#can’t wait to see what chapters 3-5 do to me. short circuit my brain

[the-meme-monarch]

would love to experience games for the first time again bc something fucking rewired my Brain whne i was watching deltarune chapter one for the first time and i saw kris wake up in the dark world they were just fucking Cyan

[hufflegruff]

Chapter 2: A Knowing Look

Pairing: Sebastian x F!Reader Summary: In which Sebastian is whipped and literally everyone can see from a mile away that this is more than friendship.

“Sebastian, would you like to join us next time?” “Oh me? Beasts watching?” He drawled absentmindedly, “Can’t say it’s really my thing.” Poppy nodded, “I figured as much. But our dear friend has recently been so terribly insistent on finding the snidgets before the poachers do and I feel bad for taking up so much of her time. Seeing as you’re courting, I thought you might like to spend more time together.” Sebastian stopped and his brain short circuited entirely. What did she just say? Did Poppy Sweeting just say courting?

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 AO3 link

Chapter 2: Poppy

Sebastian felt a little ill. 

Like a thousand lacewing flies were lodged deep inside a crevice in his stomach, threatening to burst and split him wide open.

Perhaps it was the pumpkin pasties from lunch. Perhaps Lucan Brattleby poisoned him out of spite after he’d told him that he’d have to miss Crossed Wands due to more pressing matters. Perhaps it was the plague.

Whatever it was, he needed it gone. Like pronto.

After Ominis’ outrageous comments and his whole spiel about friends not looking at each other like that… Well, it was all he could damn well think about now. 

Especially now that it was just the two of them. In close proximity. In a secluded corner of the library where the eyes of prying students couldn’t reach them. 

She sat calmly next to him. Her attention solely on the pile of books in front of her. How? He wondered, when he felt so unsettled. Their knees were just barely touching. Their shoulders were a Diricawl feather apart. Their breaths were atrociously loud in the silence. Sebastian’s mind was racing a million miles a second.  

Damn Ominis. Making him over-think.

Okay fine. Sure. Sebastian tended to keep an eye out for her. Which to the untrained eye (or the blind), could be misconstrued for lovelorn longing.

But how could he not look out for her? When she was practically a walking Ashwinder magnet, Goblin bait and a flight risk balled into one. If he didn’t, who knew what kind of ridiculous trouble she’d get herself into? As a friend , that would be terribly thoughtless of him. This misunderstanding honestly just stemmed from his good conscience as a friend, worried for another dear friend.

Yes. That was well and truly it.

But then again… he supposed there was also the matter of her appearance.

As if it had been waiting on cue, the clouds parted and the library skylight casted a perfect beam of light onto her. He took this chance to look at her properly, to observe the focused crease of her brow. The rougeish glint in her eyes. The soft curve of her cheek. The flecks of light caught in her hair and the way it cascaded over her shoulders. The traces of scars on her fingers from burdensome battles and arduous work. The delicate shape of her neck. The slight pout of her lips. 

All of these parts of her came together, through hell and fire, to forge her. The prodigal hero. The slayer of trolls. The girl like no other.

And Gods, was she pretty. 

So pretty that it was difficult for him to look away.

But that didn’t mean anything. None of it meant anything. Because friends could certainly be pretty. Sebastian had been friends with tons of pretty girls before. And it was just a fact of nature that pretty things were made to be looked at. 

His eyes dropped to her fingers that stroked the edge of an old book. All of a sudden (overwhelmingly at once) the urge to hold onto it became not a want but a need.

Was it dastardly (blasphemous? outrageous?) to assume that some pretty things were made to be touched too?

He was so close to her. If he just reached out his hands he would —

Oh no. No no no.

He shooed away the rogue thought that sneaked its way into his mind. Merlin’s beard, how did that get there?

In a quick bid to distract himself, he picked up a random book from the pile she had haphazardly curated. But that proved to be a terrible mistake, when - what he assumed must’ve been - centuries worth of dust scattered into the stagnant library air. Sebastian went into an ungraceful coughing fit.

“What does Thistlewood have us looking for again?” Sebastian choked out as he waved the dust out of his eyes. 

She didn’t look at him (to his disappointment) but replied, “An old book. Helena said she heard a rumour that her ancestors hid an enchanted map to the heirloom in an old book in the Hogwarts library.”

He raised a brow, “Okay? Anything else?” 

Was that too haughty? Too sardonic? If she was annoyed, she didn’t show it.

But surely there must be more. Surely Helena Thistlewood gave the Hero of Hogwarts more to go on than that. 

“Unfortunately,” she replied diplomatically, “That’s all the clues I have at hand.”

Nevermind that she had just admitted she was grasping at straws - she still wasn’t looking at him. Why wouldn’t she look at him? He knew they were here with a job to do - but the books couldn’t be that much more interesting than him that she couldn’t even spare a glance. 

Could they? 

Sebastian always felt an inexplicable compulsion to look at her (as all friends would, he assumed). So by some wicked thread of logic, he believed it would only make cosmic sense she felt the same. 

“Well, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but this entire library is filled to the brim with old books,” he quipped wittily.

And then finally, after what felt like aeons, she turned to look at him. Sebastian had to physically fight the smile that threatened to form on his face. Her attention was all too thrilling. 

Perhaps he would’ve been better off if she hadn’t looked at him. Then he wouldn’t have suffered the terribly ill fate of looking so bloody stupid. 

Unbothered, she coyly replied.

“Shrewd as ever, Mr. Sallow. They don’t call you the brightest wizard in Slytherin for nothing,”

Mr. Sallow. Oh, the way his name rolled off her tongue was much too lovely. 

“You do know that this means we could be looking for days? ”

“I never said it would be easy,” She said.

“You never said it would be impossible either,” He bantered. 

Their exchanges were never a song and dance. It was like fencing. Every quip a lunge, every retort an en garde. But that made him love it all the more.

“Well I thought you’d be up for the challenge. Hidden treasures tend to be - well, hidden.” She said with a hearty laugh.

And like kerosine to a flame, the sound made his chest swell.

“Who knew that you’d be sending me on an impossible goose chase,” Sebastian said with a dramatic sigh.

Not that he was complaining of course. Despite the niggling pit in his stomach that knew he couldn’t explain why - he revelled in every moment he was blessed to spend in her company.

She rolled her eyes, “Don’t even pretend like you don’t love it.” 

Okay, now the smile on his face was truly repulsive. His cheeks were getting sore. 

“Oh no, I absolutely adore it.”

She swatted him gently with the stray book in her hand. But soon enough (too soon), her attention went back to the task at hand. He could feel the pout growing on his face as he watched her bury her nose deep into another book. 

Sebastian genuinely tried to help. He truly did. But the moment something no longer amused him, he was a lost cause. And while he was only joking, he was starting to feel like maybe this was proving to be an impossible task.

So instead, he chose to spend his time observing her. Until something caught his eye. 

The edges of her school robes were… singed? The seams were frayed and burnt, which was odd. When did she manage that? He hadn’t noticed that earlier. 

“What happened to your robes?” He asked.

Unexpectedly, she stiffened and looked away, “I’d rather not say.”

Now his curiosity was truly peaked. What deviousness did she get up to in his absence? What schemes was she committing without him?

“Well now you absolutely have to say.” He said.

Sebastian detested secrets he was not privy to. Especially hers. With every ounce of charm his brown eyes could muster, he looked at her expectantly, imploring her to tell him. 

When her face turned a delightful shade of pink, he knew she had folded. Check and mate.

“Fine.” She conceded.

On the edge of his seat, he urged her to continue.

Hesitantly, she did, “…I had a rather unfortunate accident yesterday.”

Sebastian cocked an eyebrow, “What did you do?”

“I might have… accidentally held my wand the wrong way round and confringoed myself in a duel with Clopton…”

Oh. Oh? Did he hear that right? 

Of all the things that she could’ve said, he was certainly not expecting that. He tried his best — he genuinely did — to not laugh. But he simply could not help himself from breaking into hounds of laughter. 

“Shut up!” She hissed, “It’s not funny Sallow.” 

As he wiped a stray tear from his eye, he quipped, “I beg to differ. It is actually very funny. I might have to rescind the title of best duellist in Hogwarts with that kind of shoddy wandwork.”

The glare on her face alone could’ve taken down trolls.

“Not even two rounds of washing got rid of the stench!” She yelled in whispers.

“I think that makes it objectively funnier.”

“You’re infuriating,” she huffed, “And I smell like burnt toast.”

He gave her a cheeky grin, “Oh, don’t be like that. I’m sure you smell fine. Lovely even. Let me see.”

“Hey, wait a minute—!”

Before the protests could leave her lips; before the rational part of his brain had time to think,  Sebastian moved towards her. Like lightning to the tallest peaks; like a comet caught in gravity's pull — he moved towards her.  

As he breathed into her, her breath hitched. 

Just as he had suspected, there was no hint of anything unpleasant. She smelled of mallowsweet and pine trees and warm fires. The mallowsweet she grew diligently in her garden. The early morning dew of pine trees from the forbidden forest. The crackle of her usual seat by the common room fireplace. 

If he could commit a scent to memory, Sebastian decided that this would be it. How was it possible that a smell could feel like home? What undiscovered sorcery was this? She didn’t smell like Feldcroft or the Undercroft — but it gripped onto him like a warm embrace that he yearned to always return to. 

It left him in such a daze that when she cleared her throat, it sounded miles away.

“...Sebastian?”

What was he doing again?

Right. He was reassuring her. That she was all good.

So how did he end up in the crook of her neck again? 

When he noticed how close he was to the delicate curve of her neck, he knew that he was in trouble. And he thought they were sitting in close proximity before. How in good conscience did he allow himself to get here?

Evidently, his conscience was not at all good and very much out to destroy him. 

When he finally gathered the nerve to bring his eyes to meet hers, he realised that she was looking directly at him. Her eyes were heavy with the weight of something indiscernible. Whatever it was, he couldn’t read it - but he could sense it was important. All of the sudden, the air in his lungs wasn't enough to keep him going. The words in his mouth wouldn’t form coherently.

Was it just him, or was the room spinning? 

Despite himself, he managed to get out in a whisper, “Just like I said. Sunshine and daisies.”

And more his traitorous mouth itched to confess.

Beneath lowered lashes, she replied barely above a whisper, “...thanks.” 

To his surprise, the look in her eyes turned bashful. Which was… something. In their time together, Sebastian had seen her embarrassed and flustered; but not once had he seen her bashful. Bashfulness was reserved for demure wallflowers and girlish first years. Not the hero of Hogwarts.

And in this moment, Sebastian cursed her for it.

Never in his 17 years of feeble existence had he seen anything so disgustingly disarming. And bloody hell, for the sake of his poor, erratic heart, he would need her to swear on Salazar to never ever, ever, ever ever look at him like that again — 

“Oh, hello friends!” 

Like a douse of cold water, a cheerful voice broke them out of their reverie, and suddenly they were scrambling apart. The air shifted. The tension dissipated. The scent of her no longer pervaded his senses. There was now (what felt like, at least to Sebastian) an astronomical distance between them. All that he had left to show for it was the stupid look on his face.

Sebastian felt like he was waking up from a fever dream. He didn’t know whether he wanted to jump for joy or throw up. Whether he was relieved or infuriated by the intrusion.

Who was it that intruded anyway?

“P-Poppy!” The girl beside him exclaimed, looking like a deer caught in headlights herself.

“Poppy.” Sebastian repeated, almost robotically.

Before them stood Poppy Sweeting, with a wide-eyed smile on her face. If she had noticed any tension between them, she didn’t mention it. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Poppy said, apologetically.

“Oh not at all!” His friend said hurriedly.

Sebastian begged to differ.

Poppy turned to address the girl wonder directly, “I was wondering if you had that magical creatures book? Natty and I were planning on visiting the fwoopers den up North, and I was hoping to bring it out with me today.”

Abruptly, she jumped from her seat and snapped her fingers in recollection.

“Oh! Right. I left it with Scribner at her desk. Let me go get it.” 

With rushed fervour, she stood up to go. Her hair and the folds of her skirt swayed hurriedly behind her. He watched with heavy eyes as she walked out of sight; as she robbed him of mallowsweet, pine trees and warm fires.

Now that she was gone — without rhyme or reason — his chest felt hollower. Why? Surely that lonely feeling that gripped his chest couldn’t have been from her absence. She would only be gone for a few minutes at most. What was he — a hapless puppy? 

Poppy’s bright voice broke him out of his trance.

“Sebastian, would you like to join us next time?”

His brain was still spiralling, so it took him a while to process the question. Or even realise that Poppy was speaking to him. But he managed to muster enough mental energy to reply.

“Oh me? Beasts watching?” He drawled absentmindedly, “Can’t say it’s really my thing.” 

Hippogriffs aside, he never really cared much for beasts no matter how mythical. And it wasn’t like he and Poppy Sweeting were particularly chummy either. 

Poppy nodded, “I figured as much. But our dear friend has recently been so terribly insistent on finding the snidgets before the poachers do—”

“Sounds just like her,” he interjected. It was valiant and righteous and just so bloody like her it made him want to scream. Just a tiny one, to help relieve the lingering warmth and tightness he felt in his traitorous chest.

Poppy continued, “—and I feel bad for taking up so much of her time. And seeing as you’re courting, I thought you might like to spend more time together.”

Sebastian stopped and his brain short circuited entirely.

What did she just say? Did Poppy Sweeting just say courting?

He swore he physically felt the neurons in his brain melt, “We’re not - I don’t - She —” Once again, Sebastian found his words failing him.

Poppy was looking at him expectantly, like an over-eager kneazle. But the weight of her expectation crushed him. After a few agonising moments of Sebastian completely butchering the English language, Poppy finally caught on. Sebastian’s words refused to cooperate, so he could only watch feebly as the gears seemed to finally turn in Poppy’s head.

“Oh!” She said in disbelief, “Sorry! I just thought, the way you were looking at her - and you looked so close that —”

Oh God. The way he was looking at her? Poppy Sweeting just basically implied that he was a hapless puppy. Obviously, Sebastian knew that the thoughts on his brain were a complete travesty — but he didn’t think he wore it on his face. 

Did he? Well apparently fucking so.

Sebastian was mortified. “It’s not like that,” he said quickly, “We’re just friends.”

A tentative pause filled the air. To his dismay, Poppy only dignified his response with a look of sheer disbelief. As if he’d grown two extra heads and still couldn’t find between them a single brain cell. 

Sebastian felt the urge to crawl into a Dugbog nest so he could be swallowed whole. If even Poppy Sweeting was questioning their relationship, then who else? Ominis he could handle. But the rest of the student body? He wouldn’t survive it. 

“Friends.” Poppy repeated the word painfully slow, as if tasting the word her tongue would help make it all make sense. Eventually, she nodded and said cryptically, “I see.” 

“Yes. Friends.” He repeated.

The cavern of lacewing flies that plagued him earlier returned, and they were back with a vengeance . It’s not like he was at all prudish. Let it be known that Sebastian Sallow was no stranger to a romantic dalliance or two (Third year was a whole thing, don’t ask). Flirting was his status quo, being charming came to him as easily as breathing. As naturally as a moth to a roaring open flame.  

But courting? Her? The very thought made his insides scream.

Poppy looked unsurely at him, as if she had much more to say (or protest even). But she kept her mouth shut to maintain the civility of it all, as if she decided that even one word more would likely fracture Sebastian’s thin semblance of normality. And Poppy didn’t want to be to blame for his pitiful unravelling. 

So they just sat in silence.

“Here you go Poppy!”

Eventually, when their friend returned, she was surprised to find both her friends sitting in complete silence. When she handed Poppy her book back, she was taken aback by the pitiful look in her eyes. And as if to apologise, (for what exactly she had no idea) Poppy gave her a soothing pat on the back. She said a quick thanks and left. 

The girl wonder turned to look at Sebastian curiously, but decided against prying. 

From the look on his face, she had a feeling that whatever it was, was better left alone. —— We love to see Sebastian flustered!!!

I have like little bits of all the chapter written out, and this took me way longer than I thought it would! Hopefully yall enjoy the pining and how in love Seb is <3

Thank you so so much for everyone who liked and reblogged, they really made my week! Also thank you @peterwandaparker @wt-fxck @pugsnotdrugs92 @ithinkweallsing For your lovely comments <3 This is a side blog so I can't reply but I'm soooo glad you guys like it!

[dj-bynum3718]

Of Fire and Ice - chapter 2

Melissa Schemmenti X reader X Larissa Weemes   

Summary: The dinner and questioning 

Words: 2367    

Notes: so this is going better than I thought I'm kinda living for it!  Thank you all for the love and support its really making me want to just get this out as fast as I can!! 

Wanings: slight talk of discrimination.  

----

3:45 the last kiddo from your class finally leaves you take that as a sign to get the heck out of there you don’t want to be cornered before the dinner. You gather your belongings and rush out of the school to your vehicle leaving to go pick up some ingredients for dinner.   

You can feel them watching you pull out of the parking lot you see Melissa and Barbara standing on the steps to the school. You don’t acknowledge them.  

Dinner tonight was supposed to just be leftovers from this weekend but now you actually have to put in effort since people will be coming over. It was lunch when you decided on penne arrabbiata. Your unintentional need to impress Melissa coming to head. So, you go out and buy some fresh parmesan, the rest you have at home, always going to the famers market on Saturdays. You have since picked up some new wines for your collection, so you won't need to get any more and for dessert well you did make some mini cheesecakes yesterday so those will have to do.  

Its 5:00 by the time you get home you immediately set to work on getting yourself ready just because you see these people every day doesn’t mean you don’t want to look nice when they come to your house.

6:30 you have finished touching up your make up and have changed into something comfortable letting your hair out of its messy bun and fixing the loose curls you had this morning. “meh good enough” you say to your reflection. 

6:35 you are starting on dinner it only takes about 20 minuets to finish the meal. When the bell rings you flick your wrist and suddenly the dining room table is set. You open the door and see all your friends waiting. “hey, come on in everything is ready” you motion with your hand to let them come in. 

“mmmh smells good hun what did you make? I can smell the fresh basil from here.” Melissa looks at you, she looks beautiful, she has changed into comfortable clothes herself and it should be illegal to look that good. You swallow your throat suddenly dry. “oh um penne arrabbiata.” she smirks at you oh god why does she do that. “a woman after my own heart I can’t wait to try it.” she winks at you walking into the house with the others.  

You close the door heading to the dining room. “come on in I don’t bite. Well unless you want me too” you joke looking back at them. “Guys I'm kidding” They all sit down at the table and you pull out 3 bottles of nice wine  

This peaks Barbaras interest as she hands you, her glass. You pour everyone some wine and serve the food. You hear the collective sigh as everyone takes a bite, Melissas hand lands on your free one as she nods in approval. Your brain short circuits as you take a big gulp of your wine.  

“so, how do you want to go about the questions” Jacob askes from his place at the table besides Janine. You let out a sigh and lean back against your chair. “Why don’t y’all take turns, we can start with Melissa and work our way around the table. Sound good?” they all nod as you turn your way to Melissa. “Okay beautiful we will start with you.” you don’t know where the bout of confidence came from, but her smile made it worth it. 

“So what kind of outcast are you? We know there are many different kinds so?” wow starting strong “I'm a witch I come from a long line. Don’t worry, the stories make us seem worse than we really are. She nods taking in your answer. 

Barbara takes her turn next “So you can do magic like the movies?” “Well yes kinda but it’s a bit more than that its connected to emotions yes but with practice I can use it for most things.  

“So, this school you went to it’s like a boarding school?” Gregory asks. “Yes, it’s been around since 1791.” you respond. 

“Is it only for outcast or can anyone go?” Janine askes “we have a few normies every so often, but they are rare and far between it is open to anyone but not many people feel comfortable with us.” 

Jacob looks at you now “what is the curriculum like?” “well we have the normal stuff but then some more specialized stuff too.” you respond 

“Who is this lady?” Ava holds out her phone to show the official nevermore page. Showing you a picture of Larissa. Your breath hitch's she is just a beautiful as you remember her. Those blue eyes piercing your soul all over again. You swallow hard before answering. “That is Larissa Weems the headmistress of Nevermore Acadamy” 

Melissa noticed the change in you immediately. “Who was she to you?” “My ex-girlfriend” you let out a sigh and look at her making eye contact calmed you immediately. 

Barbara takes her next turn “is that why you were upset this morning? Is she going to be there?” you simply nod your head in response.  

Melissa skips the others to ask her next question “when was the last time you saw her? And how long did you date?” You look to her confused as you can hear her voice waver. You grab Ava’s phone “we dated for 4 years, and I haven’t seen her in about 6. It looks like time has been good to her” you turn the phone to her “oh she is beautiful” you can hear the emotion in her voice, but you can't place it. “I was going to propose to her but then things started getting hard and I didn’t fight for her.” you shrug. 

Gregory raises his hand. “Yes?” you respond. “Can I go now Melissa Skipped me” you nod to him “cool so like you can do magic can you show us some?”  

You grin flicking your wrist and suddenly the table is cleared, and desert is on the table in front of them. You hear a collective gasp and Jacob claps. “Oh, that would come in handy.” Barbara responds.  

You nod “I use it more than I care to admit” you respond sheepishly thinking back on all the times you have used it in secret at school. The rest of the night goes on like this them asking you responding.

——

“Well, I do believe we all have to teach tomorrow. “ Barbara says standing “I'm going to take my leave thank you for an amazing dinner and enlightening evening.” the others nod and stand walking with her to the door. All leaving except Melissa who stayed on the couch as you walked them out. 

“You, okay?” you ask her from the doorway. She looks up at you and nods clearly there is something on her mind. You take her hand in yours and sit across from her. “Mel?”  

“What if I go with you?” she asked now you are confused. “What?” you respond not getting what she is referring to. 

“What if I went as your date to your reunion? I could be your fake girlfriend and you can show her that you are better now.” 

“I-I um Mel I can’t ask that of you it's a lot.” you are looking into her eyes now. “But you aren't askin I'm offering... so what do you say?” 

“lets do it” you nod grinning. 

10:45 Mel has already gone home, and you are filling out your RSVP and plus one paperwork. So maybe today wasn’t the worst day but now you have a whole other thing to worry about but till then that can be a problem for future you.  

[dangermousie]

CFC Chapter 54

“A crashing car?” Ahahahaha I see you, Meatbun. But it was indeed an utter pileup!

I know I commented on this passage in its various iterations eight billion times already but I still have more to say. And it’s that XQC taking so long to realize that even though HY is young, his emotions and feelings are as genuine and strong as those of anyone older is so realistic - people do tend to think that especially with regard to children - think of a reaction of an adult to a three year old crying over ice cream they dropped. It’s all amused even if not meanly so. Because to an adult with vastly more experience, this is not a big deal. But what that forgets is that whether it’s ridiculous to someone else or not, to the person at issue that is a real feeling, AND that of course a person can only feel through the lens of their experience - what else is there? Emotions aren’t any less valid because they are informed by lesser or different experience.

Honestly, to me so far this is one of the driving messages of the novel - everyone is in their own world of issues and pain and none of these characters can truly look through the lens of another person and it would be so much better if they did. To XQC, for so long, He Yu’s strong feelings (and we know so many of these feelings are awful - despair, and self-loathing, and loneliness) never quite felt real and therefore never quite felt fully valid. And by the time it wasn’t the case, it was too late.

But the same is true for He Yu - he is so concentrated on his own grievances and his own pain, he cannot perceive others’ different issues. In He Yu’s mind, he’s the winner and always champion of Misery Olympics and while he’s had a horrible time of it, that doesn’t mean other people didn’t either just in different ways. Whether because of his condition, his issues or just his age, HY is not empathetic in the least.

And think about it - XQC does not have a horrible illness. He does not have unfeeling parents. But he had to watch his beloved parents brutally murdered in front of his eyes at 13 (!!!!) and then had to raise a 5 year old by himself. Is it worse or better than HY’s trauma? That’s a matter of opinion but what there is no question about is that is a different type of trauma and a different type of scar. Or think about the patient in the asylum whose name I am too lazy to look up - her life is such a theater of horrors that to me, it makes the combined issues of HY and XQC seem small, though once again that’s subjective. Nobody wins when people start this sort of competition.

My heart breaks for XQC but also - I am sorry - if/when HY x XQC hook up again (how? I have no idea! But that is one of the joys of Meatbun - I both have no idea how/where it’s going and utterly trust her), please have He Yu read up and learn things because Good God. You should not be in major pain the morning after unless you are into pain and XQC clearly is not!

The other thing is the bit about XQC forcing himself to walk in his usual ramrod-straight manner is the moment I went utterly gone for him. I mean, I liked him and found him interesting before. But this is the thing that flipped that invisible switch for me and I went rabid and irrational and now I am Team XQC and I don’t care what he wants and does from now on, he should have it. It’s so small but so real. My mother and her mother were both big on straight posture. And one of the reasons they gave was when you walk with good posture - you look confident but also it makes you feel confident and stronger. And I’ve actually found it to be true - when you throw your shoulders back and straighten your neck and hold your head up, it does not just give others a signal, it gives a signal to your own brain. So to see XQC insist on doing it, despite being emotionally and physically shattered - because of his pride refusing to give up, because he’s so unbending, but also this being some sort of instinctive armor, just hits straight through the heart.

OK, I laughed at HY as a fucking machine. But also, this is another point in the whole “everyone has issues” narrative and HY’s life could be worse. HY, with all his other issues, can pay an insane amount, an amount that XQC could not pay in a million years, so easily. It’s not even a blip to him. Hell, the fact that he forgot to pay speaks to that - I can see forgetting to pay a friend a couple of bucks back right away because it’s not much money. HY forgets because it does not loom in his mind. And this rich lifestyle is instinctive, is ingrained in him. I think he’d find it hard to be poor.

THAT is what he’s thinking about? Priorities are...

The sole good thing that came out of this insanity is that XQC is getting in touch with his emotions, even if those emotions are (rightly) rage. He’s too closed off from them normally.

The fact that you slept with a man should be secondary to the fact that you drugged and raped him, but here we are...

To me, this sums up He Yu as a moral wasteland. To still, when sober and past his fit and not under influence of wine, to still feel excitement over his revenge and to somehow twist it that it’s XQC’s fault for being raped by He Yu is !!!!!!!!!

(I suppose if I were charitable, I’d assume that the disquiet is small stirrings of almost dead conscience and his “he deserved it” is an attempt to justify the unjustifiable to himself, but I honestly don’t want to think so because I am so angry at him. Not until I see some more evidence. I don’t feel like being indulgent with He Yu since he’s indulgent with himself enough for two.)

1. The fact that you can tell from the picture XQC got taken by a man (I am gonna defer to Meatbun’s expertise here) definitely points to the fact that the pictures are going to be used for something bad later - because if it’s just oh XQC had sex, so what, he’s single what’s the big deal. But like this it becomes a different matter. No idea if it will be used for HY or XQC or both, and by whom (money is on Duan and co, but after the way HY went off, I would never say HY himself won’t use it badly somehow) but knowing Meatbun, it will go for maximum damage.

2. Ruthless? Perhaps. Unfeeling? Hmmmm. I am not He Yu’s biggest fan atm but that’s a wonderfully misleading adjective here. He does still seem to be in shock. And fixating.

3. The whole “hahahaha XQC is a hypocrite when he was all ‘I am not interested in sex’“ is - I am not sure if HY is just short-circuiting (fine) or using a rapist justification/rolling in a sea of toxic toxicity (not fine) because I am sorry, that’s totally like “he/she had a reaction, can’t be rape” writ large. Yeah, sure he had a reaction - you poured drugs down his throat. That has nothing to do with his default preferences or his actual state. THE FUCK?!

Anyway, we end on the whole “u mad bro?” bit and you know what strikes me? HY was all “I am done, we are done, my revenge is complete I don’t care” but here he is, still desperately seeking and craving reaction and interaction from XQC.

I remain utterly puzzled as to how these two will ever be a couple except for a couple being defined as “two mutually homicidal people.” Leaving aside everything else, I am willing to accept HY is in the closet - clearly whatever his orientation is, it includes men. But I do not get that sense from XQC at all. When he’s not drugged, he’s barely interested in sex with anyone and I do not get the sense he’s in the closet either. Chances of anyone, let alone He Yu, who is both a man and someone who raped him to humiliate him, being able to entice him into sexual encounters voluntarily is about the chance of me going to visit Mars. Meatbun loves doing insane things so I can’t wait.

PS I know people use the term psychopath all the time casually but ummm, I think He Yu may actually be one? When he has his father (!!!) on speakerphone, calmly carrying a conversation with the man as he’s raping his father’s friend in the club as he talks (!!!!!) that is...in RL I’d be “team lock him up for life, there is something so basic broken in him that it can’t be fixed.” Like - the hell? The ability to put things on different shelves so much is not in the same country as sane (it makes me think of 2ha and TXJ banging CWN being the curtain while performing court business but TXJ was bona fide clinically insane and also this is worse because this is his actual freaking father omg.) Of course, only time will tell whether it’s evidence of him being irreparably incapable of normalcy in terms of living in the world/interacting with others or it was an extreme psychotic (in casual parlance not medical one) break because most people are capable of truly horrific stuff if certain levers are pushed and his default is saner. It’s the question, isn’t it? Whether He Yu’s factory default setting is the monster of the previous chapters or the kid who’d cut his wrists so as not to hurt others.

Anyway, this novel is a terrifying roller coaster ride and I love having strong emotions.

[dp-marvel94]

The Mystery Shack Spooks - Part 4

For Holiday Truce 2020

Summary:  Elle Fenton had hoped for a normal summer, a chance to make normal friends with people who know nothing about her crazy family, ghosts, or, most importantly, her status as a clone. But ghosts always seem to find her, even in Gravity Falls. Now the Mystery Shack is haunted by a unknown apparition with an unknown connection to Dipper and Mabel, and to Elle herself. The half ghost struggles to open up to her new friends and to find a way to help this lonely ghost.

Part 1 -> Part 2 -> Part 3 -> Part 4(Here) -> Part 5

Also on AO3 and fanfiction.net

Note: 

Did I say this was going to be the last chapter? Ops....well I wrote what was supposed to be the last chapter and it ended up super long so I cut it in half. I'm posting the first part and once I edit the rest, I'll post the actual end in a few days.

Also, I really need a proper name for this story. So if anyone has any idea or suggestions, I'll take them. If anyone comes up with something that I ended up using, I'll be sure to credit them. 

Finally, happy reading!

Her mind was anything but silent. Her brain swarmed with thoughts, throughout a quiet dinner and half-hearted attempt at board games (unsurprisingly the twins weren't enthusiastic after that sobering encounter). Long past the time she should be asleep, the half ghost found herself staring at the ceiling, her thoughts drifting. She sighed, her heart still clenching with guilt- over not telling Dipper and Mabel about Tyrone and about her status as a clone. But if she could find some way so that the twins could see and hear the other ghosts or if Tyrone would show up so they could brainstorm…..

With a huff, Elle sat up. She wasn’t going to get to sleep anytime soon, not like this, and she was getting sick of staring at the ceiling. Maybe she should go flying or sit on the roof for a bit. With barely a thought, she triggered her core to transform and floated off the bed. She flew through the roof, pausing as the light of the moon fell on her face. She let out a breath, sitting down on the ledge of the roof. The view really was beautiful; maybe she’d wait and watch the stars.

Some time passed as she looked at the sky and tried (and failed) to not worry about Tyrone. Then a creak sounded behind her. Elle turned, finding a familiar boy behind her. With the moonlight, he almost glowed ethereally; for a moment she thought he was-

“What are you doing up here?” He asked, voice without even a hint of echo.

Elle frowned. “ Dipper, it’s you.”

“Yeah, It’s me.” He looked at her strangely, repeating. “What are you doing up here?”

The girl blushed. “Oh, I was just...I was...thinking about our ghostly friend.”

“Oh…” His confused expression bled into something sad. “You’re trying to figure out who he is?” 

Elle bit her lip, debating. She knew who the ghost was but she couldn’t exactly tell her friend; Tyrone had begged her not too. She sighed. “I’m thinking about how we can help him. If you and Mabel could see him...or if I could actually talk to him….”

“Oh yeah…” Dipper huffed, coming to sit beside her. “I barely thought about him today.” He looked down, guiltily.

“We'll figure something out.” Elle said half heartedly. “But anyway, what’s got you up?”

The boy sighed, studying a particular spot on the roof. He glanced at her cautiously. “Can I...can I tell you something?”

The half ghost blinked, startled by the question or really, by his attitude. He looked uncharacteristically upset. About the ghost haunting the Shack maybe? After a moment, she answered. “Yeah?”

“I keep thinking about… I keep thinking about….Tyrone.” He whispered.

Elle tilted her head, not expecting that. She was really, really not expecting that. It was like...it came from nowhere. But maybe he’d realized -

“You have?” She asked, part hopeful and part cautious.

Dipper nodded. “Since we told you about the copier and you said...what you said, that Tyrone was my clone but maybe not actually me….” Nervously, he picked at his nails. “That keeps...ringing in my head. I can’t stop thinking about it and about what happened to him and…” He trailed off.

“Oh” The girl bit her lip, suddenly guilty. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I brought that up.”

Dipper shook his head. “No, don’t be. You….you made me realize I miss him. I’ve missed him so much this year. But...I didn’t understand that that was what I was feeling or why. I mean….the two of us…we were so in sync, really the perfect team. We thought the same, like we were really the same person and….no one understood me like he did.” He looked down at the last part. “But….I kept replaying that idea, what you said, in my head and….” His voice quieted, turning pained. “I don’t…I don’t know how I didn’t see it then but…there was something different about him, compared to the others. And not just ‘cause Tyrone had a name but….the two of us actually talked and came up with the plan to dance with Wendy together. I didn’t really talk to the others, just told them what to do and they did it. And…” He laughed humorlessly. “Tyrone’s the one who got mad at me for not following our plan and the other clones just followed when he locked me in the closet.” He shook his head, a fond smile on his face. “The doofus left me snacks and a coloring book in there in case I got bored or hungry. And…Tyrone figured out how to escape the sprinklers.” He clenched his shaking fists, taking a deep breath. “There was…a light in his eyes, a spark that just wasn���t in the others. And I…how didn’t I see it?”

The girl startled at the words, the honesty. She reached out to comfort. “It’s okay.” 

“No it’s just.” He ripped his arm away. “For the past…for the past year, I told myself that he wasn’t real. That missing him was ridiculous and narcissistic and the only reason I did was because I didn’t have any friends other than my sister. But….” His voice broke. “He was real, wasn’t he? Tyrone was a real, actual person. And…he’s not melted, he’s dead. He’s dead. And it’s my fault because I made him in the first place. And I gave him that freaking pit cola and just watched it happen. I’m the only one who even knew him and I haven’t even mourned, because I thought he didn’t deserve it because he wasn’t real.”

Dipper wrapped his arms around his knees. To Elle’s surprise, he’d started crying at some point. The girl shifted slightly, before tentatively putting one arm around him. Her heart ached as she let him cry. But she said nothing, too stunned to force any words out. She had...she had no idea he actually listened and thought about her words. But he had. Dipper had taken them to heart and now he was mourning and… He knew Tyrone was someone, a real person. Her heart skipped a beating, remembering the ghostly clone’s broken words. Just a copy. What will they think of me? What would they think…. Well, Elle didn’t know about Mabel but Dipper….Dipper saw his personhood, his potential. Her eyes widened; she had to tell-

The boy started talking, cutting off her thoughts. He sniffled. “But yeah, sorry to dump that on you. It’s not your fault but…I keep thinking about him, especially since...earlier...I thought I saw...” 

Elle gasped, just managing to squeak out. “You saw...?”

Dipper swallowed. “I think...I think...I..I had this dream where Tyrone was floating over my bed. He was crying and….” His voice choked. “He begged me to see him and talk to him. And I could see him but….I was frozen. I couldn’t move, couldn’t talk. Then I woke up and I remembered that it happened a year ago.”

“It…? A year ago?” The half ghost would blush at her parroting if she wasn’t busy freaking out.

“A year ago.” The boy nodded. “ I used...I used that freaking copier and somehow it made Tyrone.” A sickly smile covered his face. “He’d be a year old now if….” His expression flipped, turning into a hateful sneer. “If I hadn’t killed him a f-cking can of Pit Soda. Instead he’s dead so yeah, happy DeathDay Tyrone.”

With that, the boy roughly pulled away from her and tightly clenched his fists. He looked like he wanted to scream or hit something, his shoulders tense with self-directed anger. Beside him, Elle was frozen, her mind short circuiting. Tyrone…how…why…could he really…did he really…. Her blood ran cold. Dipper actually saw him earlier. She had no idea how, when he hadn’t been able to last night. But he must have; there was no other way. But he thought it was a dream, a fantasy or a nightmare conjured by his unconscious mind. He hadn’t realized it was real, meaning….

Her core flickered with her anxiety, ice flowing through her veins.

Dipper shivered. “It’s cold. Elle, is that you? Or is our ghost friend here?”

No, their ghost friend, Dipper’s clone, Tyrone was not here. Because he was downstairs thinking that Dipper just saw him as a copy, not worth mourning. But…

“Elle?” The boy ventured.

Cold pulsed from the half ghost’s core as her mind continued to race. She had...She had to tell him, to tell Dipper that Tyrone wasn’t gone. He wasn’t...well he was still dead but he was still here. The two of them still had a chance. But...she bit her lip. She’d told Tyrone she wouldn’t; she couldn’t break his trust now. But….with all she’d told Dipper, with how Dipper just poured out his heart, how can she remain silent about this? But...she promised the other ghost. The girl felt torn in two directions by the choice.

“I need to find him.” She suddenly spat out. 

“Who?” Dipper blinked at her.

Elle ignored as ice crept across the roof tiles. She ran fingers through her hair. “We need to talk. Maybe...maybe...I can convince him and We’ll-” 

The other teen cut her off. “Elle?! What are you talking about?” 

Her mouth snapped shut as she blushed in embarrassment and shame. “I...I’m sorry. The...the Shack’s ghost...I...I promised him...I can’t tell you.”

Dipper glared, open mouthed. “But-” 

Elle didn’t hear the rest of his plea as she flickered invisible and phased through the roof.

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

Moments later, Elle phased through the roof of her room. "Tyrone!" She called, hopefully. He had to be here. "Tyrone!" The half ghost tried again, to silence. "Please, we need to talk. I think...I think Dipper saw you tonight but he thinks it was a dream. If we just...if I just tell him, then-"

Tyrone's sudden appearance cut off her words. His eyes were wide, brow wrinkled with shock and worry.

Elle sighed in relief anyway. "You're here! I was worried." She shook her head. "Anyway. I need to tell Dipper about you."

The ghostly clone's eyes widen even more. He wavered backwards, waving his hands. No. For once, the static was clear.

"Please Ty. I can't… I can't keep lying to Dipper and Mabel. Plus …." Her pleading tone shifted into something more hopeful. "He told me some things today. And….he'd be so happy to know you're here."

Tyrone looked doubtful. His mouth opened to argue but then, the door burst open.

Gasping, the half ghost jumped back as Dipper barged in. 

“Elle!” He exclaimed. “What are you-” The boy cut himself off, eyes widening. 

The girl’s brow wrinkled for a moment in confusion; he’d probably come down here to figure out why she ran off so why-

“I must be dreaming.” Dipper muttered, voice shaking. “There’s no way. This isn’t...it’s not...it’s not real.” He furiously shook his head. “No. He’s...he’s not…”

The half ghost felt her heart stop, her blood run cold. Slowly her eyes drifted from the living boy in front of the door and to his ghostly double. 

Tyrone’s jaw dropped in shock. He wavered forward in the air, eyes pinned in the other boy. A long moment later, his voice warbled with static.

“No. You’re not...you’re not here.” Dipper choked. “I..I killed you.”

The living boy was shaking, looking like he would collapse or flee from the room. All the while, he stared at the misty form of his ghostly clone. More static cracked as the ghost boy tried to speak again, reaching forward.

Dipper pinched his eyes closed. “I’m just dreaming...You’re not real.”

With that Elle’s mind finally caught up. “No Dipper, he’s here…” She swallowed. “I can see him too.”

The human boy’s head whipped up. With wide eyes, he whispered. “What?”

“I can see him too. He’s real.” The half ghost said, pleadingly.

“He’s….?” Dipper’s breath caught in his throat, hope leaking into his voice. With shakingly legs, he stumbled towards the other boy. 

At the same time, the ghost boy floated forward again, tentatively. He stopped, only a foot away so the two were eye to eye. It was strangely similar to last night, except…..this time Dipper’s eyes knowingly fell on the figure in front of him. 

“Tyrone?” He asked, his voice quivering with a dozen emotions but paramount was hope.

The other boy nodded, slowly cracking a smile. Hey, Dipper.

“Tyrone. You’re...you’re here. You’re real.” The boy sounded like he could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth. 

The ghost boy nodded eagerly. “Yes...I’m here.”

That seemed to encourage Dipper. “You’re here. You’re actually here! I…” His eyes started watering with joy. “I missed you so much. I-” 

He moved to wrap his arms around the other boy but his arms passed right through the insubstantial figure. Dipper shivered and tried again, brow furrowing. A third time gave the same result, making the living boy’s lip quiver. “Why can’t...why can’t I touch you?”

Tyrone whimpered, a grieved muttering exiting his mouth as he tried to return the hug.

Dipper stopped, rapidly stepping back. “I can’t….I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

The ghostly clone tried again but his words just sounded as a cacophony of desperate static.

The living boy’s eyes widened and he started tearing up. “Tyrone. I don’t know what you’re saying.”

Distressingly, the statement just seemed to make the ghost boy more upset. Tyrone reached forward, hand again going through Dipper’s. His lip trembled.

The other boy sniffled. “I...I’m sorry.” His eyes trailed down the semi-translucent body. “I can’t touch you or understand you or….” A tear fell down Dipper’s face “I still don’t know how to help you….”

Dipper trailed off, shoulders starting to shake. Again, Tyrone reached forward but paused before actually reaching for the other boy’s hand. He swallowed, a look of concentration covering his face. The color of his hand shifted, the limb losing some of its transparency. Then he took Dipper’s hand in his. 

The living boy’s eyes widened. “I can...I can feel that.” He sounded awed.

The ghost nodded, pinching his eyes closed. “We’ll figure this out….together.”

Something in the statement bolstered the other boy. He half-smiled, despite his still watering eyes. “Yeah. Together.”

There was a pause. Then the ghost asked. “You….you missed me?”

Dipper nodded. “Yeah.” He whipped his wet face with his free hand. “I missed you so much, man.”

Tyrone squeezed the hand he was holding. “I missed you too.”

“You did?” The other boy said, part disbelieving and part hopeful.

The ghost nodded enthusiastically. 

Dipper swallowed. “I’m sorry...I’m sorry about everything that happened. For using you and the others like that, for….melting you. For…” He took a deep breath. “For not seeing that you were real, back then.”

The ghost’s image flickered, his hand falling through Dipper’s as his mouth fell open. After a long moment, he shook his head and said something that was lost in static.

The corner of the other boy’s mouth twitched down at his lack of understanding.

Then Tyrone tried to speak again, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Real?”

“Yes. Of course, you’re real.” Dipper frowned, looking down. “Maybe if I’d understood that then, you’d still be here in the flesh.” He bit his lip. “Or whatever you call enchanted paper and ink.”

The ghostly clone's eyes remained wide, taking in what the other boy had said for a long while. Eventually his shock faded into a soft hope, his gaze kind. “But...we have another chance now, right?”

Dipper looked up. Slowly, the corner of his lip turned up. “Yeah. I guess we do.”

The ghost’s staticy voice buzzed in agreement. There was a silence for a while as the two boys just looked at each other. Not staring at each other in shock or disbelief. Not with judgement or scorn. But with soft happiness and wonder. Pure joy at being reunited shined in the pair’s tear-filled eyes. The two stepped forward in sync, Dipper’s arms wrapping around the cold mist of Tyrone’s chest and the ghost’s insubstantial arms returning the favor. It wasn’t quite a hug but a close approximation. As close as the living boy and his double could get when Tyrone remained unable to become fully solid and Dipper couldn’t turn intangible.

“I can still barely believe this is happening.” Dipper was saying softly. “So much has happened since...you know. I should probably tell you about it… if you want.”

The ghost boy nodded eagerly, muttering something in static.

Meanwhile, Elle shuffled awkwardly as she watched the tender scene. She bit her lip. A large part of her was overjoyed to see Dipper and Tyrone reunited but at the same time…it felt like she was spying on something intimate. This moment belonged to the two boys in front of her, for them to reconnect as best they could and to figure out who and what they were to each other.

She averted her eyes and coughed softly. “Uhh...sorry to interrupt. I’m gonna…” She jabbed her thumb towards the door.

Both boys turned to look at her. Dipper’s eyes widened as he stepped out of the semi-hug. “Oh….we’re in your room. We can uh….” He glanced at Tyrone. “We can go somewhere else to talk. Maybe the roof?”

The ghostly clone shrugged, mouthing. ‘Sure’. He floated up, pointing to himself and then towards the ceiling. He then pointed at Dipper and to the door. 

The other boy nodded in understanding. “I can meet you up there.” Then he bit his lip nervously, looking between Tyrone and the door.

The ghost frowned, his lips moving to form the question. ‘What?”

His original blushed. “I...I’m kinda scared to let you out of my sight. Like...you’ll disappear again….”

Tyrone’s face softened. He floated back down. With some concentration, he grabbed Dipper’s wrists and started leading him towards the door.

“Hey. What are you...?” The living boy asked. “Oh...we’ll go together.”

The clone nodded. Then he paused in front of Elle. His lips turned up into a bright smile. ‘Thank you.’ He mouthed, his eyes shining such incredible gratitude.

“Yeah, thank you.” Dipper nodded, agreeing. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.” His shoulders rose somewhat sheepishly.

The half ghost gave him a comforting smile. “No problem. Of course I’d be here and...I’m really happy you guys found each other.”

Both boys nodded. Then Dipper opened the door. Cautiously, he poked his head out and looked both ways down the hallway. He looked back at his ghostly double and waved him forward. “Come on Ty.”

Elle watched the two walk and float down the hall, towards the stairs to the attic. Soon, the pair were out of sight and the girl closed the door.

With a sigh, the halfa returned to human form and sat down on her bed. Elle smiled. She meant what she said; she was ecstatic to see Dipper and Tyrone reunited, though she hadn’t imagined it going like that. None of the scenarios that had crossed her mind featured Dipper barging in. Granted…. after running off on him, the half ghost really shouldn’t have been surprised that he came after her. But Dipper had. He’d barged in, saw Tyrone, and the two- original and clone- had been tearfully reunited.

Speaking of original….the girl reached for her phone, smiling as her lockscreen picture of her, Danny, and Jazz popped up. She suddenly wanted to talk to her brother, to tell him about everything that happened. But...it was pretty late and with the different time zone, it was even later in Amity. But then again knowing Danny, there was a large chance he was still awake playing Doomed. 

Without anymore debate, Elle dialed his number. On the third ring, her brother picked up. 

“Hello?” He asked, sleepily.

“Hey Danny. It’s Elle. Did I wake you up?” She blushed, suddenly guilty.

“Nah. Just logged off Doomed.” He yawned. “Wait...Elle?” Worry entered his voice, making him sound more awake. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I just wanted to talk to you.” She bit her lip. “Sorry. I should’ve just waited ‘til the morning.”

“It’s fine.” He said sincerely. “Just tell me what you’re thinking.”

Elle sighed. “So….I found out who the Shack’s ghost is and he’s Dipper’s clone, Tyrone.”

There was a pause. “What?” Danny asked with mild confusion.

“The ghost that’s been haunting the Mystery Shack is Tyrone. I actually saw his face this morning and talked to him.”

“Well, that’s unexpected.” The boy said, shock on his voice.

“Yeah. I can barely believe it but it’s really him. Oh and Dipper found out literally ten minutes ago; he barged in and saw Tyrone when the two of us were talking.”

"Oh, wow …..how did both of them take it?"

Elle smiled. "Really good. They went up to the roof to talk. I think you both really missed each other."

"I can imagine." Danny said knowingly. "They must be really happy to see each other." Then his voice turned sober. "And Dipper saw him die, didn't he? Losing Tyrone like that must have been horrible."The boy swallowed and Elle could imagine his pained frown. But then his tone became something more hopeful. "But finding out that he's not gone, finally getting him back. Dipper must be so happy."

"He is." The corner of her mouth turned up. "And I guess we both understand that."

"Yeah." Again, Danny sounded so certain, so knowing. And Elle understood it completely. How could she not when she and Danny had come so close to being in the same situation?

The half ghost girl remembered the older boy's face as her body fell apart, as she destabilized. She'd been terrified but at the same time hopeful as he dashed in with a solution. But then it hadn't worked. She watched as devastation overtook his features as he pleaded for her to hang on. She'd tried, equally devastated, equally desperate not to die.

She'd blacked out, an unseeing, unfeeling, unknowing puddle. For a moment, it was like she was gone, like she didn’t exist at all. And then suddenly she was back. She had eyes again. She had a head, hands, feet, a body. For a long moment, she blinked slowly realizing she still existed. 

Then her eyes had fallen on Danny, her original, her cousin, her brother. She hadn't dared to even consider that yet. She'd barely been able to think he might see her as anything more than a copy, that he might even love her. But Danny was on his knees, his eyes fixed down. He was crying, muttering apologizes through his sobs.

Elle had floated from the floor. She'd quipped something stupid in a effort to cover how freaked out as she disbelieving shock turned into relieved happiness. She'd back flipped in her elation, her eyes falling on the older half ghost as he whipped around. And-

"You were really happy at Vlad's when I...uhh.. when you saved me with that ecto dejecto." 

His eyes had shone with relief as he rushed forward to embrace her. He’d squeezed her in his arms, holding her tight like she was precious. Together, they'd shared a moment of pure joy, relief, and love. 

Across the line, the boy swallowed. "Of course I was happy. I thought I'd lost you, El."

"But you didn't." The girl said softly. "It turned out okay."

"Yeah, it did." Something in Elle's tone seemed to bolster the other halfa. "Man...we've both really come a long way since then, huhh?"

“We have.” The girl nodded, remembering her conversation with the twins this afternoon about what she and Danny had been through. “You told our parents about your powers. I started going to school.” She chuckled, then her voice turned more serious. “And I actually have a home and family now. I’ve got Mom and Dad and Jazz and...You. You know... you’re a good big brother.”

“Aw, Elle?” The boy’s voice ticked up teasingly. “Are you getting all mushy on me?”

The other half ghost gasped. “I’m being serious! I was gonna say, you’re a really supportive and understanding big bro. And thank you for encouraging me to talk to Dipper and Mabel.”  She crossed her arms, only somewhat mock offended. “But I guess that’s too mushy for you.”

There was a pause as the boy took in the words. When he finally spoke, there was no teasing in his voice but sincerity. “No, sis. It’s...it’s not too mushy. It’s...sweet, I guess.” Elle could hear the smile in his voice. “And you’re a good sister too. I’m really happy to have you in my life.”

“Oh. Thanks Danny.” The girl blushed at the compliment.

The older boy chuckled. “See, I can be mushy too.” Then his tone sobered somewhat. “So you talked to your friends?”

“Yeah, I did. Earlier today actually, before Dipper found out about Tyrone. I told him and Mabel about me being half ghost.” She smiled. “They took it really well.”

“They did?” Danny sounded happy and relieved. “That’s great, Elle.”

“Yeah. We had a snowball fight and everything after I showed off my ice powers.” She chuckled. “I felt a lot better after telling them everything.” Elle frowned, realizing what she said. "Well...almost everything."

"Oh?" Danny asked, wordlessly prompting her to continue. 

"I...uhh….haven't actually told them I'm a clone yet."

"You haven't?"

The younger half ghost shook her head. "No but….I think I'll tell them in the morning."

"Really? Why now?"

"Just….some of the stuff Dipper said about Tyrone and how he reacted to seeing him again." She swallowed. "You and Jazz were right; they're not gonna think any less of me if they know the whole truth."

“Wow….I'm proud of you. And good luck with that. I'm sure it'll be great."

"Thanks Danny." She smiled.

"No problem." The boy sighed. “Man, a lot’s happened since we talked yesterday.”

“Yep. I told Dipper and Mabel that the Shack was haunted. I tried to introduce them to Tyrone when he showed up yesterday...I mean, I didn’t know it was him last night….. But the twins couldn’t see him.”

“Wait…” Danny cut in. “You said that Dipper saw him, like literally could see Tyrone earlier tonight.”

“Yeah I….did.” Elle’s eyes widened. “You’re totally right, I did say that.” She put a hand on her forehead. “I hadn’t even realized. Dipper literally couldn’t see him at all yesterday but now he can. So how does that work?” She started rambling. “Wait...I couldn’t really see him yesterday either. He just kinda looked like a shadow or a cloud. So why could I suddenly see him this morning? I mean...yeah, I worked out Ty’s name so maybe that’s why….but Dipper didn’t have a clue. He just barged in the room unannounced.” At some point, the girl had flopped back down onto the bed. She huffed, contemplatively.

Across the line, Danny hummed in thought. “Well, what changed?”

“What changed?” The other half ghost muttered quietly. What changed? Well, yes, she and Dipper had talked about Tyrone but as far as she could tell, Dipper’s opinion hadn’t actually changed. And somehow the boy had seen the ghostly clone earlier when he was half asleep. But….

Elle’s brow furrowed, remembering something Dipper had said earlier. “It’s been a year...” She muttered.

“What?” Her brother questioned.

Her eyes widened, realizing the older teen was still listening. “Dipper told me earlier that it's been a year since Tyrone...well...died.”

“And traditional ghosts tend to be stronger on the anniversary of their death. Don’t they?” The boy asked.

Elle nodded. “Right. And that’s probably why he’s visible and not just to me. But still...” She sighed, remembering Dipper’s reaction to being unable to touch and understand Tyrone. “Tyrone’s still stuck intangible and almost everything he says comes out as static. I wish I could figure out how to help him.”

Again, her brother hummed in thought. “Huh…. What if you got him some ectoplasm?”

Elle suddenly sat up, hitting her forehead with her palm. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?” She stood up and grabbed for one of her bags. “I have ectoplasm. My supplements.” The girl frowned. “Letting him have a few should be okay, right?”

“I think so...it’s not like ectoplasm can hurt a ghost. And if I know Mom, she packeted you like half a year's worth. You should have plenty.” Humor rang in his voice. “And I won’t tell Mom and Dad if you won’t.”

“Yeah, I won’t.” Elle laughed. “I’ll tell Tyrone and Dipper about that idea in the morning  and see what they think.”

“And let me know how it goes, okay?”

The girl nodded. “Yeah, of course.” She yawned. “We should both get some sleep though. Talk to you later.”

“Yeah, Love you sis.”

Elle sighed. “Love you bro.” She smiled. “Good night.”

“Night.” With that Danny hung up.

The half ghost girl put her phone away and went to sleep.

[ka-za-ri]

Descent Pt. 2

Masterlist of other Chapters: Here Crossposted to Ao3: here

Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

I’m so glad y’all are enjoying the food so far, please take some more of it. Let me know if you want to be added to a taglist or anything like that. For now, let’s enjoy our favorite angel doing ... not very angelic things (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Pairing: Simeon x Reader Wordcount: 5,000 ish Genre: Luxurious Smut Tags: Voyeurism, mutual masturbation Summary:   With the first chapter behind him, there's still something missing in Simeon's writing, and he needs your help to figure out what it is.

Stumble

True to his word, Simeon had the draft he promised in your email inbox within a few days. You were surprised. He seemed to be struggling so much when you last saw him, you really expected him to take a little more time. Regardless, it was to your benefit since it meant you had more time to edit. 

Even if it was just the first chapter and a little bit after, you were surprised at the speed in which he jumped to the lewd scenes. It wasn’t surprising considering sex was the focus, but you would need to teach him how to reign in his enthusiasm. By the time you were finished reading through the draft the first time, your whole face had gone hot. The explicit details he wrote out only brought your mind back to what you had acted out in that sunroom just a few days ago. It was a direct translation of your actions to text. Sure, Simeon was new to the genre, but his talent as a writer still shone through. 

Despite the roughness of the draft, the publisher approved it as acceptable proof of progress. They greenlit the whole project and you were more than excited to email Simeon and let him know the good news. Just as you had come back from the meeting with the executives, your phone chirped with a new message.

[SMS: I AM STUCK. I CANNOT WRITE ANYMORE. HELP ME.]

You laughed at how short and crude the message was. For someone who spent most of his time on a computer writing; he was absolutely hopeless with any other form of technology. Shaking your head at how someone like him had gotten so far in life barely knowing how to send a text, you packed up your things and made your way to his place. You did have a few notes about his first chapter to give him, anyway. 

Simeon hated being deceptive. He hated how quickly he had started to rely on that image of you in his brightly lit sunroom to fuel his writing and for his own desires. He was ashamed to ask you to come over again; but he was repeating the same motions in his writing, he needed new visuals and you were the only one he could trust. In reality, his request was a thinly veiled request to see you perform again. He was able to complete his work so quickly after watching you. Researching video clips and online articles gave him some fuel, but nothing got him so fired up as watching a scene unfold from you. 

It was a strange obsession he was still wrapping his mind around. He had to be careful, the temptation you possessed was absolutely dangerous. Simeon had to reassure himself that he was ancient and knew his way around humans with how long he had studied them. He needed to convince himself that he would never sully a human body, no matter how much he wanted you. His title, status and reputation as an angel were the most sacred parts of him. With so many years of writing experience, surely he could write a proper sex scene without actually ever having to fuck you.

It didn’t stop him from being nervous. No matter how many fail safes he came up with, he knew that you were effortlessly enticing him to be joined with you. He had to be vigilant. It would be the ultimate test of his will and his determination. Both for his career and his soul. He would see it through, he knew he could. No material experience could be more important than his angelic status. Right?

He paced back and forth in the foyer of his home, gnawing on his nail while he waited for you to arrive. It had taken him half an hour to find the right words to text you. Simeon glanced at the phone in his hand almost every ten seconds, hoping you had replied. He knew you had a meeting, but it should be over by now and you should be arriving at any moment. You hadn’t answered him which made him antsy. Usually you would have at least told him you were coming over. He could only hope that you were just eager to see him as he was to see you again.

He didn’t want to admit how he had fallen asleep with his hands down his pants the past three days, dreaming about your sweet voice as you came and called out to him. He didn’t want to think about how many positions he had imagined you being in. Simeon didn’t want to dwell on how many scenarios he came up with just to have you reenact them for him. Some of the scenes delved so deep into his darkest desires that he was scared to even admit he thought about them. 

But he wanted to see them play out. 

The doorbell barely finished ringing and he was already flinging opening the door to let you in. “I’m guessing the meeting went well.” He said with a bright smile to hide his nerves. He was already set up in his sunroom. During the time you were gone, he had brought a small folding desk to the recliner. The cable for his computer had also been moved so he didn’t have to worry about the battery being drained. You instinctively went over to the couch lined up against the wall but he stopped you. Instead of letting you lounge like you did the last time, he offered you a chair across from his makeshift desk instead. He refused to make eye contact as you made yourself comfortable. 

“The meeting went as well as it could,” you said while taking out the envelopes that contained his work. “They like everything so far, but it’s still rough and needs a little bit more refinement, and I have to agree with them.” 

You glanced up at him and noticed him fidgeting with his fingers while he kept his face calm. “So, what needs to be fixed up?”

You flipped through a few pages and showed him the paragraphs of smut he had written. The color drained from his face as he was face-to-face with the obscenity of his work in physical form. “So, it’s not bad. But I can tell it was your first time. There’s something missing about the partner. I can’t place it, but it just feels… flat? Like I can’t tell if they’re feeling anything from the exchange or what.” 

“Ah… Oh… Hahaha. I see… That explains a lot.” 

You raised a curious eyebrow at his comment. “Does it?” You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back in the chair. It seemed as though Simeon was just at the verge of another great discovery about his writing and you were rather intrigued about what his thoughts were. 

“Yes. I was struggling to write this next scene and I just… couldn’t figure out how to convey the partner’s feelings. It’s frustrating. I should have all the resources that I need to make it work.” He gestured at what he had written and bade you to take a look. 

It was always fun to see his work in progress. With the partially polished scenes and unfinished sentences, it was like you got to see the inner workings of his brain. What he had in front of you was a far cry from the more polished work you were used to, but the overall flow of action was much better than the travesty you had seen last time. However, you could see the exact point where he started to struggle. As he said, there was a lack of feeling behind the words. 

“Ooh… So this is the part where you need my help again, huh?” 

Simeon covered his face with his hand. “I’m ashamed to ask you to assist me with another scene.” 

You smiled softly, reaching over and ruffling his hair. “Well, I’d be the world’s worst editor and manager if I refused to help you, right?” 

“You don’t have to…” 

“But I want to.” You reassured him, while getting up from your seat to start stripping. Truth be told, you were waiting for the next time you got to see him so hot and bothered while working. Something about how focused he was on writing and not what his body needed made you want to push him further, see just what it took to get him distracted. “But you know… I’m sure you’d get more out of it if you experienced it too. Sometimes, just watching isn’t enough.”

Simeon felt his heart drop to his stomach from your suggestion. You were putting into words all of his desires and what he had craved ever since the last time. If he didn't have his wits about him, he knew he would have taken you up on the offer. The temptation of knowing how it felt to be in you while you moaned had piqued his curiosity and he longed to experience it. “I… Uh,” he stuttered, trying to wrap his mind around how to reply. 

You dragged your finger up his thigh, pausing right at his crotch and waited for his reaction. He was so cute with his eyes wide, lips slightly parted and his brain short circuiting from your advances. You wanted to devour him and see him crumble under your fingers. “You what?” You encouraged, moving the focus from his crotch upwards, your finger skirting the soft sweater he wore and up to his chin. You tilted his head upwards to meet you eye to eye. “You want to write the best novel… don’t you?” 

“I do…” He breathed, unable to take his eyes away from you and his mind struggled to keep up with how quickly you had taken control of the situation. He needed to wrestle some semblance of calm back in his favor if he wanted to continue getting what he wanted without you suspecting his obsession.  “In order for me to do that, I need you to show me how…” He trailed off, cheeks flushed warm from thinking about his lewd request. 

“How what? Come on now, you asked me to fuck a pillow last time, how is this going to be any worse than that?” you teased. Much to your delight, he became more flustered, his gaze dropping to the floor and he mumbled to himself. You let him get over his shyness, waiting patiently with his chin balanced at the tip of your finger. 

Please uhm… Please show me how you please yourself… for this next scene.” He managed to save himself from falling completely into your trap, specifying exactly what he needed you to do. You were so alluring and so close to him, he had almost asked for the unforgivable. 

You smiled, letting go of his chin and stepping back. “It’d be so much easier if I had some toys to do that… but I guess I’ll show you since you asked so nicely.” You planted a kiss on his forehead before undoing the buttons of your blouse. 

“T-toys?” Simeon squeaked. He had seen them in video clips and read about them in reviews when he researched; but it never occurred to him that you might want to use them. 

“It’s okay if you don’t have any. I can always settle with this…” You teased, walking over to him and fondling his crotch. “In fact, I would prefer this over anything else.” 

You were close enough to see his pupils dilate and notice how his breath hitched as you touched him. He pulled away from you, hiding behind his screen and pretended to be busy with opening a new document. “I… I need to write.”

“But that’s the problem…” you whined, pouting that he pulled away but you didn’t press the issue any further. Watching him squirm was so satisfying; and you hadn’t even done anything yet. “You were writing the last time and you had the same problem, so stop writing this time and get into it.” You suggested. 

“I can’t.” he shook his head vehemently. “I can’t do it. No.” 

You sighed, putting your hands on your hips and looked at him. You never pegged him to be the kind of guy who waited until marriage to be intimate, but it seemed like he was alluding to the fact that he was saving himself. If he wasn’t, he was at least being very reserved for the type of content he was writing. “Fine, we don’t have to do it,” you conceded before going back to stripping yourself bare. “But feel free to help yourself to whatever you need for inspiration.” You winked, looking down at his crotch and he hastily crossed his legs when your gaze lingered. 

He was so cute. You couldn’t tell if he knew exactly what he was doing. It was hard to expect someone so beautiful and of his age to not get intimate when the chance arose. Part of you wondered if it was because you weren’t desirable to him outside of your little acts. Dwelling on that thought made your chest hurt in bitterness and you shoved that to the side to focus on helping him instead. 

You flopped back down on the chair, spreading your legs and resting them on the arms of the chair so that Simeon had a clear view of what you were about to do to yourself. Having him watch everything you did so close to you aroused much faster than you expected. “Well, time to get to work.” you said nonchalantly. 

You closed your eyes, imagining Simeon joining you in getting nude. You imagined what it would be like for him to reveal his skin a little at a time in a playful strip tease. He always wore such bulky and cozy looking sweaters, it made you wonder just what kind of body he was hiding underneath all the layers. You started at your breasts again, squeezing them together and playing with them to aid in the fantasy. 

In front of you, Simeon was typing up a storm. In your mind, it was his hands at your breasts, playing with your nipples until they were perky. You thought about him latching his soft lips around your nipple, licking at the sensitive skin there until you squirmed and moaned his name. You were careful this time to make sure you didn’t accidentally call for him when you really got into it. You weren’t in a rush to experience that embarrassment a second time. 

He could see your folds progressively get wetter as you touched yourself and wrapped yourself in a fantasy he had no access to. Recalling the last time, Simeon wondered if he was occupying your mind again. This time, he was much more aware of his body’s reactions to the scene in front of him. There was no way he could ignore the pressure growing in his pants. No matter how much he focused on the document in front of him, he could feel his desires bubbling and threatening to spill over. 

It was different this time. You were sprawled out in front of him, moaning softly and panting. Your head rested on the back of the chair. With your eyes closed and your mouth open slightly in an “O” you looked absolutely angelic. He wanted to join you, his fingers stopped typing and he was once again frozen, watching the performance in front of him. 

You noticed he stopped typing much sooner than the last time and smirked a bit, cracking open your eyes to see his precious face staring at you in wonder. “Like what you see?” You asked coyly, sliding one hand down from your breast to your pussy. You spread yourself wide so he could see exactly just how wet you were. 

Simeon only nodded, entranced with the way your folds glistened and he could smell your arousal from where he sat. He licked his lips holding onto his fraying desires as best as he could. Control yourself. You can do this. “Y-yes…” His voice came out thickly, as if his vocal chords refused to work properly. 

You giggled, loving how riled up you were getting him and slowly rubbed your slick slit with your fingers. You moaned, the pleasure your fingers gave you was much better than riding a pillow. With just a quick glance, you noticed he had uncrossed his legs and was sporting a rather impressive tent in his pants. “Well, I’m glad that you’re not bored.” you teased much to his dismay. 

His hands flew to his crotch, covering himself and he tried to will his boner back down to no avail. You giggled again, pulling his attention away from his arousal. “It’s okay, I would have been disappointed if you didn’t get turned on by what you’re seeing.” 

“I uhm…” 

“It’s okay.” You reassured him again. “Feel free to join in however you want. It only makes it all the more fun.” 

Simeon gulped, torn between work and pleasure. He put himself in this predicament, he needed to figure a way out of it. He needed relief and he needed to write. The two sides of him warred as he scrambled with his fizzling brain to figure out something. An epiphany dawned on him when he heard his phone go off. 

“Spam?” you asked when he fumbled with the incoming call, trying to silence the ringtone. “Or were you expecting someone?” 

“Ah.. uhm… spam. I think.” He confirmed once he managed to figure out to disregard the call without picking it up. The next thing he needed to figure out was how to get the camera working and recording. You wanted to help him, but with one hand covered in fluids, you weren’t sure if he wanted you touching his phone. 

Eventually with a little vocal coaching on your end and a lot of fumbling on his side, he got it to work and propped the phone up to start recording what you were doing. If he was going to get relief now, he needed to at least have proper reference to go back to later. 

“Wow… you are so much kinkier than I thought.” You joked, causing Simeon to cover his face in shame, but he didn’t try to argue. There was something about having everything recorded for later that only added to the sexual tension in the room. 

“It’s for research…” He mumbled more to convince himself than to explain to you what he was doing. 

“Right… research.” 

He moved his hands to mirror your own. One at his crotch and the other at his chest. It was difficult to hide your disappointment when you saw he wasn’t about to expose himself. His hand slipped under his clothes to touch and tease at his skin. You could see the barest hint of his abs peeking out from underneath the oversized sweater and you practically drooled at just the little bit of skin he showed off. You couldn’t help a small pout, frustrated at how unfair it was that you were putting in so much work for him and he could just so cutely masturbate alongside you. 

The frustration disappeared the moment you saw his eyelids flutter clothes and he let out a soft moan. It was the most beautiful sound in the world and it was infinitely better than anything you could have imagined. His blue eyes lidded with pleasure were only opened to a sliver as he urged you to continue what you were doing. 

With the camera rolling and the very vision of sin in front of you, you were more than eager to get back to getting off. Your finger found your clit and you rubbed it in the way that always made you see stars. “Hmmm, oh yeah…” You groaned, flicking your finger side to side before circling the little bundle of nerves. You were undoubtedly going to ruin his furniture again, but you didn’t care. 

Simeon watched the way your fingers moved and he mimicked everything you did. His hand under his shirt pinched and rolled his nipple between his fingers. The sensation made him hiss from the initial pain but that was quickly replaced by pleasure which sent jolts of bliss straight to his aching cock. He bit his lip, repeating the motion, drowning himself in the sensation over and over again. 

The scent of your essence was thick in the air. It felt like you were surrounding him with every breath he took. You were invading his every thought and infecting everything he thought was pure. But the freedom you gave him and the gratification that came with it was intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough of your breathy moans and the wet sounds of your fingers toying with yourself. 

His own hand in his pants pumped his cock in time with the motion of your fingers. At one point you had done the most lascivious thing and slipped a finger inside of you. His eyes widened as the digit disappeared and reappeared covered in your slick. His cock twitched in his hand in jealousy. He wanted to be buried in there, he wanted to feel your heat surround him. But all he had was his hand to satisfy him. 

Simeon was heavily panting now, working up to a frantic pace in his pants as his hand stroked his length. It was cramped and uncomfortable; but he couldn’t bear to expose himself to you. Surely that would be too much for you to see; and he wasn’t sure if he could control himself if he stripped alongside you. 

“Mmm, I’m getting close.” you groaned, rolling your hips to meet your fingers and you teased your clit further, feeling your body tense in preparation for your climax. “What about you?” 

“I… Uh.. I’m…” Simeon, stuttered, not able to process how close he was. It was so different from all the times he relieved himself alone. He just had to keep going until he was done. But with you in front of him, he wanted to do it together with you. Seeing your soaked pussy right in front of him made him more excited than he ever had been. “I think I’m close…” 

You laughed at his naivety. “You think?” You teased. Perhaps you needed to up the ante a bit. “Come on… come with me.” You beckoned and pressed two fingers into your tight hole. 

He blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend what his hormones were doing. Seeing your fingers being engulfed by your pussy, sliding in and out slowly while you moaned right next to him was pressing all the right buttons in him. He could see you stretch to accommodate your fingers and he was entranced by that. Without warning, he gasped, his grip on his cock tightened as he came. “Oh … I’m… I’m sorry…” He panted. “You just… that was… Uhm..” 

“Too hot for you to handle?” You asked, now working yourself faster. The face he made when he came all of a sudden was so hot. You would definitely think back on it during lonely nights. Simeon’s breathy moans, the way his skin glowed with a thin sheen of sweat from exertion. It all added up to be a breathtaking image. 

“I...Yeah…” You could see the faintest hint of red on his cheeks and smirked, satisfied that he was enjoyed himself just as much as you were loving every moment you were in front of him. 

“Good… I guess it’s my turn then.” You said and went right into the motions of getting yourself to climax. Locking the image of Simeon’s “O” face in your mind, you finger fucked yourself closer and closer to completion. 

You could feel your inner walls tighten and you were just at the edge of no return when you felt Simeon’s firm hand pull your fingers away. Whining loudly and glaring at him, you were about to berate him for ruining your good time until your entrance was filled with his own slender fingers. “Let me help you…” He said, his bright blue eyes were lit with a determination you hadn’t seen before and the fire behind them was such a turn on. 

For someone who had just been so bashful about being intimate with you at the beginning, Simeon sure was being bold now. You didn’t say anything, not like you really could. Your capacity to form coherent words disappeared when his slender fingers entered you and mimicked the motions you had shown him. He was a fast learner, able to have you shivering with little to no effort. It was hard to believe just how he had a sudden switch in personality, but it was beside you to figure it out now. 

You were free to call his name. After all, he was the one touching you now. “Oh… Simeon.” you moaned, panting and once again ramping towards your climax. This time, he was in control of the pace and the intensity of what got you off. He curled his fingers in you and you cried out loud when he brushed past a sensitive spot in you. He was so gentle and so precise, it was mind blowing what he picked up just from watching you. 

“You’re close… right?” He asked sweetly. You looked at him and the intensity in his eyes was only made more obvious against his dark skin. The tone of his voice was in direct contrast to the laser focus his gaze had on your most intimate parts. Just the dichotomy of that alone inched you dangerously close to your climax. 

Then, his thumb pressed against your clit and your world exploded. It was just the last bit of stimulation you needed to go over the edge. You clutched onto the arms of the chair while you rode out the high on his fingers. A mixture of curses and his name fell from your lips as you breathlessly tried to ground yourself. Your inner walls clenched around his digits and Simeon continued to slowly slide them in and out of you, marveling at the sensation of your pussy milking his fingers. 

You kept seeing stars at the edge of your vision with every extra pass he took. You wanted to tell him to stop, but he was too engrossed in his ‘research’ to really pay any of your protests any mind. Eventually, he pulled his fingers out of you and you sighed in both relief and disappointment. 

Simeon looked at his glistening fingers, holding them to the light and observed the slick essence that coated them. It was almost a little embarrassing to watch him be so intrigued by your fluids that you needed to distract yourself by getting dressed again so you didn’t have to look at him. While you had your back turned, Simeon experimentally licked his coated fingers and by the time you were fully clothed, he had fully cleaned them off. He looked at you and licked his lips. “Research.” He said nonchalantly with a shrug. 

“Right… research.” you said, already getting hot and bothered again at what you had just witnessed. This man will be the end of me. “Do you think you’ve gotten all you need for your next scene?” 

“Hmm….” He nodded sagely, remembering to stop recording. “I’ll have to review everything, but I think I know where to go from here.” 

You smiled good naturedly and pat his head gently. “Don’t overwork yourself.” you said gathering your things. Once again, it had gotten late and you had to regretfully leave to ensure you caught the last trains home. “Call me or text me  if you need help again, okay?” 

“Oh, of course. I plan on it.” He smiled at you and your heart melted a little, but there was a devilish nature to that smile that had never been there before. “I’ll finish the next chapter probably in a week and send it to you.” 

“I can’t wait to see what you come up with. I’m sure it’ll be great, as usual.” You grinned, feeling giddy after such a great climax as well as knowing that Simeon was able to continue working. It would definitely be good news to report back to the publishing house and keep them off his back as he worked in peace. 

He let out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. It was a shame that he was already back to his usual innocent self. You wouldn’t have minded seeing more of that sex god who showed himself a few moments before. “Well, I’ll do my best to not disappoint. I have a lot to learn.” 

“I’ll be sure to help you in any way I can.” You said. Looking down at your phone, you gasped noticing the time. “Shit. I gotta run if I don’t wanna walk all the way home tonight. Text me if you need anything!” You yelled, halfway across his home and stumbling to get your shoes back on. 

When the door slammed shut, the silence that surrounded Simeon was deafening. He had been able to hold out on taking you, but it didn’t mean he hadn’t gotten a taste of what it was like to sin. The uncomfortable dampness of his cum clung to his leg, but he barely noticed it. Instead, he was focused on the file on his phone. The recording of what transpired that afternoon. 

Taking a shaky breath, he resisted the urge to press play. The scent of your arousal and the taste of your essence were still too fresh in his mind. He needed to clean up. He needed to work. He needed to research and plan for you. He sighed and started to make his way to the shower. If he needed relief, then at least he could take care of it there and not in the mess that was his soiled pants. 

As the sun sank past the horizon and gave way to night, the light within his soul waned and the darkness he had pushed aside grew. After a taste of sin, it was only natural that he would crave more until it consumed him. 

And it felt heavenly.

[purplehairedwonder]

Hearts With(out) Chains Chapter 16

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen (eventual Lawlu) Words: 3,431 Characters: Ikkaku, Jean Bart, Clione, Monkey D. Luffy, Nico Robin, Straw Hats, Violet, Trafalgar Law, Bepo, Doflamingo Notes: I’m taking my turn at the Corazon!Law AU because my brain won’t leave me alone until this is written down. Tags will be updated as the chapters come out.

Summary: Law is reclaimed by the Family when he's 17 and, with Doflamingo holding the lives of his crew as collateral for his good behavior, eventually becomes the third Corazon. Years later, trapped by his impossible situation, Law finds a strange connection to Monkey D. Luffy, which offers a glimpse of something he's repeatedly had ripped away from him: hope.

Previous chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

For a moment, Ikkaku’s brain struggled to process exactly what she was seeing. Why was Straw Hat Luffy on the Polar Tang? No one had heard from him or his crew in two years—since her own captain had saved his life. Was she hallucinating? Had she hit her head? Had she fallen asleep? Her brain couldn’t find a logical reason for what she was seeing.

“Eh?” Luffy said, tilting his head at Ikkaku. “You’re not Sanji. Who are you?”

“Who am I?” Ikkaku echoed in disbelief. “Why are you on my ship?” she demanded, hands going to her hips.

Luffy frowned at her for a long moment before his expression lit up. “Your ship? You must be one of Torao’s nakama!”

“Torao?” Ikkaku repeated in confusion.

Luffy nodded. “Mhm. Your captain!”

Ikkaku’s eyes narrowed. “My captain is Corazon.”

“That’s what I said. Torao.”

Irritation washing over her, Ikkaku pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, it’s not. I work for Corazon, second in command of the Donquixote Family, not whatever you just said,” she said. (Though whether Law still held that title seemed to be a question up in the air, considering the crew had been attacked, but that wasn’t Straw Hat Luffy’s business.)

“Torao is Corazon,” Luffy said. “He’s Law.”

Ikkaku stiffened. “How do you know that name?”  

“Eh? He told me!” Luffy replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

That she did not believe. Law wouldn’t just tell anyone his name—especially a rival captain. But Luffy didn’t seem inclined to expand on his explanation.

“You still haven’t answered why you’re on our ship,” Ikkaku ground out, deciding to change approaches since she wasn’t getting anywhere.

“Oh, it was Torao’s idea,” Luffy said, scratching his nose absently. “He was supposed to call hours ago, though, so I’m getting worried about him.” His vision narrowed in on her, and Ikkaku had to fight the urge to step back with the sudden intensity of his gaze. “Do you know where Torao is?”

Ikkaku frowned at that. Not only did she have a hard time believing Law had invited a rival pirate crew onto the Tang—never mind the pirate in question was one he’d gone out of his way to save for a reason he hadn’t been able to explain—but she was also struck by the statement that Law seemed to be missing. That wasn’t good.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly.

The atmosphere around them lightened as Luffy crossed his arms and made a thoughtful noise. Ikkaku watched him, unsure of what to do, but she was pulled from her thoughts at the sound of doors busting open behind Luffy in the mess and yelling. Oh boy. She’d completely forgotten about Jean Bart and Clione. Luffy spun around, eyes going wide, and dashed back into the room he’d just come from.

With a sigh, Ikkaku followed a moment later and entered a chaotic scene. Pirate Hunter Zoro had his blades drawn as he stared down Jean Bart, who had… were those hands spouting out of his shoulders? He’d frozen as he eyed the limbs perilously close to his thick neck. Demon Child Nico Robin had her arms crossed in front of her as she stood to the side of Zoro. The long-nosed sniper had a slingshot drawn and pointed in his direction as well.

Meanwhile, Clione was facing off against Black Leg Sanji and a skeleton? Wielding a sword? And a cyborg? What the—?

Ikkaku rubbed her eyes. She’d seen a lot of strange things in the New World, but this was definitely near the top of the list. There was just something about seeing the crazy happening on her own ship, which was supposed to be a safe haven, that caused her brain to short circuit.

“Stop!” Luffy yelled as he barreled into the center of the mess hall.

“Luffy?” Zoro asked, glancing at his captain.

“These guys just burst in and attacked us!” the sniper added.

“Because you’re on our ship,” Jean Bart growled.

“Your ship?” Cat Burglar Nami asked, loosening her grip on the strange baton in her grasp. “Are you—”

“Torao’s nakama!” Luffy interrupted. He turned and pointed at Ikkaku. “Her too.”

The other Straw Hats turned to look at her, and her face warmed at the attention. She awkwardly raised a hand in greeting. After a moment, the Straw Hats stood down. Once the weapons had been lowered, Ikkaku wound her way through the mess to stand next to Jean Bart and Clione.

“Who’s Torao?” Clione asked, confused.

“Not this again,” Luffy grumbled.

“Our captain is referring to Corazon,” Nico Robin jumped in immediately, a spare hand appearing to pat Luffy on the shoulder comfortingly before disappearing in a flurry of petals.

“Straw Hat knew his real name,” Ikkaku murmured to her friends. They gaped back at her, just as surprised as she had been. The only ones to still refer to Law by his given name were the Hearts, and they were careful only to do it when they were safely outside the hearing of any outsiders.

“How do you know our captain?” Jean Bart demanded.

“We… ran into him on Punk Hazard,” Nami said, sliding her baton into a holster at her hip.

“Punk Hazard?” Clione asked, glancing at Jean Bart and Ikkaku. “Was that where he went on his mission?”

“Must be,” Ikkaku agreed. It made sense since Law’s mission had to have been nearby, and Punk Hazard housed a sensitive project, though they didn’t know the details of it.

“Some jerk named Verto showed up and attacked all of us,” Luffy said. Well, that seemed to confirm the story; the only thing the Hearts knew about the trouble Law was in was that it involved Vergo in some way. “He called Torao a traitor and threatened Torao’s nakama.”

Ikkaku traded glances with Jean Bart and Clione.

“What happened?” Clione finally asked.

“We said we’d help,” Luffy said. “Torao saved me two years ago. He’s a good guy. And if you’re his nakama, you must’ve helped me too, so you’re good, too!”

Ikkaku gaped at Luffy. Was he serious? This was not how a pirate was supposed to act.

“Vergo’s dead,” Robin added. “Corazon killed him.”

“Good,” Ikkaku said without thinking. The thought that Law had gotten revenge on that bastard was a good one. They’d all seen how Vergo and Law interacted when Vergo came to the palace, and the malice that existed on both sides had been blistering.

“Good riddance,” Clione added.

“Not a popular guy, I take it,” Nami said, eyebrow raised.

“He hurt our captain,” Clione said. “What’s there to like?”

Zoro hummed in approval as he dropped into a chair and threw his hands behind his head in a more relaxed posture.

“That still doesn’t answer why you’re on the Tang. Our ship,” Jean Bart clarified at some confused glances.

“Torao told us to wait here until he called,” Luffy said. “But it’s boring when you can’t explore a new place.”

“So, you’re here to help us?” Ikkaku asked skeptically. Even if Luffy thought of himself as repaying his debt to Law for Marineford, it was crazy to take on a Warlord in the country he ruled as king. There was no way he had any idea what he was getting himself and his crew into.

“That’s what I said,” Luffy huffed. “Why does no one ever listen to me? That Mingo is a bad guy, so we’re going to help Torao take him down and save his nakama.”

“You didn’t know about this?” the sniper asked, absently fiddling with the handle on the slingshot he’d rested on the table.

“We haven’t seen the captain since he returned,” Jean Bart said. “We were supposed to meet after dinner—”

“But we were attacked by two executives and had to flee the palace before we could see the captain,” Ikkaku said. “We came to the ship, hoping some of the others made it here as well.”

The Straw Hats exchanged concerned looks. “Corazon called us not long after he reached the palace this afternoon,” Robin said. “He’d met with Doflamingo and intended to check in again when he met with you all, but we never got that call.”

“Do you think he’s been captured?” the little tanuki in the corner, Chopper, piped up, concerned.

“Or killed,” Sanji said with a frown.

The Hearts exchanged a look. Years ago, Law had revealed to them the ultimate ability of his Devil Fruit—the true reason Doflamingo had kept him at his side all these years. The true reason he held the Hearts as collateral for Law’s continued cooperation. (“You deserve to know why you’re being held hostage,” he’d told them when they’d asked why he was telling them this.) Doflamingo would not kill Law before he had the chance to perform that operation, but Doflamingo could make even the strongest men beg for death. And he would have no qualms killing some of the collateral if he believed Law was a traitor.

“If Doflamingo found out about Vergo,” Ikkaku began slowly, “he’d be furious.” Furious might be an understatement.

“And if he knew the captain did it…” Clione added, trailing off.

“That would explain why we were attacked,” Jean Bart said, crossing his arms.

“We need to find out what happened to L-er, Corazon,” Ikkaku said, cutting herself off. Luffy might have used Law’s name, but she didn’t know what the others knew. And she would never go behind Law’s back to reveal something like that.

Robin smiled. “Trafalgar Law, right?”

Ikkaku tensed. It was strange hearing her captain’s name out of the mouths of those who were not her nakama. Something about it felt wrong, like they were taking liberties they had not earned. And yet—

It was also a reminder that her captain was his own man, one whose identity did not revolve solely around the man he was forced to serve. Sometimes even he seemed to forget that, and maybe it was time his crew—and, apparently, their allies—helped him remember.

“Torao,” Luffy added with a nod.

So Luffy’s nickname was a butchering of Law’s surname. That made more sense than Ikkaku thought it would when she’d first heard the name.

“So, how do we find out what happened to Law?” Clione asked, looking between his nakama and the Straw Hats.

Ikkaku glanced around the mess. “I have a really bad idea.”

-----

This was definitely a bad idea, Ikkaku thought as the small group approached the palace. If anyone saw them… She shook her head; there was no real way to avoid this if they wanted information.

She and Clione had taken point, Robin and Luffy behind them. Ikkaku thought even four people was too large a group for this task, but she’d been outvoted. Ikkaku was small, stealthy, and knew the city and palace layouts so was a natural choice. Robin had operated as a spy for many years, plus had a handy—no pun intended—Devil Fruit ability. Luffy, while hardly a sneaky presence, had been adamant that he be part of the group that entered the city in search of news of the missing Heart captain. Neither Clione nor Jean Bart wanted Ikkaku to be outnumbered by the Straw Hats, even if they were apparently allied for the moment, and Clione, as the smaller of the two, had won out. Ikkaku led the small group through darkened back streets and alleyways to reach the palace.

Ikkaku turned back to the others. “We have to be very careful from here,” she whispered. “The executives have their rooms in the same wing; they’re not particularly close to each other, but if we make too much noise, any of the other three could still hear us.”

“We know,” Luffy grumbled, and Ikkaku found herself suppressing the urge to stick her tongue out at the other pirate—how childish. They’d gone over this when they’d made their hasty plan on the ship, but Ikkaku wasn’t taking any chances.

Robin nodded for Ikkaku to lead on, and she headed for the mostly darkened grounds. There should be guards patrolling, though by this late (or early) hour, they were likely to be tired and less attentive. However, with the Hearts loose, it was entirely possible that the guard numbers had been increased.

At one point, Ikkaku looked back to see Robin lagging slightly behind, her arms crossed in front of her and her eyes closed. A moment later, her eyes opened, and she dropped her arms. She met Ikkaku’s gaze.

“There was a guard approaching,” she explained as she caught up. “He’s no longer a problem.”

Ikkaku nodded and continued toward the wing that housed Law’s chambers. The group hid behind bushes or ducked behind retaining walls to avoid a few guard patrols, but eventually Ikkaku came to a halt. She pointed up to the second story to a dimly lit window overlooking a small balcony.

“That’s Law’s room.”

There was no telling what they’d find in there, if anything. But it was the best place to start.

“It’s empty,” Robin said, eyes shut. She opened them again and nodded to her captain.

Luffy nodded back and wrapped an arm around Ikkaku’s waist. Her demand of what the fuck he thought he was doing died in her throat as she was pulled upwards alongside the Straw Hat captain. She stumbled as her feet hit the tile of the balcony and threw a hand to her mouth as her stomach protested violently.

“Shishishi,” Luffy chuckled as he turned around and shot his arms over the railing and, moments later, pulled Clione over. He dropped to his knees, face green, as he sought to catch his breath.

“What the fuck,” he hissed. Ikkaku agreed whole-heartedly.

Robin appeared then, calmly pulling herself over the balcony. Ikkaku peered over the railing again, and her eyes widened at the sight of arms sprouting out of the side of the building to make stairs. Creepy as it was, Ikkaku would have preferred Robin’s method of reaching the balcony. She shook her head before turning back to the room.

Clione stepped forward, slid the balcony door open, and stepped inside the room. Ikkaku followed him, peering around for anything out of sight. She inhaled sharply as something immediately caught her attention. Clione followed her gaze and cursed quietly.

“What?” Luffy asked, coming up behind her.

“Kikoku,” Ikkaku said, pointing to the sword partially obscured by the coat on Law’s made bed. “If there was trouble, Law wouldn’t be without his sword.”

“Luffy,” Robin called quietly, standing next to the desk.

Luffy looked up, and Robin nodded to the straw hat sitting on the desk next to Law’s Den Den Mushi. Luffy frowned as he made his way over to the desk and picked the hat up. Ikkaku couldn’t read the expression on his face as he looked at the hat for a long moment before putting it back on his head.

“There are blueprints of the castle here,” Robin added, fingers running over a sheet of paper on the desk. “Was he looking for a way out?”

“Shit. There’s blood over here.”

Ikkaku, Luffy, and Robin turned at Clione’s words.  He stood by the far wall, and his gaze was on the carpet. The first thing Ikkaku noticed was Law’s hat, haphazardly discarded on the floor. Law might not be so attached to his hat as to earn an epithet named after it, but he would never just throw it on the floor. Near it, there was a small, dark stain. Ikkaku’s stomach sank.

“Look at the wall,” Robin said, tracing a cut in the brick. There was blood smeared across the gash.

Violence had been done here.

“Ew, what’s this?” Luffy said, nudging a snot-colored streak next to the blood.

“Trebol,” Ikkaku realized, recognizing the executive’s mucus. The scene she was starting to piece together that had happened in this room was not a pretty one. “He’s an executive.”

“And his Devil Fruit controls mucus,” Clione added.

Luffy pulled a face at the thought. “Gross.”

Ikkaku nodded in fully agreement. “It’s really sticky and strong.”

“Strong enough to hold an adult male to a wall?” Robin asked, still eyeing the bricks.

“Yes,” Ikkaku breathed, realizing what she was implying.

“What are you saying, Robin?” Luffy asked. “What happened to Torao?”

Robin pursed her lips for a moment before speaking. “It seems likely Torao-kun was planning to meet with his crew but first was looking for a way to get you all out,” she added, glancing at Ikkaku and Clione, “and was ambushed.”

“Trebol’s mucus must have trapped him against the wall,” Ikkaku said, eyeing the blood-streaked gash in the brick. “Trebol doesn’t use a blade, though. If Law was stabbed…”

“Diamante,” Clione supplied.

“Another executive,” Ikkaku told Luffy and Robin. “Uses a sword.” She shook her head. “Could have been Doflamingo’s strings, too.” The Warlord was infinitely, after all, creative and cruel with his Devil Fruit abilities.

“But then where is he now?” Luffy asked, looking between the other three.

“Dungeon, probably,” Ikkaku said after exchanging a grim look with Clione. The palace dungeon was rarely used for prisoners, as criminals were typically sentenced to either jail or the colosseum. Prisoners who had earned Doflamingo’s special attention were the ones to be placed in the dungeon.

Law would definitely fit that criteria.

“So, we go to the dungeon,” Luffy said, pounding a fist into his palm decisively. “Get him out.”

“No way,” Ikkaku said, shaking her head.

“Why not?”

“First, we don’t even know if he’s there,” she said, issue after issue running through her mind. “And even if he were, we’d have to sneak through the entire palace to get there without being seen.”

“There are no external doors to the dungeon,” Clione added. “Or windows.”

“To prevent escape attempts,” Robin mused.

“And even if we got to the dungeon and got Law out without being seen—which is unlikely—he’s wounded,” Ikkaku added, gesturing at the blood on the floor. “He won’t be moving well, and we’d need speed to get out.”

“Plus, the rest of our nakama are spread out over the city,” Clione said. “If we got the captain out and back to the Tang, we’d still need to find the others.”

“The sun will be coming up soon,” Robin added, nodding toward the window. Outside, the dark of night was beginning to turn gray in the pre-dawn hours. “We’ll no longer have the cover of darkness.”

Luffy stuck his bottom lip out in a pout but nodded his understanding. “Fine. But we have to do something.”

“What are you doing in here?” a new voice demanded from the doorway.

Ikkaku’s breath caught in her throat—they’d been here too long, they’d been too loud, fuck—as she slowly turned to the door. She hadn’t heard it open.

“Who’re you?” Luffy demanded.

Ikkaku’s eyes widened as she recognized the figure in the doorway. “Violet?”

-----

The sound of multiple sets of footsteps approaching pulled Law into full wakefulness. He’d only managed a light doze since Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin had run out of questions for him, considering the uncomfortable position he found himself in. Not only was his strength being leeched from his body by the Seastone shackles, but his shoulders were also starting to ache from the strain of being chained above his head, his head throbbed, and his hand…

Law swallowed and shoved that thought aside. He couldn’t think about that right now.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since there were no windows to let light in. It felt like ages and no time at all at the same time.

“Captain?” Bepo murmured worriedly. With his mink ears, he’d probably heard their guests approaching long before Law had.

Law grunted in acknowledgement of his first mate but didn’t have time to reply. His eyes narrowed as his cell door opened. The guard stepped aside with a bowed head to reveal Doflamingo.

Fear from his vulnerable position warred with rage in Law’s chest as he looked at the taller man. The man who had killed Cora-san, had stolen his freedom, and held his nakama’s lives in the palm of his hand out of a selfish, egomaniacal desire for power. Law clenched his jaw but said nothing, not trusting his voice, as the Warlord regarded him from behind his sunglasses, expression unreadable in the dim light.

Finally, he spoke. “Get him cleaned up then bring him to my office.”

Next chapter

[flightrules]

Which Kind Do You Want to Be?

Chapter 5: Tag

Trust is a straightforward concept, until suddenly it isn't.

Summary: This is a story about trust and kindness, loneliness and loss, belief and transgression. And two people crossing paths just long enough to find each other.

Chapter 1    Chapter 2    Chapter 3    Chapter 4   Read on AO3

Relationships and characters: Din/female reader (both similar age to Din in canon), Grogu, and a cameo from Peli.

Rating: Mature? Explicit? Anyhow, grown-up sexy stuff in later chapters. Please be old enough to be reading this kind of thing.

Tags and warnings: Moments of angst, domesticity, kindness, explicit consent, and Din doing his best to be a conscientious parent in the midst of everything. Heads up for descriptions of canon-typical violence, mention of past dubious consent, and a moment of (unintentional) violence between our protagonists. Ending is bittersweet. (Note: I had trouble tagging for this chapter. The violent thing between our two protagonists is in this one. It is brief, it is essentially an accident, there is an apology, and they make their own choices on what to do about it. Your author is not intending to condone abuse in any way, shape or form.)

From your vantage point, there are only so many places you can go in the Razor Crest’s hold. But the child can duck behind wall struts and hide in cupboards. Storage containers that come up to your knees are boulders to climb. 

Right now the little one’s careening down the center of the hold, heading for a stack of crates near the far end, a tousled-looking man in very slow pursuit. You make a run around them both to cut off the child’s hiding place. The child lets out a happy squeal as he turns and runs back at the man, who promptly backs away, careful to go slowly enough that the little one can almost catch at his boots. 

They get nearly all the way to the refresher compartment when the man reaches down to scoop him up. “Got you!” The child’s cooing as he gets a ride through the air, the man spinning him around before setting him back on his feet. And then he’s off again, running for the carbon freeze nook this time and peeping out between wires and hoses.

The last time you got to play tag was with your brother’s children, chasing two toddlers in the fields at the ends of summer days. They were small enough to be picked up, too, to be flown above your head, your nephew safe with your hands around his middle, high-pitched giggles filling the air and multi-winged firebugs lighting up the twilight. 

You tiptoe over to where the child’s hiding in plain sight. You reach for him slowly, taking your time so he can duck back out again and toddle away. Now it’s your turn to chase after, measuring your steps as tiny legs run as fast as they’ll go. The man crouches down a meter or so ahead, right in the little one’s path, and those tiny feet skid to a stop as the child decides which way to turn. 

What you do next feels like the most natural thing in the world. “Hey,” you whisper to the child. “Let’s get him!”

The next thing you know you’re on your knees with one arm twisted so far up behind your back you can feel the ligaments in your shoulder about to give way. 

Your vision starts to fade at the edges as pain takes over. 

Just as fast as it happened, he lets go of your wrist. 

Your other hand goes to your shoulder as you sink down onto your heels. For a minute or so you’re focusing on breathing, waiting for the pain to subside. When it finally lifts enough that you can open your eyes, he’s crouched in front of you, the child at his feet. 

“Are you ok?”

You’re feeling around the joint with your fingers, looking for any hot spots that would suggest something torn.

You lift your arm gingerly, rotating it through a careful circle. The child’s face turns back and forth between the two of you, the top of his fuzzy head just barely at the level of the man’s boot-top. The big ears are drooping, and the worry wrinkles are back in the little green forehead. “Are you going to take my head off if I pick up your kid?”

He stands, lifting the child into his own arms. “Let’s not find out.”

You can’t read his expression at all right now. He could be thinking of throwing you out the airlock. He could be thinking about what to eat for supper. 

You try bending and extending your elbow. It’s tender, but it still works. 

He goes to the cupboard where the medkit is. 

Less than an hour ago you were curled up in this man’s arms. “What the hell?” you ask him. 

“Reflex,” he says, as he hands you a cold-pack. “It usually serves me well.”

You break the seal and wait for it to chill down. “It didn’t serve me well.”

“It would if someone were trying to hurt us.”

Your hand starts to go numb from the cold as you try to parse what he just said. Does “us” include you now? 

He holds out his hand. 

It takes you a moment to realize he’s asking you to hand back the cold-pack, probably since you don’t seem to be using it. He takes it from your stiffening fingers and kneels beside you, pressing it onto your shoulder. His other arm is still cradling the child, who’s still got a few worry-wrinkles but at least his ears have perked up again. 

“What happened to trusting each other?" 

He moves the cold pack from the front of your shoulder to the top. The chill feels good against the lingering ache there. 

“I let you go,” he says. 

Your brain is stuck between how close he is, how carefully he's holding the cold-pack, how steadily he's holding the child… And the fact that you knew he was dangerous… And the idea that you've probably been stupid to think he wouldn’t be dangerous to you.

Well. It's worth a try. "You going to apologize?"

"I'm going to move this to the back of your shoulder," he says, and when you don't object he leans a little closer, shifting the cold pack so it's resting over the back of your deltoid muscle where it connects to the scapula. The child starts to wriggle, and he sets him down while still keeping the cold pack firmly in place. “It’s all right,” he tells the child. “You can go play.”

Chem-packs don’t last all that long. The chill fades as the chemical reaction winds down. He gives the thing a shake, forms it back over your shoulder for another minute, and then gets up to deposit it in the wastebin behind its cupboard door. 

You stand up too, tugging your shirt straight. Your shoulder feels better but your back and neck are aching from how suddenly he put you on the floor. There are probably matching bruises forming over your kneecaps. 

He latches the cupboard closed. 

The child is sitting quietly nearby, chewing on a silvery pendant that’s on a cord around his neck. You saw it when he had his bath, what feels like a thousand parsecs before this moment. It must be tucked into his robe, most of the time. 

The table is still set up, the two chairs still pulled up beside it. The man turns one of them around and sits down facing you, hands resting on his knees. His voice is quiet. "If you were Mandalorian," he says, "you'd be apologizing to me."

You aren’t quiet at all. "If you were from my village,” you shoot back at him, “you’d fucking know how to play tag.”

“I know,” he says, still soft. “I’m sorry.”

*

You’re sitting in the pilot’s chair, because why the hell not. He didn’t try to stop you coming up here. 

You can hear him downstairs, tools clanking around as he works on the wiring. There was a buzz in the lights, he said, and he ought to take a look. You hadn’t noticed anything, but then you don’t know this ship. 

You don’t know him.

You could change the ship’s course. You could drop it out of hyperdrive and signal anyone you wanted. You could close the sliding doors, short out the control panel, and put the thing on any path you chose. 

You can’t think of anywhere in particular you want to go. 

The main control panel is old, the switches and buttons bulky and square. Many of the labels are faded or gone. Some of the buttons have a depression worn away where his fingers would land. 

It’s also spotless. There’s no grime worn into the crevices. No crumbs from the child’s snacks. You run a finger along the panel above your head. No dust.

It seems he’s precise about this, too. 

If you were Mandalorian, you’d be apologizing to me.

But also, I’m sorry.

He knows he crossed a line with you. You didn’t even know where his line was. 

The fuel gauge is still well above half. You could reset the hyperdrive, kick up the speed, get to Pavotha that much faster and get off this ship.

Once, you would have turned to your grandmother when you weren’t sure what to do. Your father would have walked the fields with you, checking the depth that you planted the seeds. The first time you and your brother built new irrigation troughs, your grandfather scolded you for taking too much water from the stream. 

How do you know what choices are right, if you don’t have rules to follow?

The blues and purples of hyperspace are nothing like the colors of the sky at home. You close your eyes and try to remember your mother’s voice, her hands in the dirt beside you, the way she would give a short, sharp shake to each groundfruit so the soil would fall away. “What do you want to do?” she would have asked.

*

You take the ladder slowly, stopping on the last rung to make sure he sees you before you step onto the durasteel floor in the hold. He’s still got the toolbox open, but he’s not working on the ship. 

He’s sitting beside the stack of armor, one piece in his lap, a bright-tipped tool in his hand. The underside of the piece he’s working on is a maze of exposed circuits. The tool gives off a low electrical buzz where it touches. 

You walk over, not too close, and sit, leaving a meter or so between you. 

It’s automatic, already, to look around for the child. The little one is seated at the man’s other side, a collection of small tools arrayed around him. Right now he’s banging one of them against the floor and seems pleased by the sound. 

The man continues working in silence. He turns the piece over in his hands and you can see that it’s a pauldron, the one with the mudhorn decorating the side. He lays down the tool and picks up a soft-looking rag, drawing it over the surface and rubbing carefully around the raised design. The cloth releases a faint smell of pepper as it moves. 

The child is now arranging tools in a pattern, lining them up in rows.

The two thigh guards are already set off to the side, lined up neatly in parallel atop a clean grey blanket. He puts the pauldron down beside them and picks up the other one from the pile, trading the rag for the electrical tool again. Before he gets to work on it, he turns his head your way. “Thank you.” 

“For what?”

“You’re here,” he says. “Is your shoulder still hurting?”

It isn’t, much, but the rest of your muscles feel like they took a beating. “Is yours?”

He looks confused, then seems to remember. “It’ll be fine.”

“Was that really normal for you? You just, fight each other like that?”

“We train for those reflexes,” he says. “They keep us alive.”

“So if I were Mandalorian, I’d know better than to surprise you.”

“Yes,” he says. “But you aren’t Mandalorian.”

Two days ago, you held each piece of his armor in your hands, but you didn’t get a good look at any of it. “May I?”

The moment stretches out for a while, but eventually he answers. “Go ahead."

You choose one of the thigh guards, the simpler one with the surface that’s mirror-smooth. Your  fingertips slide over the metal without leaving a smudge. Either beskar won’t hold a fingerprint, or whatever he’s using to polish it has that same effect. You fit it against your own leg. It’s a little long for you, looking awkward against your body.

In your village, you used to play a hiding game. One person would be the seeker, and the point was to hide so well that when they came near you could jump out and tag them. You got extra points if they screamed. 

“We had a game like that, too. People usually needed to be patched up afterwards.”

"Did anyone scream?"

"Sometimes." There's the tiniest bit of a smile. "Less as we got older."

You lay the guard back down on the blanket, lining it up again between the pauldron and the other thigh plate.

“I liked,” you tell him, "being held by you.”

He takes a slow breath, ending in a sigh as he touches the glowing tool to circuitry and it makes that low buzz. “I did, too.”

“That can’t happen again.”

He looks up at the ship’s chrono, its numbers glowing red from the little panel near the ceiling. “We’ll be at Pavotha the morning after tomorrow. I can be upstairs most of the time.” He glances at the child, who’s now stacking tools atop each other until they overbalance and fall. ”We won’t bother you.” 

The natural thing would be to touch him, to show him that he’s misunderstood. To lay your hand on his thigh, maybe, in the place that the armor used to cover. “I meant you almost breaking my arm.”

He draws the cloth over the second pauldron and sets it down on the blanket. He begins to fold the edges of the blanket over, rolling it up so that each piece of armor is cushioned by a layer of cloth. The child abandons his own project and comes over to help, little claws patting the cloth smooth after each fold. “He’s so small. I need to protect him.”

“Not from me.”

“It’s not connected to thinking,” he says. “I’d be too slow.”

“So, no sudden moves?”

He nods, slowly, as if he’d needed to consider carefully. “No sudden moves.”

“Hey,” you say to the child, who has gone over to poke at the remaining stack of armor, the chestplate and greaves and knee guard. “Let’s get him?” The little face turns toward you, but he doesn’t seem to understand. 

You scoot carefully across the floor to close the space between yourself and this man, giving him plenty of time to see what you have in mind. When he lifts his arms to hug you back, he’s shaking again, almost like that very first night. It subsides quickly this time, though, as he pulls you in against his chest, one hand on your lower back, the other between your shoulder blades. His mouth is against your forehead, and your lesson from earlier echoes back to you in the way his lips move against your skin.

You can feel his ribs and belly rise and fall as he breathes deep, and you could swear you can sense his heartbeat against your own chest.

The child toddles over to join you now, climbing up on your thigh to burrow in between the two of you, and snuggle with you both.

[stevie-kd]

“Feral”

Part 5

Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

Read part 3 here

Read part 4 here

::in which Bakugou and Kirishima are closer than ever, quite literally and figuratively. Bakugou messes up, plans are definitely NOT cancelled, and there is a maybe date happening::

P.S. IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO POST. It was a loooong week. I���ve gotten a promotion though, so that was cool! Anywho, I’ll try and be quicker with the updates since I have a lot of my one-shots already half finished:)

P.P.S. I wrote out the whole chapter and apparently it’s exceeded a word count or something so I had to split it into two chapters. I just have to give it a quick edit and I’ll have it up today, hopefully in the next couple hours.

+++++++++++++

Aizawa kept Bakugou for one more night just for observation. He was allowed back to class Tuesday morning.

Kirishima waited outside of his dorm for Bakugou to finish getting ready. He played a game on his phone and leaned against the wall opposite of Bakugou’s door.

He’d only been waiting a few minutes before the door opened and a fully-uniformed Bakugou Katsuki stepped out. He looked well rested and much more like himself than Kirishima had seen him in days. He still had his usual grumpy look, but it put a smile on Kirishima’s face to see it. He’d missed Bakugou so much that having him back felt like a hole had been filled in his chest.

Kirishima didn’t think about what he did next until Bakugou pulled away. The redhead looked down at their hands, dawning on him that he’d just tried to hold Bakugou’s hand. The movement felt so natural, almost like an instinct.

“Oh!” he said, surprised by himself. “I’m sorry, man. That was weird of me. I didn’t even think about it—”

“It’s fine, Shitty Hair,” Bakugou interrupted him. “Here.”

Kirishima watched as Bakugou laced their arms together at their elbows. He had a weird scowl on his face, but he didn’t say anything about it and opted to tug Kirishima along to get him moving. Together, arm in arm, they descended the hall until they reached the elevator.

They didn’t say a word the whole ride down. Kirishima was too lost in his racing thoughts to come up with the right thing to say.

Was Bakugou touch starved? He wasn’t ever the type of guy to initiate any sort of touching. Though, he hadn’t been able to get near anyone in days. On average, at least a few times a day Kirishima would lean on him or put a hand on his shoulder or sometimes even throw him into a surprise hug the blond didn’t see coming. Bakugou had adapted to Kirishima’s fondness. This—having Bakugou as the initiator—was so foreign, Kirishima couldn’t wrap his head around it.

They didn’t let go of each other until they reached the kitchen. Kirishima tossed Bakugou ingredients and utensils as the explosive boy whipped up some egg drop ramen for the two of them.

He usually made more food to include the Bakusquad, but he never bothered with breakfast. The other three were never up early enough.

As it turned out, Kaminari was right: Kirishima had missed Bakugou’s cooking. He wasn’t sure where the blond learned to cook so well, but Kirishima would have given his pal a five star review on Yelp if he could have.

“What did I miss in class?” Bakugou asked after they’d sat down. He was twirling his chopsticks around in his bowl to pick up some noodles.

“Don’t know,” Kirishima answered through a mouthful. He swallowed before continuing. “I didn’t really go to class yesterday.”

Bakugou frowned. He glared at his ramen like he’d just witnessed it murder his cat. “Let’s ask Ponytail for her notes. I’m not asking shitty Deku. His notebook is a fucking mess.”

“Good idea,” Kirishima agreed. “Hey, did you wanna do some extra training after class? The gym is free today. We could work on our special moves like last time.”

Bakugou seemed to be thinking it over. After a moment of considering, he set his chopsticks down. “What if we went to the movies?”

Kirishima stared at him. He’d said it in such a soft voice, Kirishima knew he was being serious. “The movies? Over training? That doesn’t sound like you.”

He glared in return. “Do you want to or not, Shitty Hair?”

He laughed. “Yeah, totally! Was there a movie you had in mind?”

Bakugou picked his chopsticks back up and was using the utensils to play with his food. Kirishima couldn’t help thinking he looked shy. His cheeks were the slightest hint of pink. “There’s that action movie… I know you like those.”

Kirishima perked up at that. “Really? You’re talking about the one where those two guys have to duel for the dojo after their master is killed, right?”

“The only cheesy-as-hell action movie in the theaters right now, yes.”

“Dude, I’ve wanted to watch that forever! It didn’t do great in the box office, but I think it looks great! You really want to sit through that for me? That doesn’t seem like your kind of movie.”

He finally stood to take his bowl to the sink. “I just want to get out. I’ve spent the last four days staring at white walls.” He nodded his head to Kirishima’s empty bowl, who got the message and passed it over.

“I’m down for the movie, one-hundred percent! And, hey—maybe this weekend we can go hiking? That should help get you out of your own head.”

He hummed in response. “There was that new trail we could try.”

“Oh! Yeah, I remember that. We wanted to go last time, but it was getting too dark so we didn’t get the chance. How’s your schedule look? I’m free all weekend!”

He finished up washing their dishes and deposited them onto the drying rack. “Let’s go Saturday. My shitty aunt is in town this weekend, so I can avoid her at least then. I have some stupid family dinner my parents are making me go to on Sunday if… uh, if you wanna go.”

Kirishima cocked his head. “To your family dinner? You want me to go? Would I be intruding?”

Bakugou leaned against the counter and folded his arms. “No. If you’re there I might actually act ‘civil’ is how my old hag put it. You can sleep over too, if you want.”

Kirishima’s eyes sparkled. A sleepover? At Bakugou’s house?! He’d been over a few times, and he loved being able to spend the extra time with his hot-headed friend. But a sleepover? His heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

“Hell yeah! You usually head home Friday nights, right? What time should I be around Saturday to head on the hike?”

“Just come home with me Friday. Then we can leave early.”

Holy. Shit.

Two whole nights with Bakugou. He felt like his brain was about to short circuit.

His moms wouldn’t like him not visiting over the weekend, but they would understand. He talked pretty highly of Bakugou to his parents, so they would know how much this meant to him.

He pumped his fists together. “Alright! A guys’ weekend! This is gonna be great, man! We can watch movies and play video games, and I’m gonna get you to stay up past eight-thirty!”

Bakugou snorted. “Then I’ll make sure to wake you up by six in the morning.”

“No!” Kirishima gasped. “That’s just cruel, man.”

Bakugou smirked and grabbed his book bag, then headed for the door. Kirishima jumped up to follow.

Class was extra boring today, and Kirishima couldn’t pay attention to a word of his lessons. The day dragged on, probably because he had the movies with Bakugou to look forward to.

Finally, the bell rang for lunch. He and the squad moved out while Bakugou stayed back to collect the homework assignments he missed yesterday. He’d catch up with them after.

They were all seated at their usual table, Ashido chatting everyone’s ears off. Kirishima zoned out staring out the window at the lawn when the pink-haired girl brought him back down to earth.

“Kiri? Babe. Earth to Kirishima.”

He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. My head is all over the place today.”

He hadn’t even realized Bakugou sat down beside him. The blond was giving him a weird look as he popped open his bento box.

“So!” Kaminari exclaimed, catching everyone’s attention. “I had this idea—”

“Oh shit,” Bakugou muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.

Kaminari glared at him while everyone else laughed. “Anyway. Wouldn’t it be such a good idea if we challenged Bakugou and Sato to a cook off? Our class chef versus our class baker. It'd be epic!”

“I love it!” Ashido announced.

Sero looked into the distance dreamily. “Think about all the leftover food.”

“I don’t bake,” Bakugou stated. “I don’t do sweets. And Sugar Freak is a shit cook. Wouldn’t be much of a challenge.”

“Well, we can have you both whip up something as a main dish and then a dessert to follow,” Ashido suggested. “We could vote whose meal was better.”

Bakugou didn’t look impressed. He stuffed a chunk of beef into his mouth and ignored the rest of the conversation.

“What if we did it tonight? Everyone’s free, right?”

Kirishima whipped his head up from his meal to face Kaminari. “Not tonight, man. We’ve got homework to catch up on, and Bakugou and I were going to catch a movie.”

Everyone’s eyebrows scrunched. They stared between the two boys like this was weird behavior of them.

“The movies?” Ashido asked, her expression shifting to something more mischievous. “Like, just the two of you? Alone?”

“You annoying shitsticks aren’t coming, so don’t even ask,” Bakugou said in his grumpy voice.

Kaminari raised a devilish eyebrow. “So… is this like… a date?”

Kirishima felt his ears grow hot. “No! No, it’s not like that! We’re just two bros going to the movies! Right, Katsuki?”

He looked over to the blond, who had a death grip on his chopsticks. His face read pure rage, but there was a blush crawling up his neck and cheeks. It seemed to worsen at the use of his given name. The chopsticks snapped in his grip.

“KATSUKI?!” Ashido practically screamed. “He lets you call him by his given name?”

The other two boys were dying at this point. They clutched their stomachs as they busted out laughing, tears sparkling in their eyes. Sero slapped a hand on the table. “Oh my god! I can’t breathe!”

Bakugou slammed his own fists against the table and stood. “FUCK YOU GUYS, WE’RE OUT OF HERE! COME ON, SHITTY HAIR! LET’S GO.”

Kirishima stood on wobbly legs, his meal forgotten as his mind reeled. He chased after Bakugou, a million questions racing through his brain he couldn’t seem to vocalize. Was this a date? If it wasn’t, wouldn’t Bakugou have corrected them? If it was, why’d he get so defensive?

Bakugou turned around and grabbed Kirishima by the elbow to speed him up. They must have been too loud, because half the cafeteria’s eyes were watching them as they left.

They made it back to the classroom, and Bakugou’s grip hadn't let up. He finally let go when he moved to his desk and sat down heavily. He crossed his arms and turned his face away from Kirishima.

“Uh,” Kirishima tried to form words, but he wasn’t sure what to say. “Should we talk about this?”

“No,” he answered quickly.

“Well, that seemed to really bother you back there. If you were thinking—”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Eijirou.”

Kirishima could see the angry blush on his face when he glanced back at the redhead. Kirishima settled into the desk beside his. “Alright. You still want to go though, don’t you?”

He huffed. “Yeah, we’re still fucking going.”

His lips spread into a smile. “Glad to hear it! I can’t wait.”

The two broke out their homework after that, attempting to get caught up before the rest of the class slowly trickled back in. To Kirishima’s surprise, it was Bakugou who was having trouble focusing.

Class started up again, and Kirishima had to migrate back to his own desk. A worksheet was passed out by Midnight, and they were told to fill out what they could. Kirishima was only a few questions in when he glanced Bakugou’s way out of habit.

Midoriya was leaning forward, whispering something to Bakugou, who looked his usual amount of annoyed. It was when the green-haired boy reached out to tap Bakugou’s shoulder that chaos ensued.

Kirishima shot from his desk and across the room before most students even noticed anything was wrong. Everything happened so fast, even Kirishima’s brain had to play catch up.

Bakugou had snapped. In an instant, he’d had Midoriya pinned to the floor, slashing at his face with the claws that weren’t there. Midoriya was obviously caught off guard, but he was still fast enough to hold his arms up to shield his face from Bakugou’s attacks.

Kirishima tackled Bakugou off of his rival, using his hardening to pin him down. Bakugou was uncharacteristically hissing like some wild animal. Sero and Tokoyami were out of their seats now too, ready to help if they could.

“Katsuki!” Kirishima yelled, trying to snap the blond back to reality. “Katsuki, stop! It’s me! It’s Eijirou!”

Midnight stood above the boys, her hand resting on her sleeve and ready to tear it to put Bakugou to sleep with her quirk. Kirishima quickly shook his head at her. “Don’t! That won’t help.”

Bakugou’s movements became sluggish and he was blinking hard, quicly coming back to his senses. Kirishima watched as realization dawned in his eyes. He looked between Kirishima on top of him to Midoriya on the ground a few feet away. “Shit,” he cursed.

“Kacchan, I’m sorry!” Midoriya apologized. “I didn’t know the quirk hadn’t worn off yet. I shouldn’t have touched you. Kacchan, I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t fucking apologize to me, damn nerd!” he shouted in return. He growled in frustration. “I thought this shit was over.”

“It’s alright, man,” Kirishima sighed, relieved to have Bakugou back. He slid off of the blond and sat on the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. “Midoriya, you okay?”

“I-I’m fine!”

“Ahem,” Midnight cleared her throat. She had her hands on her hips and an unimpressed look on her face. “Could someone tell me what’s going on?”

“After effects,” Todoroki was the one to explain to Kirishima’s surprise. “It seems the quirk hasn’t quite worn off.”

“I’m fine now,” Bakugou grumbled. “It’s gone.”

“I highly doubt—”

“It was a fluke!”

“Guys!” Kirishima raised his voice to get them to stop. Bakugou glared at him for his interruption. Kirishima ignored the look and turned back to the other student still on the floor. “Midoriya, why don’t you swap seats with me for today?”

Midoriya nodded, finally pulling himself off the ground. “Good idea.”

Bakugou caught Kirishima’s wrist before he could stand as well. “I don’t need a damn babysitter.”

“I’m not babysitting you,” the redhead fired back. “My quirk is best suited to stop you if it happens again, which I doubt it will. Just a precaution, man.”

Midnight was tapping her foot, arms folded as she stared the two down. “Are you boys sure this is such a good idea?”

“Yes,” they said in unison. They looked at each other, and Bakugou bowed his head to allow Kirishima to finish. “He’ll be fine. It won’t happen again, and I’ll be there to stop him before it could happen again.”

She clicked her tongue. “Alright. I’ll allow it. Don’t make me regret it. And there had better not be any more interruptions.”

Everyone migrated back to their seats and the light chatter died off. Kirishima and Midoriya collected their things and traded seats. Once he was seated, Kirishima noticed a folded up piece of paper on the corner of the desk.

He opened it as quietly as he could, but Midnight seemed pretty preoccupied by the romance novel her eyes were glued to. It was definitely Bakugou’s handwriting, all caps and angry penmanship.

THANK YOU EIJIRO. YOU’ RE A GOOD FRIEND

Kirishima smiled. Bakugou really had grown so much in his time since coming to UA. Kirishima was so proud to be the explosive boy’s friend.

It’s cool ! Don’t sweat it man . Still wanna see that movie tonight ??

He tossed the note over Bakugou’s shoulder, who jumped a little like he was surprised to see it return. Kirishima could hear his pencil scrawling out a reply.

He passed it back, his eyes on Midnight to avoid being caught passing notes.

STILL THINK IT’S A GOOD IDEA?

Totally !! I wanna spend time with you dude

He chewed on his lip. Maybe that was a little too forward. He ended up erasing that bit and starting over.

Yeh man I think it’d be good for you to get out . Being cooped up for days isn’t good for ya

Bakugou held onto the note for a few minutes, maybe contemplating what to say. Kirishima tried to focus on his assignment, but it proved impossible and he ended up circling random answers.

Bakugou twisted his arm behind his back and held the folded note between two fingers. Kirishima plucked it from his grasp and unfurled it again.

COME TO MY ROOM AFTER YOU’RE READY TO GO. WE’RE GONNA GET DINNER FIRST SHITTY HAIR.

Kirishima giggled, and a few heads turned his way. He was too excited to care about the prying eyes or the blush that rose to his cheeks.

He couldn’t help but think about how date-like this seemed. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but… well.

He couldn’t help it.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Hope you guys liked it, and thanks for the read !!

Read part 6 here

8/31/2020

[unadulteratedkr]

rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 favourite  works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc) and link them  below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world.  tag as many writers/artists/etc as you want (fan or original) so we can  spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

tagged by the talented and indomitable @ajoblotofjunk! I considered saving this for when I eventually HAVE 5 completed works, but I thought it would be a nice way of keeping myself focused, and also share a little bit of what you can expect from me next! So we’re celebrating my future as well as my recent past, since I’ve only been an active creator in this fandom for a few months

1. My Fair Maiden: This fic is my baby and she’s responsible for me writing for the J/B fandom in the first place! I messaged @ajoblotofjunk to see if they knew of any existing My Fair Lady AUs and then just decided to just write it myself within like... a week of my rejoining Tumblr after about a 3 year hiatus. It’s been such a learning curve, but every time I go back and re-read bits of it for the chapter I’m working on, I love seeing how much I’ve progressed as a writer; going from directly translating dialogue from the play to fit the characters to learning to step back and just pull from the play only when I need to. It’s a blast writing this, and I can’t wait to keep sharing it with y’all.

2. It’s Only a Matter of Time: GUESS WHAT, IT’S ANOTHER STORY I CAN BLAME ON @ajoblotofjunk 😂😂😂 (Also a little bit the fault of @ladyinredfics‘ original post that started our feelings chat in the first place) All it took was me saying, “Just wait, there are SO many Eliza Hamilton/Brienne parallels that will fuck you up” and the rest is history. I genuinely couldn’t go to bed after we chatted about Eliza/Brienne feels until I had written about half of this one-shot and outlined the second half. The icing on the cake was definitely me losing my mind over how much show!Jaime shared with A. Ham. I loved writing this for a couple of reasons. One, I challenged myself to see if I could come up with a stylistic way of storytelling unique to Tarth, hoping by doing so, I could explore the journey Brienne had experienced through love, betrayal and eventual forgiveness without it just being her saying “Hey this is what my life and emotional arc was when I fought in like six wars”. Two, this fic has my favorite final line because I shamelessly stole from the acutal writings of Alexander Hamilton, and damn, the man had a way with words I can only hope to attain.

3. All Full with Feasting: If I ever find the opportunity to get drunk near or with Gwendoline Christie, I will need a chaperone to ensure I don’t yell at her for starring in The Video That Started It All. Halfway through watching Gwen erotically eat food, I felt my brain short-circuit, and it wouldn’t let me resume normal thinking until I shamelessly forced one Jaime Lannister to take a thinly veiled Gwen!Brienne home and give her the loving attention she so clearly deserved. I also liked that it felt like... smut that I believe in? Like, Jaime’s inner monologue about not understanding people that talk about how sweet a woman tastes is literally my own internal monologue (sorry not sorry if that’s TMI ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

The next two are WIPs I’ve only outlined!

4. Untitled Jaime/Brienne/Margaery piece: This one.... it’s gonna be a weird one. There are three things you’ll need to know. One: Margaery is a ghost in it. Two: she’s not quite haunting Brienne, but she’s hanging around B because she doesn’t know how to pass on to the other side. Three: Margaery died before Brienne could tell her she loved her. Add a kind but emotionally inarticulate Jaime Lannister to the mix, and you’ve got a lot of mess for two people and a ghost to work through. This fic is why I wanted to throw my hat into the ring on writing smut in a non-serious manner first, because I wanted to get some practice in before I apply it to this story. Because there’s going to be some smut that gets complicated, and I needed to know I could write it at all before I started writing it for this. I play in this fic’s sandbox about twice a week because I know I’m not quite ready to write it yet, but I know finishing My Fair Maiden and allowing myself to continue banging out one-shots and eventually prompts will give me the confidence in my skills to make this story work.

5. Murder on the Valyrian Express: This one is probably going to be a pretty standard AU adaptation, but I’m really looking forward to imitating and playing with Agatha Christie’s deep dive into the psychology of murder. Here’s a slice of the synopsis for you: when  Petyr Baelish is murdered on the train journey from Essos to King’s Landing, Varys Edderkopp learns he used to be known as Littlefinger, the man responsible for the death of Lyanna Mormont.

I don’t know if any of my creator mutuals haven’t already been tagged yet, so if you haven’t... consider yourself tagged!

[formal-fauxpines]

Siblings with Benefits Chapter 3

For this chapter @sunshineshipper let me have a lot of input on this chapter to where it is kind of my own thing. Of course I made sure to get her approval and have her give me the okay, so it is main author approved. If it seems different style wise then that is the reason why. Hope it is to your liking and still fits the rest of the story.

P.S. I am re-posting this to this current page as my original page I put this on was hit by the purge. Here it should have no problem.

Free period was always a great relief to Dipper, but  today is especially nice. He would usually  take the time to study. Either keep up with his numerous AP classes or catch up on a few personal projects. However, instead of any of that, it seems it's time for deeper thought about himself and about his sister.

He and his sister have always been close. The occasional rough housing, sharing rooms up until they were teenagers, cuddling up to each other for twin time, awkward sibling hugs. How did that all escalate to becoming siblings with benefits? This seems a bit more than unusually close. But friends who are usually that close have these kind of habits right? Take it to something more physical without letting emotions really get in the way.

None of the friends he knows, though.

They could be different. They could make it work. They've been doing a great job so far.

“Hello. Earth to Dipper,”  A hand waves in his face to catch his attention. He's startled out of all his thoughts.

Dipper looks up and sees Jared waving at him, a puzzled look on his face.

“Hey, man. Thought I lost ya there for a minute. You have some intense focus there. That or something is on your mind to an extreme.”

“A little of both I guess you can say. What brings you down here to the library?”

“Free period. Would like to get started on my homework since I have some catching up to do. You know, with being new here.”

“That’s a smart idea. Welp, pull up a chair there is plenty of room,” Dipper gestures to the table and its seats, offering him a spot in his place of solitude.

They sit together doing their respective homework, looking to one another to discuss answers and help one another. They finish early with the added brain power and spend the rest of the period discussing the latest video games, shows, and other shared interest.

“Yeah, I was getting along pretty well in my game last night before Mabel came back home.”

“Oh, yeah!” Jared perked up at the subject. A few shushes were directed toward him. He hunches down embarrassed for his outburst, “How was that? I take it she is now off the market?”

“Actually, no. Turns out the date was really a study session for the guy for art class since Mabel is an art genius. She was really crushed, so I had to, um… comfort her.”

“Makes sense. You are the good big brother and all. And by the looks of it and what I have been hearing from people, you guys are pretty close.”

“You have no idea, dude.”

“Oh? How so?”

‘Shit! Too much! Gotta draw back!’

“Well, you know…” he shifts in his chair because suddenly the hard wood is more uncomfortable than it was before, “we’re twins so naturally we are close to begin with. Plus with all our adventures we have a lot of great experiences together so makes us a bit closer. I don’t know, even becoming teens we never felt like we drifted apart. In fact, we are just as close as we’ve always been. Also so you should know she is older than me by 5 minutes”

“That’s beautiful man,” Jared smiles and pats him on the back. “I can imagine you are quite protective of her and everything too.”

Dipper thought back to all the times since that first summer in Gravity Falls and times that followed after.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“But maybe not too protective as to say, oh, I don’t know. Allow a friend to possibly ask her out on a little date?” Jared leaned back and stared at Dipper as if awaiting a response.

Dipper felt caught off guard by this question. He knew the answer to this question was a no due to his sister not wanting romance, but also can’t go so far that he admitted that she was in a sexual relationship with him too.

‘Calm down Dipper. This is an easy question. Give him the straight answer and it will be fine. He will understand.’

“Well,” Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. “While I was comforting her, she kind of opened up about her whole romance tepockle and how she is feeling about it now. Aaaannnddd, she really isn’t looking for a romantic interest right now. Kind of taking a break from the whole subject.”

“Okay, that’s cool. I can respect that decision. Will not ask her out then… But say she does at some point later on is looking to date. Would, you know, it be alright iiiiffffff…?”

“If you ask her out?” Dipper finishes for him. “I don't see why not. But that is up to her of course.”

“Oh, psshh, of course man. Got to just use the old charm and let her decide for herself.” Jared bobbed his head as he fired off a set of finger guns toward Dipper.

“Dang, dude. And I thought I was a dork.”

“Come on man, we are both denizens of dork-dom.” Jared held out his fist to Dipper who met it with his own. They shared a quiet chuckle together hoping not to be too loud to warrant a ‘shh’.

“Oh yeah, just remembered,” Jared said before rummaging through his backpack. “Since we talked about it yesterday I figured you would be interested in this game.” Jared pulls out a game from his pack and hands it to Dipper.

“No way, I saw some great reviews on this. Look forward to trying it out. You sure this is okay?”

“Yeah man, say it’s a thanks for being so awesome to me as a new guy.”

“No problem man, I know it can be hard.”

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

At the end of the school day, Dipper met up with Mabel as per usual as Jared tagged along to chat with Dipper,  and get more time with Mabel. They seemed to get along well for having just met, but then again that was Mabel’s specialty. Not too long after Jared parted ways from the twins to head to his home.

“That guy is pretty cool, much like my bro bro, in a very dorky way.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty cool. Lent me a new video game today.”

“Ah man. I had plans for us tonight Dipster. Now you’re just gonna be a poophead and want to play that.”

“Sorry Mabel. Just kind of popped up. Plus I been looking forward to playing this one. Just haven’t had the money as of late.”

“Well it was going to be a nice surprise, but now we will never know.”

“Come on Mabel you can tell me. Maybe it will change my mind.”

“If that’s what you think, then you have fundamentally misunderstood what a surprise is oh brother of mine. Shame on you.”

“Okay, okay. Fair enough.”

“Hmm. How about this. I’ll race you home and I will tell you what it is then.”

“Wait, a race? Mabel you always beat me at those.”

“Only way Dipper. Guess it will stay a secret forever.”

“Okay fine, deal”

“Allllllrrrriiiggghhhtt… READYSETGO!!!” With a last rapidly made statement Mabel bolted toward home leaving Dipper in the dust.

“Of course she would.” Dipper took off after her in the hopes to keep up, yet he knew it was a futile effort. Without the adrenaline he usually gets in a monster encounter, Dipper’s athleticism was much to be desired.

‘Where did she get this energy from. It was just this morning that she shook off a hangover and we did it twice. How is she not dead tired?’

Dipper shook off his thoughts as he got into a good pace, catching up with his sister enough. Unfortunately for him the race was over as she bolted through the door of their house while he just reached the front yard. Out of breath, he stumbled into the living room where Mabel was doing her victory dance.

“ALPHA TWIN! ALPHA TWIN!” She chanted rhythmically though her breaths.

“Alright Mabel you won. I guess you can keep your secret then.”

“Well I never said I wouldn’t tell you if I won. I just said you had to race me.”

“Wait, why make it a competition if you were just going to do it anyways?”

“Well, for one it was fun. Two, got to show I am Alpha Twin still. And three, I wanted to get home as quick as possible without spoiling the surprise.”

“Danm Mabel,”Dipper manages to get out after finally catching his breath. “What the heck is the surprise then?”

“Ooohhh, just this.”

Just as Dipper catches his breath, he finds it snatched away again as Mabel removes her sweater and shirt revealing her bra and bare skin.

“Mabel! What the hell are you doing?!”

“Relax bro-bro,” she said as she sauntered over to lay a kiss upon him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Turns out mom and dad have another late night at work and won’t be back for some time. So that means we have another evening to ourselves.

She gives another kiss to her brother who is slightly caught off guard still by his sisters boldness and the news she lays upon him. Mabel releases her grip and takes a few steps back leaving him with a bewildered expression on his face.

“Then again you do have that new video game you wanted to try, so maybe we don’t have to do it tonight. We’ll just have to wait for another opportunity for the parents to be gone for an explicitly long period of time. Oh well.”

With that statement, Mabel begins walking up the stairs. Upon reaching the top, she decides to remove her skirt revealing a lace purple thong.

“I’ll be relaxing in my room if you want to join me Sir Dippingsauce.” She gives him a wink and sauntered off to her room.’

Without even thinking, Dipper dropped the game and his bag on the floor where he stood, bolted up the stairs, grabbed a few condoms from his room, and darted into Mabel’s room, locking the door behind him.

Here she laid before him. Body the epitome of perfection; lythe form, perky breasts, beautiful face, eyes that were lipid pools that were the gateway to the soul. A body so incredibly hot that it was in the middle of the tundra and he wouldn’t even notice the cold. Legs that go on forever, curves that could be put on graphing paper and the equation would be called perfection. His brain was short circuiting over the fact that he is about to have such an intimate time with this perfect creature.

A soft moan snaps Dipper out of the rollercoaster ride his brain was taking him. Apparently, Mabel was getting bored waiting for him. The sight he was treated to now had his mind, and loins, at full attention that no amount of worry less than getting caught, or the end of the world could distract him from.

Her hands exploring the contours of her body was a breathtaking sight. The way she ran them over her form was nothing less than an elegant display of what her craft worthy hands could do. As they explore, she focused more on the most pleasurable areas of her anatomy. Caressing and fondling, always staying outside her lingerie, as if saving the more direct touches for him. Her eyes bored in to him as she touched herself, half lidded she says “You can look, but aren’t you going to touch?”

Dipper walks over to her, trying to play cool and failing to hide his anticipation, placing the condoms on her nightstand. He undresses down to his boxers before settling down next to her. She scoots over to make more room for him, keeping eye contact the whole time.

“I-is it alright if I touch you?” he asks.

She nods, biting her lower lip.

Dipper places his hand along her stomach gently caressing her milky smooth skin. She lets out a slight moan and giggle. He notes the reaction and begins to slide his hand lower making it over her hips and down to her thighs. As he lets his hands explore her lithe figure, he moves in to kiss her. It’s slow and intimate. Lips press gently to one another as tongues reach out to meet and entwine. All the while his hand runs over her giving her goosebumps.

She grew more eager by the minute as the kisses grew more passionate and desperate for his affection. Eventually she grabs his hand and places it between her legs. Dipper’s stunned by her sudden boldness.

Is this really his sister?  The same person who just last night was having difficulty just staring at him while naked, is now making the next move?

His mind is pulled out from its concerns as a desperate whimper and a bucking of her hips begs him for more. Dipper could think about this all later. For now he has a job to do. Refocusing he runs his fingers back and forth over her panties. He notices how wet she has gotten just feeling the outside. He could hardly believe any of this was his doing.

As he continues to caress her moistened sex, he breaks the kiss and moves to her neck, laying a series of kisses on her pulse, sending shivers through her body. He feels her arm move and reach down to grab hold of his manhood. It breaks his concentration enough to where he has to look up and see her face and stare into her eyes.

Eyes glazed over with lust and desperation, she’s practically begging for more of him.

“Dipper? I think I'm ready for it now,” she moans in a sultry voice.

As soon as he nods, she shifts her body. Grabbing his shoulders, she pins him to the bed to straddle him. Eyes now wide and shaken from the euphoric haze that clouded his mind earlier.

‘Okay, seriously. Where did all this come from?”

His mind is plunged into the haze again as she rocks her hips, gliding herself over his bulge. Even through two layers of cloth, he can tell how wet she had become. She continues rubbing herself along his clothed shaft. She pants and moans with pleasure. Every so often she would dip down and kiss along his neck and ear shuddering out inaudible words to him. After teasing him enough, she lifts her head to stare into his eyes. Even through the fog in his head, he can see the hunger she has for him. Before he could say anything about it, she plants such a passionate kiss to him that it put all they had shared to shame. Her kiss gives off a white hot intensity and he couldn’t believe it. Particularly the fact that he's the one receiving it.

She lifts herself up enough to break the kiss, “Are you ready, Dipper?”

“Y-yeah,” is all he can let out. He used to be the stable one between the two of them during these newly found sensual sessions, but now it's her turn, and he’s just fine with that. He wants her to be more comfortable with all of this after all, and it seems like she's more so than expected.

Mabel moves herself down, positioning herself on his thighs. She reaches over to the condoms and tears one of the squares off. She lifts herself enough to pull down her thong revealing to Dipper her moist slit. As soon as she’s done she focuses on him, removing his plaid boxers in one felled swoop letting his cock finally stand at full attention.

The look of admiration in her eyes sends Dipper’s heart into high gear, clearly visible with how his member twitches. Removing the latex sheath from it’s package, she grasps his member with her hand, giving it a few light strokes to tease him. It works well as he moans in surprise, anguish, and pleasure. Satisfied with her deed, she places the ring of rubber to his head and rolls it down the shaft. How the hell she learned to do it so smoothly would be added to is piling list of questions. For now he doesn't dare interrupt her flow.

She positions herself above his shaft once more, grabbing it to better guide it into her. Before she lowers herself, she gives a nod to Dipper who nods back. With that, she begins her slow descent, inching every bit of him into her. It may have been their third time, but it felt just as amazing as the first.

As she manages to slide all the way to meet his pelvis, she grinds into him, feeling him reach the deepest parts of her from this new angle. It’s different for him not having the control like before. Perhaps it was for the best though, letting his sister find her rhythm since he already found his. Especially when she hits the right spot and cries out his name, he has no complaints about being bottom this time.

She goes through varying motions and readjusts herself while on top of him. From gyrating her hips while sitting upright to getting close to him and lifting herself up and down on his shaft while kissing him all over. He returns the favor the best he can by reaching up and massaging her breasts or sucking upon them given the opportunity. Whatever he thought he could do best and provide her more pleasure.

Eventually they settle into a rhythm that works best for both of them. Mabel riding Dipper with gentle thrusts on his part to reach the right spots. All while he grabs her backside, helping her in the motions while still letting her keep control.  Seeing her in this position, having this much control over him, drove him all the more wild.

After a few more minutes of pleasure, Dipper felt the coil in his core tighten as Mabel’s schlick walls begin to grip more around him, feeding into his pleasure. He isn't going to last much longer.

“M-Mabel, I’m,” he groans through labored breaths, “I’m not going to last much longer.”

With breaths equally as sparse, “It’s okay, Dipper. Just give it to me. Don’t hold back.”

With those words uttered, in the way she did, opened the floodgates for him. He picked up the pace, tightened his grip, and mustered all the strength he had left to thrust into her. Mabel must have had the same thoughts as she pushed into his shoulders more, and ground her hips into his to meet his motions at full force. He would say that if they were having a competition, she was winning.

His suspicions were right as she bucks her hips desperately, repeating his name and cursing between her moans. That did it for him as he gives one final thrust lifting them both off the bed. The force sends her forward, taking advantage of it she leans in for a last passionate kiss as she hums her moans into his mouth. The tight coil finally lets loose.

As he cums, he holds her tightly to him, not wanting to let go.  She continues to buck her hips onto him as to squeeze every last bit out. It didn’t matter as they were protected, but he appreciates the motions, giving him a pleasure that he didn’t experience the other times given his immediate removal from her nethers.

‘Perhaps I can hand over the reigns more often to her,’

The room was filled with sounds of heavy breaths and a mist of pure euphoria. Mabel dismounts her brother slowly, his once turgid phallus gradually growing flaccid. She lays at his side, propped up on her shoulder looking down upon him, a smug grin on her face.

“So?” She asks

“So?” He replies, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“What did you think of that?”

“It was amazing Mabel. Like, I have no idea where all that came from.”

“I can ask you the same with where you learned any of what you did? I do know, however where you came from.” she says reaching down to stroke the underside of his member, now laying against his stomach. He shudders with how sensitive he is now and proceeds to swat her hand away. She giggles at his reaction and leans in to kiss his cheek to apologize.

“Sorry Dip-dop, but I have to maintain whole Alpha Twin title.”

“Come on, Mabel we’ve been over this a thousand times. You’re only 5 minutes older than me,” he shifts his eyes away from her, “But if that’s what you do, then I don’t mind you being the Alpha Twin more often.”

“But of course. Always happy to assert my role,” She leans down to peck him on the lips and readjusts herself to cuddle into him again. He wasn’t expecting to cuddle so much for it just being about the sex. He didn’t mind though. Now it was just closer than usual twin time.

After about 20 minutes of cuddling, talking about random stuff, and an impromptu naked tickle battle, the twins decide to get dressed and move down stairs to work on homework. They set themselves up with drinks, snacks, and order a pizza as they crank through their class work. However, upon picking up his backpack Dipper notices the game that Jared lent him, and subsequently the conversation that they had.

“Oh, yeah. Hey, Mabel. I got something to talk to you about.”

“What up, Bro-migo?”

“Well, I was talking to Jared today and he was asking me about you and your whole bad date thing.”

“Yeah? What did he want to know?”

“Just about how it went and if your availability changed.”

“Oh? What did you say?”

“Just that after all that stuff last night you weren’t looking for anything right now.”

“After all that stuff, huh? Wow, Dip, didn’t think you had it in you to tell someone else of our sexy-times.”

“What?! Wait… no, I meant…”

“Relax bro-bro. Just messing with you. I know you wouldn’t tell anyone. But thanks for telling him that.”

“Well that wasn’t all actually.”

“Oh?”

“Well, he also asked when the time came, when you were ready to date again, if it was alright with me if he dated you. Being your brother in all, I guess he wanted permission. And I told him it was okay.”

“Wow, that was old fashioned. So, you are okay with letting me date again with all this?”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, I said yes so that I wouldn’t come off as possessive or anything. Don’t need people thinking I want my sister all to myself all of a sudden. But also, we agreed on the fact that either of us could end this for any reason, and that includes dating. So if you ever want to date again, I won’t hold you back.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet Dipper.” With that she went up to him for a hug and kiss, “Thanks for looking out for me. As far as I can see it I won’t be dating for a bit now that we have this whole no fuss, no muss thing. It's so much easier than actual dating.”

“No problem, Mabel. Just figured you should know is all,” he rubs the back of his neck, “Welp, let’s knock out this homework.”

After finishing their work, the pizza guy arrives with their food and they resumed normal twin time.

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

The next day at school Dipper runs into Jared again at the library during  his free period.

“Hey, Dipper,” he hears Jared speak and looks up from his book just in time to see him walking up.

“Hey, what's up?”

Jared tosses his book bag to the floor and sits in the chair next to his, “Did you get to play that video game I gave you yesterday?”

‘Oh, uh, no. I was busy,” he taps his fingers against the table.

“Okay. Doing what?”

‘My sister.’

No, he definitely couldn't say that, “Uhhhhhh… Well you know just homework and stuff. Plus hanging out with Mabel. She is always very insistent on us spending time together, you know. Graduation soon and all that jazz.”

“Gotcha, gotcha. Maybe I can come over tonight and we can hang out and play it. Maybe your sister won’t mind. After all she can’t hog all of you, right?”

“Um, I’ll ask. I’m sure she will be cool with it.”

Dipper pulls out his phone and sends Mabel a text message. She responds in kind with a m yes and a series of cute emojis. She also sends him a text of a winky face, peach, and banana and the note ‘Another time then.’ He blushes and shifts in his seat before deleting it and putting his phone away.

“She says it’s cool.”

“Awesome, can’t wait to see your reaction to the game.”

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

After getting back to his house, Dipper shows Jared around and up to his room with his game system. They settle in and pop the game in. Dipper has to admit that he's definitely amazed by how well the game plays compared to what he was expecting. The hype was real.

“Hey, Dip,” Jared uses his controller to pause the game and it catches Dipper's attention, “Mind if I get a soda from the kitchen?”

“Sure, no problem. ”

Dipper keeps playing and upon reaching a point where he can stop, he realizes Jared has been gone for a bit longer than expected. He exits out to the home screen and gets up to check on him.

Going down stairs he hears a little bit of chit chat going on. Jared and Mabel are the only ones home by his guess, so he figures it’s them. He hears a laugh that was unmistakably Mabel’s. However, her laugh that usually brings him such joy, this time brings a small lurch in his stomach. Was it because it was brought on by someone else? It shouldn’t be that way. It was still Mabel after all, his sister. And it wasn’t like she was his. So why was he feeling this way?

[ryouverua]

Trial 6 -  ”hello, world!” (6)

Time to pick up the fallen torch.

Trial: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

K.... K1-b0? This - this must be you, right?

I’ve been waiting for this moment since the beginning of the chapter 3 trial! Finally, the explanation I’ve been craving! If - if the inner voice is coming into play now - it might actually be a benevolent force, right? Maybe? At this point we just need something to keep us moving forward...

Yes!!!

..... Oops.

“And please choose the right answer this time.”

Okay okay, jeez -

K1... K1-b0? W-Why not - ?

...... remedy the situation. Not save... but fix...???

Voices??? It’s plural now? Does that include me, the player?

K1-b0! Your moment has finally come, with no more lasers or explosions required! hopefully

WAIT

WE’RE OFFICIALLY IN HIS POV NOW???

This is incredibly late game for a protagonist switch b-but okay! also oh god what does that say about Sweetcheeks’s condition -

I’m glad we haven’t completely lost Shuichi. ): He really does look like he’s not with us, though. How can we help him? I joke about how much I love this sprite, but it’s awful seeing him like this.

But apparently Shuichi’s been relegated to the sidelines entirely now, because K1-b0 is entirely focused on Jun - Tsumugi. Oh boy, I almost started thinking of her as Junko. I will not let her hide behind her characters, damn it!

Yes! Yes, exactly! She can’t have it both ways!

YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO BE ANNOYED YOU APPARENTLY WROTE HIM TO BE THIS WAY!!!

Ooh? Yeah, the text is changing at the bottom...

U U H   I’M SORRY YOU CAN’T JUST DROP A BOMB LIKE THAT SO ABRUPTLY -

TSUMUGI LET HIM HAVE HIS COOL MOMENT

HE LITERALLY JUST GOT HIS MOMENT IN THE SUN DON’T JUST UNDERCUT HIM OUT OF NOWHERE 

no seriously she didn’t even give him a chance to build up momentum

The way she’s able to just dismiss him so casually like that, just completely trivializing him, is absolutely brutal. also what plotline lol -

I-I mean I’m joking, he has had a ‘coming to terms with his status as a robot amongst humans and accepting himself’ plotline! Sorta! It’s just been pretty.... well, behind the scenes. I just wished we got to see more of you and Miu together at the very least.

Wait -

He’s been the actual audience’s surrogate? That.... that means his ahoge....... really is the connection to the outside... but also, the only thing holding him back from going kamikaze??? It’s basically an outside force that’s been suppressing his free will?

Oh shit... is that why the game switched us to this POV, for that reveal? Well-damn-played, DRV3!

.....

wow this is getting worse and worse, huh

ALSO OH NO WAY TO SMASH HIS FRAGILE SELF-ESTEEM INTO PIECES

“You know all those hi~lar~ious asides everyone had at your expense about you being no more important than your average kitchen appliance? Guess what - ! They were r i g h t!”

Somehow I wonder if it would have been better if it was the mastermind’s will. At least it would assign him some sense of importance, even if that stinging feeling of betraying his friends would be there. At least he wouldn’t literally just be the subject of some nameless audiences’ whims - as it is, he’s basically been relegated to the status of ‘plaything’.

From Chapter 3 onward, when I was thinking about it, I wasn’t sure originally if I should consider it a force for good or evil - it seemed to be generally benevolent and since he didn’t take any actions against anyone, it was generally okay for me to discard it as an extension of ‘a mastermind whose goal was for everyone to be at odds with each other/kill each other’. He was always one of the most willing to cooperate with the others, too! I even considered if any of his actions had indirectly caused tension or murder, and I couldn’t find any instances where he did. But if he’s been at the beck and call of a third party, who’s been directing him for the sake of entertainment? Well, that’s a completely different story. In that context... everything makes... a lot more sense...

.... Except for his Chapter 5 actions??? He nearly got Shuichi to take him out twice??

Wait, actually - oh, this does change how I might look at him from this point on. How often would he consult the voice? Do the decisions override his own every time? Does that mean he can only make a move at the behest of the audience????

THE WAY HE PUT IT IS EVEN MORE DEMEANING

fhgh I guess that answers one of my questions

THE GIMMICK....

every production buzzword thrown in makes my stomach drop more

S-Shit the last time he had his ‘short-circuiting’ sprite was when Kokichi did his mastermind reveal in tandem with the ‘outside world’ reveal - D:

A.... Are you trying to make them feel bad for you, because I don’t think it’s working -

omg I just realized there would totally be twitter threads and reddit posts and stuff dedicated to this, and I’m trying to imagine the rage!posts that would swarm them as users ran to the internet to bitch about how ‘the robot totally isn’t responding to us anymore!’ and ‘I bet they’re rigging it so the ending goes the way they want! What a cop out ending!’ and hell, one of those more topical ‘let 👏 us 👏 control 👏 the 👏 robot 👏 you 👏 cowards 👏’

K1-B0 WAS THE CAMERA?!?!

..................................

glances at my computer monitor, then back here

ahahaha I am officially part of the outside world!mastermind tomfoolery oh god I’m so sorry everyone

Wait.... wait. Wait! So the Nanokumas’ footage is for the mastermind’s exclusive use? Really?

I... I was under the impression that if this audience was watching everyone, they’d have access to everything....

Then how different would this all look from only K1-b0′s eyes?! Did he know about Kaito’s training, for example? About Kaede and Shuichi’s practical inseparability in the first chapter? Wow, how different would this entire thing look from K1-b0′s exclusive POV?

I’m sorry what?

okay okay she’s going off on a despair rant which is - y’know, great, you do you and whatever - but I think it just turned my brain off a little bit. Like I just got catapulted back to DR1.

A-Are we really turning back to the whole ‘Junko persona’ idea? That she took on that role specifically, and by taking on the role as ‘Junko Enoshima’ she feels obligated to follow it through to the end? B-But...... but??? For a show??? That’s... no, that can’t be right, that’s weird, that’s stupid, that can’t be right....

You gotta admire her dedication to the craft I-I MEAN NO

WHAT THE HELL TSUMUGI

THAT IS NOT A GOOD ENOUGH MOTIVE

WHAT THE HELL IS THAT KIND OF REASON

SHUT THE FUCK UP KOMAEDA AND DON’T LOOK SO HAPPY ABOUT THIS oh that actually felt pretty good

i say this as someone whose previous favourite was komaeda it was very love/hate don’t @ me

Oh hey, the opening music is on! Is this the big turnabout we’ve been waiting for? It’s.... so.... weird that it’s coming from K1b0 now? Also wasn’t this sort of the plot of the DR3 anime via the Ultimate Animator or -

I??? I guess??? Weren’t they all just screaming DESPAIR at Shuichi a minute ago??? Isn’t it their comments on the screen???

Inspirational and all but -

I’m GoINg to cHOkE anD DiE

ULTIMATE HOPE ROBOT

FJKGHSDKLFJ

WHAT ARE YOU KIDDING ME

oh shit well there’s text saying Hope now so I guess something has changed out there

I believe it’s called déjà vu.

No seriously, am I hallucinating? Is this not what led to the whole final vote in DR1 or am I going crazy? Is this... what is.... happening........???? And Shuichi has just completely BSoDed in the corner??? Like, is he disassociating right now? Where is he?

It’s interesting that she looks happy here compared to angry Junko. She looked excited earlier when K1-b0 challenged her too (her new jazz-hands!sprite, lol) too, and her voice is on the brink of. Uh. I’m just going to say it’s getting very.... passionate. Is she just that confident or...?

Oh hey their sprites mirror each other. Parallels. :D

I like how Tsumugi is having Makoto say this part ~

But this brings up a good question... how exactly is this so-called final battle going to work? If they can’t fight for the right to leave, then what can they do?

alksdfj Himiko and Maki have also been so quiet this so time - I almost forgot they were there. K1-b0 and Tsumugi are basically the only ones doing the talking and between all the cosplays it feels like there are way more people here than there actually are - which is the point, I think? It really adds to that oppressive, ‘everyone is against you four’ atmosphere.

“- DETAILS DETAILS anyway it’s happening I don’t really care, now about that special vote ~”

This -

This is literally DR1?!?!

This.... this is strange. There has to be incentive to vote one way or the other. Is she going to tie ‘vote for K1-b0’ and ‘you’ll be forced into a world where you can’t/shouldn’t exist’ together vs ‘Vote for Tsumugi′ and ‘stay inside forever’? That’s.... what happened in the others, right?

Shuichi, mentally clocked out but occasionally checking back in so he doesn’t miss anything important: Wow this is absolute bullshit

Yeah... there’s no way they weren’t going to find a way to tempt you to vote for K1-b0. Okay, lay it on us.

YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE THEM KEEP GOING?!?!

“Ugh why did I let myself get lured back into the conversation by my bitchin’ ‘Lazy Parallel World’ theme song I’m going to mentally check out again because everything hurts and I want to die -”

There.... there aren’t....??

THAT’S NOT ENCOURAGING omg I missed that catchphrase it always made me laugh

I??? I don’t know if I can trust that??? If you can literally make flashback lights to override their old memories - if you can force it on them, whether they’re willing or not - if you can delete the last 24 hours, you could make them do something again??? T-Though if Tsumugi is gone... but then again, there’s a whole team of people behind this apparently! Her being gone means nothing!

“So you cannot leave this place.” Is it? Is it literally, physically impossible to leave this place? That’s the real question. the impossible is possible all you gotta do is make it so... s o b

HOW EVIL CAN YOU GET

HOW COULD YOU NOT EVEN GIVE THEM A POSSIBILITY OF RETURNING TO THEIR ORIGINAL SELVES

WHY WOULD ANYONE MAKE SOMETHING LIKE THAT WHY WOULD THAT BE OKAY FOR A PUBLICLY TELEVISED TV SHOW

For that matter this whole damn series sounds like a snuff film, if actually people are involved. Dear lord, even if they are actually adults - and I desperately hope that if this is true, that the outside world is actually like this, and watches this for fun, then they have a ‘18+’ rule for auditions (actually considering the love hotel exists they must be at least 18 ggh) - even the survivors.... have been killed, in a sense. Their previous selves have been killed. They were dead the moment they entered the world...

So either 16 people consented to ‘dying’ in an existential sense as well as possibly a physical sense, or 16 people were kidnapped and ‘killed’ for the entertainment of the world. I.... I actually... do at least believe, no matter what, that there is a depraved audience viewing this from somewhere. There’s no way there isn’t - this feedback via comments, the scene with that kid Makoto watching this at the beginning of this chapter - those are true. And they were more than okay with the idea of these people dying for their entertainment, even the so-called winners.

You can only create new identities, not recover them... I, I dunno. Somehow that’s so much more soul-crushing than a lot of the other things that have come up this trial.

t-the way his voice is breaking skdlfjgh -

W HA T!?

WHAT THE FU -

WHY?! WHY?! WHY MUST IT ONLY BE TWO, EVERY TIME?! WHY HAVE YOU BEEN SO DETERMINED TO ONLY HAVE TWO PEOPLE SURVIVE TO THE END?!

H.... How the hell.... are they supposed to do that?! Is that how you’re doing it?! Putting the burden of the decision on them, in order to break them?!

H-HE LITERALLY SOUNDS LIKE HE’S GOING TO BREAK DOWN SOBBING ANY SECOND I CAN’T TAKE MUCH MORE OF THIS

She is really trying to push that point, huh... but there it is. They can escape to the ‘outside world’. That is a cold comfort at this point, but...

They...... I don’t. I don’t know. I wouldn’t be able to do this - look my classmates in the eyes and condemn them. I guess this somehow managed to be worse than DR1.

K1-B0 NO

fml of course the only potential option would be students choosing self-sacrifice

I... I’m glad Shuichi is showing concern. I’ve noticed it a few times, how finally in the last chapter or so that he’s been observant of K1-b0′s well-being where the others haven’t been.

But I’m getting distracted - that’s not the point! FML I know he’s been shown those extremist tendencies towards the vague ideal of hope and destroying the despair, I - between this and the ‘destroying the school’ rampage he went on - what is he aiming for? You’re saying that you’re trying to defeat despair, but what is that? Is hope just the opposite of despair? Is despair just whatever Tsumugi says it is, so we’re immediately opposed to it, as the representatives of hope? Are you fighting for them to escape? Why is everyone surviving together ‘living despairful lives’ if Tsumugi is gone and they aren’t trying to kill each other anymore? What makes it that way? Why is this considered ‘defeating despair’? What does that even mean?

I... I guess K1-b0 would be punished anyway if they voted for him, but.... still....

Ugh, I get it. I get that kibou is hope, and that K1-b0 is therefore hope, and that we’re fighting for him to win or... something.... uhghghgh

DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE SHUICHI

This was such an uncomfortable parade of ~ideal waifus~ sdlkfjsdf especially when we were getting into the ‘super tiny/cute’ territory because I have absolutely no interest in that whatsoever also I accidentally deleted Mahiru’s cameo sorry -

.... I wonder if this would’ve been more effective if I was the target audience for this? Either way, ending on Junko was still an offsetting choice, right? Right??

..........

Wait for that matter, who was this aimed for? Who out of Maki, Himiko or Shuichi would have fallen for that? Even if you believe that Maki or Himiko have an interest in women, nothing about the types they showed or may have shown interest in the game (Maki @  Kaito, Himiko @ Angie, Tenko and hell, even Kokichi) would lend them to the girls Tsumugi just cosplayed as? And even Shuichi’s strongest interest were in Kaede and Kaito - so who is Tsumugi trying to appeal to here?!

Oh shit we’re going into a mass panic debate! Okay, okay okay - !

.... Oh. Oh boy, I have to shoot down every mention of despair. Uh, okay -

OMFG I missed the screenshot but Monokuma started shilling their merch and their website I cannot even deal with how they’ll occasionally devolve into corporate shilling it’s so good -

But!!! We’ve got better things to do than get caught up in Monokuma’s commercializing of the class trial!

MAKI

NO MAKI WHY

ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE UP FOR LAST CHAPTER IS THAT WHAT’S HAPPENING RIGHT NOW

omg

are you telling me

you’re not even doing this out of guilt

it

it’s spite

you’re doing this out of spite

you’re sacrificing yourself purely ou t of spite

MAKI HOW MANY TIMES ARE YOU GOING TO MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE MAKI, AGAIN??? AGAIN?!?!?!”

“LET ME KILL SOMEONE SAIHARA IT’S MY DAMN TALENT FFS -”

DOES THIS SCREENSHOT SAY ‘SHUICHI LOOKS YUMMY <3′ YOU’RE RUINING THE MOMENT

okay I’m not going to feel right until I write down the new set of comments

Makiiii

my darling assassin T_T

Hope lives on!

Shuichi looks yummy <3

Well said!

Another hope loop?

Hope is contagious!

Two steps forward...

Don’t lose to despair!

Don’t tempt Maki’s fate...

That’s my Maki.

Hope must go on!

Maki, darling...

;_; I’m gonna cry...

Hope vs despair!

one vote for Keebo!

tfw you’re in despair

ALL OF THESE TEARS

Assassiiiiiiiin

I am living for these comments and I would have killed to see the comments for the Chapter 5 trial - hell, the Chapter 4 trial. that’s what let’s plays and YT comments are for I suppose -

tbh I think if that one that keeps lusting after Shuichi comes to help we’re going to need a restraining order

o

o-oh?!

AAAAAAH

NO DON’T

MAKE ME FIGHT HIM

MY ACTUAL SOUL BRO

is............... Is that -

Clair de Lune playing......?!

[styomi]

Fifteen study dates | 15-day prompt challenge | Sweet Pea/OC | Day 13

AN: These are so close to the finish line… I’m sad to see them end :’) I hope that everyone enjoyed them as much as I enjoyed writing them :D

Info:

Fandom: Riverdale Pairing: Sweet Pea/OC Rating: T Word count: 1510 Chapter count: 13/15

                                    Debate? Apparently, a turn-on

Riverdale High was very different from South High. To begin with, the meticulous campus and the perks of a more affluent neighborhood area’s school were numerous. Everything worked, for once, much to Sweet Pea’s shock. He could go to the bathroom in between classes without worrying about flooding the whole floor. Also, he didn’t have to pack lunch but could get something from the nearby stores, vending machines or even a small eatery down the road. It wasn’t that expensive either. He loved computer lab now, as he could actually use a proper, working PC instead of carrying his own beat-up laptop to school and guarding it with his life for the whole day. There was a basketball team, too. A proper, not streetball, but basketball team. They actually competed, too. He’d immediately signed up for it.

But, with all the perks came a certain level of work you were required to do in order to pass classes. There was no more storming off when he got bad news about something. There was no more fighting in the hallway. There was no more tagging his locker. There were no more Serpents, Ghoulies and the hazy in-between. There were school uniforms and preppy, expensive clothes. Sweet Pea hated the uniforms with passion. They’d forced him into a pair of waist-high pants and a turtleneck to cover his Serpent tattoo. He loathed the uniforms. Yet, unlike Fangs, he had rolled over like a good boy and worn the ugly thing to class, despite the humiliation.

Ruby had easily fit in, much to his annoyance. She’d pulled out a peppy outfit, clearly bought at the mall and not the dollar store, and worn it like she was completely at home. The girl had noticed his discomfort with the idea of wearing a uniform, though. So, she’d suggested an idea he hadn’t thought would work. Yet, Sweet Pea was willing to try anything, especially if it could both get rid of the ugly uniforms and get him a better grade. With the help of the petite girl, he’d volunteered for the debate Riverdale afterschool club. The topic was student-suggested and would be presented in front of the students and staff alike. They had chosen the question of school uniforms being a good or bad idea. Or, as the official title went - Should uniforms in schools be abandoned?

“I’ve got five points, but I can’t think of any more,” Sweet Pea grumbled as he and Ruby sat in the student lounge of Riverdale High, tossing his notebook at the girl. She caught it without looking up from her phone. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I don’t know how to argue these.”

“Alright,” Ruby finally looked up from her phone and her eyes met his. “I’ll do the pro-arguments. Let’s give it a go,” she tossed his notebook back and Sweet Pea opened it on his lap, ready to begin. “The first question is usually something along the lines of ‘do school uniforms create a sense of belonging somewhere’?” Sweet Pea glanced down at his notebook, seeing that he hadn’t touched on that topic. He would have to wing it.

“No, not really,” he told the girl and Ruby raised her eyebrows, motioning with her hands for him to continue. “School uniforms are a way to stifle all originality regarding style and preferences of the students,” Ruby nodded and waited. Sweet Pea groaned a bit and then realized that he should elaborate even further. “Choices are important, especially for teenagers. If we can’t be allowed to choose something as small as what to wear, we’re essentially being told to forget our preferences and originality later in life. In addition to that, teenage years are the time when building one’s personality happens. Having the freedom to choose what to wear helps a person find their own self and identify with similar people.” Ruby smiled at him.

“In my opinion, school uniforms are a good idea when it comes to creating a sense of belonging, especially with the new students coming from Southside High,” Ruby countered, making Sweet Pea open his mouth to reply. But, she put up a finger and didn’t let him. “Wearing the same uniform as everyone, no matter which side of the tracks they come from would help students feel like one. It would create a sense of belonging and help them get along better, without discriminating against the newcomers from Southside High. In the end, originality is still a choice, as uniforms can be decorated freely as long as the dress code is being respected,” then, the girl looked at him pointedly. “You’re not allowed to interrupt during the debate,” Sweet Pea tried to speak again, but Ruby cut him off. “Now, the next question is if school uniforms can help scrap the social inequalities.”

“Wait, wait,” Sweet Pea put his hands up, stopping her. “Don’t I get a chance to reply? A rebuttal, or something?” his face lit up and the biker smirked at the petite girl. “Redirect, Your Honor!” That sentence got a bit of laughter running throughout the crowd which had steadily been gathering around them.

“This isn’t a court, sasquatch. But, sure, have at it.” Ruby shook her head and motioned for him to continue.

“If the aim of school uniforms is to level the playing field, so to speak, and create a sense of belonging, why are only the Southside students being asked to wear them?” Ruby nodded to him furiously.

“That! That’s a point which you should definitely be making within your argument,” she smiled at him brightly and Sweet Pea felt his face heat up at the praise. “Write that down,” Ruby waited for him to do so and then asked the next question again when he looked up. “So, about uniforms helping with social inequalities?”

“Is that about gang paraphernalia?” Sweet Pea asked, frowning.

“It can be,” Ruby shrugged. “For example, an argument against school uniform could be that, while it may help exterminate bullying against students with lower income and cheaper clothing, it will also increase a ‘gang state of mind’,” when she saw him frowning, Ruby elaborated. “School uniforms create a larger ‘gang’, so to speak,” her fingers quoted the word. “By having a uniform, there is a rivalry being created with other schools. In essence, while it may not be the Serpents or the Ghoulies, it’s still a ‘gang’.”

“Oh, I see,” Sweet Pea wrote down the basic points and then looked back up at the girl. “What about the counter?”

“School uniforms would stop the rich from competing against each other and bullying the less fortunate,” She shrugged again and Sweet Pea huffed at her wording. Ruby instantly glared at him. “Don’t you huff at me! You’re going to be called out as less fortunate up there, so be ready for it.”

“Alright, alright. Anger is going to be in check,” when she raised her eyebrow Sweet Pea groaned. “I promise to do my best.”

“Okay, next question could be whether school uniforms are practical or not.” At that, the tall biker’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Oh, let me get started,” he proudly puffed out his chest and grabbed his notebook. The onlookers laughed, hearing Sweet Pea begin to list off a number of reasons why uniforms weren’t comfortable or practical. He started with the quality of clothing and ended with religious reasons, highlighting the Muslim tradition of girls having to cover their skin, which the uniforms didn’t accommodate. In the end, their mock debate turned more into an actual battle, rather than Ruby explaining each question and making suggestions regarding arguments Sweet Pea could make. The crowd around them changed, students coming and going, but, there was a steady group of about a dozen people applauding whenever one of them one-upped the other. In the end, Ruby stopped Sweet Pea from talking and turned to the onlookers.

“So, what do you say, jury?” she asked. “All those in favor of school uniforms being introduced to Riverdale High?” a couple of hands rose. “All those in favor of having a dress code only?” a majority of the students put their hands up. “Well, Sweet Pea, looks like you’ve just won your mock debate.” The tall biker stood, making a show out of bowing to the crowd which applauded. Then, he turned to Ruby and took her hand, making her get up and get pulled into the hallway, scrambling to keep his notebook in her hands, along with her bag and phone. Sweet Pea didn’t stop until they reached the boys’ bathroom, which he tugged Ruby into and closed the door, locking it by sliding a piece of wood under the frame.

“Have I mentioned how hot you are when you’re arguing debate?” The tall biker turned to the girl, the look in his eyes making her brain short-circuit.

“Ah, um, no?” She stuttered out.

“Insanely hot.” And Sweet Pea kissed her against the tiles of the bathroom, his notebook and her bag falling to the floor.

And, I am happy to give you guys this piece of smut and sexual tension xD I hope you enjoyed!

Taglist:  @enticinghell @projectcampbell @sweetscamille @xoxodege @mlvgren @this-is-the-way-it-ends 

You can find the previous parts here: Day 1: A way to memorize Day 2: How to prepare for a study date (?) like a proper gentleman Day 3:  With proper motivation, anything is possible Day 4:  PG13 PDA sugar can be good motivation Day 5: Autumn time is picnic time Day 6: It’s best when we can compete Day 7:  Master of procrastination and his jailer Day 8: Take me anywhere, everywhere, away from here Day 9:  Dirty French for beginners   Day 10:  I need… sleep?… no, you… Day 11:  Delirium   Day 12: Stay still for me   Day 14: Two-seater and Chinese   Day 15:  Unintentional intentions  

Now, I’m gonna need a show of hands, as well, my jury: Send me in an ask, anon if you want, if you’d like another set of drabbles about these two or a longer story about them. Cheers!

[warblerswickedwords]

7 Undeniable Signs You’re INCREDIBLE In Bed by warblerswickedwords

Summary: The one where Kurt tries to prove himself. Inspired by a list I found in Women's Health Magazine.

Rated NC-17, 3,500+ words. Posted as a multi-chapter fic on AO3. 

                                                          ...

Kurt has got to stop listening to Rachel.

It’s not an easy task, considering she’s one of his closest friends and they may be living together soon, but he should try to tune her out. Hell, he did it for most of sophomore year, and the hustle of New York City will only aid him.

Right now he and Mercedes are having a sleepover- we’ll only get so many more weekends together Kurt! She pleaded - and they’re sprawled across Mercedes bed with a plethora of magazines.

“I know you love to workout but Women’s Health? Really?” Mercedes asks, flipping through the sleek pages. Kurt laughs, giving her a pointed I told you so look.

“While I admire you acknowledging my rigorous workout routine Mercedes, there really is a larger benefit to these researched articles as opposed to the trash in Teen Vogue or Cosmopolitan,” Rachel says all in one breath.

“And at least you didn’t put her in charge of food,” Kurt adds.

Mercedes snorts, half at his comment and half at the article opened on her lap. “You've got to be kidding me.”

Rachel plucks the magazine from her and flips from “A Three-Minute Workout to Burn Belly Fat” to “5 Types of Orgasms Every Woman Should Have In Her Life”.

“Okay…” Mercedes starts. “This isn't really anything I need.”

“Are you sure?” Rachel prods. “Because I'm sure Sam, or any man in Los Angeles would appreciate-”

“I'm gonna stop you right there,” she says, cutting her off. “I'll let you two,” she adds a wink in Kurt’s direction, “Have at these. I'm getting more popcorn.”

“Soooo Kurt,” Rachel says, once Mercedes leaves the room and she's done giggling. “You and Blaine?”

“As if you don't already know,” Kurt objects, attempting to shut her down. He's already told her all (or at least the vaguest description possible) of what they're doing. Rachel on the other hand, has offered and delivered many unwanted details about her and Finn.

“I'm just saying, give it a shot,” she slides the magazine towards him and opens to a page that she’s already dog-eared.

Kurt rolls his eyes but places it to his side anyway to appease her.

•••

When Kurt comes back home the next afternoon, his skin feel rejuvenated from the homemade face mask Mercedes doctored up last night. Regardless, he's bored and Blaine had sent him a flirty text saying he'd miss him while he's out with his mom at a charity luncheon. After flipping though the current and last month issue of Vogue he decides to go through the Women's Health that Rachel gave him- mostly so he has something to do with Chicago on in the background- until he gets to the page that Rachel has marked and he makes the regretful decision of letting his mind wander.

To Rachel: How accurate is this (trashy) “health” magazine?

To Kurt: Test it and find out ;)

•••

He clenches his hands and feet 

Kurt wasn't sure how he was going to go about this. His first thought was 69ing, but that could easily be a strain on his flexibility and is way kinkier than anything they've done so far, he decides he’ll take the riskier route and make up his plan as he goes along.

“Lie down,” he whispers into Blaine's ear from where he's been kissing his neck the past few minutes.

The handful of times they've done this- or at least, the few times Kurt’s been confident enough to -it's always been with one of them sitting at the edge of the bed or standing while the other kneels. And as hot as is it, Kurt has been too occupied to notice anything else except Blaine’s cock and his face when he comes and his-

“So...?” Blaine asks, attempting to get his attention.

“Oh, sorry,” Kurt says, leaning down from where he's straddling Blaine to give him a quick kiss.

He brings his hands up to Blaine’s shirt, unbuttoning downwards and kissing down his chest, smiling at the instinctive way Blaine’s stomach quivers and caves slightly as Kurt sucks kisses below his navel.

“Can I?” He asks, trying to swiftly undo Blaine’s belt after he nods silently.

Remembering how good it felt when Blaine had done it to him last time, he licks a slow stripe up Blaine’s cock, which earns him a low groan.

Kurt can feel his hands shaking a bit as he reaches up to push down on Blaine's hips, knowing how excessive he can get and he lowers his mouth down and gently sucks at the head.

“Kurt,” Blaine whispers, trying to hold back from jerking upwards (and occasionally failing). Kurt sighs in retaliation, humming as he sinks down further. “God- missed this…”

And Kurt hums in agreement. It's been over a week since they've had time to do anything, and almost a month since they’ve gotten to draw things out this slow. He takes Blaine's hands from his face and places them in his hair, smiling at Blaine's hesitation and then immediate grip, he knows it not something he lets him do often.

Even though he’s on an unofficial mission, Kurt can't help but feel so content in the moment. He loves making his boyfriend feel good, and he hopes that being close to Blaine makes him feel as good as he makes him feel all the time.

Blaine is babbling nonsense above him, a slow string of gibberish and the occasional “yes” and “love you”.

It's been a few minutes and Kurt’s jaw is starting to ache, lack of practice he guesses, when Blaine starts pulling roughly at his hair.

“Getting a little excited there,” Kurt says, pulling his mouth off with a wet pop.

“Fuck,” Blaine says. “Sorry, I’m just- close,” he says, slightly out of breath.

Kurt just huffs out a small laugh and gives the head of Blaine’s cock a kitten lick before jerking him off, his own cock hardening from the slick feel from his spit sliding against Blaine’s skin.

He sits back on his haunches as he watches Blaine’s muscles tense, small broken uh uhs coming from his parted lips. Typically, Kurt would lean forward, open his mouth as he finishes, but he moves his eyes from Blaine’s scrunched face down to his rapidly rising and falling chest, and there’s a small leap in his chest as he eyes the slight creases in the sheet from Blaine’s clenched hands.

Kurt is so focused on theses motions- he's so close to Blaine he can feel his flexing toes against his calf- he doesn't even notice Blaine tugging at his belt.

“God,” Blaine whispers, tugging him down. “You’re so good at that. Let me-please-”

Kurt grins and doesn't stop him.

2. He Wants To Do It Again

The minute his dad and Carole shut the door, Kurt says nothing.

It’s not like he’s expecting Blaine to pounce on him or anything, it’s just that he’s usually the one...initiating things, and he wants to see if Blaine will step out of his gentleman sensibilities and do something.

Plus Kurt may have kissed him a little too aggressively as he walked him to his car yesterday in the mall parking lot and said that he couldn’t wait for their movie night the next evening- just to put him in the right mentality.

“So…” Blaine starts, looking from the menu options from the DVD player back to Kurt’s profile.

“Yeah?” Kurt asks innocently, his brain screaming rapid thoughts of pleasepleaseplease.

“Do you still want to watch the movie?” Blaine, reaches for the remote.

Kurt nearly screams.

“Sure!” He says, a little too chipper. “I’ll go make popcorn.”

Blaine stops his hand as he watches Kurt (mostly Kurt’s ass, he has to admit) walk towards the kitchen. “Uhhh-”

In the kitchen Kurt impatiently taps the counter as he glares at the microwave. Of course it’s not like he and Blaine have to have sex, but it’s what they usually do. It’s Saturday night, and they have an empty house, and Kurt’s wearing his new Balenciaga sweatshirt that’s so soft that if they just so happen to make out-

“Are we okay?” Blaine asks, his questioning voice slipping Kurt from his thought spiral. He’s leaning against the oven with his hands toying at a loose thread on his jeans.

Oh fuck it Kurt thinks, pausing the microwave so he doesn’t burn the house down, he knows they should talk.

“Of course?” Kurt says, his confidence fading so it sounds more like a question.

“I know we don’t have to, you know, but it’s just that…”

“Yeah,” Kurt starts. “I was just hoping that-”

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” Blaine moans, lowering his head. “I just assumed-  we can watch the movie, god I’m so sorry.”

“Blaine!” Kurt says, taking his turn of stopping his boyfriend’s thought spiral. “I want to.”

Blaine lifts his head and tilts it slightly. “You do?”

Taking a step closer, Kurt laughs to himself as he takes Blaine’s hands. “I always want to. I wanted to see what would happen if I made you wait. Made you ask for it.”

He’s about to apologise until he’s interrupted by Blaine’s lips and soft, insistent tongue.

“Kurt,” Blaine says, his warm breath against his mouth and his hands curling around his waist. “I always want to.”

Kurt’s about to mentally check off his list until Blaine short-circuits his brain by tugging at his belt.

3. He Remains Flirty Post-Bang

Kurt wouldn’t call this “post-bang” (and he can’t stand how dumb that phrase sounds), but being cuddled up next to your boyfriend after frantically rutting against each other in the backseat of his car is definitely Kurt’s idea of flirty activity.

“I have a curfew, you know,” he says pointedly. His breath is so apparent in the stillness of the car that it sways the tip of Blaine’s shirt collar, the only article he’s wearing except his socks.

“I know,” Blaine says simply.

“You don’t care?” Kurt asks, making no effort to move.

“Nope,” Blaine states, popping the “P” sound and tightening his grip on Kurt’s waist.

“I love you,” he says with a laugh.

“I love you too,” he says without hesitation, and Kurt smiles coyly at how Blaine’s heartbeat relaxes as he answers.

He really does have a curfew, a curfew he’s dangerously close to breaking, but he forsakes the anxiety of the speeding Blaine will have to do to get him home on time in favor of these slow, private moments they get together (and the small check mark he makes on the list in his mind).

4. He’s Super Handsy All Day

Kurt was already apprehensive about this one, because he and Blaine aren't very...affectionate in public. Everyone knows it’s for safety reasons, but they would never reveal the nature of their intimacies in front of their friends, let alone people at school, so how is he supposed to get Blaine to be “handsy”?

He decides to use technology to his advantage for this one.

To Kurt: Are we still getting coffee after rehearsal?

To Blaine: Yes, but…

To Kurt: “But” what?

To Kurt: Do you not want to anymore? I thought you were done with campaign stuff.

To Blaine: I am! I just figured we could...you know.

To Kurt: Oh. If you’re saying what I think you’re implying, I thought we discussed being more upfront and unafraid of what we want. (And remember I love you.)

Kurt sighs and tosses his phone onto his bed at he gets dressed for school. He hates that he can't just imply something and Blaine will insinuate it. It’s the “I love you” that saves him, and makes him as unafraid as he promised he’d try to be.

To Blaine: Fine. (I love you too.)

To Blaine: I figured that we could take advantage of your empty house.Your parents are still at that convention right?

To Kurt: Yeah she is, what do you propose we do with my empty house? ;)

Kurt is gonna kill Blaine later for prying this out of him.

To Blaine: I propose that I fuck you later.

To Kurt: Oh

To Kurt: Kurt...

To Blaine: Is that a no?

To Blaine: Because I keep thinking about how we cancelled out date on Sunday and I haven’t seen you all weekend and I miss you so fucking much.

He sees Blaine repeatedly start and stop a reply, and decides to up the ante.

To Blaine: I miss kissing you, and hearing you moan underneath me.

To Blaine: I miss your ass…

To Kurt: KURT

To Blaine: What? I’m being upfront.

To Kurt: I hate you.

To Blaine: I’ll see you at school ;)

Blaine won’t stop staring at his mouth.

He can’t blame him per say, this morning he was greeted with a flushed smile and a whispering of “I can’t wait for our date later”, which is basically the equivalent of Blaine grabbing his ass in the middle of the corridor.

Kurt loves this part about being intimate with Blaine, all the little queues that they can send each other that nobody else would know. Like when Blaine presses his thigh into his underneath the table at lunch or when he squeezes his hand twice before letting him walk into fourth period.

They’re not “handsy” people, but it’s enough to show Kurt what’s on his boyfriend’s mind.

To Blaine: Are we still on for “coffee” after rehearsal? He texts Blaine after spending all of their shared French classes sucking on the end of his pen.

To Kurt: You’re the worst. And yes.

5. He Tells You It Was Awesome

Kurt knows that he definitely can’t get Blaine to say “awesome” in reference to their sex life, but Blaine is pretty vocal (in comparison to Kurt he’s practically writing a dissertation in the midst of what they do) so it can’t be too hard.

Oh, but it’s hard. So very, very hard. As is Blaine, long and thick against him as he’s one more groan away from fucking Kurt into the mattress with all their clothes still on.

“Oh fuck,” Kurt groans, dropping his head into the crook of Blaine’s neck.

“I love you- so much,” Blaine says, the sound of Kurt’s hitched breath going straight down his spine to his groin.

“Uh huh,” Kurt breathes out, not saying it back but knowing he doesn’t need to. He’s too focused on Blaine’s nails gently scraping down his back just right and the rhythmic friction in his underwear that he’s too distracted to take off.

Kurt can feel his steady breaths slipping into a high whine, and he untangles his arms from around Blaine’s neck to desperately grabbing his ass, kneading the smooth muscle over his briefs.

Blaine gasps out a rough “Oh Kurt,” and ruts himself against him with a more determined vigor, and it’s still not enough for Kurt.

Remembering a (long, awkward, stumbling) conversation they’d had a few weeks ago, Kurt leans his open mouth right up to Blaine’s ear and whispers, “You’re so good to me.”

Blaine keens at the praise and tugs at the nape of Kurt’s neck to pull him in for an uncoordinated, sloppy kiss, and Kurt releases him to say “More, please, more.”

And that’s exactly what he gets. Blaine pushes Kurt back onto the bed and sets his weight on top of him, and Kurt’s hips buck up at the sensation of Blaine’s cock right against his. His eyes roll back, and knowing he’s so close, he gives the most confident slap to Blaine’s left cheek and grips his ass tighter when he hears Blaine loud gasp.

“Do you like that?” Kurt asks, hoping he sounds more sexy and less like a porn script.

“Yes yes yes,” Blaine replies instantly, coming into his underwear and tipping Kurt over the edge as he feels the wet stain in Blaine’s briefs grow against his.

“I love you,” Kurt whispers,once they’ve been quiet for a while and his underwear is getting uncomfortable. “I hope that wasn’t...too much.”

“No- don’t apologize,” Blaine says, a little too loud for the stillness of the thick air. “That was..wow.”

Kurt just laughs and presses a kiss to the crown of Blaine’s head.

6. It Was Great For You

Kurt wakes up on one of the rare nights he gets to spend at Blaine’s and heads downstairs to make himself some heated milk and checks the kitchen for ingredients- he promised Blaine they’d make lavender honey cupcakes tomorrow.

As he waits for the saucepan to heat up, he turns and looks into the living room where they spent most of their evening, and a flush rushes over his cheeks as he looks of the remnants of their date.

The couch cushions are strewn across the floor, and there’s an empty lube packet on the coffee table from where Blaine was insisting they stop their Rodgers and Hammerstein marathon for something much more favorable.

Kurt absentmindedly runs his fingertips over the rim of his empty mug as he thinks about the hungry way Blaine pulled at his bottom lip and dragged him upstairs by the belt loops as the credits of Oklahoma! rolled on the television. With a small smile he opens the door to Blaine’s room and tries to be as quiet as possible as he crawls back under the covers.

“Kurt?” Blaine asks sleepily, his bed-flattened hair adjusting as his head to rest on Kurt’s stomach.

“Hey,” he sighs as he toys with his hair. “Sorry, I couldn’t sleep.”

“S’okay,” Blaine says, shifting his head into Kurt’s hands and sounding slightly more awake. “Do you need help?”

Kurt just chuckles and grins at the way Blaine’s head slightly bounces as his stomach muscles contract. “Help falling asleep? I think I can handle it.”

Blaine twists to face him and wraps his hand around his waist and begins trailing his fingers along his side.

“Bet I could help,” he says with a slight raise of his eyebrows.

Yeah, Blaine’s definitely awake now.

“I-If you want,” Kurt says, closing his eyes as Blaine starts gently sliding the heel of his hand over the bulge forming in his briefs.

“I feel bad that I didn’t...earlier.”

“Oh,” Kurt says, surprised. After Blaine took him upstairs and practically begged him to fuck him- and after Kurt quickly agreed, Blaine lasted all of five minutes and promised to blow him before he promptly fell asleep. “You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Blaine insists, digging into his nightstand drawer. “Fuck,” he whispers and Kurt turns his head to see Blaine’s hand nearly dripping with lube.

Kurt laughs at his eagerness and begins tugging at Blaine’s pajama waistband.

“No- no, this is about you,” Blaine insists, quickly motioning for Kurt to pull down his pants and wrapping his lube coated hand around his cock.

“Shit Blaine,” Kurt moans, the sudden pressure and the cold lube going straight to his cock.

“Sorry,” Blaine giggles, his hand moving steadily along Kurt’s shaft. “I could stop if you want,” he teases, loosening his grip.

“Don’t you dare,” Kurt lets out between his teeth. “Would you- tighter?”

“As you wish,” Blaine says with a smile, quickly complying and tightening his hand and gently tracing his thumb over the head.

“Oh Blaine,” Kurt whispers and Blaine swings his leg over Kurt’s to straddle him and leans down to kiss his neck. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Blaine asks, not expecting an answer.

“Fuck- ‘m close.”

“Already?” Blaine teases, licking a thin line up his neck and blowing on it.

Kurt laughs, trying to buck his hips into Blaine’s groin to silence him but to no avail. “Blaine please-”

“As you wish,” Blaine says with a sigh, tightening his grip and biting down lightly on Kurt’s jaw, his breath equally as labored.

Kurt groans as he leans his head back, basking in the shaking of his thighs and the pulling of his skin as Blaine releases his grip on him and watches him fall apart in shallow, heavy breaths.

As he comes down, Kurt lazily strips off his come-soaked- and probably stained, he cringes- t-shirt and places kisses all over Blaine’s face and neck, mumbling praises and thank yous.

“No,” Blaine yawns when Kurt tries to pull at his pants to grip his hip bones. “This was about you.”

Kurt doesn’t even think about the list until after Blaine falls asleep.

7. He’s learning new tricks

“I’m so sorry,” Blaine stresses again.

“It’s fine,” Kurt says, poking his toes into Blaine’s side from where they’re resting in his lap. “But if I say my knee still hurts, can I get an apology foot rub?”

Blaine offers a smile in response and begins working his thumbs in the arch of Kurt’s foot. “I just really wanted to-”

“Cause fatal injury?”

“Shake things up!” Blaine says, feigning offense. “I read it in Cosmopolitan.”

‘It’ turned out to be a list of “sexy tips to excite your man” and Blaine attempting to drench himself in baby oil and perform a strip tease was cut short when Kurt slipped and fell on the puddle of grease, cutting his boyfriend’s performance short.

“You know those magazines are heteronormative recyclables, right?” Kurt asks, turning to face the television. “Plus we don’t need any shaking up.”

“I guess,” Blaine shrugs. “I just wanted to show you that- I don’t know- that I still care about you, us, so much.”

“Blaine,” Kurt says with a sigh, moving over to sit down in Blaine’s lap. “Believe me I know you still care. And this is just as good for me as this is for you.”

“You’re not just saying that?” Blaine asks, averting his eyes.

“Kiss me and I’ll prove it to you,” Kurt whispers, grinning as Blaine leans in without hesitation.

•••

He and Rachel are flipping through a NYADA course catalog when she brings it back up.

“Sooo,” she starts, dog-earing the page. “Did you ever put that article I gave you to the test?”

Kurt can feel his cheeks reddening as he tries to give a smooth response. “Oh please. I don’t need some cheap list to know that Blaine wants me.”

“Suit yourself,” she shrugs, picking up her highlighter again.

“...Although it certainly helped,” Kurt tries to say as casually as possible.

Rachel gasps and shuts the book, focusing her attention on Kurt. “Tell me everything.”

[this-is-big-lady]

Swipe Right part 10/10

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9 can be found on AO3 here

C’est fini. It’s done. I never thought that I could’ve dragged out this silliness for 10 chapters, but hey, here I am! I love my two boys very much and I’m sad to see the end of them, but I can’t wait to write more for those of you who have liked my writing.  Enough rambling, lets get on with it!

A yell of his name alerted Crutchie to Davey needing help. His roommate had been calling out for him all afternoon for varying reasons, and as much as he loved Davey, he was starting to get annoying. He let the fork that he was drying drop down into the sink with a faint plop, drying his hands on the dish towel. Grabbing the crutches propped up to the sink, he headed towards Davey’s room, yelling out a confirmation that he was on his way.

He didn’t expect the sight he was greeted with in Davey’s room, but he couldn’t say he was surprised. Davey was sitting on the floor, surrounded by various shirts and jeans and shoes, radiating an air of confusion and panic. He could hear Crutchie stifling a laugh from the doorway, and whipped his head around to see his friend.

“Crutch, you gotta help me,” he pleaded, scrambling for the invitation laid out on his bed. “The dress code says ‘smart casual’ - what does that even mean?!” Crutchie couldn’t blame the guy, this was his first important date and was stressed out enough about that. Throw in the fact that it was an incredibly public date and there would be teachers there judging and assessing his face (well, Jack’s representation of his face), Crutchie was surprised that he wasn’t more nervous.

Navigating around the slew of clothing on the floor, Crutchie headed over to the bed, and made a spot for himself. From here he could direct Davey, while being out of the way of the fabric bombsite. “It means dressy, but not a suit and no sneakers. Get that nice pair of dark jeans you got a couple of months ago and pair it with a dress shirt.” He watched on as Davey sorted through the pile of trousers that had formed on his desk chair until he found the jeans in question, and placed them next to Crutchie. “See, that was easy! Now, pick a dress shirt.”

“I think that may be easier said than done, Crutch,” he said, as he swept his hand around the room. The shirt seemed to be what Davey was stuck with in the first place - he had one on practically every surface of his room.

“What one do you like the most, the one you feel the most comfortable in?” Crutchie could see Davey’s eyes immediately jump to a shirt still in his closet, but after a moment’s hesitation, he turned his attention back to two shirts hanging off his bedroom door. One was a plain pale blue shirt, the other a dark crimson red.

“I’ve been staring at both of these for half an hour and I can’t decide between-“

“I don’t care about them,” Crutchie cut him off, about to give Davey a much needed push. “Get out that shirt in your closet. The one you looked at straight away.”

Davey grumbled a little, a slight pink dusting his cheeks at being caught out, but diligently pulled the shirt out by its hanger. “It was a joke Hanukkah gift from Les-“

“It’s perfect, Davey!” Crutchie clapped a little out of excitement, he had never seen Davey wear this shirt before, and it was just so Davey. A black shirt with a pink floral print, featuring green and brown rattlesnakes weaving between the flowers. Crutchie told him to pair it with a pair of black boots and he was set to go. The fashion advisor was quickly shooed from the room to allow Davey to change, and was waiting out in the living room for Davey to show him the final product.

A few minutes later, Davey’s door creaked open and he slipped out into the living room, smiling shyly at the floor. Letting out a low whistle, Crutchie assured Davey that he looked as good as he must’ve felt in his outfit, even making the blushing guy do a twirl for good measure. For the first time in college, Davey was radiating confidence, and it made him so proud to be able to see how much his best friend had grown over the past few weeks with Jack. He sent Davey into the bathroom do his hair - they spent an hour together this afternoon watching hair tutorials, so if Davey yelled out for help this time, Crutchie was sure to throttle him. Occasionally the odd profanity was muttered from the bathroom but he exited after a while looking a lot tidier with his hair pulled back from his eyes, and a lot more nervous. He flopped onto the couch next to Crutchie, and watched some mindless afternoon television to avoid thinking about the upcoming date.

Despite it being 4:45, Davey constantly checked his watch, counting down the 15 minutes until Jack was due. At 4:50 he was up and pacing, double and triple checking he had his wallet, keys, and phone on him. At 4:55, Crutchie ordered him to sit down and chill out - they were both being driven crazy with Davey’s panicking. Crutchie turned the television off, and the pair sat in an uncomfortable silence permeated with only the sound of Davey’s bouncing leg, until a knock was heard against the door frame.

Davey practically jumped out of his skin as he sprinted to the door, skidding to a stop and yanking it open as fast as possible. Jack stood behind it, slightly shocked at Davey’s abruptness. But the shocked expression quickly melted into Jack looking stunned after taking in Davey’s appearance. He was drinking in the way the soft flowers brought out a hardness in his jaw, how the slim fit of his jeans clung to his legs, and the tiny amount of added height he got from the boots. Jack was in way too deep with this one. After a few beats of silence, Jack managed to choke out a short sentence.

“Wow, Davey, you look… incredible.”

Jack’s words made Davey smile, and he struggled to form a sentence of his own. “You look, uh, pretty… handsome. Pretty handsome, not like, yeah…” He could hear the words coming out of his mouth but seemed to lose all control of them halfway, opting instead to take in the view of Jack in a light blue shirt rolled up to his elbows, black chinos, and his favourite Doc Martens - which had been polished to hide all the scuffs on them. Jack somehow looked even better than Davey had expected, and he didn’t know how that was possible.

A few more moments of silence passed between them, before a voice from the couch could be heard calling out to them. “Alright lovebirds, get a move on. You don’t want to be late!”

Jack made way for Davey as he stepped through the door, going to close it behind them as he yelled out with a hint of irritability, “thanks mom!” A vague call of ‘use protection!’ could be heard as the door closed, both boys opting to just ignore it. As they started heading out of the apartment complex, Davey turned to Jack and apologised. “I’m sorry about him, I love him to pieces but he can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”

Jack snorted a little, mumbling out, “are you talking about your room mate or me?”

“Definitely my roommate,” Davey’s affirmation was lilted with a laugh. “I’ve been friends with him since high school. But maybe after I’ve known you for 5 years I can say the same thing about you!” He nudged his shoulder with Jack’s as the duo laughed, the idea of spending years together hovering in the air between them as they walked. “But he’s a good guy, maybe you can meet him one day.”

Looking over at his date, there was a glint of of something in Jack’s eyes that he couldn’t quite identify. “Yeah Dave, maybe I can.”

Jack was leading them down to the restaurant area of the city - since they studied on the main city campus, it was only a few streets away from the central business district and all its delicious restaurants. Davey was idly nattering away about piece he had prepared for his journalism exam about the student housing market as he was pulled to a stop by Jack. They were standing outside a bright little restaurant with retro style vinyl booths and a jukebox tucked in by the door. The neon light in the window read ‘Burgers’, as did the sign above the door.

“We’re here!” Jack exclaimed as he opened the door for Davey. Now, he wasn’t expecting a 5 star restaurant, but maybe something a little bit fancier than a burger place for a first date? But Davey did have to admit, it was very Jack. The sound of The Supremes floated out of the jukebox as Davey stepped foot into the diner. It was a bit of an assault on the senses - bright blue walls with red and white booths and seats, the mixture of music and sizzling fries filling his ears, and the unmistakable smell of burgers on a grill. Jack placed a hand on Davey’s back as he walked ahead of him, which snuck around to hold Davey’s waist as Jack asked for his reservation. Davey could feel his brain short circuiting as the waiter guided them towards the booth in the back, but was thankful to get his thoughts back as they sat on seperate sides of the booth.

The waiter placed the menus in front of them, and hurried off to collect the food for another table. Skimming the menu, Davey only noticed one thing. “They sure do have a lot of burgers here. I didn’t even know there were this many kinds of burgers…” Beef, chicken, pork, venison, fish, vegetarian, vegan, not to mention the sides, desserts, and drinks.

“I know, that’s why I love it! I made it my mission to eat through the whole menu when I first arrived in town. It took half a year, but I did it!” Jack smiled proudly at Davey, and Davey was unsure if that was something that someone should really be proud about. But here he was anyway, on a date with a giant nerd who loved burgers. And he found himself thinking that he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

“Do you have any recommendations?” Jack’s eyes lit up at the question, quickly naming his favourites - the buffalo chicken, the pulled pork burger, and surprisingly the vegan supreme. After a couple of minutes of silent deliberation, Davey decided on the vegan supreme and Jack’s choice was the Nemo -  Davey asserting that it was an awful name for a first burger, and Jack arguing that he was going to order two, purely out of spite.

As their giggles over the burger names died down, they were able to place their order. Thankfully Jack only ordered one burger, but he did also order a chocolate milkshake for them to share, insisting on having two straws.

“Are you seriously insisting on making us a walking cliché from every high school movie ever?” Davey scoffed as the waiter left them to give their order to the kitchen.

“Yes I am. I know you didn’t really date in high school, so I am making it up to you now. You can thank me later,” Jack finished his sentence with a wink, making Davey blush involuntarily and roll his eyes.

“You are impossible, you know that right?” All Jack did in reply was shrug his shoulders and smile broadly at his exasperated date. Of course he know that.

They shared small talk while waiting for their food to arrive, mainly chatting about the exhibition that they were about to go to. Essentially, the class’ project brief was to create a piece exploring the human condition - some people decided to do room studies and draw the interesting things they found in bedrooms of people they knew, one student drew all the things he put in the trash over a month, but the one Davey was most excited to see - other than Jack’s of course - was the student who snuck into social psychology lectures and illustrated the experiments that the class studied. Jack refused to say anything about his own project, preferring for Davey to see it for himself and let Jack explain it in the moment, something that was frustrating Davey to no end.

As time seemingly slipped by, the full plates and milkshake glass - with two straws - were placed in front of them. Davey went in for a sip of the milkshake, but Jack yelped and made Davey stop. He had a hand deep in his pocket, fishing around for something. “Hang on a sec’, Dave… got it!” He brandished his phone in front of Davey’s face, and told him then he could now take a sip. He was little confused by his date’s actions until he saw Jack turn on the front-facing camera on his phone and captured his own straw between his teeth - Jack wanted a selfie of the two of them and their shared chocolate milkshake.

Davey couldn’t help but groan, and mutter, “you are really making a cliché out of this, Jackie.” Nevertheless, Davey obliged and posed for the selfie, taking a quick taste of the milkshake, which was divine - he understood why Jack came here so often now.

While he was drinking, Jack caused Davey to choke by asking, “Did you just call me Jackie?” He tried to duck his head away from Jack’s gaze out of embarrassment, uttering a small confirmation under his breath. “Because it was really cute, Davey.” The poor guy was ready to combust out of embarrassment and overwhelming happiness that his crush just called him, or at least an accidental nickname, cute. If he looked up, he would’ve been able to see the pure adoration in Jack’s eyes, but he chose instead to pick up his burger and take a bite.

And he was surprised. Typically, vegan meals are as close to kosher as he can get in a typical restaurant, but the vegan burgers he’s had before haven’t been this good. No wonder a happy meat eater like Jack recommended it! He groaned in appreciation as he chewed, managing something that sounded like, “this is incredible,” before swallowing. “Thank you for the recommendation,” he said with a heavy dose of appreciation.

Jack swallowed his bite before replying with a flirty brag, “What can I say, I’ve got incredible taste,” a threw a wink Davey’s way.

He was sure that he would be dead by the end of this date by the amount of times Jack made his heart skip a beat. Or at least, his face would be stained red for eternity.

Like a true gentleman, Jack paid for both himself and Davey, despite Davey’s protests. As Davey was watching him pay, he noticed a a smudge of sauce on his chin. He tried to tell Jack this as they were heading back outside, but they couldn’t quite hear each other as they walked past the blaring jukebox. Davey decided to simply cut out the middle man, swiping a thumb against his chin. Both boys stilled at the contact between them, hovering in the open doorway - Davey on the outside of the restaurant and Jack on the inside. That feeling Davey got when Jack touched his hand weeks ago was back, and it was as intoxicating then as it is now.

Davey felt his mouth go dry as he tried to explain, “you had, uh, a bit of sauce, on your chin…” His hand was still there, cupping Jack’s chin. He really didn’t want to move it, but the shock still wasn’t budging from Jack’s face. “See?” he asked, a little overeager at his excuse, showing the red blob on his thumb to Jack.

Smiling and holding onto Davey’s thumb, all Jack could say was the first thing that came to mind - “You’re an angel, Dave.” Acutely aware of the customers grumbling behind him about the door being open, he stepped towards Davey and allowed the door to swing closed behind him. He took his proximity to Davey into his advantage too, and licked the dried sauce off Davey’s thumb, eliciting a shriek from his date.

“Jack! That’s disgusting!” Davey grimaced, but at least the awkward tension was broken.

“Quit your whining, I was saving it for later! Now come on, we don’t want to be late.” Jack could see Davey wipe his hand against his jeans as they started to head towards the gallery. He didn’t look too pissed off, but actually rather amused. Jack was glad about that, he definitely didn’t want to agitate Davey, especially since they were about to go see a project in which he was a pretty big part.

They mostly walked in silence, Jack was preoccupied with an uncomfortable nervous feeling settling in his stomach. He was suddenly doubting his choice to pull out all the stops for Davey. His teacher told him that it was a great idea and showed great ‘artistic vision’, as he put it. And as a piece of art, it was good. But when Davey was staring back at his own face as an oil painting? Maybe not such a brilliant idea. But all Jack could do is wait and see his reaction - and the anticipation was killing him.

Beside him, Davey could practically hear the cogs turning in Jack’s head. And he understood. He felt the same way before going into exams, and this was an exam of sorts for Jack. He’d normally just plug some headphones in and tune out the world, but Jack could hardly do that while he was walking with him. So he did what he would want Jack to do if he was walking to an exam - Davey took Jack’s hand. It was a little dry from scrubbing all the little paint flecks off them, but Davey had no complaints. It was Jack.

And it was Jack who slowed down a little as he felt Davey’s hand intertwine with his own. Both boys looked down at their linked hands with a soft smile on their faces, and he could hear exactly what Davey was trying to say with the little gesture. I’m here. Don’t worry. The electric feeling at their point of contact died down to a soft buzz as they kept walking, and was doing more to comfort Jack in this moment than Davey would ever understand. He softly caressed him thumb across Davey’s as a silent thank you, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a wider smile grace his date’s face. God, what he wouldn’t do to keep Davey’s smile there forever.

As they neared the student gallery, Jack dropped Davey’s hand and turned towards him, smoothing out his shirt. “Do I look alright?”

You look perfect, handsome, like a dream come true, Davey wanted to say. “Of course you do, stop worrying,” he settled for, as he helped Jack readjust the collar of his shirt. He dropped his hand to Jack’s bicep, and gave it a gentle squeeze that he hoped was comforting. “Now go in there and knock ‘em dead.”

Jack took a deep breath, and took a moment to appreciate the sweet boy that this crazy project helped him to find. With Davey following behind him, Jack turned on his heel, walking to the door and holding it open for Davey. Heads inside turned to see who was entering, a few students raising a hand to wave at Jack, who was right behind Davey. A deep voice to the right of them asked if they wanted a beer or a glass of wine, and Davey turned to face the stranger. He was an older man, probably not a student, and wore very round, very statement-looking glasses. Davey politely refused the drink, and then man moved his gaze to Jack.

“Can I grab his one then, Specs? If he’s not gonna have it?” The older man, Specs, Davey presumed, let out a chuckle at that.

“Sure thing Jack, just make sure Davey holds it for you. It’s a strict ‘one drink per person’ tonight.” Jack grabbed two glasses of white wine, and handed one to Davey. Jack whisked Davey away from the drinks table, and answered an unasked question that he knew Davey had.

“Specs is the coordinator slash teacher of this course. His real name is Spencer, but we just call him Specs, it’s easier.” Davey just nodded and looked down at his wine. That was one question he had, but not the most pertinent one.

“But how did he know my name?”

“I, uh, well…” Jack stammered. It was an easy explanation of course, so why was he nervous? Probably because he didn’t want to give away the fact that he had to spend hours with Specs discussing the painting his was doing of Davey, and of only Davey. “I obviously drew you for this whole thing, and he must’ve recognised you from my drawing. And I obviously named the drawing after you.”

As the students and their guests mingled in the foyer, waiting for the last people to arrive, Davey was introduced to a few of the other students in Jack’s class. They had some strange names, like Finch and Jojo and Romeo, and even weirder nicknames, like Mush and Buttons. But then again, he lived with a guy named Crutchie, so he wasn’t really one to judge. At least with such different names, Davey was sure that he’d remember them.

Slowly the din in the room quietened, thanks in part to Specs hitting an empty beer bottle with a spoon he must have found. “Hi everyone, welcome to all the students here tonight showcasing their work, and to their friends and family that have come to support them. I’ll keep it brief since I’m sure you all want to see the art, but for those of you who don’t know me, I’m Spencer - although you may hear the students call me Specs - and I run this course every year. It is centred around drawing, but you will see some artistic license being taken with that brief as you walk around. I have a note here from Finch that you’re welcome to pick up paper from the pile slash sculpture - and I use that word very loosely - that he created, as there are drawings on every page.”

Jack nudged Davey and whispered, “That’s the one with all the drawings of the rubbish.” Davey just let out a soft ‘oh’, as he tried to keep listening to Specs’ speech and ignoring the warm breath that was ticking his neck when Jack spoke.

“… Some artists posed as students from other classes - “

“Romeo and social psychology,” Jack clarified.

“… And some went above and beyond the brief,” Davey noticed a rather poignant glance that Specs shot Jack on that statement, to which Jack just tipped his head back and downed the rest of his wine. What the hell did that mean?

“And you can see all of that for yourselves. Happy viewing, everyone!” Specs stood aside and pushed open the gallery door to a round of applause from all present, which Jack took as his cue to exchange glasses with Davey. His previous one didn’t last long at all, hopefully it helped calm him down enough that this glass would last the rest of the night.

As they stepped through, The were immediately greeted with Jojo’s piece on the life of a student. She’d copied every form she had to fill out in order to apply for tertiary study, and her loans, also including a bunch of receipts from the local art supply store, and drew one thing on one piece of paper every day - varying between conversations she had overheard on campus to a gorgeous bird that frequented the window frame of the class’ studio space. The explanation she gave on a board next to the drawings stated that although studying comes with a huge financial burden for a privilege that’s seen as compulsory by many, the beauty in the opportunity is often overlooked because of it. Her work had seemed to grab a big enough crowd for the meantime, even explaining some of the finer nuances to those who wanted to listen. Davey and Jack kept moving though, Davey desperately trying to find Jack’s section, and Jack desperately trying to fight the nerves of Davey finding his section.

But Jack’s nerves were relieved for a moment when they found Romeo’s artwork. Davey had always found social psychology interesting, why people did he things they did. That’s why he studied journalism, so he could recount tales of people to a wider public, without all the science-y stuff that psychology required. He found himself particularly enraptured with a rather gory picture of the famous murder of Kitty Genovese. Over 30 people heard her murder taking place, and no one did anything about it - one of the great tragedies of social psychology’s research. So incredibly engrossed, Davey didn’t even notice the shutter clicks coming from behind him as Jack took photos of him. He looked so damned cute with the inquisitive look that would grace his features whenever he was studying or learning something knew, and Jack could never permanently capture it. Until now. As Davey was chatting Romeo’s ear off, Jack had time to finish his next glass of wine and set it on a table in the corner. Davey could’ve talked to Romeo about his time in social psychology until they got kicked out of the gallery, but that was not why he was here. He was here to support Jack, and after passing on his admiration and congratulations to Romeo, Jack swept Davey off to the next collection.

They slowly wandered around, taking in and discussing the art, until the pair turned a corner and saw Jack’s name and his explanation board. Jack could practically feel his heart jump into his throat as he searched for Davey’s hand again. He found it, and after a chuckle from Davey, he was told, “loosen your grip, Jack. You don’t want to strangle my hand.” And thankfully for Davey’s circulation, he did.

Jack’s project consisted of 9 drawings, 6 in the first section and the other 3 placed on the walls around a dead-end corner. Davey started walking forward to check out the first drawing on the left, ignoring those on the right wall - they could come back to them after they went around the corner. It was all in greyscale, except for the bottom right hand corner coloured with reds and oranges and yellows - the actual corner was even burnt off. As he scanned the rest of the drawing it seemed eerily familiar, until he checked out the name plaque underneath, which simply read, ‘Race’.

He couldn’t help but let out a laugh that echoed a little too loudly in the gallery. Of course Jack found Race on tinder, that boy would flirt with a bush if he had the chance. And he had seen Race drunk enough times to know that he always found a chance.

Extremely confused at Davey’s outburst, Jack asked, “Why are you laughing?”

“Did you ever notice that both Race and I have the same high school listed in our tinder bios?” It took Jack a couple of seconds to make the connection, and then his jaw dropped.

“Wait, you and Race went to high school together?!”

“Yes, you idiot!” Davey exclaimed, smacking Jack’s arm lightly. “Let me guess, he told you about his smoking habit, thus the burn in the corner?”

Jack just stood there, dumbfounded, for a moment, before nodding. “Yeah. I guess you really do know Race.”

“And I guess he’s too busy with that Sean guy he’s been seeing to come to the gallery tonight.”

“Sorry, did you say Sean?” Jack questioned, not quite believing what he was hearing.

“Yeah, why?!”

“No reason.” Jack just shook his head and smiled in disbelief. So his roommate was in a casual relationship with his date’s friend from high school… damn, Jack really needed to get out more.

Davey kept pulling Jack along to the next drawing. The one adjacent to Race’s had a crowd of one in front of it, and Jack stood next to her in the middle, with Davey flanking his other side. The other admirer spoke up to the pair who had just joined, noting, “Apart from screwing up my name, Jack, I’d say it’s a pretty good representation.”

The girl stood proudly, Sharpie in hand, and had just finished writing ‘Plumber-‘ into the name plaque which now read, ‘Katherine Plumber-Pulitzer’.

So this was the famous Katherine that Davey had been freaking out about. And he couldn’t deny what Jack had told him, she was gorgeous. But he would be able to gather that just from the drawing too. On the wall, Katherine’s thick brown hair blurred into the suffocating black background with two pairs of piercing eyes, “to represent your overbearing parents”, Jack explained to her. Her eyes were larger than what was strictly proportional for the drawing, but it allowed Jack to draw a silhouette of a girl reflected in her eyes, “to show your crush on that girl in your class… Sarah, wasn’t it?” The final touch was newspaper headlines decorating the collar of her shirt, because “that’s obvious, you’re a journalism student, like my Davey here.”

“You study journalism too?” Davey could feel Katherine’s sharp eyes trained on him, so he shook himself out of his drawing-induced reverie.

“I, yes. I do. But I’m a year or two below-” His affirmation made Katherine light up, and he could see why Jack wanted to draw a woman as beautiful as her.

“Oh hush,” she said, cutting off his explanation that his skills are a few years behind hers. “We’ll have to chat about it sometime, I’m sure Jack can give you my number.”

Leaning over to envelop Katherine into a hug, Jack whispered a thanks into Katherine’s ear for showing up. Jack hadn’t told Davey the entirety of what happened in Katherine’s portrait sitting, and what they discussed. They spent nearly the whole time discussing their respective crushes, and Katherine managed to convince Jack to ask Davey to be his date for the showing tonight - as long as she asked her art history girl out for coffee. And she did so after their next class, so Jack had to hold up his end of the bargain. He didn’t have the guts to do it himself, but knowing that Katherine was going to be there to ensure that he did gave him the push he needed. The last thing he wanted was the very intimidating Katherine Plumber-Pulitzer after his head for being too afraid to ask the incredible Davey Jacobs on a date.

“Now go!” She laughed, while pushing Jack out of the hug. “You have more art to show this boy! It was lovely meeting you, Davey.”

“You too, Katherine,” Davey called, as Jack held onto his arm and dragged him along to the next drawing.

They stopped a couple of steps later, in front of a drawing that looked nothing like a person - at first glance it just looked like a pair of sticks. Davey turned his head and asked Jack, “I thought you were drawing people, not still life?”

“I did. Look at the title.”

And Davey did.

‘Charlie “Crutchie” Morris’.

It quickly made sense. They weren’t sticks, they were Crutchie’s crutches. This was also the only drawing with an extra explanation beside it, stating, ‘Artist’s Note: I got talking to Crutchie one day through a mutual friend, and asked if he’d want to join my project. Upon accepting, he had one condition: that I didn’t make it a piece redeeming his ‘humanity’ despite his disability. Crutchie is a person who is happy to use his disability as a strong identifier for who he is, but understands that not all disabled people do this. After all, the nickname that his friends call him, and insisted that I call him, is based on his disability. After talking with him, we both decided that to best represent him, we weren’t going to downplay the importance of his disability for Crutchie. Instead of drawing his portrait, I drew his crutches, one of the most important things in his life. This is how Crutchie wanted to be represented, as he recognises that this is often the first thing a stranger sees about him. And he’s already asked to have this drawing framed for his living room when the showcase finishes.’

Davey could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, and tried to furiously blink them back. It was such a touching representation of his best friend, and the fact that Jack would create something so beautiful effected him more than he’d care to say. With a quiet voice that surprised Jack, Davey asked, “when did you meet Crutchie?”

“On Sunday, I found some flashcards you left at my place before I left to meet Katherine. I came over to your place to give them to you, but you weren’t there. Crutchie said you were at the library studying, and invited me in to have a chat. We got talking, and that drawing was the result. I invited him tonight, but he didn’t want to intrude on our date.”

Bursting into astonished giggles, Davey was genuinely surprised that Crutchie - widely known as being too excitable to ever keep a secret for more than a couple of hours - didn’t tell him this earlier. “That bastard,” he whispered under his breath, and a slightly shocked look on Jack’s face showed that he heard Davey’s mutterings. “He helped me get ready tonight and he isn’t tell me that he was a part of this! I gotta get a photo of this.”

Turning his back to the drawing , he pulled up his phone and yanked Jack into the shot. Posing so that the crutches could be seen between him and Jack, Davey snapped the selfie of the unlikely trio, and sent it off to Crutchie without a caption. That boy was going to get an ear full and a giant hug when Davey got home.

Jack was able to see that Davey was ready to move onto the next drawing, so he took hold of Davey’s hands to halt him. Standing in from of him and taking a shaky breath, Jack looked Davey dead in the eyes. “Just so you know Dave, this next one is a bit bigger than the rest. And it means a lot of me.” The sincerity in Jack’s eyes scared Davey a little, so he nodded and intertwined Jack’s fingers with his in a bid to calm down the artist. Davey could see Jack’s shoulders sag a little as he sighed, a little bit of tension melting away with the contact. Uttering, “let’s go,” Jack pulled Davey around the corner and braced himself.

Davey knew that his drawing must be coming up, but he was too occupied thinking about the anxious artist beside him. So when he saw a large canvas on the wall, he didn’t think much of it. Honestly, he thought they wandered into someone else’s space, because Jack was only doing drawings on A3 pieces of paper. It was only when he took a couple of steps forward to drink in the details did he let out a gasp.

The painting was of him.

It was a canvas around the same size as A0 paper, with a deep blue background. His portrait was painted face-on, his green eyes crinkled at the corners and stood out in contrast to his pale skin with a fair smattering of freckles. His mouth curved gently upwards in a contented smile, while a gentle wash of pink adorned his cheeks. Of course Jack had to paint him as the blushing fool he was. A light blue kippah was perched on top of his black hair - Jack managed to make his hair look much more styled than Davey could ever achieve. But what truly caught Davey’s eye was the centre of the painting. The painted rendition of him was wearing the same black button up shirt that he wore to Starbucks the first time that him and Jack met, with one vital addition. On the right side of Davey’s chest, there was a heart outlined and filled with the rainbow, and a white Star of David in the centre of the colourful heart. Above where real Davey’s heart would be.

It was beautiful.

The way Jack captured his nuances - his right shoulder was pulled up slightly higher than his left, a habit from carrying a schoolbag that was too heavy - to being able to seamlessly incorporate such important information - his Judaism and his sexuality - blew Davey away. It was far more than he ever expected. He was planning on a simple coloured sketch that took an afternoon or so to complete, with a couple of the details they talked about to be incorporated in subtle ways. The thought of being the painted canvas centrepiece of a drawing exhibition never crossed his mind. Until a few moments ago.

“I remember you telling me,” a gentle voice from behind him started, “about how you were now ‘pretty happy to say that you’re a gay Jew’, and that’s what struck me the most from your portrait sitting. So I wanted that to be the focus. The muted background and your dark shirt were meant to bring focus to this incredibly generous and bright and fulfilled heart that you have. A place for two things that have been discouraged in the past, and well, the present, to live harmoniously. That’s something I really admire about you, Dave.” He could feel Jack’s arms wind around his waist from behind him, as Davey clamped a hand over his mouth, still in shock that Jack actually painted him.

“And I couldn’t capture all that in just a drawing, so over the span of a couple of weeks I convinced Specs to let me bend the rules and paint a portrait of you instead. I had to find a way to make your eyes shine as much as they do when you’re reading a new back, and a way to show how you blush when I flirt with you, and how important both your religion and sexuality is to you. And the only way I could find to do that was with paint and a big-ass canvas. All I can hope is that this isn’t way over the top and scaring you off.” He felt Jack let out a self-depreciating laugh and drop his head against his shoulder. It took a lot of guts for Jack to do what he did. He took a huge risk, placing both the grading of an assignment on Davey and heralding his admiration - and dare he say, adoration? - for him in public. And who was Davey anyway? Just some random guy on a dating app, that an algorithm helped Jack find, that placed their fate on a simple swipe on a screen. It was a slightly ridiculous situation that they were in, but one that also felt incredibly right.

Turning his back on the painting, Davey enveloped Jack in a tight hug, holding onto his shoulders as Jack gripped his waist. They just stood there for a few seconds, drinking in the comfort of being so close to each other. Davey gently murmured in Jack’s ear, “It’s perfect, I love it. Thank you.” He pulled back slowly, and placed a soft kiss just under Jack’s cheekbone. Davey could feel Jack’s eyelashes flutter against his skin, and Jack’s arms gripped him tighter, prolonging the moment by keeping Davey close.

Letting his arms drop to Davey’s elbows, Jack asked, “you really like it?” Ignoring the way his voice cracked in nerves, he was overjoyed to see Davey nod.

“Of course I do, Jack.”

“And it’s not too much?”

“Not at all, it’s amazing. I mean, I’d normally ask you to buy me dinner before you did something like this, but you already have!” Davey giggled as Jack looked down and nudged his shoes against Davey’s - a modified nervous habit of scuffing his own shoes.

Davey cast his gaze down to see what Jack was doing with his feet, as he heard Jack take a shallow breath. He saw Jack lift his hand from its location holding his own arm, and he tucked a finger under Davey’s chin. He used this hand to push Davey’s chin up, making Davey look into his date’s eyes.  They stood in a heavy silence for one, two, three seconds, before Davey saw Jack’s eyes flicker down to his lips. Another second passed before Jack lent in. Another second passed before Jack’s eyes closed. And then Davey felt Jack’s lips against his.

It wasn’t his first kiss, but it was his first kiss that truly mattered. With someone that truly mattered. Jack’s lips were slightly chapped and pushed softly against his, moving slowly. Their noses bumped together as Jack moved his other hand to Davey’s back, the pressure grounding Davey in the moment. It made their chests touch, and Davey hoped that Jack couldn’t feel the strength of his heart beats through his shirt. He could feel Jack’s gentle exhales dance across his cheek and Jack’s hint of stubble tickled his jaw line. He brought a shaky hand up to caress the painter’s jaw, making him sigh into the kiss.

Upon hearing Jack’s contentment, Davey started to smile, effectively ending the kiss. No longer being able to kiss him, Jack pulled back as his date ducked his head to hide his broad smile from the gorgeous man that just kissed him. Jack pressed a tender kiss to Davey’s forehead, taking advantage of the taller boy’s downwards gaze. Davey dropped his hand down to Jack’s waist, and lightly squeezing it in a way that he hoped expressed his complete joy and gratitude for the selfless artist.

They stood still for a few moments, Jack pressing his forehead against Davey’s, his arms wrapped around Davey’s torso while the other place his hands on Jack’s waist. They were breathing into the small the gap between them, the sound of their own heartbeats loud in their ears. Out of nowhere, Jack muttered, “I have an idea” - whether to himself or to Davey, the other boy didn’t truly know. Jack pressed a chaste kiss to Davey’s forehead, whispering, “stay right here,” as he extracted his arms from Davey’s. He turned quickly on his heel and darted around the corner, and a yelp of, “Katherine!” could be heard. An unintelligible but brief conversation followed, and not 20 seconds later Jack came back to Davey.

He walked past his date, grazing a hand against Davey’s, and strided up to the painting on the wall. There was a faint pop sound and Jack bent down to the wall next to the painting, an unpleasant squeaking sound filling the space. Staring quizzically at the back of Jack’s head, Davey had no idea what was going on. Until Jack stepped back with a huge grin on his face, and gesturing for Davey to step closer. As he did so, he could see that Jack had taken Katherine’s sharpie from her and written on the name plaque next to Davey’s painting. More accurately, he had striked out ‘Davey Jacobs’, and wrote two words above it.

My boyfriend

Jack’s confident smile and the pride that was radiating from him would’ve made Davey swoon if he wasn’t still dealing with the after-effects of Jack’s glorious kiss. He just tipped his head back and laughed at exactly how much he’d fallen for this ridiculous man. And he didn’t regret a single bit of it.

The warm and fuzzy feeling that was spreading through his body gave Davey the confidence to step forward, experimentally wind his fingers through the hair at the nape of Jack’s neck, and close the gap between the two of them. Jack cupped Davey’s jaw in his hands and Davey grabbed at the loose sections of the shirt on Jack’s back, other people in the gallery be damned. Their lips moved in a silent harmony with each other, quiet breaths and noises of appreciation shared between the two of them. It was only their second kiss, but they were already learning how the other’s lips moved and how they felt under each other’s fingertips, and it was enough to make them realise how much they had been missing out on until now.

Tinder got Jack a boyfriend and an A on an art class assignment, and it got Davey a boyfriend and a giant painting of himself to hang in his apartment. And neither of them would’ve wanted it any other way.

[eventuallyfall-blog]

13 envelopes

pairing: reader x lin summary: After graduating from UCLA, you would find any way to escape having to go back home. Lucky for you, your Aunt Jasmine Cephas Jones had organized a way for you to have the adventure you’d never gotten to have before. You’re ready to take her up on the offer. warnings: rpf (naturally), mentions of teen pregnancy, swearing a/n: so this chapter is the Best and y’all should appreciate it for the cutest ever tagged: @defenestrate-yourself-please @justabravelittleblogger @decayingtrash @andschuyler

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 5)

Ever since the MET, you couldn't get your mind off how it felt in comparison to the trips to outdoor theaters in LA. Envelope four held a new challenge, that much you knew. But upon seeing the three hearts drawn on it, you decided to put it off. So instead of opening it the minute you got home, you spent the next day deciding what kind of new phone to get. You hadn't had a new phone since you were sixteen – the same little first generation iPhone you'd gotten for your sixteenth birthday. It had been a nice, solidly dependent phone for the past eight years but perhaps it was beyond time you got a new one. What you settled on was a gold iPhone 6s and a plan that guaranteed you unlimited data. To your great surprise, it only cost you five hundred upfront – you'd spent more last week on a single pair of shoes. That made it easier to justify the cost of them, really.

But the fourth envelope couldn't be put off forever even as Hamilton was in the process of moving from rehearsals to previews, limiting your experience with the musical now. Pippa was insistent that you wait until the premiere to experience it and Aunt Jasmine sided with her. Which meant the fourth envelope was now heavy on your mind as you entered week two of being in New York City. Whatever it was had to be faced soon and so you sat on the bed of the room you'd been given, steadying your breath. It can't be that bad, you assured yourself.

Honey bun,

So far you've done more than you ever thought you would do, huh? You've lived with a stranger (who I bet you're already getting to know pretty well!), you've gone to the MET... and you're going to do way more. I've laid out a few adventures for you, but one adventure you've gotta try is asking someone out. Guy, girl, whatever you happen to be into, you've gotta go and ask someone out. Why?

Well, in my personal experience, just going for it and taking a leap is easy when it just concerns you. Getting on a plane with only a backpack when it's just being on your own is easy. It's easy to take a leap for a career – moving to a new city to audition for a tv show? Easy. Putting your heart on a line and taking a risk that you might get rejected? That's terrifying. Love is terrifying in that regard – you risk more than just pride when asking someone out. And you need to take that risk at least once in your life. Ask someone out – take a leap of faith. Here's to hoping it works out for you!

And if not, I've included five hundred dollars for you to take yourself out to a nice dinner anyway. Once you've completed this task, you may open envelope five. And to make sure you complete this task, Pippa's going to bother you about who you plan on asking out once you've gotten to this point.

All my love, Aunt Jas

Your heart stopped. Your aunt had to be joking. Find someone and ask them out? All because she thought it was easy to get on a plane with only a backpack and leaving behind all your electronics? You considered calling your mother and telling her you were coming home, calling the entire trip off. But then you remembered the invite to the premiere of Hamilton. At this point, you wanted to see the rest of Lin's stunning masterpiece and how it'd look when it was on the stage. According the letter, Pippa was going to ask a lot of questions about who she planned to ask out. You briefly considered simply pocketing the money and going straight to envelope five. And as angry as you were at the suggestion that you had never asked anyone out in your life, you couldn't find it in you to ignore the instructions in the letter.

Ignoring the instructions in the envelope and proceeding to envelope five without following through felt a bit like cheating. You'd followed every other instructions to the letter, so you figured what was the harm in this one? And you realized that there was someone you wanted to at least get to know better, though you'd never tell Pippa that. You had a feeling with all she pushed Lin on you she was on a mission to set the two of you up. Why, you couldn't figure out. You were certain that eventually in time it'd make sense. How, you weren't sure.

Still, you were nervous as you found yourself backstage before the evening show and wishing you'd at least also bought new jeans while Pippa had took you shopping on fifth. You felt like a disaster in the old raggedy jeans, only grateful that at least you knew your face wasn't a disaster. Suddenly a lot that could go wrong with this entered your head – he could have a girlfriend, he could be gay, he could have thought you and him were just friends. It didn't feel very brave, tapping on his shoulder to get his attention. It didn't feel brave when his dark eyes were on you, making you wonder if running was an option. “Uh, so... I was wondering if,” you said, the warmth in your cheeks making it very clear that this was a bad idea all around. But you made it this far and you'd be damned if you didn't see it through. You were stubborn like that. “If you'd, er, like to go to dinner... with me. Like... as a date.”

You could feel the heat rushing up to your cheeks yet again as he seemed to look you over – was he trying to figure out the best way to let you down? “I was hoping you'd ask me out, honestly,” he said and he actually sounded relieved to your great surprise. “I mean, I have a total lack of game so I was worried if I asked you out, I'd freak you out and you'd... not want to go out with me.”

It was like your brain short circuited. For once, you were left at a total loss of what to say. If there had been one thing you'd been good at for the past six years, it was figuring out how to say something. But now there was no wit to respond to the idea that a very cute Broadway star who wrote the most insane, genius thing you'd ever heard wanted to ask you out. “Oh,” was your brilliant response. “So... that's a yes?”

It seemed to dawn on him he never gave a yes or no answer to a yes or no question. “Oh! Yes, it's definitely a yes,” he said, causing you to smile slightly as his blush. “However, can I make a request?”

“Cool,” you managed to get out. “Yeah, of course.”

“Can it be breakfast instead? An early one, at that? My nights have gotten a little hit or miss on availability.”

Breakfast. Non traditional. “That would be nice, actually. I just got a new phone... if you'd like the number to help me break it in.”

His grin was more than encouraging. “Absolutely,” he said. “And I hate to go and kick you out after getting your number, but your aunt and Pippa will kill me if I let you see the previews before opening night so...”

Suddenly nothing in your backpack was right for the date. Everything was too casual or too formal and you suddenly needed to get a new outfit specifically for this date. The five hundred packed in the letter went straight to the new outfit. A simple dress and white converse to match – something that said “I just threw this old thing on”. At least, that's what you hoped it said. You weren't the kind of person who woke up at 4:30 am for breakfast, but it turned out Lin's schedule was as crazy hectic as Pippa's (you rarely saw her at the apartment anymore) so you would have to make some sacrifices to your sleep schedule to keep the date.

Monday was going to be exhausting for you, you could already tell as you pushed yourself out of bed and pulled the new yellow dress that complimented your skin tone nicely over your head with a big yawn. You didn't want to fuss too much – it was a ponytail and tinted moisturizer with the butter gloss from NYX in vanilla cream pie kind of date you decided. Something that made it seem like you naturally woke up beautiful with little effort.

The last date you had been on when you were on had been three years ago and went horribly when you had told the guy you didn't plan on sleeping with him. Which was at the front of your mind in worry. You were certain that Lin wasn't that kind of guy but it was still a worry. A bridge you'd cross when you get there,  you decided. Besides, when you arrived at the diner and saw him you felt like your heart stopped. His shoulder length hair was up in a bun and he'd already ordered some coffee, it would seem. You slide into the other side of the booth with a bright grin. “So... hi there.”

Lin grinned upon seeing you and there it was again – your heart stuttering in instant reaction to him. All of a sudden you wondered how it was even possible he was on a date with you of all people in the world. Sure, you'd asked him out but it just didn't seem like he should have agreed to begin with. “Hi,” he said and you realized you'd missed his voice already. “So. I've been thinking about that thesis of yours.”

“Oh,” you said, a bit surprised. He was thinking about you? A Broadway star thought about you? “What were you thinking about my thesis?”

“I was thinking that you've got to let me read it,” he said, leaning forward towards you with his eyebrow quirked up. “Since Hamilton and In The Heights both revolved around representing communities of color, it'd be interesting to hear your own views on representation in media.”

“Well, they've grown a bit more refined since college,” you said with a light grin, the two of you ordering a crazy amount of food that you were certain neither of you would ever be able to finish. Which mean that at least you weren't going to be hungry for a while. “But I suppose I could let you read the baseline thoughts on the subject. Though that's just the first dissertation, actually. I had to write two. The first was for a media studies class, the second was for my creative writing class.”

“Oh, so you write too?”

You nodded, taking a sip of the coffee before slightly gagging – it was a bit strong so you poured nine packets of sugar and five creams into your coffee. “Yeah, but nothing like you do. It's just... for fun, really. I was more trying to do script doctoring back home. Or some other kind of editing job, actually. It's easier to criticize than write.”

He laughed. “Easier to criticize than write,” he repeated with a slight grin. “I'm going to use that as a retort next time someone criticizes my writing. So what was the dissertation for your creative writing class?”

“It's a great line... granted there's a lot of great lines I come up with,” you said and realizing that the sleep deprivation was definitely helping with the confidence. You supposed anything that helped you feel more on his level would help you out. “Uh, the creative writing dissertation was actually... about the world building of Harry Potter. Please, please don't laugh at what a nerd I am!”

To your great surprise, his eyes light up and his grin seemed to grow even bigger if that was even possible. “You're joking,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “Just when I couldn't think you'd get anymore amazing, you wrote a dissertation on the world building of Harry Potter! That's... that's literally the coolest anything anyone has ever done! You have to let me read that one too.”

And with that, the conversation flowed all the more easier. From the minute he geeked out over you writing a dissertation about Harry Potter, all reservations you could have possibly had melted away. He was a geek in the best possible way. Which made it easier to dive into conversations about Doctor Who, Buffy, and various bits of literature that had been required in various classes. He mentioned that he went to Wesleyan, telling you all about how it was a university in New York City. He mentioned that he grew up in New York City and how his first musical had been based off his home neighborhood of Washington Heights.

The more the two of you talked, the more time got away from the both of you. It seemed like only ten minutes had passed since the two of you got to the dinner but before long his phone was ringing. His eyes went wide as he noticed the time as well. “Shit, that's Lac,” he said as he hit answer on the phone. “Yes, I know. Time got away from me, I'm already on my way.” He hung up without letting Alex get another word in. “I'm... so sorry, I have to go.”

Lin waved the waitress over to settle the check. “It's okay,” you said even though you really wished he could stay longer. “I mean, you are starring in a big Broadway show so you're probably in high demand. It was... nice. This was very nice.”

He grinned at you. “Maybe we could do it again sometime,” he said, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips. You were too stunned to respond. “I'll text you later.”