ayato before he can speak to them.

"As in, Cass Ified. Classified."

The person said, causing Ayato to let out a laugh at their response, the person's heart skipping a beat.

"Well, I'm Kamisato Ayato, as you know. And don't call me by royal titles, Ayato is fine."

Ayato told the person, offering them some of his boba milk tea, something that they declined.

"Huh... my name is (y/n). You better not say I am besmirching your name later on."

They warned, eyes narrowing in suspicion as Ayato laughed once more, gently patting their back.

"You and I will get along splendidly."

Ayato said with a grin, causing the person to let out a small, yet hesitant smile.

And so, the two of them started hanging out more.

Ayato mainly initiated the hangouts, his companion not that welcoming, but they were getting there.

"Marriage?"

His companion asked one day after Ayato found himself complaining for months about the endless proposals.

"As Prince, I get many proposals in order to join two kingdoms. I hate it."

Ayato said with a smile, his smile holding malice directed to his royal blood.

"That's rough, buddy."

His companion said, sliding Ayato's boba drink to him before looking at the sky.

"Ever wanna break the rules? Let your love burn for the one your heart desires?"

They asked, glancing at him before looking at the maze in his royal garden.

"Let's take a walk."

Ayato said with a smile, offering his arm to the young person, who hesitantly looped their arms.

Walking through the maze, Ayato let out a laugh as his companion looked at him with confusion.

"What's so funny, 'your grace'?"

They asked, sarcasm dripping from their lips as Ayato smiled fondly at them.

"Still the same fiery attitude as when we first met."

Ayato said, moving to gently ruffle their hair, ignoring their protests and grumbles.

"What's funny, you idiot?"

They asked, pinching his arm which caused the young prince to flinch, yelling in pain.

"It's taken months for you to warm up to me, to see I'm not a bad guy."

Ayato said with a pout, causing the young person's heart to slightly flutter as they groaned.

"I'll have you know that most royals are snobs."

They scoffed, to which Ayato nodded with a frown, stopping in the middle of the maze with them.

"That is true. I have no interest in most royals, but you."

Ayato paused, reaching to cup his companion's face as they faintly blushed.

"You have my interest. And I'd like to be more than friends."

Ayato's voice dropped down to a whisper as he moved his face close to theirs, breath felt on their lips.

"Don't do this. We can get in trouble. They'll kill you for involving yourself with a commoner."

They tried reasoning with the young Prince, but he smiled and gently kissed them.

Offering them to chance to pull away, he was filled with joy when they reciprocated the kiss.

The sound of running was heard followed by a gasp.

Kamisato Ayaka with her sword pointed at her brother.

"Do you know what you've done?!"

She asked with a glare to her brother, his companion scrambling to break away.

"Lady Kamisato Ayaka!"

They exclaimed, yet Ayato drew his own sword, facing off against his sister.

"Tell me you love our fate. You and I? We have no freedom of choice."

Ayato said, blocking his sister's attack as his love was forced to watch.

"We have to play the role we're given whether we like it or not."

Ayaka tried to reason with her brother as he blocked another attack of hers again

"No! You don't have to!"

At last, the siblings stopped fighting to look at the commoner, Ayato's expression softening.

"What? How would you know?"

Ayaka asked with a raised eyebrow, sheathing her sword as Ayato did the same, standing in front of his love.

"You two are the next generation of the Kamisato kingdom, that means the rules can change."

They said, hesitantly walking closer to the siblings, Ayaka pondering their words.

"The only way to do that would be for us to marry."

Ayato warned, glancing at them as Ayaka smiled, patting their back in approval.

"Not a bad idea. I like them."

Ayaka grinned, and both parties knew there was no way of escaping this.

It was this, or death.

Yet almost three years of marriage had gone by and they had not acted like a couple.

Roommates, yes. Friends, also yes. Married couple? No.

"If this is what you call a marriage. Not even sleeping in the same bed, we're doomed."

Ayato's partner spoke out, grabbing the blanket tightly as they gritted their teeth.

Ayato, who was getting ready, glanced over at his partner with confusion.

"You can't even look me in the face and now I must lie in the mess you made."

His partner said, tone increasing with each word as Ayato kneeled in front of them

"That's not true. There is no mess."

Ayato said, his own tone soft as he tried reasoning with his partner, but they abruptly stood up.

"You kissed me in the maze and stole my fate!"

His partner yelled out, their annoyance growing as Ayato stood up and approached them.

"I was prepared to take my life that day, because I burn for you."

Ayato said, gently holding his spouse's hand and playing with their wedding ring.

"My love for you burns. I may be associated with water, but even the water can't put out the fire in my heart for you."

Ayato told them, gently placing a kiss to their wedding ring as his partner's eyes widened.

"But now you're forced to love a man you hate, so maybe I should... let you go—"

Ayato was suddenly interrupted by his partner throwing themself into his arms as he quickly embraced them

"I love you too, you know? I don't know if it was when Ayaka found us, or in our marriage. I love you."

His partner admitted, causing Ayato to hug them closer, feeling relieved that his love had been returned.

"I love you too. I love you more than I could show."

Ayato said, pressing a kiss to their forehead as the couple embraced.

From that night, they slept in the same bed and the kingdom could tell that the young Ayato and his betrothed were happier.

Ayaka and Ayato could have fought to the death that day, Ayaka having an intention to kill, but you stopped that.

By intervening when you did and proposing change, you brought a brighter future.

The story of a commoner who became one of the most generous royalty by marriage would forever be told.

This is a story Ayato would forever remember fondly.

A story of you and how you connected your destiny with the young prince's destiny.

Or perhaps your destinies were entwined all along?

End

[dreamerstreamer]

A Terrible Tutor

Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader

Summary: [High School!AU] He’s cocky, annoying, a total tease, has a laugh loud enough to shake the stars, and you hate him. But as luck would have it, he’s also your tutor.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: minor cursing

A/N: this is based on a classmate i had way back! (we did not fall in love. he was awful.) i’ve also never taken physics, but i tried something a bit new for the reader’s personality. i hope you enjoy :) <3

You glared down at your physics textbook, the open pages staring back up at you with beady eyes made of diagrams and labels. Off to the side, your notebook was strewn across your desk, a list of questions scribbled across the top line in a hurried rush. The handwriting was messier than you would have liked, but the thought didn’t irritate you.

What did irritate you was that it was nearly half past four, and your so-called tutor still hadn’t shown up.

You could still envision the concerned look on Mr. Craftson’s face as he held you back a moment after class, watching as the rest of your classmates poured out of the door with an anxious look. He had offered you a kind smile before pulling out your test from the week before, and you winced at the numerous red marks scattered across the front page alone.

“I know you’ve been struggling in this class,” he said, gazing at you almost pitifully.

You tried not to glower at the sight of his apologetic eyes trained on you, instead nodding your head slowly. “It’s been… hard,” you said slowly.

He leaned an arm on his chair, pushing your test toward you. “You ask questions in class,” he hummed, “and from what I’ve seen, you complete your homework diligently.” His smile fell. “Yet here you are me, with the lowest mark in my class.”

You wanted to shrivel up into a ball. Maybe he didn’t have to say it like that, but he wasn’t wrong, either.

At your silence, he prodded at you. “Is there anything going on at home that might be hindering you, or…?”

You whipped your head up, your eyes wide. “No! Things are—things are great. It’s just…”

You swallowed, then sighed, fidgeting your fingers on your lap. “I guess,” you murmured, trying to quell the shame flaring up inside you, “I’ve just been really struggling with the material, and none of it’s really been clicking.”

Mr. Craftson’s face softened in an instant. “That’s alright. Thank you for being honest with me. If my teaching hasn’t been working out with you…”

He paused, rubbing at the blond stubble on his chin for a moment. Then, his face lit up and he leaned forward. “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ve got a great student who I think might be able to explain things to you in a way you might be able to grasp a little better. He’s got the best marks in this class.”

Your eyes widened. The best in the class? He had to be a genius.

“I have a good feeling he can meet you tomorrow at four after school to help you out,” he continued, leaning against the arm rest of his office chair. “What do you say?”

You blinked, a thoughtful look passing over your face. Lord knew you needed the help—you were practically failing the class—but an uneasy stone settled into the pit of your stomach. You’ve never needed tis much help to pass a class before. The thought made you want to gag. Slowly, you opened your mouth.

“Do I have to…” You gestured vaguely. “Pay him or something?”

His cerulean eyes blinked at you for a second, then he laughed—the kind of deep-belly laugh only teachers seemed to be able to have. “No, no,” he said, waving his hand at you, “not at all. He’s a good kid. He wouldn’t do something like that.”

You bobbed your head, your insides crumbling. You didn’t want to accept, you really didn’t. Part of you guys wanted to believe that you could just work harder, study by yourself even more. You were a dedicated student, and you were doing just fine in all your other classes. Surely the content couldn’t get that much harder, right?

But as your gaze lowered to the red ink staining your test once more, you felt yourself swallowing the lump in your throat. Straightening your back, you let your stubborn pride seep out of your shoulders and onto the floor.

It looked like this was a sacrifice you were simply going to have to make.

“Thank you so much for the offer,” you said, letting your lips curl up into a genuine, grateful smile. “It—it really means a lot.”

Mr. Craftson grinned at you, an easygoing flint shining in his eyes. “Of course. You’re a bright student. Sometimes we all just need a little push.”

You could still remember shaking his hand in thanks before bundling your stuff in your arms and shuffling into the hall, tucking your feet between the pages of your textbook. That had been yesterday, and now, the same one was sitting on your desk, open to a new page full of jumbled words you could hardly decipher.

The chair across from you was distinctly empty.

He—whoever he was—was late.

You distantly wondered to yourself who your tutor even was, your gaze drifting down to your textbook. Mr. Craftson had said he was the best student taking the class. Would it be George? He always seemed like he knew what was going on, and he never really asked questions. But sometimes, he looked like he was just zoning out. Maybe it was Technoblade. He was smart. You paused, then shook your head. No, everyone knew he was one of those English kids.

The thought made you furrow your brows, wracking your head even more. The words on the page grew muddled and fuzzy as you thought even more. Just who was it?

Just then, you heard the classroom door swing open with the same loud creak every door in the school seemed to have. The sound of heavy breaths and panting filled the air, then a haggard voice spoke up.

“Hey, I’m so sorry I’m late.”

You didn’t look up from your page, letting a sigh escape your lips as you lifted your head. Plastering a polite smile to your face, you let your gaze travel toward your tutor. “Hi, it’s nice to me—”

Suddenly, your voice died in your throat as your eyes locked onto the figure standing in the doorway. Towering over the desks with a duffel bag resting against his hip, his dirty blond locks were damp and matted against his forehead, his emerald eyes blinking at you. Something bitter and warm twisted in your gut at the sight, and the smile dropped off your face and into a scowl.

“Oh,” you said flatly. “It’s you.”

The smile he offered you was easygoing, but you didn’t miss the strain in his gaze. “It’s me.”

You bit on the inside of your cheek, your heart practically revolting against your rib cage with the way it was hammering. A million questions were darting around the inside of your skull, only making your blood boil even more with each passing second.

Of all the people you had expected to show up, Clay was easily the last.

The two of you had first met back in freshman year in your first science class—he had sat behind you and had the loudest laugh on the planet, or so you were convinced. You were quieter back then, but just as stubborn and snappish as now. Soon enough, one thing led to another, and you swore the two of you were suddenly enemies for life.

Although you couldn’t remember what had caused your little feud, you knew that he was the one who started it. He was loud and kicked your chair, he just loved to borrow your pens and never return them, and you could never figure out just why he loved to tease you so much. You don’t think you learned a single thing in that class, always distracted by the presence staring a hole into your back, and you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

Naturally, that meant your teacher assigned him to sit behind you for the rest of the year. To this day, you were convinced she hated you, and you still avoided her in the halls.

To say that science class was your least favourite would be an understatement, and soon enough, everybody was in on your hatred for each other. Clay never seemed to stop pestering you no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, and you would never forget the day you finally snapped at him, whipping around to glare at him with your cheeks on fire.

“Will you please shut up?”

The shocked look on his face was still burned into your memory as it melted into a wide, proud grin.

“Only if you make me.”

Even years later, he always seemed to find a way to worm himself back into your life, and you hated it. You hated him, simple as that.

So, seeing him standing in front of you like this, it took every ounce of your strength to keep your voice as neutral as possible.

“What took you so long?”

He patted his duffel bag before slipping it off his shoulder and setting it on the ground. “I just finished football practice. Coach ran a little long and I figured it would be polite to take a shower before so I didn’t smell all sweaty when I tutored you.”

You blinked, your mouth falling open. That explained his wet hair, you guessed. While you were vaguely flattered, you were distracted by something else. “You knew that you would be tutoring me?”

Clay nodded, pulling back the chair in front of you. “Yeah. Phil asked me.”

You gaped. “You call Mr. Craftson by his first name?”

His smile was a touch too smug for your liking, and you wanted to wipe it off his face. “Maybe. I was surprised when he asked, though.” He wrinkled his nose and shot you a teasing smirk as he sat down. “I didn’t think you would be failing this class.”

You glowered, that same bitter feeling bubbling up in your chest, again. “I’m not failing,” you snapped. “I’m just…” You paused, your cheeks growing hot. “…not passing.”

He gave you a deadpan look, then laughed. “That’s the same thing.”

You sent him a gesture that your teacher most certainly would have scolded you for if he was here, and he laughed even harder. You were suddenly reminded of just how damn loud his laugh was, sounding like fireworks in your ears. Slumping over, you hung your head in your hands.

“Ugh. I can’t believe you knew you were going to be tutoring me of all people.” You paused, then added, “I can’t believe you agreed.”

He tilted his head at you, brushing his damp hair out of his face. “Did you not know I was gonna be your tutor?”

“No.” You frowned. “If I did, I wouldn’t have shown up.”

His eyes flickered with mirth as a smile stretched across his face. “Aw, am I really that disagreeable?”

“Yes,” you said immediately, your gaze as sharp as a blade. “Without a doubt. A hundred percent. I didn’t even have to think about it.”

He whistled, feigning a wince. “Harsh.”

Wryly, you said, “You deserve it.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “I wasn’t that bad as a freshman, was I?”

You gave him a hard, callous stare. “Do you really think I’m the one you should be asking that question?”

He thought about it for a moment, then sighed. “Okay, point taken.”

You dragged a hand over your face, then pointed at your textbook. “Are you going to teach me now or what? We’re already behind.”

He winced for real this time, and you almost felt bad for him. Almost. “Sorry, again.”

“Seriously,” you muttered under your breath, reaching into your back to grab your pencil case, “and to think that you have the highest grades in this class.”

“Hey,” he shot back, “I’m brains and brawn.”

You shot him a look that was nothing short of disgusted. He cringed a little at the sight.

“Okay, that was cheesy, but I’m not wrong. Besides, coach says I have to keep my grades up or else I’m off the team.” He leaned closer to you, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his hot breath fanning over your skin. “You know I can’t let everyone down like that.”

You looked unconvinced. “Uh huh. Totally.” Whipping out a pencil, you tapped at the bottom of the page you had open. “Can you explain this to me, now? The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can leave.”

He quietly chuckled, and you hated how soft it sounded. Leaning closer to the textbook to read, his lips mouthed the problem silently. You tried not to stare at his mouth as it moved, your gaze tracing over the soft dip of his lips as his viridian eyes flashed with recognition. A moment later, he sat back and cocked his head at you.

“So, what exactly do you not understand?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Everything.”

He blinked, disbelief colouring his features. “Everything? Like, the whole thing?”

You scowled. “I thought that was obvious. All that stuff about velocity and the funny diagrams—” You shook your head. “—none of it makes sense.”

He raised a brow at you. “I thought you were paying attention in class. You really don’t understand a single thing?”

You bit back the urge to scream. “It’s not like you’re much smarter.”

Clay snorted derisively. “I am. That’s kind of the whole point.”

You groaned, letting your voice ring out in the quiet of the empty classroom. You caught a glimpse of his amused smile in front of you, and it only made you groan louder.

“You’re the one who ruined science for me, you know? I hated going to that class, and look at me now.” You gestured to yourself, using your finger to draw a ring in the air. “It all comes full circle.”

There was a brief second of silence. “I’m the reason why you hate science?”

You didn’t budge. “I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy knowing I was going to be stuck in a class with someone who never gave me my stuff back and kicked my chair.”

Another wave of silence washed over the two of you, but this one was tense—heavy. He swallowed, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob.

“You…” His eyes swirled with something sad and honest. “You really hate me that much?”

He suddenly looked a lot like a kicked puppy, and a pang of guilt shot through your chest like a bullet. With a panicked gaze, your voice grew shaky as you spoke. “I—I don’t hate you. I just… I had a grudge, I guess.”

Your tone grew soft, and you lowered your gaze to your lap. “I… I really didn’t like you back then, but things have changed.” You offered him a small smile, but it felt shy. “We’re not exactly fourteen, anymore.”

He returned your smile with one of his own. Just like yours, it was small and tender, and it sent something stirring in the depths of your belly. “No,” he murmured, “we’re not.”

“I,” you breathed, gulping down the last dredges of your grudge, “was stubborn back then.” You raised a shoulder. “In a way, I still am. I have too much pride for my own good too, but I don’t hate you.” The look you sent him had a spark of mischief, and his breath hitched. “Strongly dislike, at best.”

Clay blinked at you, looking half-surprised and half-awed at you. You squirmed under his gaze before he snapped out of his stupor, almost bashfully ducking his head. “I’m… It’s definitely too late for me to say this now when I really should have said it all those years ago, but I’m sorry. Really. I was a dick.”

You snorted under your breath, fondly mumbling, “Yeah, you were.”

His face perked up at the sound of your bitten back laugh. “I really shouldn’t have teased you so much. My reasons were… dumb.”

You cocked a brow at him, almost as if to say, Oh? Do elaborate.

But instead, you watched as his ears burned crimson red and he flashed you a pair of bright, pleading eyes. “Forgive me? Please.”

Your heart leapt into your throat, something new and warm bursting along the seams of your lungs. You couldn’t possibly say no to a face like that. Even the toughest person on the planet would crack under a look as sincere as that, you tried to reason, ultimately letting out a sigh with a stammer.

“O-Only if you actually can get me to understand this unit.” Pushing down the heat creeping up your neck, you pointed at him with an accusatory look. “Until then, you’re on thin ice.”

The grin he sent you was beyond dazzling—you couldn’t have brought yourself to look away even if you wanted to.

(And you didn’t.)

“Gotcha.”

Clay finished scribbling a diagram onto the new page of your notebook, flicking his thumb back to reveal the hordes of previous pages you had filled with other practice problems. If you were being honest, you were a little envious of just how neat his drawings were. No one should be able to draw a line as straight as that without a ruler, yet here he was, doing exactly that.

What a show-off.

Feeling your eyes on him, Clay lifted his head to catch your gaze, turning the notebook to face you. You tried to pretend the stumbling of your heart wasn’t because of him—not at all. “Do you get it?” he breathed.

You glanced back and forth between him and your page, your grip on your pencil falling slack. “I think so,” you said slowly. “Mostly, at least.”

He hummed for a moment, then flipped your notebook around until it was facing him again and holding an expectant, open hand toward you. Without even thinking, you dropped your pencil into his palm, a spark running up your fingers at the slight brush of his skin against yours. Carefully, he wrote a string of words on a new line, circling the sentence when he was done.

“Here,” he said gently, pushing the pencil back between your fingers, “try this question. This was one of the harder ones from my test.”

Gingerly, you peered down at the page, and your mouth fell open at the sight. This question was far more complicated than anything you had been solving in the textbook before this. What was he thinking?

“If you get it right,” he said suddenly, casting you out of your thoughts, “you should be all set.” His lips curved up into a taunting, knowing grin. “But it’s okay if you don’t get it—it is difficult, after all.”

You stared for a second longer, then grumbled under your breath. How could he read your mind like that? You were going to prove him wrong, even if only to knock that smug look off his face.

Leaning down, you tackled the problem head on, your pencil flying across the page as you spelled out formulas and equations, doodling a diagram when you had to and pausing to think every other breath. Before you, you didn’t see Clay watching you with a soft, tender gaze, taking in the way your fingers fidgeted against your pencil when you stopped and how you chewed on your mouth when you got nervous.

You really were more endearing than you could ever know.

Suddenly, you let your pencil clatter against the table as you pushed your notebook toward him, eyeing your pencil scratches with a wary look. “Done.”

His viridian eyes gleamed with excitement. “Alright,” he said, plucking the paper from your desk with a practiced ease, “let’s take a look.”

His gaze scanned your work intently, his lips pressed together in focus. You folded your hands onto your lap, trying to focus on his analysis of you work. But the longer you looked, the more you felt your gaze trailing up to graze his cheeks. Did he always have so many freckles? You didn’t remember seeing him with this many as a freshman, but you also spent more time glaring at him than staring at him back then.

In a way, he was kind of... pretty. Handsome, even. Not that you would ever say it out loud.

You suddenly had a strong urge to reach up and trace feather-light lines between each of his freckles, but before you could even take another breath, Clay’s eyes were on yours again. Unlike earlier, the look on his face was grave, and a small grimace overtook his features.

“I have bad news,” he said dryly.

Your heart fell.

Of course you got something wrong. You were a fool to think that things would change just because Clay would be teaching you instead.

But then, his grimace curled up at the corners, and your jaw dropped.

“I have nothing left to teach you in this unit.”

Your eyes widened.

“I got it right?”

He turned the notebook back to face you. A large check mark had been scribbled in pencil along the side of the page, a tiny smiley face decorating the corner next to it.

“Perfectly.”

The gasp you let out sent you barrelling for your feet, and you nearly started jumping for joy in the middle of your seat. “Yes!” you cried, pumping a hand up in the air. Suddenly, you whirled to point at Clay, a pout forming on your lips. “Oh my god, you scared the crap out of me! Don’t do that.”

He chuckled, leaning back with his hands up defensively. “Sorry, sorry. I saw the opportunity and just had to take it.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you stuck your tongue out at him. “You’re terrible.”

His eyes softened—sincere and sweet. “I know.”

Ignoring the sudden burst of warmth rushing through your veins, you huffed at him. “Well, at least I have two pieces of good news for you. First,” you said, sliding your notebook off your desk, “we can both go home, now.”

“And the second?” he prompted, looking at you inquisitively.

You folded your notebook shut, boring a hole into your backpack with the intensity of your stare. You couldn’t look at him right now, you just couldn’t.

“Second,” you nearly whispered, “I accept your apology.”

Slipping your textbook into your bag, you heard him take a sharp intake of breath. “Really?”

You reached for your pencil case, fumbling with the zipper. “Yes.”

There was another breath, but this one was gentler, less harsh. You peeked up at him from your bag, and your heart stuttered at the ecstatic look on his face.

“This,” he said, “is the greatest day of my life.”

You blinked wildly at him, zipping your backpack up all the way before slinging it onto the desk. “That’s a little extreme, isn’t it?”

He shook his head, his smile never once faltering. “Are you kidding? I thought you were going to hate my guts forever!”

You shrugged, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I might have.” You paused. “Actually, I probably would have. But luckily for you—” You shot him a sincere look. “—not anymore.”

His grin grew impossibly wider, yet it somehow still looked natural on him. Deep down, a part of you wanted to bottle up his expression and remember it for as long as you lived.

“Like I said, greatest day of my life.”

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “Weirdo.”

Pushing in your chair and gesturing for him to stand, you jutted your head toward the door. Clay didn’t need to be queued twice before he was rising to his feet, pushing the chair back to its rightful spot before heaving his duffel bag off the floor and onto his side. As the two of you headed out towards the door, a bought suddenly flickered across your head, and your lips began moving before you could even begin to think.

“One of these days, you need to tell me why you liked to pick on me so much. Like, seriously, why me?” You gestured to yourself as the two of you stepped outside into the school hallway. “I’m not exactly special.”

You hadn’t been looking at him in that moment, focused on closing the door behind you, but when he didn’t respond for a moment, you looked up and felt your lungs tighten. You had never seen Clay look so bashful in his life, with his ears flaring crimson red and a faint rosy tint dusting the panes of his cheeks. His freckles were only more noticeable with the pink background, and you nearly blurted something you knew you would regret.

“Maybe I’ll—” He coughed, rubbing the back of his neck with a smile. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

Before you could even ask what he meant by that, he was firing off once more. “In the meantime, if you still need help, I don’t mind coming in again next week or something.”

You nearly took a double take. Next week? He wanted to help you, again?

“Don’t you have more important things to do?” you asked, scanning him with wide, curious eyes. “Like studying your own stuff.”

“You’re important,” he said abruptly.

You choked on your spit, and by the way he went absolutely stock still in front of you, you had a feeling he hadn’t meant to say that.

“Oh,” you whispered.

That warm, fuzzy feeling from earlier was rising between your lungs again, only this time it sent your heart racing around your chest. Sucking in a deep breath, you nodded your head once, twice.

“Sure,” you managed to say as calmly as you could. “The, um, the next unit looks a little confusing, so I might need some help.”

Clay’s face suddenly brightened at your soft request for assistance, and you caught his shoulders slumping with relief as he smiled. “Awesome.” He paused, then waved his hand. “Not the part about you needing help, I mean.”

You laughed a little at that, your nerves calming a bit more. “I would hope not.”

He smiled back at you. “So,” he said, drawing out the syllable, “I’ll be back same time next week?”

You couldn’t help but reach over to elbow him a little playfully. “Try to be on time though, yeah?”

He flushed a bit, but cracked a crooked grin nonetheless. “I’ll try my best.” He glanced over his shoulder down the hall, and you suddenly realized you would be heading in the opposite direction.

“I’ll see you around?” he murmured gently, brushing away his now dry hair from his forehead.

One of your hands tightened around the straps of your bag while the other waved back at him. “See you.”

With one last grin at you, you watched as he turned on his heel, striding down the hall with his duffel bag bouncing against the side of his hip. Just then, your eyes grew wide, and you cupped your hands around your mouth to call after him.

“One last thing, Clay!” you shouted, your voice echoing down the empty corridor.

At the sound of his name, he whipped around again, his brows knitted together. Breathing in deeply, you screwed your eyes shut and called out once more.

“Thank you!”

When you opened your eyes again, his emerald green eyes were blinking at you with wild abandon, his lips parted in what could only be described as a look of pure wonder. Your heart skipped a beat, and you wondered why he was looking at you of all people like that.

Swallowing, he sent you a lopsided, earnest smile and cupped his own hands around his mouth to shout back at you.

“Anytime!”

You kept waving at him even after he let his arms drop back to his sides and he vanished around the corner of the hall. Almost immediately, you bent over to bury your head into your knees, letting out a soft, muffled yell.

Why did your chest feel so warm when he looked at you like that? Why did you want to count his freckles so badly when he smiled? Was he always so nice, so helpful and kind? Why did he look so cute when his face flushed all pink like the way it did before? When did he become so endearing instead of annoying?

Did you like him?

You let out another muffled cry into your hands, feeling heat flood every part of your body like a tidal wave crashing into your system. You could hear your heart ringing in your ears like a bell that wouldn’t ever stop, and your toes curled into your shoes.

You had so, so many questions, none of which you knew how to solve.

Hopefully Clay could help you figure out the answers.

[happypeachsludgeflower]

Cultic Class-ic

Damien Wayne didn’t set out to be a troll. In fact, if any of his fellow batclan members were to be asked, Damien Wayne wasn’t capable of being a troll. He was too much of a troll already—albite, one of a different sort. The sort that slinks through the shadows and slithers just out of sight. The sort that stabs you in the gut and twists the knife in with a jerk—not enough to kill, just… maim, and cause pain. That type of sort.

But, well, it just sort of happened.

And Damien would have it known that it was NOT his fault.

It started, as most things do with Damien Wayne, as an argument. A simple one really. A minor disagreement. But no argument can ever really stay simple. Not when it’s with Damien Wayne.

It started a bit like this:

“Hey, Wayne! Have you seen the news about the speech your brother gave?” The Grand Annoyance Number One asked as he plopped into a seat next to Damien. He’d earned the title honestly.

Damien clenched his jaw and continued to stare down at his book. He had, in fact, seen the news. Not that he needed to of course. He’d been there, after all. “I’m an only child,” he intoned dryly. He turned the page.

“Uhuh, sure bud,” The Grand Annoyance ™ said amusedly. It was always like this, and Damien hated it. He’d done everything he could to make it CLEAR he was NOT interested in acquaintances or, god forbid, friends, but this classmate—and he said the term with as much loathing as he could muster—of his was persistent. “So you know that part where he was somethin like ‘we’re all heroes in our own way’ and ‘we gotta help out the little guy’ and all?” the other boy paraphrased as he blathered on nonchalantly.

Damien growled under his breath. Annoying. He was so annoying. And the speech??! It was irresponsible.

Why Drake thought it acceptable to give the plebeians a sense of grandeur, Damien would never understand. His classmates were not heroes. They would never be heroes. And it took more then an insipid smile and a jovial pat on the back to go out every night and save world.

It was work.

It was hard work.

And this peasant probably thought he could do it too without any sweat, or tears, or blood.

Annoying.

“So anyway,” the classmate plowed on, unconcerned by Damian’s blatant disinterest as he chattered, “I was like, that’s awesome! And Tim Drake’s so iconic!! He’d def get my vote for president if he ran. And have you seen him in all black?? That suit he wore at the last gala?? He could totally rock the bat suit. He’s way cooler then some of the current vigilantes—not that the vigilantes aren’t cool and all! Don’t get me wrong. They’re totally cool. But The Tim Drake?? As a superhero?! We should absolutely make a petition to get Tim Drake to be a legit hero!”

Damien fiddled with the edge of his book’s page and internally rolled his eyes as he listened with half an ear—which was like, what, a quarter of his attention? The Annoyance ™ was still jabbering at him. He was just another arrogant and presumptuous and a pompous and—wait. Damien jerked up and stared at the bumbling idiot as his babbling caught up with Damien.

“You want to what?” he blurted, aghast, and then added, “Why?”

The Annoyance ™ blinked at him, clearly startled to have received a reply at all. “Uhh.” He squinted at Damien. “Are you feeling alright, bud?” He reached forward to feel Damien’s forehead. Damien swatted the appendage away and glowered.

“Why?” he snarled.

“‘Cause he’s awesome??” the other boy replied astonished. He was giving Damien a look that obviously said he thought Damien had lost it.

“No he’s not. He’s a slob and an addict and a creepy obsessed stalker.”

The Annoyance ™ chewed his lip and tilted his head to stare for a long minute at Damien. “Ya,” he nodded decisively, “You’ve gone completely round the twist.” He patted Damien on the shoulder consolingly. Damien voice gnarled as he whacked the other boy away. His teeth clacked together as he gnashed them. This boy was going to die.

“It’s okay,” Annoyance ™ continued to reassure, unperturbed by his impending eradication. “Too much awesomeness can do that to the best of us,” he nodded, “It’s like that movie Dogma, from like, wayy back in the olden days. De-angled Ben Affleck couldn’t withstand the amazingness of God’s true voice. She was just too awesome. Like Tim!” His eyes lit up. “O M G TIM’S A GOD!!”

Wham!

Damien’s fist collided with the Annoyance’s chin bringing a quick close to the discussion, and a quicker visit to the principles office.

But it was over. For now.

But the seeds of Damien’s trolling ways had been planted and there was no stopping the invasive growth that would follow.

[delightfulcrasher]

Hi sorry to bother you,I just want to know that I love your work and that your works for Lord Dimitrescu and his boys has got me watching RE8 playthroughs until I am able to play the game myself. Your writing much like yourself is absolutely amazingly brilliant. I was wondering what the boys would feel about and do with a motherly SO, they constantly worry that they haven't eaten enough or sleep enough or are warm enough. They are like that one mum friend. Sorry if you already answered this.

With a motherly s/o:

Well, isn’t that just adorable. A presumed human s/o having the guts to take care of four beasts. That’s real sweet. Honestly, it would be nice to have someone there to care for them. Dimitrescu loves his boys dearly, but sometimes his feral demons of sons have him at his wits ends.

Talk about the ultimate parent couple. Dimitrescu having an s/o that’s motherly would be quite a good match for his fatherly attitude. It feels a little odd, being mothered by someone half your height, but he accepts it. Just don’t take care of of him in front of the other Lords, he might get embarrassed. In his eyes, that display is for his eyes only.

And he is there to check up on them as well. Albin goes out of his way to ensure his s/o is thoroughly taken care of and is always provided for. He really appreciates their caring nature, and would hate to see the village take it’s mental toll on them.

His s/o also would also have practically adopted his sons at this point, and they use that to their advantage. If Dimitrescu were ever to say ‘No’ to something, you can guarantee the boys will come running to his s/o with pleading eyes to get them to say ‘Yes’. Albin can never resit what his significant other says, so be begrudgingly let’s his sons get their way.

Belmont is conflicted, but not in a bad way. He’s the eldest, so he’s used to dealing with and cleaning up after his brothers. He’s basically the one keeping his brothers in check. So when his s/o comes along asking if he’s been taking care of himself or eating properly, he’s kind of stunned.

The only other person to care for him was his father, but that attention was split three ways. It’s nice to have it all on him for once. Of course, his brothers will poke fun at Belmont for having such a caring s/o, so he prefers most of their kind gestures in private.

Cassandros thinks they’re funny. If his s/o wants to spend their time taking care of everyone and being the group mother, he’ll certainly give them a run for their money. Perhaps he would purposely do things that would annoy them, just to get a rise out of them.

Things like start unnecessary fights between him and his brothers so his s/o has to intervene and back him up otherwise he’ll pretend to sulk for the rest of the evening. Or when they cuddle he will wipe his dirty face against theirs so they’re just as messy. His s/o would constantly be trying to clean him up. Que them carrying a handkerchief on them for any occasion.

Okay Daniel would just straight up adore them. He get’s attached easily, and seeing his partner not only reciprocate those feelings, but going out of their way to check up on him, makes his heart fucking soar.

He’s already needy, but becomes even more so, maybe even going as far as making up fake ailments just to keep their attention. He’s like a puppy. A murderous vampiric puppy.

[acrossthewavesoftime]

Oh my, that was absolutely worth the wait. What a great chapter! And finally George made a move – he deserves Caroline and Caroline deserves him. The two of them are just too cute when they finally admit that they have feelings for each other, society be dammed. And do not get me wrong, I am happy that George got his promotion, he really deserved it after his little stunt at Trafalgar … but does he really have to go back to sea right now? He and Caroline just found each other and I have this bad feeling that Ernest still thinks he has a chance with Caroline. He was totally disgraced by Amelia’s letter and outed as the little devil he is … but I fear that that will not stop him. And what is the deal with this lovely elderly gent from Plön?

Anyway, I will wait in patience for what comes next. :-)

You really, really made it hard for me! Anyways, apologies it took so long, but was lange währt wird endlich gut, nicht wahr?

Anyway, it took me some time to figure out how this whole thing is even possible, and accidentally ended up mapping out the entire plot of a novel I’ll never write. I hope you’ll enjoy it and a fair warning, long read ahead. Warning: contains Stuart and Hanoverian family politics, naval officers and scheming siblings:

The Plot:

The Act of Settlement exists, but it is not acted upon; designed to consolidate a brittle Protestant succession suffering from a distinct lack of heirs, it is, surprisingly enough, not presently required as against all odds, Queen Anne’s sickly only surviving child William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, lives and succeeds his mother to the throne.

This of course does not go down well with the new Elector of Hannover, Georg Ludwig, who inherited the rights to the crown from his mum, Sophia. Georg Ludwig kind of wanted to be king, actually. He hates England, he hates going abroad, but he sure likes a sparkling crown, fancy new robes, and being a Very Important Person.

The cherry on top of the Hanoverian frustration is when the sickly king even fathers an heir, making it nigh improbable that an Elector of Hannover will ever sit on the throne of Great Britain. However, only time will tell if William, Prince of Wales, will succeed William IV. Riding accidents, accidental food poisoning or a beastly case of the smallpox can happen, you know?

Alas, it doesn’t.

So, all that is left for the House of Hannover to do is sit and bide their time (and secretly pray for the demise of William V).

Born into a dull life in provincial Germany and a bickering family, young Georg August Friedrich, Kurprinz von Hannover, simply feels like he doesn’t belong, and longingly looks across the sea to Britain, where everything is more worldly, fashionable and exciting. His undereducated, boring and terribly frumpy family simply annoy him, and since he has been banned from the courts of Berlin and Vienna on account of several unspecified incidents (one of which however is said to have involved a drunk pet ostrich in a full set of plate armour, though this is subject to much conjecture by historians), there is not much to do for him really, but to occasionally travel to Italy to get drunk on better wines and sleep with prettier women than are available in Hannover. One regrettable time, having always favoured women a tad older than him, he woke up next to a certain Charlotte Stuart. Tipsy on expensive champagne and merrily lamenting their fate, they had half a mind to elope together and conquer that blasted throne, the only problem being that they could not agree on who would be whose consort, a heated argument they took to the bedroom. But shh, this is all top secret, and most biographies of King George I (spoiler! J) omit this anecdote.

To his eternal chagrin, his father the Elector, called “Bauer Georg” by his people for his delightful pastoral folksiness and interest in other people’s pigsties, taking heed from his forbears after Elector Ernst August and Electress Sophie lost four sons to the wars of the tumultuous 17th century, insists Georg will stay at home and learn how to govern what little there is to govern in Hannover, while his brothers Friedrich, Wilhelm, Eduard, Ernst August, August Friedrich and Adolph Friedrich get, by the grace of their royal relations abroad, to join the Prussian or British military services and have terrific, gentlemanly adventures. He’d much rather be royal canon fodder, too, than ever have to read and be examined on another book about crop farming ever again.

And what a life is this for a prince who has found his first grey hair and is pestered about not having produced an heir yet? No, Georg cannot do this anymore. He has to leave this life behind! Screw Hannover!

Tired of watching life pass him by, measuring Age Progressing by the increase in his waistline and the cousin his parents have invited to stay at their court (and whom Georg is 100% sure his mum pays a little pocket money to cosy up to him in order to report back on him to her), Georg decides he will do what a (reasonably) young man has to do, and follow his heart: He shall to Britain! And to the sea! The vast, empty horizons will soothe his tortured soul, yet encaged at Herrenhausen palace— and those uniforms are simply too fetching to resist!

When his brother Ernst comes to visit home on shore leave from the Navy, one night, Georg steals away in Ernst’s (admittedly rather tight-fitting) uniform and is discovered by cousin Caroline, whom he has long since suspected to be his mother’s obedient creature. To his surprise however, Caroline, rather than rousing the entire house, agrees to help Georg with the cover-up and, waking Ernst, explains to him what’s going on, telling him that finally, the way is clear for him! Has he not always lived in the shadow of his older brothers, particularly the heir to the electorate? Now is the time to step into the sun! Caroline advises Ernst to pose as Georg, just like Georg is posing as Ernst. The Elector, who is stark raving mad, at least in intervals (this is what they called porphyria back in the day), won’t notice! And Electress Charlotte will know better than to make a big stink, since that would set all Europe abuzz, and potentially endanger the family.

For a time, all goes well. Georg has a rather adventurous journey to England after his belongings were stolen along the way (dancing-masters and Latin tutors don’t teach street-smarts, after all), and ends up lost and stranded in northern Germany, where a kindly man with a thick French accent picks him up in his carriage and drives him to a red brick country house in Wittmoldt near the small town of Plön, where he feeds him and provides him with a change of clean clothes. Realising that he will either be taken hostage by someone opportunistic or alternatively taken for a lunatic if he claims to be the eldest son of the Elector of Hannover, Georg decides to claim to be but the son of an impoverished family of the lesser nobility, who by the good grace of an important connexion in England have managed to buy him a commission in the Navy. The man and his family, a rather gallant son, two charming daughters and a warm-hearted wife, implore him to stay a few days and recuperate. Georg thinks the Frenchman and his family are aiding him as much as they do on account of his profession to avenge their loss of their home once he joins the Navy, but in truth, the Marquis de La Fayette and his wife, ex-courtiers, know a royal when they see one, and sensing that Georg and his fighting-spirit might provide a welcome addition in the fight against Bonaparte, help him by buying a passage from Hamburg to England for him.

Our aspiring hero thanks his noble patrons profusely before at last safely reaching the shores of his dreams, where, once aboard ship, he alas finds himself in a Hornblower-esque Hell in the beginning, yet quickly adapts to naval life. From his ship, the new lieutenant writes to Caroline every week, thanking her for her help. In a return letter, she reveals to him that she could not deny him the freedom she yearns for herself but shall never obtain, being a woman and worse, a princess, and kindly keeps him updated on the family the runaway prince suddenly realises he loves dearly after all.

Meanwhile, Ernst has gotten a taste for power. He secretly hopes Georg will never come back, because this is fun! This is what he is truly good at! He enjoys the administrative stuff, the paperwork— and the idea that one day, he will be the Elector, and maybe even King of England, if that damned asthmatic Stuart will have the good grace to kick the bucket before fathering an heir.

He is finally appreciated, people jubilantly call out to him when they see him— it is only a pity that this is happening under the name of the older brother he begins to care less and less for the more he falls in love with his new role as crown prince.

A few years pass by, and Georg, now Captain, participates in the Battle of Trafalgar, where his extreme personal bravery is noted when his ship, HMS Cerberus, intercepted the French Redoutable before she could get within firing range of HMS Victory, probably saving the flagship, and the life of Britain’s greatest naval hero, Horatio Nelson. Ernst, or rather, Georg, is a celebrated hero to the British who loudly cry for Captain Prince Ernst of Hanover to be named the prospective successor to the crown rather than his dull older brother, Prince Georg, who sits on his fat German arse and does nothing all day while his younger brother is so valiantly defending the freedom of Europe from the Corsican tyrant.

In a letter to Caroline, Georg confesses that he thinks the jig is up and the charade must end; alas, Ernst is not of the same opinion. He is fine being Prince Regent of Hannover now that the Elector has descended into such a deep state of madness that he can no longer govern his territories, and although the British toast to his name, he is not sure if a secret trading back places is even possible.

To Georg’s great misfortune, Ernst, who, since her counsel has proven so valuable to him, has taken a liking to Caroline as his chief advisor, tries to keep him from returning home. In the meantime, he proposes to Caroline, whom he thinks is his most loyal friend, but Caroline, despite knowing the mocking jibes directed at spinsters, refuses him.

A frustrated Ernst, who however thinks himself secure on his preliminary throne, takes a few weeks off to let off some steam in Venice— time Georg, informed by Caroline, uses to return home. Of course, the return of Britain’s favourite naval hero to his native land does not go unnoticed, and Ernst hurries back home only to barge into a semi-secret meeting of George and Caroline in which George who has matured in the face of battle and bloodshed, upon seeing Caroline for the first time in many years, falls to his knees and confesses his love for her, more specifically how he fell in love with her through her letters.

Ernst, hurt and betrayed, is raging— Georg is going to take everything from him! The country, the woman he loves and who has so cruelly cheated him by not discouraging George’s confession— he wants his brother dead.

Luckily for Georg and Caroline, their sister Amelia, the youngest of the Hanoverian bunch and So Over It All and sympathising with Caroline, decides to step in and publishes an anonymous letter in the local newspaper claiming to be “a person of import and close connexion to the Electoral family”. In it, she claims that “Georg” is jealous of “Ernst”, the heroic naval officer and has proposed a duel, to be had in the park at Herrenhausen at daybreak on a fixed date a week from the publication date.

Naturally, the inhabitants of Hannover, and the British delegation at court, are up in arms, and on “Ernst”’s, i.e. Georg’s side. Cracking under the public pressure, Ernst unfortunately admits in an epic shouting match with the British ambassador that he wants to be rid of his brother.

Georg meanwhile, having cultivated a sense of responsibility and duty during his years in the Navy, decides to make a public appearance and end the charade, offering a document in which he cedes his right to the succession of the Electorate, provided his remaining brothers will accept Ernst as his successor and he be allowed safe passage to England, where he intends to live with Caroline upon a meagre pension and his pay as a naval officer. Naturally, his brothers refuse to sign the document and although he is well-loved in Britain, there still is the issue that Georg is not an officer, but has impersonated one, so matters come to a standstill for a time before a cheering British public makes it politick for William V to confer upon George (this is what he calls himself now) the rank of captain in his own name.

Facing an uncertain future, with the disgraced Ernst seething at home in Hannover and George longing for some peace and quiet to meditate about his life on a starry night upon a peaceful ocean, he bids adieu to Caroline to set sail once again and follow his true calling, with a storm brewing on the horizon of European politics, and that at home: for the seething Ernst is not done yet, and attempts to hurt him by seducing Caroline in his absence, who remains absolutely impervious to his platitudes and flattery.

Escaping Ernst’s wrath becomes a lot trickier once Caroline discovers she is pregnant, and in George’s absence gives birth to a daughter, Charlotte. Fearing Ernst, she keeps the pregnancy a secret even from George, as their letters might be intercepted and read; Charlotte, raised for the first year of her life by a nurse in a village a few miles from Hannover, is to become the apple of her father’s eye.

In the end, George returns from the war, marries Caroline, becomes King of Great Britain (his nickname being the “Sailor King”) when William V, last of the Stuarts, dies and helps Ernst obtain the title of King of Hannover as a gesture of goodwill and reconciliation.

His old benefactor La Fayette receives the Order of the Garter, and Amelia a country house in England, where, before her tragic early death from tuberculosis, she is frequently visited by a certain Charles FitzRoy.

Baby Charlotte is legitimised and doted on by both her parents, who shower her with love and affection and provide her with the most stable home life of any British royal to date. The Princess succeeds her father in his titles upon his death.

This is where fiction reverts back to actual history, and we enter the Charlottian Age, named after the long-living Queen whose reign was marked by significant leaps and bounds in technology and science, as well as the largest expansion of the British Empire. But that you know already.

And here, the snippet from the story:

Georg returns home for the first time and surprises Caroline in the garden:

“Caroline?” the gentleman breathed. His face was tanned by the sun, rather unfashionably so, and his coat of blue bleached by the same; perhaps it was not the sun in the sky which had so affected his appearance, but the brightness which seemed to inhabit his heart, for he beamed at her as if before him stood Lady Jersey or another of those fashionable ladies one read of in English magazines. “Georg?”, she replied in disbelief, as much at his leaner, more muscular appearance as at the fact that his radiant smile was clearly bestowed upon her— unwed, of little stature, plump, and aging, as her aunt’s courtiers never tired of reminding her.

All ceremony was lost when Georg, tired of her surprised silence, took her unceremoniously around the waist and lifted her up until her slippers no longer touched the ground. “Fie!” she laughed, and put an admonishing finger to his chest. “You perfect beast! Are those the manners of an English gentleman? You are creasing my muslin, and you will know what your mother’s ladies shall suppose if I were to return from my walk with my gown disordered.”

“They might suppose you were swept off your feet by a sailor,” he jested, which brought a great confusion on in her mind, for she could not say if his teasing was yet as brotherly as she had always supposed his sentiments for her were, judged by his dear letters which had been her chief delight; or if he meant something else by the way in which he took her hand and kissed it before offering her his arm. “Will you not shew me the way? I scarcely remember the garden, it must have been much altered in my absence,” noted he. She gratefully continued the conversation at his suggestion, for struck by surprise as she still was, her tongue was utterly tied, and her wit quite addled by the recent confusion. “Gladly. But might I be permitted to say that you are much altered, also?” He stopped: they were stood near the little bower in which she had bid him adieu, dressed in his brother’s clothes; it seemed to her like it was only yesterday when the aging fop had disappeared to seek for a foolhardy adventure at sea. Never should she have believed that he indeed would go, and not return within the hour when his feet would hurt from carrying his excess of blubber; she had let him go for she had had some measure of compassion for him, not because she had believed in the success of his designs— and yet, there he was, freshly returned from the war. His features, though somewhat weathered, had aged rather favourably, and when he smiled, he was almost to be considered handsome.

“I am not altered,” laughed he, “and you must get me inside unseen speedily, I remind you. For you cannot think that I shall have the family see me in that—” he tugged at his coat and made a face. “Look at the lace— all rusted in the salt air— no, it shall not do. And you must change also, my dear: a feather headdress, and the pearls— you had pearls when last we met, I hope you did not lose them at cards?”

She shook her head. “Excellent. You must promise me to wear them.”

“But why?”, she replied and made him stop in his brisk step. “Am I not—”

He shook his head abruptly, understanding her meaning perfectly. “Goodness, no, never— I just remember how fine you looked— how vastly well they complimented your complexion.” His cheeks blushed crimson, as if having fallen victim to too much rouge, and he averted her eyes as in silence, they returned to the palace. I hope you liked it! :D

[helloalycia]

the new recruit [three] // wanda maximoff

summary: after discovering the truth about Wanda and her life before meeting you, you realise that maybe hating her isn't the best option anymore.

warning/s: mentions of death and fighting

author's note: totally got home late so only managing to get this out now, but hope you like it!

one | two | four | five | six | seven | eight | masterlist | wattpad

It had been about half a year since Wanda existed in my life, solely to piss me off. Turns out time doesn't change things, just makes everything more volatile.

Our bickering was still present, but I tried my very best to avoid being around her unless absolutely necessary. Not only was she exhausting, but I hated the way I felt when she was around. I wasn't an angry person, but she made me ashamed to be around myself. So, it was just easier to avoid her wherever possible.

The team seemed to prefer it, and no doubt Wanda did, too. So, I was certain I'd finally found a solution to our barely-functioning relationship. It had been so long since we'd began to hate each other that I'd pretty much forgotten why she made me so annoyed in the first place. But it didn't matter.

Until, well, it did.

It was a day like any other until I got some news. Not necessarily bad, nor good, just news. The local prison that my father was serving his sentence in contacted me to let me know of his passing.

We weren't close and in fact, I hated everything about him. He was absent, a criminal and deserved to rot in his jail cell for all the harm he caused people. But, he was still my father, and as much as I wanted to pretend that his death didn't faze me, it did.

All I'd ever wished for, countless of times, was for him to go to hell. I'd finally been given my wish, but it didn't change anything. He didn't deserve my sadness nor my tears, yet he got them anyway. Because he was still my dad, and at some point, very early into my childhood, he'd been good to me. Was it wrong of me to still be reminded of that?

The team knew of my relationship with my dad, or lack of one, should I say. They knew I wanted nothing to do with him. I never visited him in prison, I ignored his letters, I hated his guts. They knew all of this and more, so when they heard the news, too, I thought they wouldn't treat me any differently. Oh, how wrong I was.

They were a lot nicer to me. Not that they weren't usually, but it showed more. I felt like they were walking on eggshells around me, even Steve and Natasha. I could see why, since I was a little more reserved than usual. It wasn't grief I was feeling... it just felt strange knowing my dad wasn't alive anymore. And maybe they saw that, hence the space they were giving me.

It was a few days after the funeral I didn't attend when I decided soaking in bittersweet memories in my room wasn't doing me any good. So, I tried to distract myself with doing mission reports in the library, grateful for the silence in the evening. Of course that failed, for as soon as I was left alone with my thoughts, the mission reports became long forgotten and I found myself curled on the couch, staring at the bookshelf distractedly.

A noise from the door pulled me from my thoughts, and I tilted my head to see it was Wanda walking in surprisingly. Not in the mood to put up with her right now, I rolled my eyes and returned my stare to the bookshelf. She didn't seem to get the hint, as she continued to approach me before settling by a different bookshelf, watching me with what I think was concern.

"Hey," she said gently, very different to how she usually spoke to me. Probably walking on eggshells, just like the others.

"Hey," I returned with a hard tone, not sparing her a glance.

She took her time to speak, before saying, "I heard about what happened. About the funeral."

Unable to resist and wanting to take my annoyances out somewhere, I looked to her with a sarcastic smile. "Really? I wonder how that happened."

A sigh escaped her lips as her expression softened. "Look, I don't want to fight right now."

"How considerate."

She clenched her jaw, attempting to push down the clear agitation I was bringing her. God knew why – since when did she care about me anyway? If anything, I figured she'd be glad for the break away from me. No one to piss her off.

"I won't tell you 'I'm sorry' or try to make you forget," she began carefully, but I cut her off before she could continue.

"Then don't."

She gave me an impatient look. "Y/N, I get it–"

"Do you really?" I snapped, glowering with full ferocity. It wasn't aimed at her, but rather the situation. She just happened to be the one on the receiving end. It was easier yelling at somebody who deserved it, I tried to convince myself. "Do you know what it's like to lose someone? To lose your family?!"

She swallowed hard, eyes flickering to the carpet as she said nothing.

I scoffed. "I didn't think so. So, don't come in here pretending you know how I feel or that you know anything about this situation when we both know you don't. And you certainly don't give a shit, Wanda, so don't try to fool me. Feel free to let Steve or Nat or whoever the fuck sent you in here know that you fulfilled their request and I'm doing fine."

She nodded slowly and I swear I saw her lips trembling, but I couldn't be sure. No words came from her mouth as she avoided my eyes and left the library, finally giving me the peace I wanted since she walked in. I barely got chance to breathe out when Steve replaced her presence, slamming his hand on the coffee table beside me and startling me in the process.

"I'm not in the mood, Cap," I mumbled, glancing his way to see the temper in his expression.

"Neither am I," he retorted with anger. "But what you just said to Wanda was not nice."

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms and looking away from him. "I think she'll live."

"She has," he agreed. "Through her brother's death. And her mother's. And her father's."

My brows knitted together with confusion as I looked his way again. "What?"

He put his hands on his hips as he stared at me with disapproval. "The battle against Ultron. When she switched sides and we recruited her, she didn't come alone. She had her twin brother, Pietro."

I uncrossed my arms as I sat up, confused and intrigued by Steve's story. Wanda had a twin?

"He died saving a child and Clint's life," Steve recalled with regret. "Wanda lost her brother right before joining us properly. That was, what? About nine months ago? And she lost her parents as a kid. Then she lost her whole country, her home, in that battle."

The guilt washed over me in full force, filling me with dread and regret. Wanda had lost everything before joining us... and I definitely didn't make things better with how I treated her.

"I... I didn't know," I admitted, looking up at Steve with reproach.

"Because you didn't want to," he said with a hint of bitterness. "You were so focused on being horrible to her that you didn't bother getting to know her."

I grimaced at the harsh truth to his words.

"If you had, you may have actually realised that she's a sweet girl, especially considering how much crap the world's thrown at her," he continued. "Maybe you two would have hit it off if you'd given her a chance."

I frowned, unsure what to say. All I felt was regret for my words and actions over the past six months, especially since she'd most likely have been grieving in that time and all I'd done was treat her like shit. And what I said to her earlier... God, I was terrible.

"Steve, I'm sorry," I started, but he shook his head.

"Save your apologies for the girl who deserves it."

I licked my lips and stood up, trying to find some courage to face up to the mess I'd made. The others probably thought I was a huge dick, treating Wanda the way I had for no reason.

"You're a good kid," Steve said, as if reading my mind. He patted me on the shoulder, as if pulling back from the anger he was giving, even though I deserved it. "I know you'll make this right."

I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat and nodded. "Thank you... I should go and find her."

He nodded and squeezed my shoulder reassuringly before letting me go. I felt nauseous as I tracked Wanda down, only imagining how she must have been feeling after how I'd treated her in the library. When she was in none of the communal areas, I realised she was probably in her bedroom, so that's where I headed.

It took me a while to build up the courage to knock, and when I did, there was no answer. She couldn't have fallen asleep so soon, so I tried again, but still no answer. Sucking up a deep breath, I opened the door and poked my head in. No lights were on, but the ghastly blue light from the moon and night sky came through the balcony doors which were slid open slightly. I made out a vague outline of a figure and put two and two together.

Letting myself in, I closed the door behind me before padding my way across her room and to the balcony. She was indeed sat out there on the daybed, legs pulled up and crossed over as she hugged a cushion to her chest. At my presence, she merely glanced my way before returning her attention to the empty view of the fields ahead. I wasn't sure what to do, but she hadn't kicked me out which gave me enough nerve to awkwardly take a seat next to her.

Again, she didn't stop me, and I could feel the warmth radiating off her from how close we were sat. I wasn't sure I'd ever been this close to her before since I'd made it a habit to sit or stand the furthest I could from her. Just another reminder of how badly I treated her.

"It's exhausting being mad at you," I finally spoke, staring ahead, unable to face her head-on.

A sarcastic laugh flew from her lips. "Sorry to make your life exhausting."

I winced, realising how that sounded. "That's not what I meant... I mean, it's exhausting because I made it that way."

She hummed in response, though it was halfhearted. "Yeah, you did."

It went quiet again, and I hated that I was never good at expressing myself. Not when it came to admissions of guilt, attempts at apologies, declarations of love... I couldn't express myself coherently without making a fool of myself. But this wasn't about me. It was about her. So, I gave it a try.

"I'm sorry for what I said before," I muttered, my words hanging in the air before I found the courage to look at her. She was still looking ahead. "I didn't– I didn't know about your family. Or about what happened before you joined us."

She grimaced, eyes closing briefly before she shook her head. "You didn't want to. You didn't want to get to know me at all, in case you forgot."

I frowned, looking down to my fumbling hands. "I know..." The day of our meeting sprang to mind and I sighed regretfully. "It's stupid because I was actually looking forward to meeting you. When Steve called me whilst I was on my mission, telling me about this new Avenger who was close to my age, I was excited. I thought it would be nice."

And that wasn't a lie. I was genuinely looking forward to meeting her, but then the bad day happened and I took it out on her, and then everything got worse from there.

"So, what happened?" she asked dryly. "You just woke up one morning and decided to hate me?"

I glanced at her, this time meeting her gaze in the dark. It was bright enough from the moon for me to make out the hurt in her expression, and the guilt in my heart intensified.

"I didn't hate you," I started, but then she gave me a knowing look, and I amended my comment. "Okay, maybe a little."

"I hated you, too," she admitted, as if to make me feel better. Of course she was trying to make me feel better, even though I'd been the dickhead. Looks like Steve wasn't wrong about her being a sweet girl.

"You just caught me on a bad day," I tried to explain, but it sounded pointless and stupid when I said it aloud. "The circumstances upon our meeting weren't ideal. And then everything escalated and before I knew it, we were at each other's throats."

She sighed, her grip on her cushion loosening. "Yeah, I know..."

I pursed my lips, leaning back and looking out at the view. By the sounds of it, she was just as exhausted by this whole thing as I was. So, I took a leap of faith.

"We don't have to be friends," I started nervously, "but it might be a bit easier for everyone if we remain civil. Acquaintances."

She was quiet for a moment longer than I expected, and I was half-afraid she'd decline. But then I saw her nod slightly in my peripheral, and I relaxed.

"I'd like that," she agreed softly.

The first smile in days appeared on my lips, and I tried to lighten the mood by saying, "Acquaintances it is. But God, Wanda, you have to stop using your powers on me like some kind of puppet. It's infuriating."

She chuckled quietly. "Stop calling me Maxi-pad and you've got a deal."

I scrunched my face up with dissatisfaction. A small price to pay I guess. "Fine," I gave in reluctantly.

She put out her hand and I gladly shook it, taking it as the first step to a civil relationship. The mischievous glint I was so used to seeing was no longer present in her eyes, instead replaced by kindness. Maybe I could get used to this.

When I let go, I leaned back and thought about how this could possibly go down. Then, she spoke up again.

"I really am sorry for your loss, you know," she said sympathetically.

I nodded, the reminder of my father's death looming. "Me, too."

Thankfully, nothing more needed to be said. And I stayed there for a little while longer, basking in the silence and the presence of my new acquaintance before calling it an evening and wishing her a goodnight.

Now that the air was cleared, I could only hope it would stay that way.

—

Since sorting things out with Wanda, things became a lot easier.

We were civil, as agreed. We occasionally said hello to each other when crossing paths, she'd sometimes ask how my day went and vice versa, we didn't actively ignore each other's presence and there were definitely no more arguments. It was actually nice to not spend so much energy hating someone.

The others seemed to notice, too, but said nothing. Well, aside from Sam. He was actually the reason our pleasantries and acquainting became more of a friendship.

I was scrolling through Instagram on my phone and drinking some juice at the kitchen counter when Wanda came in to grab a snack of her own. When she saw me, a friendly smile appeared on her lips.

"Hey," she greeted, before going into her cupboard to grab something. "How're you doing?"

I shrugged, returning the smile. "Alright. It's my day off, so I'm just chilling."

She hummed in response and pulled out some biscuits before standing opposite me at the counter where I sat.

"Want one?" she offered, holding out the packet between us.

I squinted at it, trying to make out what it was, but it was written in Czech and I didn't understand it.

"Chocolate chip cookies," she said with a hint of amusement, before taking one out and offering it to me. "Try it."

I accepted the biscuit and stared at her funnily. "You know they have chocolate chip cookies in, like, Walmart or something, right?"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "I know, but these ones taste different. Just try it."

"I don't know how different they can taste since they're the same thing, but okay..."

Taking a bite, I chewed on it slowly to see if there was a difference. Wanda leaned over the counter curiously, a smile on her face.

"Well?" she prompted, quirking a brow.

To my surprise, they did taste different. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but something about them just tasted better.

"You love it," she realised, smile widening.

I raised my brows admittedly. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but yeah."

She laughed. "There's something about it, right?"

I joined in with her laughter, scratching the back of my head with mild confusion. "I mean, yeah. I don't know what it is, but they just taste really good." She nodded in agreement and I stretched out my hand. "Gimme."

She laughed again, but held out the packet so I could grab another. It was at that moment when Sam walked into the kitchen and looked between us with a dramatic eyebrow raise and gasp.

"Oh my god," he began his theatrics. "Are you two actually getting along?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Not funny."

He was amused though. "Can you blame me? I'm

half expecting a fight to break out. Isn't one of you going to throw a chair?"

"You know we made up, so why do you continue to do this?" Wanda asked with an unimpressed smile.

He shrugged, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. "It's fun. Also, I'm kinda glad you both grew up. The pranks were getting old."

As he laughed to himself, Wanda and I exchanged glances. She seemed to be as annoyed by him as I was, and that gave me an idea.

"I'll leave you to your conversation," Sam said as he headed to the door. "Try not to kill each other."

I glared at him jokingly. "Oh, we will. Don't want to act like children, do we?"

He chuckled, pointing at me knowingly, before leaving. When he was gone, I instantly looked to Wanda with a mischievous smile.

"What do you say to doing one last prank for old time's sake?" I asked her.

She suppressed a laugh. "Seriously?"

"We'd be working together this time, so it hardly counts as conflict," I assured her with a wave of my hand, before meeting green eyes. "What d'you say?"

She glanced at the door where Sam left before relaxing her shoulders and meeting my gaze. "Okay. What do you have in mind?"

—

Turns out pranking was a lot more fun when you did it with a partner in crime.

It wasn't anything serious – we weren't looking to get scolded by Steve or Nat again. Just a harmless prank that would definitely be worth the wait. We did it the next day, knowing that Sam had a mission with Steve, so it would be the perfect timing.

Wanda and I were sat on the couch in the living room watching TV with Nat, Vision and Bruce, though unlike them, we were waiting for our prank to unfold. Steve and Sam were on a quick recon mission and were expected back any minute, so of course, Wanda and I wanted the best seats in the house.

"I can hear his angry thoughts all the way from here," Wanda mumbled so only I could hear, face contorting into one of thought before a humoured grin spread across her lips. "They're coming."

I contained my amusement as I kept my eyes on the TV, waiting for Sam's return. As Wanda predicted, he burst into the living room and grabbed everyone's attention in an instant. Steve followed behind him, visibly unimpressed with Sam's anger.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he shouted, crossing his arms as he glared down at Wanda and I.

Wanda pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh, as I shrugged casually.

"No idea what you're on about," I said, fingers drumming on the arm of the couch.

"Chill, Sam," Nat tried to defuse the situation, noticing Sam's frustration. Her eyes looked between Wanda and I suspiciously before focusing on him. "What happened?"

Sam poked his tongue into his cheek with irritation before looking to Steve. "Dude, turn off the light."

Steve sighed, rubbing his temples. "Sam, buddy, I–"

"Just do it," Sam ordered.

I pursed my lips, feeling Wanda nudge me in the side gently, which didn't help with me trying to contain my laughter. Nat, Vision and Bruce watched on with confusion as Steve reluctantly went to turn off the light. Unexpectedly, Sam's whole suit lit up a bright green, glowing in the dark and revealing his pissed expression.

Nat snorted as she attempted to hide her amusement, Bruce looked the other way with a ghost of a smile on his lips, and Vision was puzzled at why Sam was glowing. Wanda and I covered our mouths to stop from laughing, but our snickering caught Sam's attention again, just when Steve turned the lights back on.

"You think this is funny?" Sam asked with narrowed eyes. "We were on a recon mission, guys. As in, it's dark and I need to blend in and not glow in the dark!"

"I had to leave him in the quinjet," Steve explained tiredly. "Wasn't very helpful."

"I think they get that!" Sam said quickly, silencing Steve, before looking back to us. "Not. Cool."

Wanda cleared her throat. "You don't even know if it was us."

Sam crossed his arms and studied the two of us, trying to read our bright eyes and innocent smiles. It was definitely us. It wasn't difficult to paint Sam's suit with glow in the dark, see-through paint. Simple, yet effective. But he technically had no evidence.

"Okay, enough of this," Steve decided to step in, physically and verbally. "Sam, it was a harmless prank." He looked to us disapprovingly. "Albeit stupid. You two, to your rooms."

"What? Seriously? We're not kids!" I defended us, not expecting Steve to actually get annoyed.

"Then quit acting like it," he scolded gently, before nodding to the door. "Go. Now."

I rolled my eyes petulantly before standing up. Wanda did the same and the two of us walked by Sam, ignoring his glares and trying not to laugh again.

"I preferred it when they hated each other," Sam mumbled as we reached the door, and I couldn't stop grinning. Too funny.

"Remind me again why we listen to Steve like he's our dad?" Wanda asked as we headed to our rooms.

"No idea," I answered. "He just has this authority that we can't ignore. You feel it, right?"

She chuckled, falling into step with me. "Definitely."

I cracked a smile and a comfortable silence fell between us. Sam's reaction was still playing in my mind – if that didn't teach him not to mess with us, I didn't know what would.

"Hey, does this make us friends now?" I asked randomly, breaking the silence.

I glanced up to look at Wanda, who shrugged in response, eyebrows raised slightly with realisation. 

"I guess it does," she said, before meeting my eyes briefly and flashing me a smile.

I nodded, looking ahead as another silence formed between us. Pranking with Wanda was fun. She wasn't actually that bad. Quite fun to be around, too. I could see why everybody encouraged us to be friends at the start.

"Another random question," I started, breaking the silence again. "Back when we first met and soon after that. When we hated each other, did you ever use your powers to read my mind?"

She exhaled with amusement. "What? Why d'you ask?"

I put my hands in my jacket pockets, not meeting her eyes. "I dunno... I was just thinking. Could've been a cool advantage when we pranked each other. Like, maybe you wouldn't have used that mayonnaise that one time if you'd heard me think about how it was actually toothpaste."

At the mention of one of the many horrid (but hilarious) things I'd subjected her to, she rolled her eyes and shoved me slightly.

"I hated that," she let me know, making me laugh, before answering, "but no. I never read your mind."

I breathed out with relief. "Well, lucky me. Because I didn't exactly think the... best things about you back then."

"The feeling was mutual," she reassured, but her tone was lighthearted. "And I don't lurk into people's thoughts unless it's for a mission. Everything else is unintentional. It's usually when somebody's thoughts are very..." She chewed her lip, trying to word it correctly. "Like, when somebody's thoughts are extremely loud. Only focused on one thing."

"Huh." I nodded with intrigue. "Let me try something."

Wanda is annoying. She's very annoying. The most annoying person I've met.

"D'you hear that?" I asked curiously, never really understanding her powers and interested in learning more.

She furrowed her brows, confused smile on her lips. "No."

I pulled a face, determined. "Okay, wait."

Wanda Maximoff is the most annoying person in the whole world. She tells terrible jokes. She thinks she's much cooler than she is. Her powers are obnoxiously frustrating. If you looked up the definition of annoying in the dictionary, her name would come–

"Hey!" she shouted with disbelief, slapping me on the arm.

I laughed and rubbed the spot, noticing the smile threatening to appear on her lips. "I'm kidding! I just wanted to see if it would work."

"I hate you."

I grinned. "No, you don't. We're friends, remember?"

She glanced at me sideways, sighing with a feigned annoyance, before saying, "This is gonna be a mistake. I can feel it."

"I think you mean the best thing ever!"

—

Making friends with Wanda wasn't something anybody could have expected, me included. But it turned out to be a great thing. Especially when it shocked the hell out of the rest of the team.

I was training with a punching bag and Nat was sparring with Wanda on the mats near me. When I was sipping from my bottle and taking a small break, watching them, I saw Nat stop and check her watch.

"I just have to go and remind Tony about something," she told Wanda. "Can you take a break for five or ten minutes?"

Wanda nodded, wiping her sweaty forehead with her sleeve. "Yeah, I guess."

"I don't mind taking your place whilst you're gone," I offered to Nat, earning both of their attention. "Spar with her until you come back."

Nat looked like I'd proposed the wildest idea. "No way. Are you kidding?!"

I raised my brows, amused smile on my face. "What? Why?"

"Don't you remember the last time I let you both spar?! You almost killed each other!" she exclaimed.

I waved a hand dismissively. "Pfft."

A smile ghosted Wanda's lips as she stepped beside me. "I don't mind."

Nat furrowed her brows, looking to Wanda like she'd lost her mind. "Wanda. It's Y/N we're talking about."

I grinned, wrapping an arm around Wanda's shoulders. "It's all good, Natasha! Wanda and I are friends now. Best friends in fact."

Wanda shoved me off playfully, rolling her eyes. "No we're not. Don't push it."

My grin remained as I met Wanda's challenging hazel eyes. Nat sighed, glancing between us questionably.

"Fine," she gave in reluctantly, "but I better come back to you both in one piece."

Wanda and I reassured her with matching smiles, watching her walk away, before I turned to face her.

"So. You ready?" I asked teasingly.

She narrowed her eyes challengingly before moving to get into position. "Are you?"

I chuckled at her confidence before facing her.

Compared to the last (and only) time I'd fought with her, she was improving quite quickly, definitely learning from Nat with ease. It made sense, since they worked together almost every day so if she wasn't this good, it would be embarrassing. I was struggling to get her back on the mat, despite the many many years of experience I had on her, and by after a few minutes of tussling about, we paused for a break.

I caught my breath as I eyed her curiously. "You're doing really well, Wanda."

Her cheeks were flushed from sweating, and an appreciative smile graced her expression. "Thanks."

I smirked playfully. "Though not better than me obviously."

She pursed her lips, raising a brow. Without warning, her eyes flashed red and the mat from beneath me slid out backwards, sending me face-planting the floor. Her laughter sounded around me as I groaned, though all in good faith.

"You promised no more powers!" I reminded her of our chat on her balcony. "That counts, Maxi-pad!"

Despite the nickname she hated, her laughter only increased. I pushed myself up onto my knees and she stopped before me, holding out her hand.

"C'mon, we're even," she said with a stifled smile, and I gladly accepted her hand before using her distraction to flip her upside down onto the mat.

A gasp escaped her lips as I hovered above her, wide smile present as I met her startled gaze.

"Now we're even," I said knowingly, before holding out my hand. "C'mon. Up you get."

She rolled her eyes, but the humour was present as she let me help her up.

"Shouldn't get distracted by your opponents," I advised her jokingly. "They might do that."

She held my gaze as she got back into position. "And if they do, I'd just..." Her hand raised, red wisps of energy floating around them and matching the red hue in her eyes.

"No powers," I ordered, remembering the one rule we had when it came to training. "Let's go again."

She sighed dramatically before tightening her ponytail and getting into position again. We continued to spar for a few more minutes, managing to get the upper hand on each other a few times, before Nat returned and caught our attention.

"Wow, I thought you would've killed each other by now," she said upon seeing our tired but joyful expressions.

"Yeah, well, Y/N actually isn't that bad," Wanda said, casting me a sideways glance. "Maybe we can do it more often."

I shrugged. "I don't mind. I'm happy to share my renowned expertise with somebody."

As I lifted my water bottle to take a sip, red tendrils wrapped around the end and tipped it slightly, making me miss my mouth and pour a little on my shirt. I pulled it away instantly, looking to Wanda with disbelief. Her eyes returned to green as she smiled innocently.

"Okay, I guess it's not the worst idea," Nat agreed, still puzzled at our dynamic. "Maybe I can schedule some time in the rota for you both to practice."

She'd clearly been avoiding doing that for the past six months, knowing it wouldn't end well between Wanda and I. But things were different now.

"You know, I'm glad you've both decided to move on from whatever happened," Nat continued with a satisfied nod. "It definitely makes my job a lot easier."

I laughed, as did Wanda, making Nat shrug.

"Never mind that," she said before looking to Wanda. "You ready for some self-defence?"

Wanda straightened up obediently. "Ready."

I saluted to them both. "I'm done for the day. Have fun."

Nat nodded in response and Wanda offered me a small grateful smile before letting me go. Huh. Wanda Maximoff.

Not bad at all.