#come across me unawares and throw my golden idiot at me

[klenda-v]

I apologize for the tags something rose up within me

[goingmorry]

The Art of Domesticity [Trafalgar Law x Fem! Reader]

Synopsis: On a whim, Law decides to indulge you with a hot bath. Feeling lethargic despite your nap, you are more than delighted to take him up on his offer.

Tags: domestic fluff, sexually suggestive themes, male and female nudity, established relationship

Word Count: 2,161

In the depths of the Grand Line, deadly sea creatures swim idly by, patiently waiting for the next unsuspecting shipwrecked pirate to serve as their next meal.

Not long after, an unknown object of immeasurable speed barrels across the ocean floor, whirring past the mess of Sea Kings. Intent on chomping down on the foreign entity, the creatures join together in pursuit.

A yellow submarine, adorned with a Jolly Roger resembling a smiley face and inscribed with the words "DEATH,"  shakes beneath the water pressure.

The Polar Tang, home to the notorious Heart Pirates, aggressively reverberates in response to the Sea Kings' pursuit, mimicking the chaos inside the ship.

Meanwhile, in the control room, Captain Trafalgar Law stands at attention, face impassive as he calmly assesses the situation. In contrast to the rest of the crew's panicked behavior, Law had complete confidence in his crew's ability to make it out of this predicament unharmed. Right on cue, Law watches as his navigator, Vice-Captain Bepo, expertly maneuvers the ship away from dubious underwater beasts and excess debris. Under Bepo's supervision, Shachi and Penguin carefully operate the numerous controls to keep the sub afloat. In the engine room, Ikkaku and Jean Bart attend to the ship's generators, air compressors, and fuel pumps, ensuring their pristine condition during the onslaught.

After weeks of being submerged, the Polar Tang steadily heads to the surface. And with every second that passes, the distance between the pirates and the monsters increases until the vessel can no longer be seen by their pursuers. Sure enough, having lost sight of their target, it became apparent to the Sea Kings that they were no match for the submarine's speed. Where the ship once was, only faint bubble traces remain.

Unbeknownst to the pirate crew, loud rumbling sounds vibrate across the sea bed, the Sea Kings' roars echoing across the deep oceans, scaring away small fishes that dare to come close.

"We've lost sight of them, Captain," Bepo exclaims, swiveling his chair in Law's direction.

"So it seems," Law says, grabbing the nearby Den Den Mushi to announce their successful escape to the entire crew.

Almost immediately, Penguin and Shachi cheer in conjunction with the rest of the crew's boisterous laughter. To celebrate their victory, the Polar Tang resurfaces, providing an opportunity for the crew to receive some much-needed sunlight.

The turbulent atmosphere moments ago can no longer be found, replaced by a serene calmness. In celebration, the Heart Pirates gather in the upper deck, engaging themselves in various recreational activities. The perfect time to disappear for a bit, Law thinks.

Voicing these thoughts, Law directly addresses Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin. "I'll be in my room."

Shachi nudges Penguin, suggestively wiggling their eyebrows at each other. Bepo curiously looks at the duo, sneaking glances at his captain, while Law scowls at their childishness.

"Don't worry, Captain! We'll make sure no one bothers you two!" Penguin blurts out, earning a swift elbow to his ribs.

"You idiot! Be more discreet next time!" Shachi angrily whispers in Penguin's ear, looking around to see if anyone was eavesdropping on their conversation, before continuing, "They're still in the honeymoon phase."

"More like hornymoon phase," Penguin huffs, causing both of them to break out in uncontrollable giggles. Bepo lets out an innocent smile.

Choosing not to respond since nothing he could say could convince Shachi and Penguin otherwise, Law hurries to his quarters, leaving the two to their incessant bickering.

- - - - - - - - - -

Standing in front of his bedroom,  Law raises his hand to give two light raps to the door. He frowns at the lack of response, turning the door handle to reveal your upper body sprawled on his desk. He pauses for a moment before walking over to your slumped form. Upon closer inspection, you were sleeping soundlessly, seemingly unaware of earlier's events. Your head was nestled atop your forearms, an expression of serenity overcoming your features. Sheets of paper and various writing instruments were strewn across the corner of the desk, haphazardly pushed aside to accommodate your slumbering figure.

Law lifts his tattooed hand, gently brushing the stray hair that had fallen on your face. He runs his fingers across your unruly hair, noticing several tangled knots that had formed. Despite your less-than-ideal appearance, however, you never looked more beautiful in his eyes.

Deciding to let you sleep for a moment longer, Law saunters over to the bathroom, intent on running a bath for himself and you, should you choose to wake up in time to join him.

The sound of the water steadily splashing as it fills the tub is enough to rouse you.

Your eyes flutter open, turning around in search of the source of the noise before landing on the ajar door leading to the bathroom. A familiar lanky figure - sporting his signature leopard jeans - crouches over the tub. You couldn't see the top half of his body, but you were pretty sure he was monitoring the tub's water level. Not long after, you hear the sound of the faucet turning, and the water stops. Law stands up, walking over to lean against the doorframe. His golden eyes meet yours in amusement, mouth turning upward in a slight smirk.

"Mmm... Did something happen?" you mumble, voice raspy from your nap. You stretch your arms over your head, groaning in satisfaction before leaning back against the headrest of the chair. Despite the needed rest, you didn't feel as refreshed as you'd hoped. You felt so exhausted, your lips dry and your mouth parched.

Law must have noticed your tiredness in your appearance and voice. He reacts almost immediately, enveloping you in a familiar blue film. "Room," he says in that low tone you've come to love before a mug of water appears on the desk in front of you. You blink at him in surprise, humming appreciatively.

"I... Thanks," you say, gripping the mug between your hands before taking generous gulps. He can be so thoughtful when he wants to be, you think, unable to hide the smile gracing your lips as you do so.

He returns your hidden smile with a smile of his own. "Nothing important," he vaguely adds.

You look at him in confusion before realizing his was response was to your previous question. You nod in acknowledgment, deciding not to pry, before setting the now empty mug aside.

Law walks over to his side of the bed, pulling his cap off to set it down on the nightstand, keeping it relatively safe and away from tonight's activities.

"I ran you a bath. Get in it."

He glances at you before striding over to the bathroom. You cock an eyebrow at his retreating figure.

Before you have the chance to retort, he pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it over to the laundry basket. The sight of his muscled backside, inked with his jolly roger, makes the words die in your throat.

Before you can stop yourself, your tongue peeks out from the corner of your mouth to moisten your chapped lips. Your thirst was for an entirely different reason now.

"Don't keep me waiting." As if seemingly aware of his effect on you, Law disappears behind the door, the sound of clothes rustling reach your ears, no doubt the sound of the remainder of his clothes being shed. You can hear the amusement dripping in his honeyed tone, can picture the full-blown smirk evident on his face.

You reflexively gulp, feeling your body flush in response to his invitation. You've seen Law naked plenty of times by now, you reassure yourself. Have become well-acquainted with each other's bodies. Know firsthand how the heart tattoo inked on his chest ripples under your teasing touch as your hands trail down his chiseled abs. How the sweat glistens his toned skin and how his usually impassive face contorts in pleasure as he thrusts into-

You shake your head to keep the dirty thoughts at bay.

We're just having a nice relaxing bath together, you think, not entirely convincing yourself.

Following his lead, you stroll over to the laundry basket, stripping yourself of your clothing to join Law in the bath. Your head peeks out from the corner of the open bathroom door while the rest of your naked body remains in the bedroom, away from his prying eyes, your nervous gesture making it appear as though you were an innocent virgin.

Adorable, he thinks.

You look at each other expectantly, your eyes admiring his perfectly relaxed posture. His jet-black hair was in disarray, poking out in all directions, evidence of his combing through them in a careless fashion. His arms were stretched to the sides, slim fingers gripping the edges of the tub. His naked upper body was in full display; the dark ink of his tattoos was a stark contrast to the white bubbles that formed on the surface of the water, obscuring the lower half of his body.

You clear your throat, eyes returning to meet his golden ones that were alight with apparent amusement. "Sorry to intrude."

Law chuckles, the sound of his baritone voice echoing across the bathroom walls, only for your ears to hear. When you take a step forward and close the door behind you, his eyes drop to your naked form, shamelessly admiring your breasts and derrière.

"You look like you're enjoying yourself," you say indignantly, pausing right in front of the tub, his brazen admiration of your nudity quickly restoring your confidence.

"I am," he says without hesitation, golden hues darkening with desire at your bold gesture.

Leaning over the tub, you bring your face close to his, lips a breath away from touching. For a moment, you pull back to admire his rugged handsomeness, fingers ghosting over his goatee to his cheek before settling on the back of his neck. Lightly tugging his hair, you pull him in for a chaste kiss, your free hand grasping the edge of the tub for balance. Law has other plans, however, as he reciprocates by licking the bottom of your lips for permission to dive into the wet expanse of your mouth. You let him, of course, moaning at the feel of his demanding tongue as it fights against yours for control.

His hand snakes across the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging, mirroring your previous actions, while his other hand firmly kneads your breast. You groan against his mouth at the display of dominance in his rough handling of your body, loving how depraved he can be when aroused by you.

After what seems like an eternity, his hands gently encircle your waist, coaxing your body to join him into the warm pool of the tub. You oblige, breaking off the kiss to positioning yourself in between his legs, facing toward him. You sigh in contentment at the feel of the bubbled water and the warmth emanating from his bare body. Making an executive decision not to escalate further should both of you decide to forego the bath in favor of more risque activities, you avoid the softness of his lips. Instead, your mouth latches onto his neck, leaving trailing kisses to his jaw before stopping to rest your head at the crook of his shoulder. In response, Law sighs in defeat, hands rubbing reassuring circles against your back. The heated passion of your earlier kiss was replaced with soothing affection.

"Will you wash my hair?" you ask, voice slightly muffled against his skin.

Law looks down at your head nuzzled against him, eyes softening at your vulnerable state. "Honestly, you're hopeless without me," he says before nudging you over to turn around.

You do as your told, adjusting yourself into a comfortable position. His hands reach over the side of the tub for your shampoo, squeezing a sizable portion onto his hands, lathering it up into a foam. His hands weave into your hair, softly massaging the shampoo into your scalp in circular motions, careful to avoid your ears.

You can't help the wide grin that stretches across your face, thankful that your lover can't see your smile from the way you're positioned away from him. Trafalgar Law - a notoriously fearsome pirate, Captain of the Heart Pirates, and a former Warlord of the Sea - is the perfect picture of a doting boyfriend as he methodically applies shampoo onto his girlfriend's head, eyebrows furrowing in deep concentration.

"I love you," you say as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

His hands still for a moment before resuming their ministrations. And though you've said it plenty of times before, he can't help the wild beating of his fragile heart in response to your sincere declaration.

While words fail him, actions don't. Law pulls you into a comforting hug, wrapping his strong arms around your shoulders as you lean back against his defined chest, blissful in each other's embrace.

- - - - - - - - - -

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed my writing! I'd love to hear feedback. 💖

[takuyakistall]

tuna | anniversary special

Synopsis: A normal day in Yuu's new life in NRC but, somehow, today made them feel a little bit nostalgic.

Notes: I wanted to write something for Twisted Wonderland's anniversary! This game really means so much to me and I don't think I would've picked up writing again if I didn't stumble upon it. Something about Grim and Yuu's relationship makes me emotional and the fact that Grim got a new card in the game didn't help me cope at all. I ended up writing this fic as a result, this is just purely fluff! (I think) I hope you guys like this.

The smell of charred coal and an oily can of tuna greeted Yuu's nostrils as they stirred awake, grumbling incoherent words as their eyes adjusted to the sudden sunlight entering their room through the window. It was almost peaceful.

Almost.

Had it not been for Grim feasting on his tuna noisily and messily. Yuu sighed as they stood up from their bed and began to arrange it—folding the sheets, dusting the pillows and set them aside neatly. The creaking of the floorboards with each step they took used to unnerve them, afraid that it might give in one day but Yuu learned to get used to it. Though sometimes they can't help but worry for the day when it actually gives in. Maybe they could ask Headmaster Crowley before that happens?

Yuu shook their head and dismissed the thought. The last thing they wanted to hear was Crowley spouting nonsense all over again and then disappearing without a trace. Judging from all the times Crowley has let them down, who's to say that he won't do it again? They pulled out the wooden chair placed by the table and scrunched their face when they saw how Grim was eating.

"You're making a mess everywhere!" Yuu scolded, trying to snatch the tuna can from his hands (paws?) before he could knock the other stuff down on the table. Grim didn't bother refuting as he sat back lazily on the chair, a satisfied grin on his face.

"Mhm... That was delicious~!" Grim let out a merry sigh. The breakfast he'd been used to everyday wasn't something he would look forward to or enjoy. Living in an abandoned dorm meant that no one else was there to cook for them but theirselves and there was no way Yuu was letting the ghosts handle the cooking. As a result, most of their meals were either bland or too little in terms of portions—Crowley wasn't one to ensure these types of things so that's one more thing Yuu adds to the list of 'Why I don't like the Headmaster'.

So when Grim found a can of tuna lying around somewhere, he didn't waste a second to grab the golden opportunity in front of him. Though there was one tiny little problem with what Grim did.

Yuu got that for their breakfast today.

Together.

And much to their misfortune and Grim's doom, the can was empty. Yuu had to pause for a moment to process the sudden discovery—Grim ate all of the tuna. They had to clench their fist tightly so as to not grab the ribbon tied around Grim's neck and shake him like a pepper shaker. Grim was blissfully unaware of the way Yuu was giving him glares that could kill and continued to relish himself in his euphoria. Though that was short-lived when Yuu decided to open their mouth, gentle anger lacing their voice.

"Grim. Did you eat all of the tuna?" They crossed their arms across their chest, a perfect close eyed smile on their face as they tilted their head slightly when they questioned Grim. He froze for a moment, eyes widening and his lips slightly twitching as Yuu furrowed their eyebrows. Clearly, they saw how the sudden realization hit the raccoon-cat (or whatever he was) and how nervous he became. He needs to think of an excuse—fast.

"A-Ah! About this…" Grim started, throwing his paws around in the air, making out incomprehensible gestures. Though before they could hear his explanation, an important thought crossed over Yuu's mind and they felt their blood run cold.

"Hey… Grim. What time is it?" They didn't wait for a reply, feet already scrambling towards their closet as they vigorously looked for a clean uniform. Grim held a confused expression.

"Eh, time? Isn't it…"

"Grim you idiot! We're bloody late!"

"F'nya!! Why didn't ya tell me sooner!?"

"Oh so now it's my fault? You're the one who didn't wake me up!"

"Professor Trein is going to be so mad…"

"Just shut up and start walking!"

Both of them dashed out from Ramshackle, the doorknob at the entrance getting slightly jammed so Yuu had no choice but to break the rickety door down. Not that it was difficult though, burglars could've easily killed them during their sleep—that is, if people even manage to climb a whole mountain to bother stealing from them. They'll just have to explain the door incident to Headmaster Crowley as well later. That is, if they manage to talk to him at all.

But, for now, the only thing stuck in their heads was to run as fast as they can or else it was off with their heads!

“You’re late.” Their teacher, Professor Mozus Trein, spoke in a cold tone. Gingerly stroking his cat’s head as it purred but that didn't give Yuu and Grim any ease at all when they stood there, unmoving, at the classroom entrance. Yuu tried to keep a neutral expression, hands at their side and feet together. Grim, on the other hand, wasn’t doing so well with doing the same as Yuu. He had trouble standing straight on two legs so he decided to climb up Yuu’s back to their shoulder and stayed there.

The sudden shift in weight on one of their shoulders made them grimace slightly.

“Good morning, Professor. Please excuse my tardiness, it won’t happen again.” Yuu bowed slightly, hoping that this would all be over quickly and he would let them go to their respective chairs. They straightened their back, looking at Trein directly before he gave them a slight nod and returning his attention to the chalkboard in front.

Yuu and Grim let out a sigh of relief simultaneously as they quickly went to their respective seats with Grim hopping off Yuu’s shoulder. He grabbed a bunch of books from Yuu’s bag to stack them up. Sitting on it since he wasn’t tall enough to see on his own without the desk obstructing his view.

Yuu caught the sight of Ace trying hard to keep in his laughter in the corner of their eye. They wondered for a moment about what Ace could possibly be laughing about until they heard Grim snarl ever so slightly. As if a lightbulb suddenly popped up over Yuu’s head, it suddenly clicked all too well.

He was laughing at them.

Although Yuu didn’t particularly mind being laughed at by that clown, Ace Trappola, Grim didn’t share the same sentiment. They had to hold back Grim’s tail to stop him from throwing a fit during class—it was a good thing Professor Trein had his back turned or else they’d be in bigger trouble.

A few minutes into class and Yuu could already feel their head explode. Coming from a completely different world than Twisted Wonderland, there was no doubt that they were going to have difficulty understanding things from here. While History of Magic was indeed an interesting subject, Yuu couldn’t help but feel the need to pull their hair out when they saw what Professor Trein was writing on the board.

‘Those symbols… am I supposed to know them? This looks more like a summoning circle more than anything, how am I supposed to understand this?’

They slapped their forehead repeatedly and forced theirselves to stare at the board once more—hoping that staring at it for a while would miraculously make them understand whatever that is. Grim, on the other hand, looked like he was boding well—looking so studious and listening attentively. But the moment he picked up a pen, that’s when the image was ruined. Yuu had to stifle their laughter when they saw him struggle to write on paper.

While it was a bit mean to laugh at him, Yuu couldn’t deny the fact that the drastic change was hilarious.

“Yuu, is there something you’d like to share with the class?” Professor Trein suddenly called out their name. Their back straightened and their gaze immediately snapped to the teacher in front. It seems like the Professor was paying more attention to Yuu.

Someone in the classroom let out a snort. Small, but audible for it to be heard by everyone in the dead silent classroom.

“Ace Trappola, do you have something to say as well?”

Ace stood up almost immediately.

“N-Nothing, Professor!”

Yuu was a tiny bit glad that Ace slipped up. At least they won’t be alone when Professor Trein decides to punish them. They shot a mischievous look at Ace, sticking their tongue out that screams: Serves you right!

“Dismissed.” With one single word from Trein, the class burst into a series of relieved sighs and yawns—a few ones groaning here and there but they were eventually glared at by the Professor and his poofy cat. Ace sluggishly walked towards Yuu and Grim with Deuce, who looked as fresh as ever, following behind.

“Hey, did you get everything Professor Trein said? Today’s class was sooo boring.” Ace whined, crossing his arms over his chest as he asked his three friends.

“Nope.” Yuu answered truthfully as they put back their pen into their case.

“Not at all…” Deuce closed his eyes and clutched his forehead.

“Hmph! Of course I did, I even took down notes.” Grim was proud as he puffed out his chest. Ace’s eyes perked up for a moment, wondering if he would let him view his notes until a sudden realization struck him. He wouldn’t be able to decipher Grim’s terrible handwriting in the first place. His expression slowly turned into one of disappointment—something akin to the feeling of finding out your name wasn’t in the Top 50.

Deuce was the first to comment. “These are….. Notes?”

“Grr! What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“It looks like a bunch of scribbles made by a cat.” Yuu added. Grim was about to be fuming mad until his ears drooped down slightly, Yuu felt a pang hit their chest. Could they possibly be feeling bad?

“Well… I’ll give you an A for effort.” Yuu patted Grim’s head, hoping that they didn’t hurt his feelings too much after that comment. Instead of lifting his spirits up, Grim felt like his soul got crushed. He felt like Yuu pitied him more than actual commendation, but he won’t say anything. He’ll take the crumbs of praise he can get.

Ace straightened up and walked towards the exit, dragging his legs slightly as he called out his friends. “Oi! Let’s go have lunch already, I’m starving!”

“Coming!” Deuce replied before promptly poking Yuu’s shoulder to make sure that they heard Ace.

“Alright, alright. Give me a minute to fix all my stuff, you guys can go ahead.” Grim stared at Yuu, wondering who should he go with—Yuu or Ace and Deuce? He was going to accompany the Heartslabyul Duo until he remembered how Yuu didn’t get to eat breakfast because of him.

He felt a little bit bad for leaving them like this.

He opened his mouth to say that he’s going to stay with Yuu until they suddenly cut into his thoughts like a knife into butter.

“Grim, you can go ahead too. Save a seat for me while you’re at it.”

“Are ya sure?” Grim asked them for reassurance.

“...? Are you going to miss me or something?” Yuu teased.

“No way! Nevermind, I’m leaving!”

Yuu watched as the Ace, Deuce, and Grim exited the door before letting their smile drop into a frown. They wondered if today was an okay date to ask the Headmaster about progress on the whole ‘find Yuu a way back home’ thing. But, there was a possibility that their visit to his office will be all for naught. Crowley was someone unpredictable, after all—eccentric is another way to put it nicely.

They tapped their fingers against the desk rhythmically. Dozens of thoughts running inside their head. The chatter outside the classroom cutting their train of thoughts continuously which annoyed them to death but it was something they took comfort in. The nostalgic noises of a bustling school filled with students going on and about.

It reminded them of their homeworld.

Yuu decided to look for Crowley as they stood up from their chair. A nostalgic bitterness lingering in their mouth as they left.

“Why did I think I would find him today?” Yuu asked no one in particular. Eyes glued to the wall clock as they counted the minutes they had left before break ended and classes started again. They silently dwelled on their regret of visiting Crowley’s office, it was nothing but a waste of time. Now they had less than 30 minutes to go into the cafeteria to get some food.

Each step they took was taxing. They put too much force with every one and perhaps that was a result of getting mad at a useless bird—their temper can’t help but explode a little bit. By the time Yuu arrived, they spotted the idiot trio sitting by the window. They had already finished eating long ago but they were still there. A thought popped into their head.

‘Could it be…? They were waiting for me!?’ Yuu knew it was nowhere near the truth but perhaps they can indulge theirself once in a while with these kinds of thoughts. Grim was the first to spot them.

“Where were you!? Break is almost over.” The grumble Yuu’s stomach let out made their cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Maybe it was because they skipped breakfast? Grim felt bad. This was his fault, wasn't it? Ace and Deuce urged Yuu to go buy something to eat but one look at the line formed by the counter, Yuu immediately declined. They’re going to be late for class if they waited!

Grim stared at the small portion of lunch he set aside for himself for later. Much to no one’s surprise, it was fish. He had a debate with himself—asking if he wanted to keep this or offer it to Yuu. In the end, he went for the latter. He nudged Yuu with his paw before holding up the plate with his two paws.

“Have this if you want… Ya didn’t get to eat breakfast because of me, right? I feel kinda bad but here.”

Ace’s eyes were wide in shock and Deuce dropped his yogurt. Yuu was flabbergasted at the sudden nice gesture Grim was showing but-

“Sorry, but I don’t want rabies.”

Grim had to resist the urge to set everything on fire. Yuu had to bite back a laugh when they saw how mad Grim was—denying everything about him having rabies. The troubles they had about Crowley were long gone and replaced by the bubbling happiness growing in their chest. The sight of their friends—Grim, Ace and Deuce—was enough to convince them to forget about it. Even if it’s just for a short while.

The nostalgic taste danced in the tip of their tongue once again. A sudden wave of sadness washing over them as they thought about the day when they’ll eventually go back to their own world.

I’ll miss this. Definitely.

They looked up to see Grim causing a mess with Ace holding him back and Deuce trying to summon another cauldron. Yuu shook their head.

But, for now, let’s focus on the present.

Is it so bad that Yuu wanted the incompetent headmaster to stay incompetent? Just for a little longer, don’t find a way back.

[honeysidesarchived]

WHERE THERE IS NO TEMPTATION, THERE IS NO GLORY.

⊱ a santino d'antonio / oc short-fic

interlude i ( read on ao3 ) ( masterlist )

words: 3k

warnings: clown to clown communication! dassit.

rating: m/t

notes: little flashback/interlude chapter where we can all pretend we don't know the inevitable doom that euphie and santino are hurtling towards at breakneck speed ♡ thank you everyone for your love and support on this fic!!!

and thank you to my beta @starcrier who has been reading this content and proofing it not for the first time, but now for the SECOND time, after beginning this fixation for me from the start. you are an angel and ily! ♡♡

Two Years Earlier

It’s the second time that Euphemia meets Santino that she realizes some things in her life have been decided for her, by Fate, and against her will.

Down the road, it will be come a hallmark of their love. Santino will say it against her mouth, her jaw, her neck; il destino, he’ll murmur, you are my destiny. But Euphie will have felt it, that inevitable pull of him, long before he says it.

It’s a black tie even at his museum. She’s been here once before, for a different event he’s thrown, with a different man as a date. That one had been Italian; this one, tonight, is Russian. She would try to remember their names if they mattered, but they don’t.

Admittedly, it’s not quite a date for her, but it is for the Russian. He’s been courting her well and good for the last week, has taken to calling her my girl, is unaware that just two weeks ago she had let another man call her that (or if he knows, he refuses to acknowledge it). She won’t think about it very much; if there’s a little bit of her that hates it, she is reminded that almost all of the money goes home, and that’s what matters.

So, yes—the evening she meets Santino for what is, technically, the second time, she’s on the arm of another man, and Santino walks by with what she’s sure is every intention of ignoring her date for the evening. Her partner says his name, bright and friendly, and the Golden Boy stops and turns with a smile planted on his face that only thinly veils his annoyance at being detained.

“Buonasera,” Santi greets, hands tucked into the pocket of his slacks as he drags his gaze once over her date and then turns his eyes to her. The linger, longer than Euphie might like—men, she thinks, nothing they do doesn’t feel intrusive—and then turn back to her paramour for the evening. “Thank you for coming. Are you two enjoying the evening?”

“Yes, thank you,” the Russian says, and then with a pleased little smile, he plunges on to introduce her. “This is my Euphemia.”

The words leave a sour taste in her mouth. My Euphemia, this fucking gangster says, like he hasn’t paid for her attendance in expensive gifts that she promptly turns around for profit, like she won’t slide his credit card out of his wallet when he isn’t looking. She knows what he expects out of the evening—but he won’t get it. It wouldn’t be a party if he didn’t end up sorely disappointed and thoroughly vexed.

“Euphemia,” Santino repeats, looking more than pleased to savor her name. “That’s Greek, isn’t it? And your last name is...”

“Volpe,” she supplies, despite the warning bells going off in her head. She immediately regrets it. Idiot, she thinks to herself viciously, monsters love to know your name.

Santino’s expression warms. “Italian, then.”

“Yes,” Euphie replies, even though it’s not a question. She’s unaccustomed to being the center of attention at these things. “My parents have a taste for elaborate, long-winded names that people are prone to stumbling over and mispronouncing.”

A smile—one that does not look strained in the least—drags the corners of his mouth upward. He says, “It suits you,” his eyes flickering over her admiringly before he looks back to her date, feigning a grin at a joke that he makes.

They begin discussing niceties that Euphemia doesn’t care about; business, that which goes on under the Table, and yes, Euphemia is there too, but not really. She belongs to no organization, no man. She doesn’t contract work, necessarily—she gets picked up by mafiosos and gangsters that want a pretty slice of arm candy, finds ways to bleed them out just enough that they consider her an inconvenience and not a threat, and gets on with it. She’s selected by word of mouth alone, which means she has spent more time with the regulars of the underworld more than she would like.

As the old adage went, if it’s not broke...

And because she does not care about what they’re discussing—this and that, him or her, the gossip and annoyances of life under the Table—and desperately wants to get out of this dragging social obligation, Euphemia exhales a little sigh and sets her empty champagne flute on a passing tray and says, “Excuse me, I’m going to go freshen up.”

Santino’s gaze lands on her, heavy. There is something sly in his voice when he says, “Let me show you where to go, bella. It’s easy to get lost if you’ve never been here before.”

She knows where the restrooms are, because she has been here before; Santino must know this, she thinks, must be aware that this is not the same man she was with the last time they met in passing (although last time, her date had hardly deigned to introduce her, instead bustling right on to the business portion of it).

Her date is look at her expectantly, displeased that Santino has taken an interest in her but insistent that she not embarrass him by refusing a polite offer. She cannot afford to say, it’s fine, I know where to go, because men don’t like to acknowledge that Their Girl might have also been courted to attend an event with another man, once. The Russian will be in a bad mood all evening if she says that. Unfortunately for her, her particular brand of clientele are especially tedious when they’re in bad moods.

Euphemia stifles a sigh. “That’s very nice, thank you,” she murmurs, wishing desperately that she could just leave. It’s almost not worth it anymore to keep going. It would be a net loss; maybe she would be better off just eating crow and taking it.

Santino plants a hand on the small of her back and guides her out of the conversation, through the crowd of people and toward the back of the room. The low, scooping back of her dress allows him purchase to the skin there, and he takes a lot of care in guiding her—one hand on her back, the other occasionally taking her hand to wind her through the crowd, almost in a sort of waltz. Any excuse to be close to her, he takes, and even if he stops to talk to someone, his hand stays on her. A permanent fixture.

A marking of territory.

It’s always a pissing contest, with men.

She knows that the restrooms are, in fact, not this way, and for a second, she thinks about saying so—but what would be the point? To kick up a fuss now would be almost worse than breaking the magical illusion that she is there for her companion and not for his money.

“You can imagine my surprise to find you here again,” Santino says when the sounds of the party are drowned out by a closed door behind them. The quiet stillness of the hall seems to enshroud them, almost womblike; dulling out the roar of incessant chatter and elbow-rubbing and peacocking.

She keeps walking down the hall despite knowing that it’s not the direction of the restroom. A part of her hopes that if she continues to play dumb, Santino will tire of her more quickly.

And then he prompts, from behind her, “It is again, isn’t it? I could have sworn I saw you here just a few weeks ago, but you were here with...Abarca, wasn’t it?”

“Is there a point to the little thesis you’re writing out loud?” Euphemia asks coolly, not bothering to hide her irritation. She stops walking and turns to face the man, who seems quite pleased with himself; it’s his turn to move, an attempt at closing the gap between them, and each step he takes forward is a step that Euphemia inches backwards until her back hits the wall.

“My point is, Euphemia Volpe,” he rumbles, “that you might be breaking my poor friend’s heart. Can’t I be concerned about that?”

Her eyes narrow. “Your dear friend? Do you know his name?”

“Do you?” Santino replies evenly. He props a hand up on the wall beside her head, blocking her in—but while Euphie’s knee-jerk reaction is to throw up a red flag and bolt, there is something lovely about the gesture, as though he’s made their conversation that much more intimate by one single movement.

It’s dark in the hallway, dimly effused in an amber glow from lowered lights. They cast eerie, handsome shadows across Santino D’Antonio’s face. Absently, Euphie wishes she was more drunk, but she’d been taking the evening slow in preparation of disappearing from her Russian benefactor.

And no. She doesn't remember his name.

Santino seems to take her silence as affirmation, and he grins.

“Don’t worry, I won’t spill your secret,” he purrs. “If you do something for me.”

Euphemia’s mind races. She jumps to the worst case scenario immediately; but she can’t afford to think like that, can’t afford to sweat in front of the man who leans into her with all of the deadliness of a jungle cat. He’ll eat her up if she does, gnash his teeth and sink his claws in and grind her up between his molars. She’s sure of it.

Her predatory conversation partner arches a dark brow at her. He is handsome, Euphie thinks—pretty, the way an oil slick is, dark and iridescent.

“Do you agree?” he prompts. She stifles a grimace.

“Tell me what the favor is first.”

This drags a laugh out of him. “Sei una piccola volpe, aren’t you? Let loose in a hen house of idiot men.” He sounds particularly delighted by this revelation, like maybe he was worried she wouldn’t live up to his expectations. “The favor is just your favor.” He pauses and tilts his head, gauging her. “Go to dinner with me.”

It feels like a trick. It probably is a trick. She’s thinking of all the way that she can turn him down, squirm her way out of this trap that Santino—because she’s not stupid; she knows who and what he is—has laid out for her.

She’s trying to, anyway, but then Santino’s hand comes up to cradle her jaw, fingers slotting through the hair at the base of her skull, and he brushes their noses together.

“Gorgeous little fox,” Santino murmurs, his voice a pleasant rumble, crushed velvet and the sticky, dark-wet of blood. The air bubbles with a strange, hypnotic emotion, lulling her. “I think that I just have to have you. Say that you’ll come to dinner with me.”

The words send her heart fluttering. This is not the first time that a man has said such a thing to her, but it is the first time a man has said it to her this way—as though he is swallowed by his want of her.

Euphemia impulsively says, “Yes,” before she can turn the acquiescence over in her head forty times and smooth the edges down. The second the word comes out of her mouth, Santino is kissing her—electric, demanding, impatient. She’s been kissed by men many times before, and none of them like this; starved for her. She has never known she wanted someone to be driven insatiable by her presence until Santino D’Antonio is kissing her like a man incensed in a dark hallway.

I am always hungry for someone else, she has thought time and time before. I want someone to be hungry for me.

Satino bunches a fistful of velvet in his hand, gathering the fabric between his fingers at her hip and sighing, almost ruefully, like he wants to do more but he won't.

“I should take you from the idiot right now,” he says against her mouth, and he sounds almost breathless. “But I imagine you’re not through with him yet.”

It’s funny to hear him say it like that. When people look at Euphie on the arm of a Russian gangster, they think, he’s not done yet with that poor girl, but unsurprisingly, Santino sees right through it. He pulls back and gives her a half-cocked grin that’s only a little wicked.

Oh, she thinks, feeling a little more than desperate for another kiss, this was a mistake. But though a mistake he may be, Santino D’Antonio is adept at dressing himself up as a delicious one.

“No,” Euphemia replies. Her chest tightens when the warmth of his body leaves hers, pulling back, hand letting loose the fabric. “I don’t suppose that I am.”

“Then I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” Santi replies, that grin on his face not once faltering. He seems very assured that he’s going to sweep her off her feet. Absently, he reaches up and presses the pad of his thumb against her lower lip, dragging it across the skin still tender from the bruising of his kiss. “And what will you say, Euphemia Volpe, when you go back to your Russian friend and he asks you what you think of Santino D’Antonio?”

What could she say? That she wishes that he would kiss her again, the way that he just had, with longing?

“That I don’t,” Euphemia replies, her voice coming out of her silky. The words darken Santino’s gaze; he looks amused and ruffled, all at the same time. “Think of you at all.”

“Oh, that won’t do.” Santino is leaning in close again, the smell of his cologne washing over her, their lips so close they might as well be kissing. “How can I endear myself to you, belladonna?”

Euphemia knows who he is; she knows exactly the kind of man he plays at, at least in public. Even still, she wants to say something reckless, like, you could kiss me again; but she knows better than that, for now. It’s always ‘for now’, with fools.

“Don’t take me out to dinner,” she says after a heartbeat. “Cook it for me.”

Santino pauses and leans back, like maybe he was thinking she would have just asked him for another kiss, and then he laughs.

“Of course, how could I be such a fool?” He grins at her, wide and pearly-white. “Then I will pick you up tomorrow, and cook you dinner.” He starts walking down the hall, and Euphemia can’t help the disappointment that blooms warm and red in her chest, the petals unfurling and reaching each edge of her rib cage.

“You don’t have my address,” she calls after him, still leaned against the wall. Santino turns. His smile has not dimmed in the least.

“I don’t need it,” he replies back casually. “I can find you just fine.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Santino is a fine cook. By most standards, he is probably even an excellent cook, but he is a fine cook to a woman who has grown up with traditional Italian recipes that she has made most every day since she was trusted in front of the stove.

Euphie tries not to micromanage as he cooks, but it’s difficult. The man is wearing an apron over his five thousand dollar suit—probably more; she’s shooting low when she estimates that—and he lets the sauce that’s meant to simmer start boiling before he turns the heat down, and he doesn’t season his water with anything when he starts heating it up for the pasta, and Euphie just can’t stand it.

“Santino, have you ever made dinner for your family in your entire life?” she demands, nudging him out of the way and empty out half of the semi-hot water to replace it with chicken stock, setting the burner up again.

“No, darling,” he replies amusedly, watching her fuss over the sauce. “Just you.”

She stops. It shouldn’t be sweet—it is Santino, after all—but it is. He does a very good job of being the unassuming viper in this situation, she thinks. So she continues what she’s doing, keeping her hands and her eyes and mouth busy because if she doesn’t, they’ll find ways to busy themselves.

“This was supposed to be you making me dinner,” she chides, “not me teaching you how to cook. I think that it will take a lot of making up for me to—”

Santino’s hand tilts her face to him, and he leans down and kisses her. It’s softer than how he’d kissed her in the hallway, but it doesn’t lack the urgency. He still feels hungry.

She’s dreadfully caught up in it, letting him come back a second and then a third time, letting the flicker of his tongue against her lips part them obediently, letting the gentle reprimand of his teeth in her lower lip inspire a little noise out of her. It’s somehow too long and not enough, and when Euphemia drops the spoon on the counter to grip the front of Santino’s shirt (apron), his hands go to her hips.

“Sit down,” he orders playfully against her mouth, “and let me cook for you. And then we will see who will be doing the making-up, won’t we?”

Euphemia has half a mind to tell him to forget dinner—turn the burners off, she wants to say, and kiss me like that again, but more, and everywhere, and and and—but the competitor in her won’t let go. She exhales a short, impatient breath and says, “Fine, but you are on thin ice, amico.”

He laughs and shuffles her away from the stove to a stool at the kitchen island. In what can only be an effort to properly shmooze her, he follows it up with a glass of wine presented neatly in front of her, glittering-ruby, before returning to his half-done dinner on the stove.

“Amico, huh?” The dark-honey blonde glances over his shoulder at her. “Do you kiss all of your friends like that, Euphemia Volpe?”

The words send a pleased little flurry through her chest. As she watches him over her glass of wine, she replies, “Only the very handsome ones.”

When the food is served up, they don't bother going to the dining table. In Santino's loft, it appears that the dining table likely goes without much use, despite it being seated for a full party of people; instead, they stay at the kitchen island, and Santino deposits the apron on the counter before he leans against the edge of the island.

“You are a hard woman to track down, Euphemia,” Santino says, reaching over and scooping and olive off of her plate for himself. She makes an affronted noise.

“I thought you would have no trouble finding me?”

“I did not anticipate you were so efficient at covering your tracks.” He smiles, watching her across the countertop. “No family in New York. No employment history. Rent paid in cash. Most frequently spotted at the Continental, too, but otherwise your recreational hours are spent entertaining influential figureheads. If I did not know any better, I would think you were preparing to disappear.”

Euphemia shrugs. It would be unsettling, that he went digging on her, but she supposes that's life under the Table. It's not as though she anticipated he wouldn't, anyway.

“You are obsessed with me, Santi, it's alright, you can say,” she demurs. It's easier than saying I never want to have to try very hard to disappear.

He grins at her. “Maybe I am just offended that you never offered me your services.” And then, as though to be a good sport: “Because I am obsessed with you, Euphemia Volpe.”

She takes a sip of her wine, sets the glass down on the countertop, and plants her chin in her hand to regard him. His gaze is playful; he looks almost earnest about his words, even though she'd said them in jest. At any rate, it's a relief to have navigated the prying, for the moment.

Euphemia says, “How were you able to focus on cooking when you have me here, then?”

There is a crooked little smile on his face at her words, a smile that she can only see for half of a moment before he says, “Don’t you know the saying?” He leans in and tilts her chin up with his fingers, his gaze sweeping her, as though to admire the most opulent work of art.

“Senza tentazioni, senza onore.”

[void-adjacent-particles]

Burned Bridges

penismp my beloved. Milfboss’ pov, with @mesmir-ized‘s oc Poopwad!! Poopboss/Milfwad supremacy. (though I may have implied PoopbossAnus, the ot3 of the century) I couldn’t resist, that burned bridge scene was SO cool and I know people think Penis actually did it but!! Imagine the canon divergence of Milfboss being more involved!!!!! IMAGINE!! being able to avenge Poopwad’s first death!!

Content warnings for manipulation, premeditated murder, scar mention, weapons mention, arson, arguing, swearing.

Milfboss’ heart was racing. Her ears were perked, twitching every time ash fell from the sky and irritated her delicate fur. She crouched lower, knees aching as the gravel dug into her legs and dirtied her pink skirt. It would be worth it, it had to be.

She took another swig from her flask, the bubbly, watery taste of an invisibility potion sending shivers down her spine, and her tail thrashed against the ground for one moment at the feeling, thankfully without her usual bells adorning it. The aesthetic had to be sacrificed for her plans, unfortunately.

If there was one thing she learned on this server, it would be that sacrifices are necessary to get what you want.

Milfboss’ eyes narrowed, her pupils contracting into thin lines as the sun set into golden hour, shining right in her face. She shifted in her spot hiding behind the hay bales, sniffing a bit as joints ached, restraining the urge to sit down. She had to be prepared for action, as always. In the past few months she had learned that you only survived by being prepared to fight or flee at any moment.

Being unaware got people killed. She learned that the hard way when her girlfriend lost her first life while Milfboss only could stand aside and do nothing. Even in the warm sunset of early autumn, she shivered, a memory of rain pouring down, of a trident raised and crackling with electricity as the skies prepared to answer a mortal’s call.

That was one of the many reasons Milfboss was here now. To organize the beginning of the end for the one who dared to take the life of Poopwad, her girlfriend. Even when Poopwad trusted them, when she stood with her back to him to protect him, he still struck her down.

And now she would always have the spiraling scars of a lightning strike, and three round scars of the trident’s prongs, a constant memory of betrayal.

Vengeance was Milfboss’ main objective, and she’d sacrifice anything to get it. For Poopwad, and for herself.

The sound of netherite boots crunching on gravel and cobblestones made her ears perk up and swivel, head turning quick at the sound. There, in the strange mask of a baby’s face, was Shitty. From the other side of the ravine’s bridge she could see the bright holographic form of Penis.

Her hands clenched, claws extending, netherite gauntlets shining with enchantments trying to activate. She watched as Penis hopped up on the railings of the bridge, as calm as could be. As if he wasn’t a murderer. A monster in a player’s skin, always waiting for the moment to strike when his prey was helpless, when they trust him. And Shitty sat there as if nothing had changed, maybe a bit farther apart than usual, but still willing to be in his presence, still able to look at that stupid box on his head and act like he’s worthy of respect.

After a tense moment, both of them relaxed, swords and axes sheathed or set in their holsters, a faint strained laugh from Shitty reaching Milfboss’ ears.

The time was coming. Milfboss raised the shiny, enchanted netherite hoe, a gift from Poopwad back when they first started dating, and left it on top of the hay bale. Once it left her invisible fingers, the invisibility potion’s magic left it, and the sudden appearance would be what her paid help would be looking for.

Turbo better not fuck this up for her, or heads would roll by her own hand instead of manipulating the situation to kill them by proxy. Getting her claws dirty would ruin her dress.

Sacrifices were necessary.

Across the ravine she saw flickers of movement, the treeline shifting with no breeze, an obvious tell of invisibility potions when someone knew to look for it. 

Her heart began to race again and she began to grin, sharp teeth bared as she moved to sit atop the hay bale. She had front row seats to the show, and she wouldn’t miss it for the world. Besides, they would be too occupied to notice her when the invisibility ran out.

The ashes drifting in the air settled on her skin, the remnants of a city lost to everyone, of lives cut down for selfish gain. Under the constant smell of gunpowder that permeated the server, there was now an underlying tinge of active redstone that made her fingers twitch in anticipation. The mechanism would be starting.

Soon enough, the smell of charred wood began to fill the air, the faint bubbling of lava pouring from dispensers by the wooden supports of the bridge becoming more and more audible as the slow moving liquid began to fall.

At this point Shitty and Penis were fully invested in their conversation, now standing and arguing about something. Shitty sounded tearful, resentful. He was facing away from Milfboss, but she could see his disturbing baby mask in his hands, gesticulating with it as his voice cracked yet again.

Penis stood there, arms crossed, defensive but not denying his transgressions. The murder of people, of course, but also the slaughter of animals. Balls the cow, a beloved pet. Fuckass the sheep, who assisted in destroying the city so many people lived in. The bats that were kept in the zoo Poopwad created as a memory to the chase.

Smoke began to twirl in the faint breeze, rising ever upwards into the orange light of the setting sun. The crackle of flames began to roar, the creak of straining beams interrupting Shitty’s tirade.

“What did you do?!” Shitty yelled as he leaned over the edge, watching as the fire spread.

“I didn’t!” Penis stepped back. “I wouldn’t!”

“Fuck you! You god damned monster! Nothing is sacred, huh? Nothing fucking matters to you, not pets, not lives! Not even the fucking bridge!” Shitty screamed, throwing his mask.

The ceramic mask dented the holographic cardboard of the box on Penis’ head, causing him to stumble back. “I swear I didn’t!”

“You swear a lot of fucking things, Penis. You swore to keep us safe! You swore to love me! But where did that fucking get us?!” Shitty stomped in anger, the wooden boards underfoot crumbling away from him, and he clutched to the railing with a squeak of terror, trying to pull his boot up and out of the hole.

Penis rushed forward, arms reaching out, but Shitty unsheathed his sword, slashing wildly. “No! Don’t fucking touch me! Just go!”

“I’m not going to leave you here you idiot!” Penis yelled.

“GO. I don’t want to see you ever again until the Admiral drags you in to your execution, you fucking traitor!” Shitty snarled.

Milfboss chuckled under her breath as her invisibility potion wore off, flickering back into view. Not that they would notice her, too caught up in their own soap opera of a relationship.

Penis backed up, shaking his head and trying to apologize, before turning and running away into the woods, boards falling out from under his feet as he ran.

After a moment, the wood holding Shitty up buckled, and he was holding onto the bridge above the ravine, above the lava, by just his hands.

Now it was her time to shine.

Milfboss ran up, pretending to be breathless. “Shitty! I heard yelling!” She raced towards him, holding out her axe with the handle facing him. “Grab on!”

With a broken sob, Shitty’s hands grabbed the handle, and she pulled him up easily. He really was a beanpole of a person, no muscle at all, unlike her, who had arms built for cutting down trees and carrying her girlfriend.

She slung her axe onto her back and lifted him up in a fireman’s carry as she ran back into the small sanctuary of the aquarium, one of the few places left untouched by the carnage created by Fuckass and Penis.

“Thank you.” Shitty sobbed into her shoulder, shaking.

“I won’t let anyone lose their last lives on my watch.” Milfboss said. As if she had honor anymore. As if she cared for anyone but her, Poopwad, and Admiral_Anus, the woman who gave her a home.

Everyone else could burn. But it wasn’t Shitty’s time yet.

“Guess I owe you a life-debt now, huh?” Shitty sniffled into her neck, laughing with self-deprecation.

Milfboss grinned victoriously, eyes shining with bloodlust and malice that Shitty couldn’t see.

“Let’s call it a favor.” She said casually. As if it didn’t matter.

As if it wouldn’t be integral in her plan to take Penis down a notch.

Poopwad died by the hand of her trusted friend, Penis. She died quick and painfully, electricity arcing down her bones and into her heart.

Penis would die the same way.

But it wouldn’t be quick.

Milfboss would make sure of that.

[phinksimp]

Baby~

Phinksx!Fem Reader

"Y/N!"

You turned around to see a towel flying straight at you. You smirked as you caught it just in time, moving it to the side to wink at the person who had thrown it.

Phinks chuckled as he walked towards you, dressed in his usual green tracksuit while holding a plain black umbrella over his head. He sighed, noticing how wet your clothes were. He then blushed when he saw how tightly your dress now hugged your body. The brute cleared his throat. "Don't tell me you believed the weather man again?! How many times do I have to tell yo--"

You kicked him slightly on the shin as you dried your hair with the towel. "I'm fine! Besides, I can always count on you for an umbrella and a nice dry towel, right?"

The blonde rolled his eyes, holding himself back from berating you more. He watched as you laughed, a sinking feeling slowly taking over his chest.

You stopped laughing and stared at the unusually quiet man. "Phinks?"

He snapped out of his trance, replacing his blank stare with a smile. "You said you wanted sushi, right? Let's go."

You had made it a tradition for you and Phinks to go out for dinner every year on the first day of Spring. As much as he'd complain about it, he never missed the day.

You and Phinks had been friends since Junior High. You were managing the basketball team he was on when he had suffered a torn ACL. You had helped him on his road to recovery, not knowing that the time spent with the boisterous and overly confident jock would result in such a close friendship.

Phinks began to run into trouble with the law as the both of you grew older. This resulted in you having to bail him out of jail, almost as often as he had to bail you out of bad dates.

You knew you could always count on him, and you would be there for him at the drop of a hat.

"Ah!" You stretched your arms over your head as you both exited the restaurant, your stomach having reached its limit. "Thank you for dinner, Phinks! You really didn't have to."

Phinks stayed quiet, simply replying with a nod.

The Gucci clad man pointed towards the water. "You okay if we stand over there for a bit?"

There was something Phinks wanted to tell you, but he was having trouble figuring out exactly what it was...

You leaned over the wooden railing, smiling as you took in the view of the moon slowly lowering over the water. "It's finally spring." Your mouth formed into a smile. It was your favorite season.

Phinks nodded, his eyes focused on the river.

You stared at Phinks as he thought. There was something that you had been meaning to ask him for so long now.

Maybe it was when he smiled at you from the podium, thanking you for helping him recover and making it to the championships. Maybe it was when he held you as you cried when you had finally broken up with your abusive ex-boyfriend. Maybe it was when the two of you had first met that first Spring.

But somewhere between then and now-- you had fallen in love with Phinks.

There were quiet moments when you noticed your glances becoming stares, your hugs lasting longer than usual, and a faint blush across his cheeks when you had secretly caught him staring at you.

You had stopped yourself from telling him for so long, scared it'd ruin your friendship. You didn't want to lose him.

You continued to stare. You took in his broad shoulders, how the moon illuminated his already golden eyes, and his hands that you wanted to hold onto. Forever.

"Phinks--"

"Y/N."

You chuckled waving your hands, unaware of how red your face now was. "Sorry, you go first!"

Flustered, Phinks shook his head. "No, you go. Don't even bother trying to argue with me!"

You stood there dumbfounded, looking at the ground as if the answer to what you should say would magically appear.

"Y/N?"

You took a deep breath. It was too late to back out now.

"Phinks...what...am I to you?"

Phinks raised his brow bone. "Huh? You're...human?"

You rolled your eyes, aware of how oblivious he could be at times. "No, dummy...I mean...what am I to you?" You clenched your jaw, the sound of blood rushing filling your ears.

Phinks repeated the question in his head, trying to decipher what you were asking him.

Several minutes passed, sending your anxiety through the roof. There was no other way to do it-- you just had to say it.

"Dammit, Phinks! I'm asking what I am to you because...I..."

Phinks tilted his head, still confused. "You what?"

You bit your lip. He was such an idiot sometimes.

Why are you making this so much harder than it needs to be?!

Phinks' heart dropped, finally realizing what you were about to tell him.

"Phinks, I think I lo--"

He panicked, his face turning a deep red.

NO WAY! IS SHE?!

He looked around frantically before disappearing into thin air.

You stood there dumbfounded. You had spent the whole time guessing what he was going to say, that you never expected him to not say anything at all.

"Well, I guess that answers that..."

You took a deep breath as you held in your tears, too proud to cry. If anything-- you could tell Phinks you were joking the next time you saw him.

I'm such an idiot.

You tossed in bed, unable to shake the feelings of hurt, embarrassment and rejection that seemed to take over every aspect of your being.

Angrily, you threw the covers off before throwing a jacket over your night gown.

I need to get my mind off of this...

You walked to the docks by your house, sighing as you sat at the very end of the wooden pier. You cringed as you replayed the moment in your head again.

"Phinks..."

"Yeah?"

You screamed as your turned around startled, nearly falling into the water.

Phinks caught you by the waist, keeping his hand on you as he pulled you up.

"You never listen to what I tell you. You're always whining about something or crying. Not to mention you're always hungry."

You blushed, unsure of what he was trying to say.

Before you could speak, you felt a chill rush down your spine as Phinks lifted his hand up to your face.

"You're hopeless on your own...but I know that I'd give my whole life up for you in a heartbeat."

You stood there in shock, wondering if this was just a dream.

Phinks smiled as he moved his face closer towards you, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

"What you are to me...well...you're my baby."

LOL. Sorry I don't know what the hell that was. I just saw this picture and it reminded me of Phinks. I didn't know what to write, so I just typed whatever came to mind first. Might write something again if a better idea comes along. Hope you enjoyed reading it (even just a little).

[seokiloquy]

Bruised Ink - Kageyama Tobio

Soulmate AU: When you write on your skin it appears in the same spot on your soulmates body

Requested (though I changed it a bit to keep it as canon as possible)

Tags/Warnings: GN!Reader, Kageyama being a bit of an airhead, mild swearing

Word Count: 1.7K+

Art club, morning, lunch, and after school. Though admittedly your art club supervisor / English teacher didn’t enjoy seeing an eager face so early in the morning. She, over a matter of days, had gotten used to your silent presence in the corner of the art room as she worked on papers, occasionally asking for your opinion on a topic. 

“See you after school!” you called down the hall, before waving to your aforementioned supervisor who was talking to the art teacher in the corner.

You flicked your uniform jacket off, letting it hang off the top of a chair as you ran to your canvas. The clean paint brushes waited patiently next to the progressing piece of art and your pallet rested next to them, mummified and waiting to let it’s paints feel the air again. You delicately picked at the tape wrapped around the pallet, pulling it off to reveal the chemical smell of acrylics.

You gazed at your painting for a moment, admiring the contrasting muted colours that blended nicely into the slowly fading background. Taking a brush, no larger than the width of your pinky, you reached for a vibrant green and royal blue, ready to dollop small portions onto your pallet. You huffed through your nose as a clump of blue stuck to your fingers. With no paper towel in sight, you kept your mouth shut and rubbed the paint against the back of your opposite arm. 

“You’re going to stain your skin,” your teacher huffed behind you as she walked to her desk, brushing a free hand through her bob cut. “It looks almost like a bad bruise.”

You sighed, picking up your pallet and brush, gently working the bright teal colour you mixed into the layers of your canvas. “Maybe, but if I’m lucky it’ll be gone before any of the other teachers notice just like every other time.”

She gave you a quirked brow sliding into your spinning chair that was tucked into the corner of the room. She grabbed a pen with one hand and sipped on her coffee mug with the other. “What do you mean by that?”

You laughed. “Every time I doodle, draw, paint, or just anything on my skin whatsoever, it’s gone before I see it again.” 

“So your soulmate’s washing it off before class?” she hummed, turning her eyes away from your blocked-out painting and onto the sheets before her.

“I don’t have a tattoo or a red string, so most likely, ya. They probably don’t want to get in trouble. Or maybe they’re in a swim club and don’t even notice it?”

Chuckling she looked up but kept her head down, gifting you the sight of a mischievous look. “Or they could be sweating it all off.”

“How often does a person sweat to get rid of that much ink on a daily basis?”

“There are some dedicated athletes out there.” She shrugged, rubbing the golden tattoo on the back of her hand. “Then again, all soulmate connections are a bit different.

Humming, you turned back to your painting that leaned against the wall. “What are you working on this morning, Ms. Ono?”

Behind you, a page flipped followed by a groan. “First-year English.”

“First-year? I thought you taught second-year English?”

“I did for Sugawara’s class, but I usually teach the first-year.”

You pushed your brush into the canvas a little harder. “Damn, I thought I would get to be in your class.”

“Sorry, kiddo, but you wouldn’t be in my English class anyway. But your Japanese is improving!”

You huffed through your nose. “I’d hope so, the Sugawara’s really aren’t giving me a break.” You studied your canvas and took a step back, looking at how the light bounced off the surface and made the teal look with the less saturated colours.

“Good on them.”

“Don’t encourage it!”

“Kageyama, what happened to your arm?”

The boy’s grown out bowl cut swished as he flipped his arms around turning his head in search before eventually finding the offending colour that had spread into his skin. Twisting his arm, he gave the colour an indecisive look, before poking it his index finger. “Must be a bruise. Probably smacked it when we were setting up the net. Doesn’t hurt though. So hurry up, let’s get started.”

“Why does everyone have to get to school so early,” Sugawara mumbled to himself, pushing the door to the gym open as he ruffled his hair. He spoke louder, “Tanaka, can’t you stop these two?”

“Sorry, dude. But I’m having fun with this. Why are you here so early anyway?”

Sugawara sat down in the doorway, changing his shoes and rolling off his uniform pants to reveal his loose shorts for practice. “(Y/N) has been coming to school early to paint. And my parents said ‘they’ll get lost, you go too’ instead of ‘no, sleep a little longer.’” 

Tanaka huffed through his nose, “Has (L/N) been settling in well?”

“Oh ya. Eichi loves the new company. But now I have to keep up with essentially two siblings instead of one and these two idiots.” The silver-haired boy yawned as he gestured at the two first years that yelled at each other while throwing balls into the air.

Tanaka gets out a gruff chuckle before running into the centre of the gym to join the duo with endless energy.

“Gone again,” you mumbled as you slowly packed up the bento box that Koushi’s mom had prepared for you.

Your arm, which had been covered in paint stains and ink marks across the whole colour spectrum, had been wiped clean. No doubt the work of your soulmate and whatever activity they partook in during their free time. 

Grumbling, you took out your white ink pen and doodled a subtle frowning face on the inner crease of your wrist.

Ms. Ono rose from her seat, patting away invisible dirt that clung to her dark pencil skirt as the warning bell sounded through the speaker system. “Alright, (L/N). I have a class to teach, out you get.” She shuffled hat stacked papers in her hand, pausing for a moment as a look of realization was thrown onto her face. “Oh and, there won’t be art club this evening, so tell the other members too.”

“What? but that’s the best part of my day!”

“Sorry, (L/N) but I can’t be in here all the time.”

You whined, following the English teacher out of the room. Mr. Sato, the art head, walked into the paint-filled classroom as you left. You both gave him a friendly nod, before continuing with your conversation. “What can I do then? I’m not allowed to go home alone.”

Ms. Ono hummed, “Why don’t you sit in on Sugawara’s volleyball practice, you can use it as a figure study and sketch in your notebook.”

“I guess that’s not a bad idea.”

“Well, there you go. Alright, get, to class or you’ll be late.” She stepped into her sunlit classroom, walking straight for her desk with clicking heels.

You left the entryway of class 1-1’s homeroom and started making your way down the hall to your own room in class 1-4. As you weaved through the crowded hall of first years you kept your head up, looking for the nearest tunnel of space, only to get locked against the wall staring into the eyes of an intense schoolmate you were unaware of.

“Uh sorry,” you mumbled, looking away from his pinched brow and sharp eyes that only held your gaze for a moment.

He raised a brow, looking down the hall behind you to his classroom. Saying nothing, he huffed and schooled his expression. Placing the opposite hand on your shoulder, he spun your body to be behind him, switching locations, and continued down the hall. You watched his flat black hair bounce as he turned into class 1-3’s room.

“Well, isn’t he sweaty,” you mumbled to yourself as you made the last few steps into your classroom.

“Koushi, Koushi, Koushi. Are you sure it’s okay for me to sit in?”

“Just don’t encourage any foolishness and it should be fine. We still have to practice.”

You nodded, following your homestay as he led you to his club’s gym, rambling about his teammates.

“Ah, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi? They’re in my class. I didn’t know they played volleyball.”

“Do you talk to them?”

“No sir, I do not think Tsukishima's intimidating.”

Sugawara led you to the side where their manager stood, speaking with one of the teachers you had seen running around the school, you bowed silently as Sugawara quickly gave an introduction and ran off to change his shoes and clothes.

The group had an easy time ignoring your presence as you sat on the metal bench, flipping coloured pens between your fingers. Rough doodles filled the page as messily scribbled outlines took the form of the players you saw before you. Some were stretched out in the air while others dove to the ground in elegant swoops. 

Your pen skidded across the paper.

“Damn,” you muttered, lifting the tip and forcing it into the papers again. Nothing.

Twirling the ink-filled tool between your fingers you shifted the sketchbook off your lap and taking the pen to the surface of your skin.

The ink skidded, leaving uneven marks in an indecipherable pattern along the surface of your skin before running dry. You reached for another pen, only for the result to repeat. You grabbed another, and another. The pattern continued, pushing and pulling, dragging the fine tips as they slowly began to cover the entire surface of the back of your hand in every colour including your white ink, which luckily still worked fine and contrasted brilliantly with the muddied mess on your hand.

You huffed out a quiet cheer of success, finding that a majority of your pens worked fine, and placed the forgotten book back into your lap, coloured pages ready to be drawn over with your trusty series of pens.

“Yo, Kageyama. Is that another bruise?”

God this one is vague as hell but I didn’t have to brainpower to make it any more decipherable. 

It was originally requested that the reader be Sugawara’s little sibling but he only canonically has a little brother, not everyone physically looks like Sugawara, and the adoption trope is meh to me. So I went with a foreign exchange student that is being housed by his family. (if you couldn’t tell)

This au, in particular, is very hard because we try to keep our character (being Y/N) physically ambiguous for the purpose of allowing everybody to enjoy reading it. This au very much panders to those with lighter skin, so I apologize if I didn’t make it as open as I could’ve and please let me know if there are ways I can make this sort of au better. I want everyone to enjoy reading them and not feel excluded.

That’s all, and I hope everyone is healthy and safe. - Bacon

Posted: 06/12/2020

[trashbaggage]

okay okay okay

the movie “enchanted”, but witcher-fied (sorry this got away from me a bit)

there’s a stereotypical medieval fantasyland where jaskier julian alfred pankratz is the prince of lettenhovia. he’s got the looks, voice, and affinity for attracting woodland animals of a disney princess. also, the tragic backstory: his parents died in a freak accident when he was young. but don’t worry, his creepy “uncle” stregobor took upon himself the burden of ruling in their stead, until julian grew up and became ready for the throne.

(basically, stregobitch is like rasputin, and had tricked and slimed his way into the crown’s good graces before, surprise surprise, killing off the king and queen. he left julian alive to take some of the heat off of him with that extra distraction of grieving child. alas, poor little princeling that he can play the benevolent guardian to.)

and things are gr8 for good ol streggy, julian seems more inclined to sing and wander than become bogged down with the responsibility of becoming king. everything’s comin up stregs.

and then, of course, there’s a prophecy about how julian will be his doom or whatev and he needs to get on that shit STAT like he’s never heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy before (to be fair, fantasyland doesn’t have ancient greek tragedies to learn from so rip stregosaurus). but before he can implement his sophisticated plan of julian dying in an “accident”, our dear jules wanders too far and falls down a magic well into the Real World.

and he’s like, sweet, look at all this stuff! this is great and - oh hello, very attractive man with silken white hair and eyes as golden as the dawn light falling gently upon newly blossomed lillies and thighs that can crush his head and his heart, what up. and geralt is very confused and frustrated and oddly and begrudgingly charmed by this loudly dressed and loudly singing idiot accosting him outta nowhere, but his daughter ciri seems to like him so i guess we can keep him for a night but if he pees on the rug he’s out.

cue fun family bonding, musical numbers, shenanigans, all that jazz; julian, now jaskier cuz new world new him babey,, exploring and learning and having the time of his life and trying to get this broody man to open up and show that kindness his scowl can’t quite hide.

aaaaand cut back to streginald throwing a fit that the prince has cleverly evaded his dastardly plans, he has underestimated him it seems, and he can’t just let this massive loose thread keep flappin in the breeze, so he sends yennefer to deal with him.

now, yennefer is streggo my eggo’s daughter in this, and he’s raised her to be his right hand woman, his evil apprentice, the (much smarter) kronk to his yzma, and she’s been promised power once her dad fully claims the throne, so ofc she gets right on tracking that crafty twunk down to kill him. in the process, she comes across roach, julian’s horse and bff talking animal companion, by the magic well, gathering up the fucks to go after her wayward idiot. a struggle ensues, and yen and roach both go through the portal.

so now we got the side plot of these two trying to find jaskier, yen to kill him and roach to huff reproachfully at him for getting into this mess and if anyone is gonna kill him she will for dragging her across realms (she does not like portals, okay, they feel weird) not some uppity witch. so they got their tomfoolery of yen almost killing an unaware jaskier but then roach foiling her plans. she also tries to kidnap ciri as bait for a trap, but she can’t hurt this kid she’s too precious, ow ow ow, why does her chest feel weird?? she’s actually starting to find the boundaries to her thirst for power and it kinda sucks and feels nice at the same time??? 0/10 do not recommend

during this, geralt’s quiet life is being upended by this weird dude and he’s never danced so much in his life and his child is conspiring against him to set him up with this clearly deranged but very nice and pretty man but he’s not staying ciri we have to get him back to .....wherever tf he came from i don’t even like him, what are you talking about,,,

it all comes to a head at the costume ball, where geralt and jaskier are dancing and making eyes at each other until roach bursts in and tries to charades her way into warning her idiot to run motherfucker but she can’t talk in this realm so ugh and geralt horsegirl rivia is just like omg ur best friend is a horse that’s so fucking cool i love you even more.

and then yen bursts in; she’s kinda struggling to fulfill her mission, cuz she’s been watching jaskier and geralt and they just seem like two idiots that couldn’t possibly threaten anything, let alone her father’s power grab. she’s also made frenemies with roach, she’s the only motherfucker who can handle her in this city. so she just tries to scare jaskier into never returning, which works pretty well because she is v v scary, and then stregobonkers comes strolling in like wtf why is this taking you so long just kill him!! and yen is like i’ve kind of grown this pesky con- 🤢 consci- 🤢, wait, just, give me a min,,,, conscience!! yeah, that’s the bitch! anyway, stop telling me what to do dad and stregobego drops a bomb and goes i always knew you had a weakness to you, just like your parents!

and it’s just,,

silent.

what? what do you - my parents?

and it turns out he saw the power she held and wanted it under his control, so he killed her parents (it’s like, his signature move at this point) and groomed her to be his obedient little weapon. and, understandably, yen is pissed off and hurt and goes to lash out at him, but he just smirks and clicks his fingers while muttering under his breath, and everything stops for yen a second time as her mind blanks.

sneaky streg had put in a fail safe, in case she ever got out of line, and the amulet he gave her “for protection and focus, you must never take it off” lights up and puts her under his command and she turns into a sickass dragon that starts tearing up the dance floor, literally, in her rampage to kill jaskier.

geralt and jaskier go oh shit and dodge for their lives and things are looking pretty dire, but then jaskier looks at the suits of armor set up for decoration and goes wait a minute and grabs a sword to toss at geralt and just goes cover me boo and aim for that amulet and if you miss we’ll probably all die so no pressure!! and just sprints out and distracts angry dragon!yen and geralt goes goddamnit jaskier and sneaks around until he can jump at her and do a completely improbable matrix leap to stab at the amulet, and because this is a romcom and i get to choose my coping mechanisms, he makes it and yen is free from streg egghead’s power and she turns to him, still a dragon, and smiles wide with all them sharp sharp teeth and he goes ohhhh shiiiit and tries to run, but jaskier very helpfully trips him up and goes eat up my lady and dragon yen does, with great relish.

in conclusion, everyone lives happily ever after except streggles. geralt gets over his baggage and professes his love for jaskier, jaskier goes i’m not that easy geralt there needs to be wooing! i deserve to be wooed!! before heavily making out with him in the next five seconds. jaskier gives yen his blessing to become queen of lettenhovia, because he never really wanted the job anyway and she deserves it after what she’s been through. she still comes back every sunday for brunch and to teach ciri how to fight (she’s mine now, i’ve adopted her so she needs to learn the fine art of pointy things geralt) and geralt, jaskier, and ciri take holidays to fantasyland and roach is free to roam wherever she wants and becomes an advisor to yen.

the end

(extra dramatic addendum: geralt finally brings jask home to meet his family; vesemir opens the door and geralt goes this is my boyfriend, jas- but vesemir cuts him off with a choked out pRiNcE JuLiAn?! and it turns out vesemir is also actually from fantasyland. he worked for julian’s parents; the prevalence of monsters had been steadily rising, and so they had the idea to create witchers to combat them. kaer morhen was created under their sanction and vesemir was a teacher there, but he became disenfranchised with every boy that didn’t make it through the trials. when the keep was attacked by fanatics against witchers, he smuggled out eskel, lambert, coen, and geralt, and hid them away. he looked at these traumatized kids and went well that won’t do, followed up on some rumors of a new world, had a mage friend alter the boys’ memories, and skedaddled for our world. very shocking reveal, angsty angst-ness as geralt and the others deal with repressed memories and the fact that jaskier’s parents were responsible for it all, y’know, all that good stuff)

[free-pool-trash]

dangerous game - part iii

Here is part 3 :) the caps lock button on my laptop is broken so excuse some of that :)

Word count: 2.4k

Taglist:  @badluckposting​ - @c0-77​ - @my-remical-chomance​ (lemme know if u wanna be added)

Warning(s): fluffy Warren time (y’all are getting some Peter flashbacks next part dw;)), swearing, i pulled an all nighter so if this makes no sense we’re all just gonna have to be okay with that

Masterlist 

(gif isn’t mine :))

For the most part, things had gone back to normal within your friend group. It took a while but you and Peter were finally back on speaking terms, which he was glad for but it wasn’t quite where he wanted to be. No, he wanted to be where Warren was.

Because while Peter had been grinding to get you to speak to him the way you used to, Warren had you giggling and almost swooning. They were moving into dangerous territory and although they both wanted to be the one you loved, they were both equally as terrified of what the other would do to make you change your mind once you finally made a choice.

Of course you were blissfully unaware of the game the boys were playing for your affections, everyone else in the group noticed, though. Jean and Jubilee were living for the drama of it all, constantly wondering who you’d pick in the end. Scott and Kurt were constantly on edge, afraid a fight would break out between the winged boy and the speedster. And Ororo, who had just returned from a particularly long mission, was utterly confused by the drastic change in atmosphere.

You and the group were sitting around outside, under the shade of a huge oak tree in the garden as it had finally started to feel like spring and the academy had been hit with a heatwave. You were laying down on the grass, hands crossed under your head and your eyes closed as the sunlight that slipped in through the gaps of the tree covered your body, keeping you warm.

“I love spring.” You sighed out blissfully, Warren looked down at you fondly from where he sat, back against the trunk of the tree.

“It suits you.” He said, the beginning of a smirk on his face. He meant what he said, spring looked good on you, you looked ethereal, the way the light washed over your shoulders, that were exposed by your top, was driving him crazy and when you cracked your eyes open at his remark and threw him a cheeky wink he had to let out a low chuckle, he knew for a fact that you knew the effect you had on him.

If you were being honest with yourself you weren’t quite sure what was going on between you and Warren but whatever it is, you really liked it. It was light and fun, it didn’t go too deep but you still knew it meant something.

What you didn’t know was that between Warren and Peter it meant everything.

Peter watched the pair of you with a pout, he was mad that he couldn’t even be mad about what he’d just watched, Warren was smooth and Peter wanted to give him some credit for that because he was right, spring did suit you, so did summer, it always had. To Peter you were the literal embodiment of that summer feeling, you know the one that's just warmth and pure bliss? That feeling that if it was a colour it would be golden? That’s how you felt to him, of course he never voiced this to you and fuck if he regretted it because if he didn’t know any better he would’ve thought that Warren was starting to develop the same idea.

As the afternoon went on you found yourself growing bored of sunbathing and opened your eyes to see that all of your friends looked content, Jubilee and Kurt had found their way onto one of the tree’s branches, they were giggling among themselves, you had to stop yourself from cooing at the sight of them. Jean and Scott seemed to have snuck off somewhere and Ororo was in her element soaking up the sunshine. Peter was asleep in the grass, walkman on and music playing through his headphones as he napped, you hadn’t seen him so calm in ages, it was nice to be able to just hang out again. You really missed him, you still did, the closeness just wasn’t there anymore and it wasn’t clear if you’d ever get that closeness back. You hoped so, but you couldn’t be sure.

Your eyes moved to Warren who was peacefully reading against the tree trunk, you moved yourself up so that you were leaning on your elbows and the movement caused the blond to raise his eyes to look at you, you smiled softly at him and watched as he heaved himself up from his sitting position and made his way in front of you, arms stretched out towards you in invitation.

Letting out a soft giggle you raised an eyebrow in question at the grabby hands he was making at you, “Come on, let's go on a walk.” He said and you finally placed your hands in his much bigger ones and allowed him to pull you to your feet.

“Alright, Birdy. Where to?” You asked as you dusted yourself off.

Warren shrugged, green eyes glinting with mischief as he began walking toward the school gates, “Anywhere but here.”

This would definitely get you both into trouble later but with the heat of the sun and the way the literal angel was looking at you clouding your judgement, you didn’t care what happened, so you caught up to him and the pair of you strolled casually out of the school.

You walked side-by-side pretty aimlessly for about a half hour before you actually saw any sign of civilization, a small and pretty dingy looking diner sat on the side of the road you and Warren had been walking on and you decided you’d go in and risk getting food poisoning for the sake of the little adventure you guys were having.

The place was empty, save for the few members of staff who were working, none of whom seemed at all bothered by Warren’s metal wings, which was good you supposed. Warren picked a booth and slid in across the red leather of the seat to be by the window and you slid in right beside him, legs pressed together.

Lately you often found yourself wanting to be closer to Warren, he’d become like a safety blanket to you, you weren’t sure what it was just yet, but he made you feel safe, like nobody could hurt you, neither physically or emotionally as long as he had anything to do with it.

“What’re you thinking about?” The boy in question asked, looking at you intently, curious as he rested his cheek against his hand.

Smiling at him, you bumped his shoulder gently, “Just the usual.”

Before he could question you any further a sweet looking waitress walked up to your table, she seemed to be in her 60s give or take and wore a bright smile on her face “What can I get for you two lovebirds today?” She asked, a kind tone in her voice as you and Warren blushed and smiled at her awkwardly.

Clearing his throat, Warren answered her, “What would you recommend?”

The woman’s smile never faltered, “The milkshakes are just wonderful. I bet you’re a strawberry kind of gal, right?” She directed at you and you laughed in amazement, “Yeah, I am, actually!”

“And you… chocolate.” She looked to Warren this time, a knowing look on her face as his eyes widened and you giggled at the look of childish bewilderment on his face as he just nodded to her.

“Milkshakes sound great… one strawberry and one chocolate, please.” You gave her the order with a huge smile on your face, trying not to laugh as Warren shook his head, “Lucky guess.”

“Coming right up, sweetheart.” With that she walked away and turned toward Warren, smile ever present, “I like her.” You declared happily and Warren huffed out a laugh and tried to calm his heat rate as he looked at you. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you and your smile and your eyes that seemed to be sparkling with happiness, you had him completely enchanted and he wondered if you even knew that he’d both kill and die for you.

Pulling himself out of his trance he allowed himself to smile at you and you had to fight the urge to fall into a trance of your own when he did.

“I think she thinks we’re a couple.” He stated and you nodded in agreement, looking in her direction while mumbling, “Should we tell her we’re not actually a couple when she comes back?”

“What and break her heart?” Warren asked cheekily, throwing his arm around your shoulder and bringing his mouth close to your ear, you could feel his breath against your skin, biting your lip to stop the grin that was trying to form you listened as he began to whisper.

“Besides, I think I’ll enjoy being your boyfriend for a little while.” You rolled your eyes at him but you couldn’t quite shake the smile from your face. He was smooth and he knew it, but still, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t going to enjoy having him as your not-boyfriend for a little while.

After a few minutes the waitress returned with your milkshakes, you both thanked her as she walked away and began sipping through your straws.

Throwing your head back, you let out a overly-sexual moan as you swallowed a sip of your strawberry milkshake, “Fuck, this is heaven.” You spoke into the air.

“I agree.” Warren told you, eagerly sipping the cold drink, nose poking into the whipped cream at the top of the glass.

When he finally separated himself from the chocolate milkshake, he looked towards where you were giggling beside him, “What?” He asked you, almost pouting.

“You’ve got cream on your nose…” You let him know, laughing harder as he went cross eyed trying to see for himself, “Here, let me.” You said, not thinking as you leaned up absentmindedly and pecked the tip of his nose with your lips, successfully removing the speck of cream from his skin.

“There… All gone.” You moved away slowly, blushing as you realized what you’d just done. You really just kissed Warren Worthington iii’s nose as if it was nothing.

The grin that formed on his face sent a shiver up your spine, “Oh so that’s how we’re playing it? Okay, love.” He said, smugly while nodding his head and scooping some cream from his cup up with his finger.

“What’re you doing, idiot?” You asked with a laugh, quickly being silenced when he smeared the cream he’d collected on his finger directly onto your lips.

Furrowing your eyebrows at him, you didn’t have time to ask him what that was for before his lips met yours softly, after a second of looking at him with wide eyes, you gave in, eyes fluttering closed as you moved your lips against his.

Your hand moved to his cheek as he tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss when your began to smile against him he pulled away, pressing smaller kisses to your lips before regaining his previous distance, which wasn’t much.

Smugly he told you, “You had cream on your lips.”

“Alright, I see what you did there, Birdy. Well played.” You commended, nodding your head in approval of his move.

“Didn’t become your diner boyfriend because of my lack of game.” He said with a wink, arm tightening around your shoulder as his pulled you into his side, reveling in the sound of your laughter.

“Course not, your dashingly good looks sealed that position for you.” You teased, poking his side.

It was strange, you’d just made out with one of your closest friends less than a minute ago and yet messing around with him about it felt like the most natural thing. And you couldn’t lie… The kiss was good, it was really good, in fact your heart was still hammering. You definitely wanted to revisit that later.

After another while chilling in the diner, you decided it was time to return to the school, the sun was getting ready to set and golden hour was hitting a little different as you and Warren walked, stealing glances at each other. A kind of understanding had settled between the both of you after the kisses you shared in the diner, it was the understanding that what you guys had was for sure deeper than just friendship.

Upon arriving back to the school, Warren walked you to your dorm.

“I had fun today.” You told him, shyly tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, your earlier confidence seemingly gone.

“Me too.” 

Smiling sweetly, you leaned up and pressed a small kiss to his cheek before stepping into your room, “See you tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow.” Warren confirmed with a smile on his face, walking backwards away from your door as you shut it.

Pressing your ear against your door, you made sure you heard him leave before you let out a squeal you’d been holding in since you kissed his nose, the day had been like something out of a shitty coming of age romance movie and you fucking loved it.

Running out of your room, you knocked on Jubilee’s door frantically.

“Jubes! Jubes! Jubes!” You chanted excitedly as your knuckles rapped against the wood.

The door swung open and you were met with a confused looking Jubilee, pushing past her you entered her room and quickly shut the door, ushering her to sit on her bed.

“I have news.” You shot off into the story of what had happened between you and Warren in the diner and it was safe to say that she was more than happy with the information you’d just given her.

She wanted you with Warren 100%, you were good for each other and plus, she couldn’t wait to rub this in Jean’s face who had been rooting for Peter in the game to win your heart.

Her train of thought brought her to the question she spit out with a perplexed look on her face, “Wait, what are you gonna do about Peter?”

With that, your rose coloured glasses shattered and you were brought back to Earth, your stomach dropped at the thought of how your and Warren’s developing relationship would make Peter feel.

Sure he screwed you royally, but you knew exactly what it felt like to see someone you love give their love to someone else, at least when it happened to you, you had some distance but Peter was about to have a front row seat.

You still loved Peter but you definitely have very strong feelings for Warren too and you had a feeling that things were going to get really messy.

“Fuck…”

[beetlebitchywitch]

I really love when you write Dewey, that birthday fic was soooo cute, do you think you'd be down to write more Dewey fluff? Or even hurt/comfort? Just, whatever you want with him, he's perfect and I love him

This sounds awesome! Thanks to @go-commander-kim for kinda getting the whole “Just Friends” trope stuck in my head because here we are. Some angst to fluff Dewey x Fem!Reader for your reading pleasure!

If anyone asked you why you decided to live with Dewey Finn, you would simply ask why you wouldn’t want to live with your best friend. You’d known one another practically since diapers, having sworn an oath on the kindergarten playground to be friends for life, and somehow, you’d managed to make it work. You were both in your late 20’s now, and you were still going strong, so when you both were looking for roommates, it simply seemed to make sense. 

The fact that you got to get a good view of him shirtless now and again was simply the icing on the cake. 

God. Shut the fuck up, you thought to yourself, shaking your head to rid yourself of that thought as you prepared the two of you breakfast. But still, the image persisted, Dewey with his perfectly squishy belly and his chest hair and his hips-

“Y/N, the pancakes are burning!” 

Fuck, he was right, in your reverie you were blissfully unaware of the two pancakes you had on the griddle slowly turning black and sending acrid smoke dancing through the air. You swore under your breath and pulled them off, discarding them both and pouring two new ones to take their place.

“Sorry, Dew, just got a little distracted…” You turned around mid-sentence to shoot him a smile and instead quickly fell silent because Jesus Christ, your daydream was real. Dewey was lounging by the counter with a mug of coffee in had clad only in a pair of pajama pants hanging loosely around his hips that exposed that fucking delicious little happy trail-

You quickly turned back around, eyes scrunched shut as you tried to forget that the guy you’ve practically been in love with for years was standing behind you with no fucking shirt like it was just a thing to do. Love...God, you hated to admit it, but you were absolutely gone for this man, and there was no use denying it, not when everything from his hair, to his voice, to the way he snored made you swoon. But he was your best friend, he’d always been your best friend, and there was no way in hell you’d ruin nearly 20 years of friendship just because your heart fluttered when he was around. Why did you decide to live with Dewey Finn? Because you were a masochist who enjoyed teasing herself with a guy you could never have. 

“Those smell fucking awesome,” Dewey groaned, rifling throug the pantry for a bottle of syrup. “Let it be known that Saturday morning breakfast is an awesome tradition and if I ever say otherwise, assume I’ve gone crazy.” 

“Crazier than you already are? Impossible,” you joked, hip checking his playfully before flipping the pancakes- these ones, thankfully, were golden brown and gorgeous. Dewey ignored your little quip in favor of setting the table, and by the time you walked over with the full stack of pancakes, he was seated with a hungry look on his face, silverware clutched in both fists. 

“Oh yeah, that’s it, come to Daddy,” he crooned, grabbing pancakes from the top of the stack before you’d even managed to set the plate down. You held back a whimper hearing him call himself that, pushing it down with a grimace and joining him in stacking pancakes onto your plate. He groaned loudly, his mouth so full that his cheeks puffed out and syrup dripped from his lips. “Jesus Christ, these are good.” 

“They’re from a fucking box, Dew, it’s not like we’re having brunch at The Four Seasons,” you said with a playful eyeroll, trying to ignore how badly you wanted to lick up that little bit of maple syrup clinging to his lower lip, God, could this get any worse? “You’re on omelette duty next Saturday, alright? I want that mushroom and swiss one that you make.” 

“Anything for you, Shortstack,” he said with a wink. God, that stupid fucking childhood nickname. It used to annoy you, since Dewey had been taller than you your whole life and never ceased to make fun of you for having to look up at him when you spoke, but now, every time he used it, it was with a warm affection in his voice and his eyes that made it damn near impossible not to swoon. You cleared your throat and sent him a withering stare, trying to hide how your insides had melted from one simple word. 

“Bite me, Dewdrop,” you grumbled, your stomach swirling with warmth when he beamed at the sound of his own nickname, his eyes crinkled so adorably that you couldn’t help but smile around a mouthful of pancake. God, this fucking idiot. “What are we thinking tonight, another horror movie marathon? I’ve got some real shitty ones we could make fun of!” 

“As fun as that sounds, I can’t,” Dewey said, a soft pink blush crawling its way onto his cheeks. “I...I kinda have a date tonight.” 

Date. 

Date. 

Just hearing the world felt like icicles stabbing at your gut, and as it reverberated in your mind, the pain only grew. Dewey had a date?

“Wow! With who?” you asked cheerily, putting on as brave a face as you could the second you saw that happily little smile blossom across his face. 

“Her name’s Amy. I met her at last week’s gig and we just kinda hit it off, I guess. We’re going out tonight for a few drinks,” he said excitedly, blushing profusely seemingly thinking about her. You could feel tears clawing at your eyes, your throat tightening as the thought of him with his arms around some faceless girl assaulted your mind. You couldn’t help but imagine him holding her close, kissing her, whispering little sweet words into her ear while she giggled like a fucking schoolgirl; it made you sick to your stomach, the stack of pancakes in front of you suddenly seemingly utterly unappetizing as you maintained your bright smile, hoping it didn’t look forced. You wanted to be happy for him. You needed to be happy for him, because you’d be a shitty fucking friend if you weren’t, and you refused to lose the guy who’d been there for you since fucking kindergarten, no matter how badly you wished it was you putting that giddy little smile on his face. 

“Well hey, congrats buddy!” you choked out, trying to hide the strain in your voice. “Let me know if you need help getting ready, alright? I, uh, I think I’m gonna go clean up.” 

“Yeah, alright. Wait, you barely touched your breakfast, are you ok?” he asked, looking so concerned that it practically punched you in the gut because you knew you couldn’t be honest with him. 

“Yeah, I’m just less hungry than I thought. You finish your plate, I’ll just be doing the dishes.” And with a half-smile and a little nod, you retreated as quickly as you could to the kitchen, finally letting the tears fall silently as you leaned over the sink, your hands trembling as you braced yourself against the counter. You should’ve fucking known this would happen. Dewey was a great guy, an attractive guy, and you knew someone else would come knocking one day, someone who would make him blush and giggle and swoon the way you did whenever he so much as breathed. You’d tried to deny it, tried not to think about it, tried to forget that other people existed that Dewey might just be interested in, but now the day had come where you finally had to face the music. Sure, maybe this girl wouldn’t last. Maybe they’d date for a few months, break up, and you’d be left dealing with the aftermath of a sobbing Dewey surrounded by snotty tissues and self-loathing. But there’d be another girl after that, and maybe one more after that, and all the while you’d have to sit back and smile and support him as if the sight of him loving someone else wasn’t slowly eating you away from the inside out. But you were a good friend, you were a good friend, and you’d never let your feelings keep you from being there for Dewey, from cheering him on in everything he did. You’d walk him down the fucking aisle and give him away to someone else if you had to, because that’s how much you loved him. Your love wasn’t selfish; it never was, and it never would be. 

So, you dried your tears, steeled your nerves, and began doing the dishes, shutting your brain off in favor of mindlessly completing your task. You heard Dewey get up from the table and likely wander off back to his room, but you paid him no mind and finished cleaning up the remnants of your breakfast. When you were done, you retreated to your room, locking the door behind you and curling back up in your unmade bed, wishing you could fall back asleep and redo the day. You’d stayed there for hours, hair undone and still in your pajamas as you drifted in and out of sleep, fitfully tossing and turning as you tried to forget what was inevitably coming. By dinner time, you finally gave up on your pity party and got dressed in a soft pair of jeans and a t-shirt, throwing your hair up in a bun and venturing out in the living room. But when you saw Dewey...you froze.

He was perfect. Decked out in his favorite band t-shirt, a black leather jacket, and dark jeans, he looked fucking incredible. It wasn’t the fanciest get-up, but for a night out drinking, it was absolutely perfect, and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring. 

“Wow,” you breathed softly, suddenly feeling incredibly underdressed in your ratty t-shirt and ripped up jeans. Dewey turned at the sound of you, smiling nervously and straightening out his jacket as he faced you. 

“Yeah? Do you think it looks good?” he asked, brushing himself off and looking at you anxiously. You gulped and smiled, nodding despite feeling like there was a heavy rock in the pit of your stomach. 

“You look great, Dewdrop,” you said honestly, wanting nothing more than to just reach out and hold him, but holding yourself back for your own sake. “When are you meeting her?”

He checked his watch and balked, quickly rushing to the couch to throw on his favorite pair of worn black boots.

“I should actually get going now. Don’t wait up, alright?” And with a quick wink, he was out the door, leaving you completely alone. You stood silently for a moment, letting the reality of the situation wash over you. That was when the tears came, just silently dripping down your cheeks as you moved to curl up on the couch, swaddling yourself in a blanket and letting yourself cry. 

For the next three hours, you’d think about him, what they were doing, what they weren’t doing, wondering if he’d go home with her...what if he brought her back here? You couldn’t bear the thought of Dewey stumbling back into your apartment with a giggling girl in his arms, kissing down his neck, dragging him to his bedroom...you shook the thoughts from your head, wiping your tears away each time they came. You hated yourself for this, for throwing yourself a fucking pity party on the couch while Dewey was out with God knows who probably having the time of his life. You felt pathetic compared to him, and you knew that if he could see you now, he’d probably think so too...no, that was a lie. Dewey would never think that way about you, which somehow made it worse. Fuck him and how fucking good he was- if he wasn’t such an awesome guy, you wouldn’t be in this fucking mess! Before you could let yourself spiral any further, the front door suddenly swung open, startling you out of your own head. There was Dewey, looking slightly put off without a girl in sight. Ugh, thank God. You let out an internal sigh of relief and put a smile on your face.

“You’re back earlier than I thought,” you greeted him. 

“Sadly,” he grumbled, running his fingers frustratingly through his hair. “That date was a mess.”

God, you didn’t want to be happy about this. You did not want to be happy about this. But you were, you simply couldn’t stop yourself from feeling so utterly relieved that Dewey’s date was a total bust. 

“Yikes. Come here, tell me all about it.” You patted the seat next to you on the couch, which Dewey gratefully took. The scent of cigarettes and beer hit your nose, not altogether unpleasant when mixed with his cologne. “So. What happened?”

“God, nothing. That was the problem,” he groaned, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. “We didn’t jive well at all. She didn’t seem weird when we first met, but like...ok, I tried to get her to do karaoke with me, but she totally blew it off like it was a dumb idea. I even wanted to do Don’t Stop Believin’, but she acted totally stuck-up, like karaoke was beneath her. And so then I tried to order her a drink, just a Long Island Iced Tea, and she fucking turns her nose up at it like it’s garbage! And you’re not going to believe this- she didn’t even want wings. 10 wings, half buffalo, half soy garlic, and she doesn’t touch a single one. I mean, who goes to a bar and doesn’t order wings? I swear, I thought we were gonna hit it off great, but she just...I don’t know, she just didn’t seem to want to have fun, y’know?” 

You wanted to feel bad for him. Really, you did, she sounded like a total drag. But you couldn’t stop the wheels from turning in her mind as you went over the events of the night, the realization hitting you in the face like a wrecking ball.

Don’t Stop Believin’ was your favorite karaoke song.

A Long Island Iced Tea was your drink order.

10 wings, half buffalo, half soy garlic was your wing order. 

That didn’t mean anything, right? It couldn’t mean anything. Maybe he just liked all of those things too, except no, he always got 15 barbecue wings and a pint of IPA. Maybe Dewey was just used to you liking all those things when you went out for drinks that he just projected onto his date. Or maybe…

“Dewey, did...those are all...Jesus Christ,” you whispered incredulously, running your fingers through your hair as you shook your head. Dewey’s face pinched with confusion, his brows furrowing and wrinkling his forehead as he turned towards you. 

“What? Am I missing something?” he asked, blinking repeatedly as if to try and force himself to figure out what you were thinking. You simply let out a cynical chuckle, standing up from the couch and pacing around the living room, feeling the words you’ve been repressing for years starting to bubble up in your throat. No, hell no. You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t fucking do this, not now, not after he literally was just on a date with someone else, but...you couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t imagine another night crying on the couch, wondering what Dewey was doing, wishing it was you with him, wondering if it could be you. You needed to be doing anything else, you needed to not think, you just… you needed to go.

“It’s nothing,” you choked out, avoiding any and all eye contact with him because you knew if you took one look at him, you’d be spilling your guts, and God knows you couldn’t handle that right now. You rushed to the front door, throwing on the closest pair of shoes with fumbling hands. “But after hearing all that, a bar sounds really good right now. I’m just gonna head out for a few drinks, ok?”

“Y/N, wait-” but before he could even finish his sentence, you were out the door, the words you desperately wanted to say dying off in a broken sigh as you rushed down the stairs and hit the street, taking the all too familiar route to your favorite little dive bar a few blocks away from your apartment. It smelled of cheap cigarettes, grain alcohol, and loneliness- perfect for a night like tonight. You felt the cracks in your heart only grow with each step away from your apartment, away from Dewey, but you forged on, finally reaching the bar and wandering immediately to the bartop, sitting down towards the end.

“Hey, Y/N, what can I get you?” 

You looked up to thankfully see your favorite bartender, Ellen, wiping down a glass with a friendly smile on her face. You returned it gladly, feeling somewhat comforted by the presence of a familiar face.

“Hey, love. Can I just get my usual, please?” you asked softly, trying to hide the pain in your voice. Ellen, ever the observant one, put down the glass immediately and pointed an accusatory finger at you. 

“I’m throwing in an extra few wings on the house, alright? I don’t know who hurt you, but you know I know how to hide a body.” And with a wink, she was off to mix your drink, leaving you to look out over the bar with a grimace. You saw many of the regular patrons, some giving you friendly waves, while one unfamiliar looking man was up on the stage, belting away to a song you’d never heard of. You wondered if this is where Dewey took his date. You wondered if you were sitting where she sat, except rather than getting to be out with one of the most incredible guys you’d ever known, you were alone, drowning your sorrows with alcohol and cheap bar food. Ellen returned just as the song ended with your glass, the amber liquid looking increasingly enticing the more you thought about the dumb bitch that somehow took Dewey Finn for granted. Taking it thankfully, you lifted it in a silent toast to her poor judgement and took a hearty swig, comforted by the burn of the alcohol down your throat. Now, all you needed was your favorite order of wings and part three of your pity party could truly get underway. After a few minutes of sipping at your drink, you saw Ellen returning with your food and sighed happily, but she stopped short of you, her eyes locked on something behind you. 

“I was wondering when he’d show up,” she said cheerily, finally placing your wings in front of you. “You never come here alone.”

“What are you-?” You turned around to see who she was looking at and your eyes widened to see Dewey standing only a few feet behind you, panting slightly as if he’d run to the bar. “Dewey, what are you doing here?” 

“What the fuck do you mean ‘what am I doing here’?” he asked, immediately sliding onto the barstool next to you. You tensed at the closeness, feeling the soft leather of his jacket rubbing against your arm, but chose to stare down intently at your wings as if looking at him would betray your feelings. “Something’s clearly up, and you ran away. What, was I supposed to just let you come here and shitfaced alone? Ellen, can I have my usual, please?”

“Coming right up,” she said trepidatiously, looking nervously between the two of you before quickly pouring him his favorite beer and setting it down next to him, making a hasty retreat to the other side of the bar. You sighed, grabbing your own drink and taking a long, slow sip. 

“You didn’t have to follow me. I’m fine,” you assured him, the obvious lie tasting bitter in your mouth. Dewey simply sighed, taking a swig of his own drink before setting it down loudly. 

“Look, I’m your best friend,” he began, and if he saw the way you winced when you heard it, he simply moved past it. “I’m not gonna force you to tell me anything, but you literally know all of my secrets, so why are you hiding this from me?” 

“Because this is fucking different,” you hissed, finally giving in and looking him dead in the eye with a withering stare. “This isn’t like knowing that you pissed your pants at your 3rd grade band concert and spent two hours playing the glockenspiel while standing in a puddle. This fucking means something, Dewey, more than you know, so can we please just sit here and drink in silence?” 

He paused. In the 20+ years he’d known you, he’d never seen you so serious, so...angry. You were angry, he could tell, but he didn’t know why, or what he’d done to make you so clearly adverse to letting him in on it. For now, he knew he needed to respect your wishes and simply be there for you, even if he didn’t know why, but it was already starting to eat away at him inside. With a sigh and a nod, he turned to face the bar, taking a hearty swig of his beer as you finally dug into your wings, trying to ignore the fact that Dewey was basically in this exact situation with another girl only a few hours prior. He looked over at you practically devouring your food and smiled fondly, reaching out to try and steal one. You smacked his hand without even thinking, getting a quiet laugh from Dewey that managed to make you snort under your breath. 

“Sorry, sorry, I know how protective you are of your wings,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. Your wings. You stared down at your food and drink and still couldn’t believe that Dewey didn’t see it. Maybe you were blowing it way out of proportion, but…

“They’re my favorite order,” you pointed out firmly, meeting his gaze with a meaningful look. “10 wings, half buffalo, half soy-garlic, and a Long Island Iced Tea. Only thing that’s missing now is to get up there and sing ‘Don't Stop Believin’, right?” 

“Right, yeah,” he said, his voice trailing off. It took a moment of silence, but you finally felt Dewey tense next to you, his eyes squinting as he looked at you, then your order, then back at you. You watched as the realization dawned on his, his eyes widening a little and his hand trembling slightly, looking like he nearly dropped his beer. “Yeah...that’s…” 

“Yeah,” you responded solemnly, turning away to sip at your drink, doing everything you could to avoid eye contact. “I realized it before you did, clearly.”

He was dead silent. You didn’t feel him move an inch next to you, clearly staring down at the bartop trying to put it all together in his mind. 

“So you think I…?”

“Yep.” 

“And I...God, I did,” he sighed, putting his beer down to run his fingers anxiously through his hair. “I wasn’t even thinking.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you retorted, wincing at how rude you sounded. “Sorry, sorry, I just-”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” he said, turning to face you. This was it. This was when he let you down gently, this was the night you ruined your friendship. God, you couldn’t fucking believe how stupid you were. You turned on the barstool to face your fate, keeping your eyes trailed on the bartop even as your body turned toward him. “I never wanted to make this awkward.” 

“Yeah, well, you didn’t,” you grumbled, playing anxiously with your own fingers as all the feelings, the hurt, the anxiety, swirled around inside of you like a thunderstorm. “It’s my fault for making such a big deal out of it.” 

“No, I’m sorry I ever made you uncomfortable,” he said firmly. You paused, finally turning to look at him. Uncomfortable? What was he talking about? “I guess...I guess I just ordered for her like she was you because...because I couldn’t stop wishing that it was you.” 

Oh. 

Oh...my God. 

Oh my God.

“D...Dewey-”

“I’m serious, Y/N, I’m so sorry it ever even came up,” he rambled on, his eyes alone practically pleading for forgiveness. “God, I can’t believe I was so stupid. Look, this doesn’t have to change anything, ok? I’m still your best friend, right?”

“Dewey Finn…” you trailed off, shaking your head incredulously because oh my God, you could not fucking believe what you were hearing. You could feel joy bubbling up inside of you, replacing the anxious storm with fluttering butterflies because for the first time ever, you felt confident about what to do next. “If you think that this doesn’t have to change anything, you’re dumber than I thought.” 

...Oh God, wait. That came out so wrong. You watched as Dewey’s face fell, his eyes rounded and wide as if someone had just socked him in the gut. Jesus Christ, you just found out that your best friend felt the same way about you and you were already fucking it up. Before you could try and take it back, he was standing up from the stool, downing the rest of his beer and leaving a few bills on the bartop.

 “If that’s what you want,” he murmured brokenly. He turned towards the door, his shoulders sagging as he quickly made his exit. You were frozen for a moment, staring after him uselessly for a solid few seconds before frantically rifling through your purse, throwing cash onto the bartop and rushing after him, finding him only half a block away by the time you made it outside. 

“Dewey, wait!” you shouted, sprinting towards him with all your might. He turned around in surprise, pausing on the sidewalk as you rushed towards him. When you reached him, your desperation had reached a fever pitch and you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing Dewey to the nearest wall and capturing his lips in a searing kiss. His eyes were comically wide, his lips smushed against yours almost violently, but he didn’t care, God, he really didn’t care. They quickly slid shut, his arms sliding around your waist and up your back to hold you close, kissing you back with a desperate ferocity. It took you a few moments to realize you were basically making out in the middle of the sidewalk, but you let yourself have it for a few more moments because the man you thought you’d never have suddenly had you in his arms, and you couldn’t help but indulge yourself in him. When you finally pulled away to gauge Dewey’s reaction, he didn’t even open his eyes for a good ten seconds, just basking in the afterglow of the kiss he’d craved for longer than he could remember. When they finally did open, they met yours and immediately crinkled under the force of his megawatt smile. 

“Y/N...you…?”

“Of course I do, dummy,” you chuckled breathlessly, running your fingers through his hair. “Why do you think I was so fucked up over you going on a date? And doing all of my shit with her?” 

“God, she meant nothing to me,” he groaned, his hands pressing firmly on your back and tugging so your bodies were firmly pressed up against one another. “She asked me out and I thought it would finally help me get over you, but all I could do was compare her to you the whole night, and then she hated all the things you love and I just couldn’t stand to be around her. God, Y/N, I just want you-”

He cut himself off with a heady groan as he kissed you again, already addicted to the way your lips felt against his. You whimpered and kissed him back, feeling the joy practically radiating from every pore in your body. He was perfect. This was perfect.

“Take me home, Dewdrop,” you murmured against his lips, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Please, let’s just go ho-” 

You yelped as he immediately slid his hand into yours and tugged, pulling you along at the fastest pace possible back to your apartment.

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

The next time you walked into that bar, it was hand in hand with your boyfriend, a proud smile on his lips because yeah, he got to be the one to have you on his arm. You both took your regular seats at the bar, Dewey’s hand placed firmly on your thigh when Ellen finally approached.

“Hey, you two,” she greeted, albeit a bit warily. “You’re certainly looking...chummy.”

“Don’t we always?” you asked innocently, though the playful wink you sent her way told her all she needed to know. She looked between the two of you for a moment before grinning brilliantly, and you and Dewey couldn’t help but share a laugh under your breath. 

“First drinks are on me tonight, alright?” she offered up with a sly grin.

“Come on, El, we couldn’t ask you to do that,” Dewey retorted. You barely paid attention, already melting from the feeling of Dewey’s thumb tracing little circles on your thigh.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Besides, won’t be a loss for me. OI, GREG! You owe me 20 bucks!” And with a wink, she was off to pour your drinks and collect her money. You and Dewey both shared a shocked look, which quickly dissolved into snorting laughter as you threw your head back and laughed unabashedly, feeling so much happier than you’d felt in so long that you couldn’t help but let it out. When you met his gaze again, it was soft, his little smile and honeyed stare practically making you melt because Dewey Finn was giving you the biggest heart eyes you’d ever seen, and it was too much to bear. You sighed shakily and leaned in for a soft kiss, losing yourself in the feeling of his plush lips on yours. When he pulled away, it was with a sly grin and a wink.

“How long do you think we’re gonna be here?”

“Mm...an hour.” At that, Dewey slid his hand further up your thigh, his fingertips just barely grazing between your legs. “...O-Ok, maybe only half an hour.”

He chuckled gently and placed a loving kiss on your cheek.

“That’s my girl,” he crooned, leaving his hand exactly where it was when your drinks arrived. You ignored the blush so obviously staining your cheeks and took a long swig. 

This was gonna be a long night. 

[19mrs-barnes17]

As Long As I Can Get - Chapter Five: Wounds Heal

Summary: “Healing doesn’t mean the damage never existed. It means the damage no longer controls our lives.” - Unknown

Part: 5/5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (AU)

Warnings: supah cute

Word count: 3,001

A/N: Thanks again to @wxntersoldiers​ for beta reading! This chapter is dedicated to @cantnkrusshedevil​ for helping me to map out the details of this story’s plot.

~

A cool breeze blew through the tall grass, flower petals ripping from their stems and flowing into the wind somewhere out of sight. The cool brushing across her skin and ushering in a sense of calm to her frantic mind. The sun was setting and sending golden rays across her body and through the blades of grass. Soon the color has disappeared and she is left with the light of the stars, constellations twinkling within the dark navy net of the night sky. 

She feels peace for the first time in a while. Her eyes fluttering shut for a moment to take in the feel of the night air against her skin. 

This was her favorite place in the town. An empty meadow, well empty in the sense of human structures and beings. The only place where you weren’t likely to run into anyone, but you might spot an animal wandering about. A place of serenity and peace where she could simply be.

This was where she had come to understand her emotions since she was young. But she was just as lost as ever, stuck in a state of confusion and only one way to find an answer. She knew what she wanted, but she didn’t know if she had the strength to go out and get it. Or if she even could.

She was scared, but she wouldn’t let fear drive her to make a mistake. Fear had already caused far too much damage in her life and she was ready to break free of it. Instead, as cliche as it may sound… She wanted love to take the spotlight. 

~

“James? You there?” He could hear Y/N’s father from his room, his sluggish movement resulted in louder pounding upon his front door. But he had heard Y/N’s voice in his head chastising him about throwing on a shirt before answering the door and was momentarily delayed.

“Can I help you?” Bucky squinted at the man, fighting off a yawn as he leaned against the door frame.

“Y/N wasn’t answering her phone, some nurses were trying to get a hold of her to see if she’d pick up their shift. So I went to her apartment to see if she was alright. But...” Bucky straightened his stance, eyes landing on the phone in his hand. It was Y/N’s. “I have looked all over town but I can’t find her.”

“Look, she’s a smart woman. She’s probably just out clearing her head and left the distractions behind. The fact that it was in her locked apartment bodes well.” Her father nodded, relief flooding his face. “I’ll go to our spots and see if I can find her. Just wait for that to ring or buzz, ok?”

“Thank you.” He pauses for a moment, eyes saddening. “I never should have told you what I did. That’s not my job nor my business and it was wrong of me. But in my defense I become a little bit irrational when it comes to my daughter’s happiness, too paranoid about every little thing.”

“I know. But I never should have listened in the first place.” He left her father standing on his front steps as he made his way to the closest of the locations. “Go ahead home, I’ll find her in no time.

It was becoming dark as he went to location after location without success, his mind running through a list of possibilities. One came to mind and he felt like an idiot for not looking there first, it used to be his place to hide from the suffocating monotony of the town. When he met Y/N that changed, he showed her his private oasis so she could get away from the watchful eyes of her parents. It soon became a place they shared, one used to relax and calm their minds.

It had been ages since he had been to this field, seen these flowers and the tall grass in person. He had almost forgotten its power. His mind already felt less troubled as he began to scan the area. His eyes landing on a discrepancy in the tall grass and flowers.

The closer he got the more he noticed there was an inward bend in some of the grass as though someone was laying atop of it. When he saw an arm reach toward the stars he sent a text to her phone, a single word, before pocketing the device. Safe.

Bucky knelt by her head, his hair hanging over her as he shook her lightly. She responded instinctively with a fist to his nose. He fell onto his back with a grunt, holding his nose with his fingers as a little bit of crimson leaked between them. 

"Oh shit. I'm so sorry." She was hovering over him within seconds, eyes wide with panic until her training began to kick in.

"Never apologize for defending yourself. I'm the idiot who should have announced himself." He chuckled softly as she moved his hand to inspect the wound, eyes softening at the sight. Her fingers gingerly caressed over his throbbing nose before furrowing her brow and scrunching up her face as though she was brainstorming a plan.

"Good news is I didn't break it, the bleeding should stop really soon. It might swell a little but it isn't bleeding too bad." She pulls off her jacket and holds it beneath his nose, pinching the bridge between her fingers. "Sit up and tilt your head back."

"Guess it's a good thing I got punched by a nurse." He smiled a dopey smile as she held the jacket in place and shook her head.

"You're an idiot."

"Guilty. But at least I'm an idiot who loves you." She froze, eyes meeting his before a bright smile suddenly broke out on her face. 

"A lovesick idiot."

"Just what the doctor ordered." She shoved his shoulder and fell onto his back, her hand still attached and nearly dragging her all the way down. Hovering over him she carefully wiped the remaining blood from his face.

"You should be fine now, just ice it when you get home." She moved to stand but he grabbed her hand.

Bucky sat upright and patted the ground next to him before lying back down. She reluctantly complied, turning her head to the side so that she was looking him in the eyes. Something in her eyes had his insides turning to goo, heart racing in his chest.

"Stars are up there." She smiled softly and shook her head. "I may be an idiot, but I'm fairly certain about that one."

"Not my star." He furrowed his brow, absolutely perplexed by her comment. “It’s never been in the sky.”

"Alright, I'll bite where's your star?" She smiled and tapped his nose with her finger before giggling. "I'm not a star you goofball."

"Why not? We're all made up of atoms from previous stars aren't we? So why shouldn't you be my star? You do exactly what the North Star does after all." She returned her eyes to the sky but he couldn't stop looking at her. 

"And what's that?" He knew exactly what she was implying but he wanted to hear her voice say it aloud. Because if she said it, then he wouldn’t be so afraid to chase after this feeling she had him obsessing over.

"Remind me that I'm never alone." She smiled softly as her eyes fluttered shut, her chest slowly falling and rising as though she was blissfully unaware of how her comment had him reeling.

Bucky could not comprehend how someone could say something so profoundly heartfelt in such a casual manner. As if it was the easiest thing in the world. As though it held no more significance than any other endearment. To him it meant everything. Those few words made him fall all over again and he couldn't care less whether they had a whole lifetime or only a year.

He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything in his life.

Her eyes remained closed as he moved to hover over her, a hand beside her head on the grass as he leaned in. His lips soon received a response from hers as they began to move together. Her hands making their way to his hair giving it a little tug which elicited a moan from him. 

Kissing her was like finally breathing that first breath of fresh air after months of breathing in smog. Euphoric. She tasted like chocolate and serenity. He just wanted to feel this rush forever, to taste her lips as often as possible and never let her go.  

One hand on the grass and the other beneath her, pressed against the small of her back. He held her close as his lips moved against hers, her tongue sliding inside as she once more tugged at his hair. She had him wrapped around her finger.

Y/N had a power over him that left him completely at her mercy and he didn’t mind that one bit. He almost forgot the necessity of air until she pulled away and rested her forehead against his. 

"Now I'm really mad at you." She laughed breathlessly as her eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze. "I've been missing out on that for over 10 years? You selfish bastard, learn to share."

Bucky couldn't help but let the laughter bubble up from his chest as his forehead fell onto her shoulder. 

"M'sorry." He mumbled against her skin causing her to suck in a breath. At this he smiled and pressed a kiss to her exposed collar bone after shifting the strap of her tank top. 

"Evil, how could you keep this talent to yourself." She tilted her head back with a smile, eyes closed as she propped herself up on her elbows. "Should be considered a crime."

"You don't wanna know all the thoughts that just popped into my head." Bucky moved to sit beside her but she straddled his waist and wrapped her arms around his torso. 

“Tease.”

Burying her face in his neck she left Bucky smiling like an idiot up at the stars. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her neck. She felt so perfect in his arms that he couldn’t believe he had ever denied himself the ability to hold her close to him. He may have never known the feeling of her lips on his or the way her hands in his hair could drive him so wild. To think he could have never known those feelings, such unbridled joy and love, was simply improbable. 

"I am never leaving you again. No matter how much time we have." She pulled back enough to look him in the eye. "I want you by my side for the rest of my life."

"I've never wanted forever. I only want as long as I can get with you."

He pulled her in for a kiss seconds after the words left her lips, smiling deeply into the kiss. 

~ 

When she woke in her bed with her head resting on his chest she smiled softly to herself. It was still hard to wrap her head around the fact that this was even happening. 

She never expected him to move back into town, let alone admit that he was actually in love with her and couldn't bear the possibility of letting her watch him slowly lose all of his mobility and functions. All this time he was simply terrified to put her through the suffering his family went through. Never realizing she went through it with them.

He hadn't noticed how much his hurting hurt her too. How watching him fall apart made her want to help him piece himself back together. But then again, she never noticed how he never stopped caring. How he kept tabs on her through Steve, though his letters. Or how he had kept a photo of her that he got from Steve in his breast pocket throughout his service. So that she was always with him.

Her heart swelled with joy as she closed her eyes and listened to the rhythmic beat of his heart. But when her stomach growled she was slipping out from beneath his arms and waltzed into her kitchen, eyes scanning in her fridge. 

Before she could turn around arms wrapped around her torso and pried her away from the fridge. She groaned in protest as he used his foot to shut the door, lightly smacking his forearms as he dragged her back to the room. 

“Uh uh, you know where the good stuff is. Put on some shoes and a jacket, we’re going to the diner.” She stuck out her tongue but complied, sliding on a light jacket over her tank top and slipping on some flats. 

“You go to the diner in pjs?” He nodded as he slid a hoodie on over his wild mane. She forced him into a seated position on her bed, standing between his legs as she gently guided his hair into the elastic band. His hands rested on her back and held her close and he messed with his hair, his face buried in her tank top. “All done, you can release me now.”

He shook his head and she chuckled softly, caressing his cheek before moving his head back. 

“So needy.” He gasped, throwing a hand over his heart. “And dramatic.”

“Takes one to know one.” He stood and pressed a kiss to her lips before taking her hand and leading her to the door. 

“Yeah but you know you love me.” She sent him a wink as she locked the door behind her and he shook his head. “Liar.”

“Mhmm. Yeah, yeah.” She smacked his shoulder as they descended the steps. “Okay, okay. I love you. I do.”

“Gee how heartfelt.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her flush against his chest, pressing her back to one of the walls on the landing. Her eyes watching him curiously as he cupped her cheek.

“I will always love you.” 

“Okay Celine Dion.” 

“I’m serious Y/N.” She placed a hand over his and pressed a kiss on the palm of his hand.

“I know. I love you too you idiot.” He shook his head as a smile tugged at his lips.

“Talk about heartfelt.” His arms wrapped around her waist as she leaned forward, eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Like poetry.”

“Mhmm.” He met her halfway, lips moving with hers as her heart began to race with adrenaline. 

“As much as I would love nothing more than to drag your ass upstairs and continue this I am actually very hungry and will kill if not fed.” She didn’t wait for a response as she dragged him along, opting to drive to get there faster.

“You are very violent when hungry.” 

“Aw you think this is violent for me? Adorable.” He made a concerned face as she pulled into the parking lot but she ignored it, rushing to his side of the car and shoving him into  the diner and into a booth.

“My god you’re here early.” Becca sat on a stool smirking at her best friend, eyes betraying her confidence with a hint of surprise. 

“Evil man wouldn’t let me eat from my own fridge.” Y/N rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

“He came between you and food and he’s still alive. Damn.” Becca chuckled as she slid off the seat and came over to take their order. “Last time a guy did that he almost got a black eye. But judging from your nose you didn’t get away scott free.” 

“No that’s from yesterday when he snuck up on me.” Becca shook her head with a furrowed brow, shrugging her confusion aside to work. “Don’t care just feed me now you beautiful human being.” 

“She’s very flirty when you give her food on an empty stomach.” Y/N just sent a wink in response before returning her face to Bucky’s bicep. “Usual Bucky?”

He simply nodded, eyes stuck on Y/N who was attached to his arm. No way he was getting that back until her food arrived so he used his right hand to hold out his cup and sip on his coffee. Becca returned with his plate and turned around to grab Y/N’s but it wasn’t quick enough because she smelt the food. He lost a piece of bacon as a result, but he regained 

use of his arm so it wasn’t a total loss.

“Oh thank god, I can refrain from murdering you.” She mumbled before taking a bite of her french toast. 

“Oh goody. I’m so grateful.” 

“You’re welcome.” She pecked his cheek before returning to her meal, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched him out of the corner of her eye.

“You are by far the strangest person I have ever met.” She laughed heartily before turning to face him.

“Bull. You’ve met Denise and Hilda. Also your sister.” He sat silent for a moment before nodding. “But I am definitely your favorite. Don’t worry I won’t tell Becca.”

“How thoughtful.” Bucky’s heart felt full as she smiled at him, giggling like a complete goof. 

If this was what the rest of his life looked like, then he didn’t care how long he was given in the end. As long as he has her at his side as long as he can get her. She was all he needed, and his reason to never leave. He finally faced his greatest fear: letting himself fall in love with her no matter the result. And he was beyond grateful that she had fallen for him just as hard. 

What he didn’t tell her last night was that she had always been the one he imagined gazing at the star at the same time he did. Because with her, he knew he was never alone.

~

Tags: @qtmeryr​ @broken-hearted-barnes​ @asphalt-cocktail​ @cantnkrusshedevil​ @gstran18​ @navegandoaciegas @just-trying-to-survive-marvel

[for-ests]

The Most Beautiful Sunset- Tom Holland x Reader

Word count: 2,632 / warnings: nein

Hope you enjoy, random fluffy idea that popped into my head, I might write a second part if anyone likes it :-) (also tumblr is messing up the spacing im sorry)

✭♡✭♡✭♡✭

Y/N shuddered as she dipped her bare feet into the small lapping waves.

The ocean was chilly, yet she cherished the feeling. It had been so long since she had visited this place, one that was filled with nostalgia and bittersweet memories.

She tilted her nose up, inhaling the salty breeze as it ricocheted across the water. It gave off the a familiar peaceful scent that she loved so dearly. There was no reason for her to remain so worried.

It was calm for a moment. She could feel the ocean current pulling at her toes, the sand drawn away with it. The natural white noise was one she wished to hear every day when she opened her windows.

The wind whistled in her ears and seagulls chirped overhead, surveying the chance for a perfect dive. Y/N smiled, appreciating the seclusion of the east coast beach.

“Isn’t it beautiful baby?” The girl glanced down to the dog at the other end of the leash that was held tightly in her grip. The golden retriever’s tail started to wag at her soothing tone. The human and animal stood side by side, staring out to the horizon that stretched beyond view. The brief moment of tranquility was cherished by Y/N, because she knew it would not last long.

Because as soon as she stumbled an inch due to the sharp pebbles underneath her, Elly, her dog, tugged at the leash.

The dog whined loudly, dipping her nose in the water. Y/N could tell she wanted to swim badly. It had been months since they last came to their favorite spot. Against her own will of course.

Y/N’s mood shifted as soon as she thought about her parents. Her jaw clenched at the memories. So much had happened in the short amount of time that she had been at college, the girl could barely wrap her head around it. The past couple days had been a huge transition, information she had never expected to hear relayed back to her before she could settle back in for the summer break. Y/N’s parents were getting divorced because her mother had cheated on her father. And she didn’t know how to process it.

Truthfully, it made her feel sick. Everything had been normal just weeks ago. She wished it could have been like it was before. Where she could come home and see her parents together, happy and glad to see her. It hurt more than she could have ever thought. And she couldn't imagine how it hurt her father. Y/N knew he loved her mother with all his heart.

What a surprise to come back to this… a half empty house, with only a father to greet her. The house she had grown up in all throughout grade school was now up for sale. Her mother nowhere in sight.

Y/N did not want anything to change. The girl had grown up with both her parents... together. And now being a freshman in college, the transition would be awkward and lonely. She wished it happened when she was younger, when she was oblivious and unaware of the betrayal that surrounded her. Now, her family was broken. Side were taken even when it wasn't needed. And throughout it all, she remained the sole neutral party.

Y/N laughed. She didn't need two Christmases. She didn't need double the presents. She didn't need another dad, or more brothers and sisters...She needed her family. Whole again. Like it had always been.

The girl frowned, bending down to unhook the leash from Elly's collar. She came here to take her mind off the painful memories. Yet, it was all she could seem to think about. She cherished the solid two minutes of peace that met her with the beautiful sunset, one that never failed to take her breath away.

As soon as the collar dropped into the sand, Elly darted away, leaping into the waves and barking loudly. She yipped and yapped, seeming as if she wanted Y/N to join her.

The girl laughed, pulling a toy from her bag and tossing it as far as she could. Thank God Elly liked fetch, it calmed her down enough before bedtime. Especially when she had to fight against the waves.

"Who's a good girl? Y/N cooed, a grin spreading across her face as the wet dog ran back towards her, eager for another toss. The golden retriever dropped the toy back at her feet, tail soaked but still wagging.

But just as Y/N leaned down to grab it, Elly started to shake all the water off her. "No Elly!" The girl groaned, raising her hands up in defense even though she knew it was useless. She was already drenched, water droplets instantly soaking into her shirt.

Y/N sighed, feeling somewhat refreshed from the spray. It woke her up slightly. "You're an idiot." She said, wiping the water off her hands. Her dog jumped in reply, bending back down to nudge the toy. “Fine, it’s because I love you.” She scratched under Elly's chin.

Elly barked, begging for more playtime. Y/N shrugged in response. Knowing there was probably no one else on the secluded beach. Only a few people knew about it; mostly locals and neighbors. Plus it was nearing the end of summer, and many people wouldn't think about swimming in the ocean this time of year. Maine's water was rarely warm. But for a spunky golden retriever, it was the closest thing to heaven.

A hard gust of wind swirled around Y/N, causing her hair to blow across her face. "Ack.." She rolled her eyes, using one hand to brush the hair out of her mouth, and the other to scoop up Elly's toy and throw it back again. This time though, the girl was off balance. She accidentally threw the toy way too far to her right, just hitting the shore by a few feet.

The dog darted across the beach, kicking up sand in her path. Elly snatched the toy in her mouth, pausing before looking at her owner.

Elly’s head perked up, turning her head in the opposite direction. Y/N could tell by her stance that there was something nearby that only she could hear.

"Come here!" The girl called, trying to distract her rambunctious dog. She was only 2 years old and still new to the whole 'training' thing.

A bark echoed in the distance.

Y/N's heart dropped. "Elly..." She pleaded, knowing if the dog ran, there was a high chance it would take forever to get her back. The girl inched slowly to her, holding the leash out, ready to hook her as soon as she was close enough.

The. suddenly, a dog appeared across the coast, darting down so fast she had to blink a few times to realize it was closing in on them. A grey pitbull?

Elly bolted, ears perking up as the other dog yipped louder. Just Y/N’s luck. "Shit! Elly no!" The girl ran after her dog, sand kicking up behind the both of them.

"Tessa!" Y/N heard a voice float through the wind, almost making her stop in her tracks. As she jogged to catch up to the dogs, she peered across the beach and saw a man running as hard as he could.

She almost burst out laughing as she reached the animals, who were already sniffing each other's butts and becoming friends.

"Bad girl!" Y/N quipped, prying herself between the two dogs to attach Elly back on her leash. Right after her success, she was tackled with kisses from the pitbull apparently named Tessa.

"Oh hello!" She giggled, bending down on her knees from the dog's weight. Tessa licked her face so many times that Y/N lost count. The dog continued to jump wildly, threatening to tip the girl over each time she received another kiss to her face. "Stop stop stop!" The girl belly laughed, loving every second of the dog's affection.

Elly on the other hand, sat there and barked, leaning in every once in awhile to add licks of her own. Eventually, Y/N heard the stranger's feet hitting the ground as he caught up to his pet.

"Help..." Y/N managed to choke out during laughs, moving her head to the side, avoiding a lick on the lips from the pitbull.

"Tessa, darling!" He chuckled, grabbing his girl by the collar and pulling her off Y/N. "That's so rude of you!" His foreign accent was thick.

"I'm so very sorry." He apologized. "She's incredibly rambunctious."

"I-it's not a problem..." She spoke quickly, brushing the sand off her bottom and shoulders. "Your dog is so nice..." Y/N looked up at the stranger... her sentence trailing off as she met his deep brown eyes.

"I... um..." She stuttered, at loss for words. It was her first chance to get a good look at him and—damn. She could hardly breathe. He was undeniably handsome.

"Hi..." Y/N winced as soon as the greeting left her lips. She was making a fool of herself. The stranger looked around her age. He had somewhat curly brown hair, brown eyes, chiseled features, and very toned arms. She could see the outline of his muscles from underneath his shirt. The thought made her cheeks turn red.

The man was staring at her too, in just as much surprise it seemed. But fortunately for Y/N, he was able to recover from his shock.

He held out his hand. "I'm Tom, it's nice to meet you-?"

"Y/N." She blushed, grasping his hand firmly. He was so polite, and for some reason, he seemed familiar.

After a lingering stare, Tom bent down and slipped Tessa's collar back on. "She's a wild one." He laughed. "Always outsmarting me."

"She's a great kisser." Y/N teased, patting the top of her head. "Is Tessa her name?"

He nodded, not seeming to care that Y/N was so close to him. "How did you know?"

"I heard you yelling it from across the beach." She chuckled. "She's quick."

"Indeed." He smiled.

His smile literally made Y/N melt on the spot. It seemed so genuine, so kind. Who the hell was this guy? Her heart was racing by just one look.

Y/N managed to gather her pride after a moment of silence. "Speaking of which, I haven't seen you around before. Where're you from?"

He raised his eyebrow. "Is it because of my accent?"

"Indeed." She mimicked him, feeling more at ease by his nonchalant gestures. "I like it."

"I'm from Kingston." Tom clarified, standing back up straight. "I'm here visiting my grandmother. Mum wanted me to take a vacation." He simpered, gaze focusing on the ocean. He squinted as he stared into the horizon. "Maine reminds me a lot of home, just more rocky."

"What's London like?" Y/N asked.

"Completely different." A light gust of breeze blew his hair to the side. He reached up and ran a hand through it.

Noticing her stare, he turned with a smile. "But what about you? Are you a native?"

"To Maine?" Y/N tilted her head as Tom‘s eyes crinkled.

He nodded.

"Born and raised." She sighed. She really loved her home, but her heart longed to see the world.

And right now, she needed to get away more than ever.

"Why don't you seem happy about that?"

"I am." She smiled sadly. Tom could tell something was wrong, but decided it wasn't in his place to ask about it. They had just met after all.

"Do you come here often then?" He gestured to the secluded beach.

"Yeah. Not many people know about it, I'm surprised to find a tourist here. It’s never happened before."

"I'm glad I did." He chewed on the inside of his lip before turning to look at Y/N. "Or I wouldn't have met you."

She blushed a deep shade of red. "I don't know how you deal with strangers in London, but you can't stay stuff like that so casually!" The girl said with a flustered tone, gaze flickering to her feet. She felt like she was going to burst.

He started laughing with his hand on his stomach. She almost fainted right there on the spot. His laugh was so gentle and amusing. "I'm sorry darling. I didn't mean to embarrass you." His confidence was obvious.

"I-its okay." She exhaled, the way darling rolled off his tongue sounded like a sweet melody.

There was only a brief moment of silence, but it was comfortable. It felt right in so many ways, like she could get used to it forever.

Snapping back to reality, Y/N stumbled to the side as Elly pulled against her leash. Tessa also jumped up from the sand and started to bark.

The two laughed together. They could only keep their dogs calm for so long.

"Well." Tom’s alluring voice cut through the tension. "I can't keep the little lass in one place for too long."

Y/N smiled, knowing it was probably the last time she would see the handsome man. He scratched the back of his neck nervously, locking eyes with her once again. "Would you care to give me your number? I would love to see you again."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, of course!" The girl dug into her pocket and pulled out her smartphone. Tom gave her his phone and the two exchanged numbers.

Y/N handed his phone back to him, skin flaring with heat as their fingers brushed together.

She glanced at the contact he had added. "No way!" She giggled. "Holland? Your grandmother is Mary?"

"You know her?" Tom grinned.

"Yeah." Y/N reflected back on all the conversations she had with the older woman. They were neighbors, well, kind of. She lived a few blocks over, which wasn't far in the small town. "I met her on this very beach. No wonder she told you to come down."

"She did mention it was a certain pretty girl's favorite spot."

"No way." Y/N rolled her eyes. She felt her face flaring up again. Everything he said made her heart race, even if it wasn’t intended to.

Tom flashed the same heart-warming smile, seeming to be realizing the same thing.

"Well, Grandma is too old to show me around for more than an hour. Even though I adore her, I would love for a beautiful girl to show me around instead. We both would."

"It would be my pleasure." Y/N said, eyes sparkling in admiration. There was no way someone could be this smooth, handsome, and nice at the same time. He was literally sweeping her off her feet.

"I'll text you then." He held his gaze a little longer than appropriate, but she didn't mind.

"I hope to see you soon, Y/N." He bowed jokingly, turning on his heels and submitting to the constant tugging from his dog.

The girl watched them jog along the coast until they disappeared.

Elly whined, holding the toy in her mouth. She dropped it back at Y/N's feet.

"It's time to go home baby." She sighed, picking up the toy and shoving it into her purse.

Y/N walked away from the shore with a smile on her face.

The pink sky was comforting, yet it still didn't settle her nerves. Her head was spinning from the thought of him.

But a least, it was a distraction. The best one she could have ever hoped for.

[doingalrightlove-blog]

Idiots - Brian May Fanfiction

Imagine: Brian shows up at a party, not expecting to have any kind of fun until he meets you.

Warning[s]: Drinking, mentions of sex, implied sex, swearing.

Author’s Note: The y/n character in this gives herself a name but don’t worry, it’s still y/n.  She just does it for certain reasons…which will become clear soon.  She’s meant to be quirky so just go with it ;) Please let me know if you’d like a part 2!

--

Brian’s POV

Here I was, dragged to another one of Fred’s parties.  Usually it was at a bar, but tonight he knew a friend that was hosting what was supposed to be a real bash.  So here we were.

Freddie immediately left my side when he saw someone he knew.  I don’t know why he even dragged me to these things if he was going to leave me alone.  I had asked John to come with me, knowing he’d probably be in the same boat (we were rather nervous blokes), but he declined with the excuse that he was tired.  And Roger…I didn’t even know where Roger was.  He vanished right after our gig, not even bothering to help pack up the van.

I stood awkwardly against a wall, watching the very active party in full swing.  It was a crowded house of drinkers, shouters, and dancers.  The music -Layla by Eric Clapton- was blaring in my ear.

Something caught my eye.  Across of the living room was a backyard.  Beyond the glass doors leading to it was a girl, casually leaning against a table just watching the partyers inside.  Because there was no one else I saw to talk to, and from a distance she looked pretty cute, I decided to go and talk to her.  I never go and just ‘talk to people’ unless I know them, but for some reason with this random girl I had only seen for a second, I felt like I could.

As I got closer, I noticed her dark blue jeans, grey tank top, and dark brown hair- a little frizzy around her shoulders.  Her brown eyes quizzically watched the people setting up a beer pong table in the living room.  As I walked towards her, they darted up to see that I was indeed going to come outside to join her in the backyard.

When I closed the door after entering, I tried to be casual about going up to her, and she wasn’t watching me anymore. Instead she stared at the ground. But a few seconds of standing there caused her to look up at me.  Her eyes questioned my presence, almost like what are you doing here?  It caught me a bit off guard.

“What are you doing here?” I spouted my thoughts.  Damn, did that ever sound awful.

She thought about it for a moment before saying, “Observing the idiots.”

Okay.  “Who’re the idiots”

“Are you one of them?” She asked with raised eyebrows.

“Uh… I don’t know. You tell me.”

She sighed as she looked back to the people indoors, unaware of her presence.  “The idiots.  Well, pretty much everyone here.  They’ll party, drink their little hearts out.  Then, some of them, the young ones, will stumble into their parents’ house at 2 or 3am.  And the older, or, more lenient-parented, will go home with someone, and have sex. Well, maybe not at home but they will have sex.”  She looked at me.  “So are you one of them?”

I laughed awkwardly.  “Definitely not.”

She smirked.  “Then what’re you doing here?”

We smiled at her repetition of my initial question. “I’m here with a friend.”

“Oh, so, are you the driver?”

“No, he drove here, but I guess…I’m driving back,” I said at the sudden sight of Freddie through the glass doors, downing a drink.

“Ah.”

We were silent for a beat, and she casually looked away from me.  It seemed she didn’t like to keep eye contact for too long.  “So, how did you get here?” I asked.

She stared at me with a slight smile for a moment, like she was holding a secret.  “I live in this house.”

My eyes widened a little. I felt like I was intruding, touching private property.  “Really?”

“Yep.”

“You don’t seem like you approve of all this,” I said, gesturing to the mass of partying going on in front of us.

She simply shook her head.

“Well then…why did you throw a party?” I asked, thinking it was just to observe the idiots.

“I didn’t throw a party; my brother did. He’s kind of a jerk.”

“Do I know him?”

“Didn’t you say your friend dragged you here?” She was implying that I couldn’t possibly know him. It was true.  I would’ve known her if I knew her brother.  And right now I was wishing I had met her earlier.

I suppressed a grin, just nodding.  She seemed to be pretty smart.

“What’s your name?”

“Kelani.”

“That’s pretty.”

She stared at me with a glint in her eye.  She was pretty.  Without directly looking I noticed the slimness of her arms, collarbone and filled out hips, bare shoulders.  I was attracted to her personality already, but her appearance was nice too.

“Would you like a drink?” I offered.

She laughed, truly grinning for the first time.  Goodness was she ever gorgeous. “Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

I laughed.  “Oh, right.  Sorry.”

Her smile kept on, and I could tell she was thinking.  “’S’alright. You know what, I’m in the mood tonight. Just not in there.  Might as well forget things for one night.”

“Okay.  I’ll be right back.”

As I went to go get the drinks, my mind was racing.  That had not gone badly.  I only went up to her to avoid looking like a loner in all this crowd, but had met someone very interesting.

When I got back, Kelani took her drink from my hand.  “You didn’t put anything in it, did you?” she asked seriously.

“No,” I said seriously so she’d believe me.  Not that I was lying.

“Good.  Cheers.” She clinked my cup.

“What are we celebrating?”

“Not being idiots, I guess.”

We smiled and started sipping.

–

Throughout the night we got more acquainted with each other.  I learned about her golden childhood, the way her mother used to make her breakfast in the morning, her love for contemporary art.  We talked about music - her favourite bands, my favourite bands (to which we both liked The Beatles), genres and past instruments played.  I asked her if she’d heard of a band called Queen, to which she sorrowfully declined.  I guess she hadn’t been to any college gigs recently, otherwise she might’ve seen us play.  It seemed she didn’t like crowds.  I kept my secret because as time passed, I felt myself becoming more comfortable around her presence.  I didn’t want her to know me for what fans knew me for.  I don’t know why…I just felt like without prior knowledge she was allowing me to be my true self.  Not that I didn’t appreciate the fans, just…it was different.

I was heated too from the attraction.  I was holding back from her.  Kelani didn’t talk like she was interested in a relationship, although sometimes she looked like she was.  And I wasn’t going to try to kiss her if she wasn’t attracted to me either.  After we finished our drinks, Kelani asked for another, which I obliged to.  I didn’t mind drinking if it was during a calm conversation.  Two drinks turned into three, and three turned into about six.  I suppose tonight she was going against her thoughts on drinking.

At some point we both noticed the party was winding down.  I didn’t even know what time it was; I only knew that the backyard light was holding out, that it was getting emptier in the house, and that we had had far too many drinks.  Also that Kelani was getting tipsy, needing to seriously hold herself upright with the table.

“I’m tired,” she said when it seemed like we had out-talked ourselves.  “Can you take me to my room?”

I didn’t know what to say, or what she was implying.  “Just to help me up the stairs,” she added, doe eyes under long lashes.

“Okay.”

–

The feeling of warmth spread slowly across my face, and I peered my eyes open.  The sun had shone through the window onto the green walls and bed. I yawned, stretching a bit under the sheets.

Wait.  Green walls and…bed?!

I shot up, taking in my surroundings with wide eyes this time.  I was in a green bedroom, siting in a double bed, with a sheet over-   shit.  I wasn’t wearing any clothes.  I looked next to me to find Kelani, also sleeping under the sheets, presumably without clothes as well from the look of her bare shoulders.

Shit.  I wasn’t supposed to sleep with her.  She was talking about that last night.  But…it happened?

Panic started to fill my chest.  Without thinking, I got off her bed.  Like I was on autopilot I pulled on my clothes and darted out of her room, down the stairs, and out of the house.  Walking down the street I discovered Freddie’s car still parked on the curb.  Through the windows I noticed he was sprawled out in the backseat, dead asleep.  Without wondering why the heck he decided to sleep in there, I got into the driver’s seat, turned the ignition and drove away from the house.

--

To be continued??!?!?!!

[vincent-frankenstein]

Bloodbond - Chapter Three

Part three of my entry for @ts-storytime!!

Chapter Summary: Dreading the journey ahead, Roman and the demon take a "shortcut" through the dangerous forest of Panace. Roman is unafraid of the creatures that lie within the forest — and unaware of the danger he's gotten them into. They're screwed, royally.

pairings: eventual prinxiety

Warnings: arguing, swearing, injuries, near-death

Read on A03

{ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 }

art by @pattykrabbies {here} and @vdkstar {here}!!!

(cover by @vdkstar <3)

Roman hardly slept that night.

They set out early the next morning, just as the golden sun had begun to spill aureate light across the kingdom; after an emotional goodbye from Patton and a simple one from Logan — “don’t die,” he’d said, and Roman knew that was Logan-Speak for “I care about you, please don’t get hurt.”

Neither spoke as their horses carried them through the village and out into the wilderness beyond. What could Roman say? It was quite obvious that the demon wasn’t much for conversation. Instead, he busied himself with his own thoughts; or, rather, the dread permeating his mind, the constant mantra singing along to the beating of the horse’s hooves.

You messed up you messed up you messed up.

It wasn’t long before the forest of Panace loomed before them, thick with impossibly tall trees and dark with the shadows from their impossibly thick leaves. Roman knew the stories, knew what lurked within the forest’s shadowy depths — all manner of hideous creatures, dragon-witches and mischievous fae and too many others to name — but…

The path around the forest stretched for miles off course, through other towns and villages that Roman couldn’t afford to be seen in, not with a demon by his side. But the forest itself… it led straight through to the capital city, straight through to freedom. Who was he to get scared of a few dragon-witches anyway? He was the prince. He was afraid of nothing.

“Come along, Tall Dark and Deadly,” Roman said, confidently leading his horse towards the border of the forest.

“What, we’re going in there?” Anxiety glanced from the forest to Roman and back again, sneering. “I knew you were stupid, but this is just ridiculous.”

“It happens to be a shortcut, Anxiety.”

“It happens to be stupid, princey.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “If you’d like to take a five-day detour around Panace, go ahead. Have fun with that. Oh, wait, actually —” He urged his horse forward, just far enough… and Anxiety was yanked from his saddle with a frustrated yelp, landing in a heap among the swaying grass below. “You can’t. As the prince, I’m in charge, and I say we go through the forest!”

“As the voice of reason, I say it’s a stupid idea. Do you have any idea what could be in there? We could be killed!”

“No offense, scaredy-cat, but I think I’m more than capable of handling anything that comes our way. Now then! Off we go!” He barely gave Anxiety time to scramble back onto his horse before he set off into the forest, confident in his ability to guide them through the maze of trees. He’d been through many a dark, unsettling forest in his day; this would be no different. After all, what was danger to a prince?

And that line of thought was exactly how they got completely, hopelessly lost.

“Wow, it’s not like I said this would happen!” Anxiety snarled as they passed the same fungus-covered fallen tree for the fifth time. His face was illuminated with flickering orange-yellow light from the fire Roman had summoned to light their path, his narrowed eyes glinting with fury. “Great job, your highness. You screwed up again!”

“You know, I liked you a lot better when you didn’t know I couldn’t kill you.” Roman pulled on the reigns and his horse slowed to a stop. He ran a hand through his hair as he climbed down, surveying their shadow-filled surroundings. “It’s too dark to continue. We’ll set up camp here and find a way out in the morning.”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding,” Anxiety muttered angrily. “Some prince you are.”

“I heard that,” Roman retorted, gathering fallen branches from the ground around them and dumping them into a pile in the center of their clearing. He snapped his fingers and murmured a quiet incantation, and the flame in his hands jumped to the tiny pile, washing their campsite with warm light. He leaned against the trunk of a nearby tree and let the warmth of the fire spread over him, letting out a soft breath.

“I meant for you to hear it, idiot.” Anxiety sat across from him, hunched in on himself as he watched the dancing fire, his face dark. “This is your fault. You should have listened to me.”

“Well, maybe I would have listened if you weren’t such an insufferable asshole all the time. But you are, and here we are. Honestly, if you think about it, this is your fault!” He grinned cheekily at the demon, only half-joking.

“Are you serious?” Anxiety got back to his feet and Roman did the same; they glared at each other scathingly from across the fire, and Roman felt his magic flare defensively. “Don’t spin some bullshit story about how you’re only being an ass in self-defense. ‘Ooh, Pat, it’s a demon, you don’t have to be nice to it,’” he quoted, his voice a high-pitched, pretentious mockery of Roman’s.

“Well excuse me! Your kind have only killed thousands of humans! But oh, I should have been nicer! Forgive me!” His words echoed through the forest, thick with loathing, and Anxiety’s glare grew murderous, his hands tightening into fists by his sides.

“You father alone has killed hundreds of demons, your highness.” His tone was cold, freezing ice; his magic flared furiously around him. “It’s not all black and white. So why don’t you climb down from your high horse, realize that the world doesn’t revolve around you, and fuck off!”

His magic flared brighter than the fire, a halo of blinding purple against the darkness of the forest behind him, and his voice grew deep and double-layered and furious, his words echoing around them — and their two horses reared and broke free of their leads, whinnying in fear as they galloped off into the forest. The sound of their hooves pounding fearfully against the ground faded into the distance, and silence fell over the two.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Roman cried, freezing panic seeping into his stomach. Anxiety glared furiously, taking a quick breath to calm his magic.

“Me? You’re the one who started it!”

“How dare you blame me? You’re the one who went off the deep end and scared our only transportation away!” He took a step back and began to pace, careful to stay within the confines of their Bloodbond. “I hope you’re happy, demon. This ‘little trip’ just became a ten-day journey!”

“It’s not my fault we got lost, is it, princey?” The demon sat, letting out a long, shaking whoosh of a breath. Roman cried out in exasperation, throwing his hands up in the air and turning to stalk off into the forest, his chest burning with rage. Anxiety reached over and wrapped his arms around the trunk of the nearest tree, and Roman was yanked back the moment he made it outside of ten feet, falling face first into the ground as his legs were tugged out from under him.

“I loathe you,” Roman growled, conjuring a pillow and lying down on the uncomfortable ground. He turned pointedly away from the demon, huffing.

“Goodnight,” Anxiety said mockingly, his voice dark. “Let’s hope bugs don’t crawl into your ears while you sleep!”

Roman ignored him.

Roman woke to a splattering of soft sunlight across his face, little rays of ethereal light peeking through the gaps in the leaves high above him. He yawned and stretched and enjoyed the feeling of sunlight across his body, for a moment forgetting the events of the days before, for a moment believing he’d simply fallen asleep to the song of the stars in his backyard. But then Anxiety groaned as he stirred, muttering quiet curses at the sunlight in his eyes, and the comfortable illusion was shattered.

Dread weighed heavily in his stomach. He got to his feet and let out a soft sigh of disappointment, his eyes landing on the snapped leads, the hoofprints leading back the way they’d come. “Come on, demon. Up and at ‘em.” He nudged his boot against Anxiety before setting to work packing up what little supplies they had left, stopping the dying remains of the fire with a snap of his fingers.

Anxiety groaned and complained but got up anyway, shooting a scathing glare Roman’s way as they set off into the forest.

Neither spoke. It seemed each was caught in their own mind, in their own anger, refusing to speak out of spite or hatred, refusing to acknowledge the other even existed. Roman was perfectly happy with ignoring the demon; after all, who wanted to speak to such a horrible creature? The peaceful silence was enjoyable, only occasionally pierced by a bird’s cheerful song or a woodland creature hopping underfoot, and the forest air floated past, carrying the scent of flowers and earth.

The day drew on; morning melted slowly into a golden afternoon and still they remained in the forest, hopelessly lost among the trees. Frustration was beginning to buzz within Roman despite his best efforts, and he almost began to wish he’d listened to the demon and taken the path around. He longed for a change of scenery, something other than the endless parade of trees around them.

He glanced at the demon walking beside him, arms crossed tightly and gaze averted to his shoes, his expression hidden behind his curtain of dark hair. Maybe a conversation wouldn’t be so bad? It would be a break from the monotony, at least.

“So —”

“What is that?”

Anxiety had stopped, staring ahead with one eyebrow raised, ignoring Roman’s attempt at conversation. Roman followed his gaze, and a grin found its way onto his face as he regarded the cave before them. Its mouth glowed with little orbs of purple magic, casting soft, fuzzy light across the ground, and Roman could feel the buzz of powerful magic from deeper within. Curiosity tickled in his chest.

“What are you doing?” Anxiety asked as Roman approached the cave, suspicion lacing his words. “Don’t go near there.”

“Oh, sod off, demon.” He stepped even closer, merely to spite the demon, peering interestedly into the depths of the cave. He caught a hint of smoke in the air, and the tangy scent of spices and herbs. He raised an eyebrow. Potion materials, maybe?

“A witch…?” he wondered aloud. He stepped even closer, setting his hands on his hips.

“Holy shit —” the sudden cry from behind made him whirl around, and his blood ran cold, a gasp escaping from his lips. Standing before him was a hulking…

“Dragon witch, darling. I’m nothing like those foolish human witches of yours.” Her tail was wrapped tightly around Anxiety; he struggled against it, fighting to breathe as she wrapped tighter and tighter. Her scales glinted green and blue and red and pink in the sunlight, a dizzying array of colors, and her emerald eyes gleamed maliciously.

Roman summoned a ball of flame and the dragon-witch narrowed her eyes, letting out a smoky huff. “Ugh. Mages. No matter, I have what a need.”

She lifted Anxiety up to her face, grinning widely, showing off row upon row of hideously sharp teeth. He struggled desperately but it ultimately did no good; she was much too strong, even for him. He didn’t stand a chance.

“Demon blood is very valuable, darling.”

Horrible pain exploded through Roman’s body as he was knocked aside with one ginormous claw; he would have landed a good twenty feet away if it weren’t for the Bloodbond’s pull, dragging him along the forest floor behind the beast as she disappeared into the depths of her cave. He gasped for breath but his lungs refused to cooperate.

“Let me go! Stop! Ah —” Anxiety screamed and fought and struggled, his face contorted in pain as the dragon-witch squeezed even tighter to shut him up. Roman managed to get back to his feet and ran to stay within the confines of the Bloodbond, hissing swears under his breath as he was forced to follow the dragon-witch — and the demon — into the cave.

“Adiuro te,” the dragon whispered, her voice akin to the crackling of a dying fire. Her magic swirled at the whispered spell, illuminating the cave in bright shades of green and red. She loosened her grip around Anxiety and he plummeted, caught by the twisting tendrils of magic just before he hit the ground. He hissed in pain as the magic squeezed, tighter and tighter.

“Don’t struggle, darling.” The dragon-witch stepped further into her lair — a massive room decorated with lavish, colorful furniture and hoards of old spellbooks, the air thick with the scent of aging herbs and bubbling potions. “They’ll only get tighter if you do. Don’t worry, I won’t draw this out any longer than I have to! You’ll be dead before you even have the chance to feel any pain.”

Roman’s breathing quickened, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scene from behind the rock he’d braced himself against. The Bloodbond’s tug was nearly unbearable as it tried to yank him towards Anxiety, growing stronger as the dragon-witch’s magic pulled the demon further into the room. The rock he’d leaned against was the only thing keeping it from pulling him right out into the open, from sending him hurtling towards certain death.

Well, what was certain death to a prince, anyway? He’d faced dragons, he’d faced witches, he could certainly face a stupid dragon-witch and live to tell the tale. Even… even if they were notorious for being powerful. Even if thousands had met their doom facing them.

Even if he was scared.

No. He shook his head forcefully, his face darkening. It was simply the pull of the Bloodbond causing that shaky feeling in his stomach, the force of the foreign magic in the air making his chest ache and his mind swirl. He wasn’t scared.

Princes don’t get scared.

The witch dragged a cauldron from beneath her table; it was taller than Roman and nearly twice as wide, the ancient runes painted across the side glittering with their own malevolent light. She leaned down and breathed gently on the wood beneath the cauldron, setting a massive flame ablaze and washing the room in warmth and flickering light.

“Oh, hold still,” she snapped, rolling her eyes as Anxiety yelled curses in some ancient tongue, his voice furiously desperate. Her tail swished absentmindedly as she searched her shelves, her long claws clicking loudly against bottles and jars of magical ingredients. “As soon as I find some accotomile, I will end your suffering. Don’t worry.”

Roman’s breath hitched in his throat. His magic was still drained from last night’s mistake, his power too weak to even consider rushing in and facing her alone. The Bloodbond would surely tug him out into the open the moment he stopped bracing himself against the rock, so sneaking was out of the question as well. He bit his lip, trying desperately to think up a solution.

Was this really how the great Prince Roman would go out? Not like a star, dying fabulously, beautifully, his death a reflection of his life; but rather quietly, unnoticeably, the forgotten side-effect of someone else’s death?

“Unless…” The dragon-witch paused in her search, annoyance heavy in her tone. “Unless I forgot to harvest accotomile last time I went out. Wonderful.” She sighed, giving her ingredients one last once-over before turning to the demon suspended in the air. “I’ll be back, darling. And don’t even think about trying to escape, unless you want my bonds to squeeze the life out of you before I get the chance to.”

She huffed in his face, blowing his hair back in a puff of dark smoke, and a snap of her long claws sent the spell tumbling, leaving Anxiety hanging upside down. Roman shrank back against the rock as she stomped past, muttering angrily to herself as she disappeared back through the mouth of the cave. He shifted a bit to the side, and the Bloodbond tugged him into the room, knocking him off his feet and sending him sprawling across the dragon-witch’s floor.

“Oh. great. Prince Failure is here to rescue me.” Anxiety gave him a scathing look, his face turning bright red as the blood began to rush to his head. “Trying to make up for the fact that this is all your fault?”

“Oh, would you just shut up?” Roman spat, regaining his balance and getting to his feet. He murmured to himself and his sword appeared in his hands in a flurry of scarlet magic. “Novis,” he whispered, and the blade began to shimmer with a soft red reversal spell.

He raised his shining sword and Anxiety flinched, his face quickly growing as red as Roman’s cape. Roman sliced through the bonds with ease and the magic spluttered and died, sending Anxiety tumbling headfirst to the floor.

“So what was that about me being a failure, ye of little faith?” Roman smirked as Anxiety got to his feet, squeezing his eyes shut and swaying as the blood rushed out of his head. He growled and opened his mouth to retort — only to be cut off by the distant sound of heavy footsteps and a crackling-fire voice, growing closer by the second.

“We have to get out of here. Now.” Anxiety grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the mouth of the cave, his eyes narrowed as though to hide the flickers of fear passing through them — but the dragon-witch appeared in the doorway and he dove to the side, dragging them both behind her massive chair.

“I’m back, darling!” she greeted through a mouthful of tall, bright-green herbs. She froze in the doorway, her tail beginning to swish angrily, and she tore the herbs from her mouth as she searched the room, a furious growl building in her throat. It grew to a roar and Anxiety tensed, his hold tightening on Roman’s arm as he seemed to struggle to breathe.

“How the hell did you escape?” The demon’s hand began to shake (and Roman didn’t consider comforting him, no, what would his father think of him them) as the dragon-witch’s angry yell reverberated around the cave. He forced himself to yank his arm away, bracing against the back of the chair as the dragon stomped through her lair. How long would it be before she found them?

“We’ll have to fight her off,” Roman whispered, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword. Anxiety’s eyes widened.

“I knew you were stupid,” he hissed, “but this is just ridiculous.���

“Do you have a better idea, demon? If we try to escape, she’ll spot us. She’ll kill us. This is our only option.” He glared at the demon angrily. “I can handle her, don’t worry. You won’t have to get your cowardly hands dirty.”

Anxiety sneered, and the air around them began to crackle with the power of his magic. “It’s not cowardly, it’s common sense. Something you seem to severely lack.” His tone was laced with venom, his face growing dark. “We can’t beat her head-on. Her magic is too powerful. It’s —” He stopped, realization dawning on his face. “

“What? What is it?” Roman hissed as Anxiety peeked around the corner of the couch, his eyes narrowed with the beginnings of an idea. The dragon-witch was searching near her cabinets; it wouldn’t be long before she found and killed them both. “Anxiety!”

Anxiety glanced at him. His face was paler than usual, and he seemed to fight a battle with himself, biting his lips as he thought. “I-I have an idea,” he said finally, glancing back and forth between Roman and the dragon. “I can drain her magic, but I need time. You’ve gotta distract her. Use your stupid flashy prince magic or something.”

“Wh — distract her?” He put his hand to his chest, offended. “I am not some distraction! I am the main event! And —”

“Roman!” Roman stopped mid-dramatic-monologue, just in time to notice that the dragon-witch had turned their way, peering suspiciously at their hiding spot. Fear shot down his spine.

“Fine,” he hissed, gathering every bit of magic he could muster. He watched as Anxiety took a breath and crawled away, and then got to his feet, forcing confidence to shoot through the fear in his lungs. “Showtime,” he whispered, and a moment later his magic burst forth, a mad explosion of swirling golds and scarlets that sent dazzling lights dancing across the walls of the cave. It was a simple pyrotechnic spell, but the dragon-witch stumbled nonetheless, blinded by the dizzying array of light.

“Wh — you?” She caught her bearings and scowled down at Roman in shock, her reptilian eyes flashing furiously.

“Me!” Roman grinned, and with a snap of his fingers, the dazzling lights shot forward. They slammed into the dragon-witch and she fell back against the wall of her cave with a deafening roar of pain, sparks of magic ricocheting off her scales.

He caught Anxiety’s eyes and watched for a moment as the demon carved a strange rune into the floor, his eyes glowing bright white. The dragon-witch reared her head and, with a mighty roar, a blast of white-hot fire burst from her mouth.

Roman dove to the side, hissing in pain when the flames brushed against his arm. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Anxiety glaring, clutching his own arm; and then he was dodging again, throwing up a shield of shimmering scarlet magic.

“Why are you attacking me?” the dragon-witch bellowed, nearly knocking Roman off his feet when she slammed her huge claw into the ground before him. “I did nothing to you!”

Roman leaped out of the way of her swiping claw and tried, desperately, to gather what little magic he had left. Panting, he flung his arms wide, and a chain of explosions sent the dragon-witch lurching backward, a rageful cry escaping her lips.

Anxiety was in the center of the room now, just behind the dragon-witch; his pale skin glowed with lines of brilliant violet and his mouth moved quickly as he murmured the spell under his breath. Roman hesitated, his gaze trapped in the way Anxiety’s eyes shimmered with magic, in the intensity of his glare as he painted the rune — and the dragon-witch struck powerfully, her claw sending him tumbling across the room with a pained cry. He raised a shield with the last of his magic just before his body slammed into the cave wall, and then slumped to the floor, his consciousness wavering in and out.

“Shit!”

The Bloodbond had tugged Anxiety right off his feet and right in front of the dragon-witch, and he yelped as he stumbled and fell, his magic flaring in terror as he met the dragon-witch’s eyes.

“Well, well, well…” the dragon-witch simpered, giving Roman one last apathetic glance before curling her neck to regard Anxiety. She grinned wickedly as he paled, the magic in his eyes sputtering and dying. “A group effort, huh? The demon and the prince, how scandalous.”

Roman’s mind screamed at him to move as Anxiety backpedaled. Get up, stop being such a failure, you’re going to die! But it was no use; his magic was gone, nearly entirely drained, and his limbs felt as though someone had pumped them full of ash. He could barely see through the dark spots erupting before his vision, barely breathe through the agony exploding in his chest.

The dragon-witch stalked forward and Anxiety scrambled back, her impossibly sharp teeth glimmering in the fading purple light left over from Anxiety’s failed spell. “And here I thought you were just a valuable potions ingredient! Imagine the riches I’ll receive, holding the great Prince Roman and his precious demon over good old Odin’s head!”

“N… no…” Roman could barely speak. He watched through the spots dancing across his vision as Anxiety got to his feet and stumbled backward, his pallor nearly cadaverous in the purple light. But suddenly, as the dragon-witch took another step forward and her claw landed on one of his runes, the fear drained from Anxiety’s face, replaced by something cunning and victorious, and he snapped his fingers sharply, his cloak billowing around him as the five runes he’d painted burst into deep purple flames.

“Not today, darling,” he spat. He threw his arms wide and the light from the runes became searing, blinding, surrounding the dragon-witch in walls of impenetrable magic. “Magica: meterascet a te! Captarent!”

The runes’ light faded and the cave grew dark, Anxiety’s spell hanging heavily in the air. The dragon-witch smirked, opening her mouth to speak — and then gasped, her mouth moving but no sound coming out. Anxiety’s eyes burst into brilliant amethyst flames.

“Sorbere!”

A blinding blast of light, an agonizingly loud sound; the dragon-witch cried out shrilly as the runes burst into flames once more, and Anxiety stumbled backward, kneeling down next to Roman. The dragon-witch screamed in anguish, the light enveloping her; and her scream faded with the light of the runes. She collapsed in a heap on the cave floor, her eyes fluttering shut and her magic fading from the air.

“Well, that was fun.” Anxiety stood and winced, the leftover magic from his spell buzzing through the air and pressing down on Roman’s chest. The demon gently brushed his hand across his own chest, looking down to find scarlet bloomed across his shirt, and he hesitated. “Shit, you’re — you’re injured?”

“No shit,” Roman responded, his voice weak and exhausted. Anxiety leaned down and looped his arms through Roman’s, heaving a heavy sigh as he yanked him to his feet, his own face pale with pain. He laced their fingers together and closed his eyes, the room growing silent as his magic flowered through his fingertips and into Roman. After such an impressive display of magic, Roman couldn’t help but be awed by the ease with which the demon performed another spell.

Awed. Not jealous. Awed.

“You’re welcome,” the demon snapped after the spell had ended and a moment of silence had passed. Awkwardly, Roman pulled his hands from Anxiety’s, flexing his fingers at the unfamiliar tingle of foreign magic passing through them.

“What kind of spell was that?” Roman replied, purposefully ignoring the way Anxiety rolled his eyes, muttering angrily under his breath. Roman reached up to fix his mussed hair as he stepped towards the dragon-witch’s body and then set his hands on his hips, regarding the damage. The magic beneath her scales had faded, leaving their shine dulled and their color paled and lackluster. The rune beneath her had burned into the floor, a mess of pitch-dark ash.

“What, you don’t know? I thought you were training to be a mage.” At Roman’s insulted glare, Anxiety sighed, crossing his arms. “It’s an entrapment spell. It drained her magic. It’s uh… it’s pretty advanced stuff, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes held none of the pride he should have been feeling at such a powerful accomplishment.

Roman raised an eyebrow. “I’ll say,” he said with a small laugh. “Perhaps I underestimated you, demon. You’re more powerful than you look.”

The praise felt foreign in his mouth, and complimenting a demon left an ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach — but a feat that powerful deserved to be acknowledged.

“What… ever…” Anxiety averted his gaze and bit his lip, his face flushing. “We… we should go. We’ve got a long trip ahead of us.”

Roman gave the dragon-witch one last glance — and he definitely didn’t stick his tongue out at her, no, that would be childish — and the two set off, back into the forest.

[drabblemeister]

All Revved Up & Nowhere To Go

AO3 Link: All Revved Up & Nowhere To Go Pairing: JayTim Summary: Tim dips out of prom early; he definitely doesn’t expect Jason Todd to pick him up. Comments: My Secret Santa for @assclass-more-like-assholeclass. First time participating in the @jaytimsecretsanta exchange~ Hope you like it!

Tim watched the dance floor with tired eyes, the world around him glowing and kaleidoscopic. Brilliant stretches of colored cloth draped across the banquet hall, pearl-colored streamers tangled in their folds – and the lighting, dim and sheathed by decor, made the space look like a sprawling neon storm. “ Oh my god,” Cassie said, emerging from the fray, her coiled up-do loose with curls. Her cheeks were flushed and her dress wafted like starlight – a swathe of dark blue powdered in tiny beads of glitter that caught every bit of flickering light. “Why aren’t you dancing? ”

Tim, sitting in relative darkness at one of the abandoned tables, opened his mouth to comment – but lost his words to the sight of a hand curling around Cassie’s waist from behind.

“Have you seen Tim dance?” Conner Kent laughed, slipping next to Cassie, pulling her closer by the hip. The red in his cheeks climbed to her ears and she bit her lower lip, looking like a girl swept up and into a fairytale, all magic and stardust, paired with a real-life knight in shining armor.

“Ha ha,” Tim replied, with no real bite. It gave him the opportunity to take in Conner’s appearance for the umpteenth time; slicked back hair, sleek rented suit, a boutonniere that could pass for a small, fledgling midnight sky – and dark, warm eyes and impossible dimples and squared shoulders that made Tim shift uncomfortably in his chair.

Conner said, “This dance was expensive – come on, dance with us,” and he held out a hand, looking brilliant and kind and smiling like as he always smiled, ever since they’d first met in first grade.

Tim saw it though, the way that Cassie’s grin wavered, just for a moment; he’d been friends with her for nearly as long and knew what this night meant, and thought, blandly, that this was what it felt like to be a third wheel.

“I’ve got to go to the bathroom,” Tim prompted, rising from his chair with casual grace. He was good at acting when he wanted to be, and so he donned an easy smile and shooed them off. “Have fun. I’ll find you later?”

Conner’s brows did that thing , the one where he was trying to read between the lines; it meant he suspected Tim might be lying but couldn’t quite get to the heart of it – but Cassie, unaware, let out a startled gasp as a slow song bled into the room.

“I love this one! Oh my god , we have to dance–” and Tim watched her long, slender fingers curl around the cuff of Conner’s sleeve as she took a few steps backwards, beckoning him back to the lazy, romantic sway.

Conner gave Tim a questioning look as he was tugged backwards, and Tim, being Tim, offered a wry two-fingered salute. And then Tim turned, not really wanting Conner’s lingering attention, equally burnt out of watching anymore awkward, budding adults practice the twelve-inch rule.

Sighing, he set off.

Around the hall, music reverberated. It was a gust of notes competing with the soft breath of air conditioning, interlaced with the tinkling sound of silverware against china as some prom-goers finished their desserts. Laughter spilled from unexpected places, and small clusters of girls stood off the the side, grinning as they stood, barefoot, heels dangling from their hands.

They were pretty. Everyone was. It felt likes a spell had been cast over the bargain bin populace of Gotham High, a Cinderella-like magic that gave the gift of spilling gowns and golden crowns, pearled cufflinks and lavish silk ties.

And Tim, stepping into the bathroom and pausing in front of the mirror, wondered how one could look the part and still somehow not fit in.

Dark hair, combed back.

Bright eyes, too blue against the paleness of his skin.

A suit, all sharp edges, all business – just like his dad. How could anyone put on a suit and have it feel like anything but?

Throwing on the tap, Tim doused his hands in water and ran them back through his hair, loosening the gel that held it so rigidly in place. It came apart like rebellion, and he thought, if his reflection were in a magazine, it would be fashion . Here – amidst a dance set on formality, he simply looked undone.

When the door opened behind him, ushering in a handsy couple, Tim made up his mind. Prom – it just wasn’t for him.

There was no enchantment to boredom, no real magic in celebrating high school to begin with.

Slipping out was easier than it should have been; dipping past teachers as he tugged his tie loose felt less like stealth and more like escape. The ground buzzed with bass-line as Tim weaved between elegant, draping pinafores and glitzy tulle dresses, bumping shoulders with grinning athletes holding cups that reeked of contraband liquor.

One of Conner’s teammates caught Tim’s eyes and tried to say hi , but Tim was already halfway out the door, pulling his phone from his pocket.

I’m sorry, but can you come pick me up?

Tim typed the text as he walked, his eyes scanning the hotel’s lot. It was packed to the brim with cars, and Tim lamented the fact his dad was one of those dads – one who was making him work to save to buy his own.

His phone vibrated and Dick replied: Already?

The sound of Tim’s shoes scuffing pavement almost seemed to echo. A couple of times, the front doors to the hotel opened behind him and he was caught in a sudden, sweeping draft of outpouring music. Against his neck, the notes seemed to chase him, as if trying to lure him back.

Yeah, he typed another text to Dick. For measure, he added, I’m bored.

While it was true, it wasn’t the entire truth. That had more to do with a crush long withered that somehow still had roots and, every once in a while, chose to remind Tim at incredibly inconvenient times.

Why was Conner Kent so impossible to get over?

The question haunted him, even though the answer was simple.

Because no one else knew him like that. No one else knew his favorite movies by heart, could recite quotes back and forth with practiced ease. No one else really got him, or knew what he’d gone through years back, when his mom had passed and his dad had lost it and Tim had spent nearly every other night climbing out of his window and clambering into Conner’s car, where they drove off and into the night, telling tall tales of where their lives would take them.

Tim had always thought they’d be side-by-side...

...but sports and tech scholarships didn’t really go together and that meant none of their college applications matched up.

With a sigh, Tim glanced down at his phone, where Dick had sent the message: I’m sending Jason .

Tim froze.

“Jason?” he asked aloud. No one was close enough to hear, and there definitely wasn’t anyone nearby to diffuse the definitive confusion in Tim’s tone.

Jason.

Jason.

Dick’s younger, somewhat-recently adopted brother, all leather jackets and quick wit – the type of guy you didn’t just talk to, because one sharp glare meant murder. Even though Tim wasn’t feeling prom, this alternative left him feeling a bit like: I’m too young to die .

He’d never been alone with Jason, much less shared more than a muffled hello , when Jason had dropped by the diner to complain to Dick about something, only to catch Tim in the storeroom instead. And, from unintentional eavesdropping, Tim had only learned a whopping three things: one, that Jason was less than two years older than him; two, that Jason had been to juvie, and three: that he apparently liked literature which, when looking at him, made absolutely no sense.

Not that Tim wasn’t an advocate for not judging books by their covers, but Jason’s cover was pretty Mad Max , and Pride and Prejudice just didn’t seem to fit the bill.

He was an enigma, really.

But Tim supposed that he was as well.

It took a few rounds of pacing before Tim got a text, and for a split second, he thought it might be Dick. Instead, it was Conner, asking where he was – which, for a moment, stoked that pitiful little undying fire until Tim made the conscious choice to snuff it.

Tried to find you, he lied, before adding: Headed home. Have fun. It earned a slew of replies; Conner asking again where he was, then asking why, then asking if he was okay.

And Tim – he didn’t answer right away because he was annoyed. He typed out and deleted just go dance three times before rolling his eyes, but the delay was a mistake; Conner came looking for him, and Tim was an idiot, standing on the hotel’s sidewalk in plain sight.

“Hey,” Conner said, and Tim noticed that Cassie wasn’t with him, which, really, didn’t mean much of anything. Conner had a knowing look when he said, “You’re bored, aren’t you?”

Tim took that and ran with it because it wasn’t entirely untrue. “I’m dying,” Tim said. “But seriously, go have fun.”

The expression that crossed Conners’ face was unfamiliar – not guilt, but close. He said, “It’s not...it’s not because of me and–” and was forced to stop, his words overlapped by someone else’s voice.

“Oi, Timmers. We got a date, or what?”

Tim frowned just before tossing a look over his shoulder, completely caught off guard by the fact that Jason was pulled over less than ten feet away, hazard lights flashing in a no-parking zone, eyes glued to Tim as he leaned across the middle consul and into the passenger seat.

“Who is that?” Conner asked, bewildered.

And Tim, having lost all sense of self-preservation for the sake of what felt like an opportunity, replied, “My date.”

Conner’s brows crinkled in concern.

“Tell Cass I said bye,” Tim smiled. Before he’d realized it, he’d turned and when his fingers met with the cold metal of the car’s handle he glanced back, offering Conner a small, departing wave.

Tim didn’t wait for a rebuttal before he pulled back the door and slid inside, the seat cool through the fabric of his pants. As he drew the seatbelt across his chest, he lifted his gaze, catching Jason’s eyes on his boutonniere, on the suit – on Tim’s general state of formal disarray.

“Can I help you?” Tim asked, because Jason seemed like the type you had to hold your own to and not give an inch.

The question earned a quirked eyebrow, and under the glow of the interior lights, Tim learned fact number four: Jason’s eyes were green. They were also intense, and even though Jason was barely older, his jawline was sharp, giving him an expert glare that Tim suspected could compete with his own.

Flicking off the car’s emergency lights, Jason leaned between them to grip the shift and tapped the gas beneath his foot. The engine hummed happily, anxious for him to release the clutch.

“All revved up with no place to go,” he sang, voice low and teasing.

Tim couldn’t help but feel like it was a pass at his attire, but his response came before he could really digest. “Meatloaf?” he asked. “Really?”

It was satisfying to see Jason look even the smallest bit surprised. “ I was nothing but an all-American boy– ”

“Could you not?” Tim interrupted, flattening invisible creases in his lapel. Then, to no one in particular and born from complete bewilderment, he asked, “Meatloaf?”

“Classic rock,” Jason emphasized, and he finally let off the clutch, giving his car the opportunity to peel out of the lot.

When the seatbelt didn’t constrict, Tim found himself clutching the edges of his seat. He could feel Jason’s eyes on him, but when he peered over, Jason was quick to look away.

Tim said, “Prom,” like that explained everything.

“I can see that,” Jason replied.

“What else do you see?” Tim asked, because sarcasm without sarcasm was tragedy.

Jason caught him completely off guard, however, when he said, “That the boutonniere I bought for you looks good.”

Tim parted his lips, completely prepared for some smart-mouthed reply, only to close them, bewildered. “You...what? Dick bought me this.”

Saying it was embarrassing; it was enough that he hadn’t had a date , but his dad had forgotten the damn boutonniere (because he had a knack for forgetting anything important ) and so Dick (his boss), acting as the older brother Tim didn’t have, had surprised him with a brilliant little burst of red orchid.

“Correction. I bought it,” Jason stated, “because Dick would have bought a fucking carnation.”

As Jason cut off a car with little to no remorse, Tim asked, “Is that bad?”

“In France, they give them out at funerals,” Jason remarked.

Tim was unimpressed. “I mean,” he said, “that kind of felt like a funeral.”

Jason snorted, then threw his head back as he grit out, “Come on baby, don’t fear the reaper –”

“Stop–”

“– baby, take my hand, don’t fear the reaper, ” Jason continued, his grin carrying into the lyrics as he lifted his fingers from the stick-shift and motioned to Tim, come hither – and Tim felt a heart-pounding rush of panic as he reached for Jason’s hand and forced it back down, fingers unintentionally interlacing in the process.

“ Baby, I’m your man,” Jason practically hummed, and Tim could feel heat rise on his skin at the unexpected lyric. When Jason’s eyes darted over at Tim’s sudden quiet, he laughed, loud and honest.

In revolt, Tim jerked his hand back and crossed his arms over his chest, irritated. For the umpteenth time, he thought, I just want to go home.

But Jason, before his humor really even faded, asked, “So really, though. Why’d you cut out early?”

“Of the dance?” Tim asked, his head lulling Jason’s direction. He wasn’t really sure why Jason would be interested in the first place.

As they entered a darker stretch of highway, shadows played across the dashboard, folding across the seats with each rare, passing light. Headlights beaded the distance, and Jason’s looked like foggy breath over old, cracked speedway.

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Jason said.

“Did you go to prom?”

“You can’t just ask people if they’ve gone to prom, Tim,” Jason countered. His fingers were loose against the wheel when he chuckled and said, “I missed it.”

“Missed it?” Tim questioned. Then the pieces fell together. “Oh, yeah. Because you were in…” but the words trailed off. It felt like being caught knowing a secret, and he shook his head and returned his attention to the road. “You didn’t miss anything, to be honest.”

Jason smirked. “You afraid to say it?”

Tim wasn’t sure what he was. It hadn’t really occurred to him, until now at least, that he’d been picked up by someone who’d been incarcerated – and it wasn’t as if he had a clue what Jason had done.

“You were arrested,” Tim stated.

Jason sighed, and it sounded almost wistful. “Yeah. And it turns out there’re no winter formals in juvie.”

“What did you do?” Tim asked, eyes wandering the blackened spills of shadow between street lamps.

The question caught Jason as funny. “What do you think I did?”

At that, Tim did look at him, humorless. “How would I know?”

“You know a lot more than you let on,” Jason pointed out, and Tim wasn’t really sure what to make of that. He was frowning when he said, “If you don’t want to tell me, just say so.”

His tone came across clipped, and so Jason noticed – and Jason was still smirking when he glanced Tim’s direction again. It gave Tim the impression that Jason didn’t really care if Tim knew or not, but that he liked to tease.

“A truth for a truth,” Jason said. “I’ll tell you my dirty past, and you tell me the haunting story of Prom Night.”

Tim rolled his eyes, but Jason was already talking.

“My dad, he was a pretty cool guy,” Jason said. “Super smart. Stole the shit out of cars – taught me. I picked the wrong one though – belonged to the Bruce Wayne – got caught.”

Tim absorbed that – saw Jason in a new light. The way he sank into the seat of his car, the way his fingers fell loose over the gear shift, the way he seemed at home in the driver’s seat. Tim could only imagine him joyriding.

“Did you race?” Tim asked.

Jason’s eyes looked like fire. “When I knew I wouldn’t get caught.”

Tim hummed in thought. It seemed fitting, somehow. Even sitting, Jason seemed to emanate energy; he was all moving lines and forward momentum.

“So,” Jason pressed. “Let me guess. You couldn’t stay because they kept playing Despacito on repeat.”

That earned wry look. “Wouldn’t have taken you for a Belieber.”

“Oh no,” Jason’s gaze drifted skyward. “He didn’t mean it.”

Tim looked up, following Jason’s gaze. “Who are you talking to?”

“Jim Morrison. He’s up there, and he heard you say that.”

“Take the highway,” Tim said, a quickened verse with only a hint of melody, “to the end of the night ...” and when Jason looked at him, Tim said, very pointedly, “Des-pa-cito.”

Whatever Jason had expected, it wasn’t that, and so he ended up laughing, hard . He tossed furtive glances Tim’s direction, shaking his head all the while – and, as they passed a heady strobe of a low-sitting street lamp, Tim happened upon fact number five: Jason had freckles that fell like constellations over his skin.

Tim said, “My best friend and I are going to go to different colleges.”

And it took a moment for Jason’s laughter to dim a bit, for him to think on what Tim had just said.

“You decided this on the dance floor?” is how he replied.

Tim huffed, scraping fingers back and through his hair. Warm air blasted from the car’s heaters, and so he slowly began to work off his jacket around the restriction of the seatbelt.

“I don’t really believe in long distance things,” Tim decided to say. “There are other factors as well, but...I guess, it’s hard for me to enjoy these moments because it seems stupid. They just feel like the end. ”

The thought sat a bit heavy, and Tim felt like an idiot as soon as he said it.

“ The end ,” Jason pronounced dramatically, which made Tim scowl. “If you tell me that my boutonniere didn’t get one dance because you were too busy pining over philosophy–” he glanced over, pinning Tim with a searching look. And then, when Tim looked defeated, Jason said, “You have got to be kidding me.”

Tim shrugged. “It was boring!”

“Where’s your inner Whitney? Didn’t you just wanna dance with someone?”

Tim sank low in his seat, arms folding across his chest, a bit petulant. “No one wanted to dance with me.”

That had a marginal effect – in fact, Tim’s seatbelt failed to restrain him as Jason nearly screeched to a halt, pulling over onto the side of the road. The world smelled like burnt rubber and gasoline, and Jason jammed the car into park.

“What are you doing?” Tim asked, as Jason fiddled with the dial on his radio. A thousand songs battled for dominance as he surfed, until he paused on a slow, sultry song that sounded like something from a diner jukebox.

When Jason lifted his attention to Tim, he was serious. “May I have this dance?”

Tim said, “ What?”

But Jason licked his lips and Tim couldn’t help but notice, and then Jason was shifting – unlatching his own seatbelt in order to get out of the car, making his way to Tim’s side. He rapped on Tim’s window, to which Tim slowly, anxiously rolled down the window.

“No.” Tim said, before Jason could even ask again, but Jason dipped low and rested his elbows on the ledge of the window, close enough now that Tim felt the uncomfortable sensation of butterflies in his stomach.

“Dance with me,” Jason said, and Tim thought it was odd, how much he felt like he could just go along with it. After all, it didn't seem like Jason would let him not. So he was moving before he realized it, opening the door with reluctance – quickly tugged out by Jason who, Tim realized, was nearly a head taller.

“This is ridiculous,” Tim said, stumbling over gravel on the road’s edge. It didn’t keep Jason from dragging him to the front of the car, where dirt tangled with the headlights and ghosted long, pouring light. A car drove by, making Tim feel self-conscious, but Jason’s fingers laced with his and drew him close in a way that made Tim think that he hadn’t had much practice on the dance floor either.

The music came, soft and slow. It didn’t fall heavy like in the hotel; it drifted and sauntered, folding out and into the night.

“Fun, right?” Jason asked, and Tim peered up at him dryly. It wasn’t not fun, it was...silly. Different. Jason’s hands were warm, and when one of them dropped to Tim’s waist, he felt the heat through the thin fabric of his button-up. It hadn’t even occurred to him that he’d left his jacket in the car.

“Next time we’ll have to wear matching colors,” Tim said.

“You could just wear leather.”

“There are dress codes, Jason,” Tim mentioned. “Save Indiana Jones for Comic Con.”

Jason stepped forward, bringing them closer, until Tim felt like he might be able to breathe Jason in.

“Are you asking me on a date, Timothy?”

It was simple banter, but it did something. Tim felt his heart pick up and he cursed his existence – his quick wit struggled to surface, until he finally asked, “And who would I be? I can’t pull off Sean Connery.”

“Let my armies be the rocks and the trees and the birds and the sky…” Jason quoted, managing a perfect impersonation.

This time, Tim laughed. “Okay. You can be Sean Connery. I’ll be Indiana.”

Jason said, conspiratorially, “We named the dog Indiana.”

Shaking his head, Tim pulled away as a song the song changed, feeling remnant warmth and a bit lightheaded. He was tired, and Jason was hard to keep up with.

“So,” Jason prompted, stretching his arms high enough that his shirt lifted above the waistband of his denims. “How was Roadside Prom?”

From the car, a commercial blared, and Tim laughed again as he rolled his eyes. Then, very seriously, he said, “Kind of disappointing. Prom usually comes with dinner.”

It occurred to him, only after he’d said it, that it definitely sounded like a proposition, but before he had time to properly panic, Jason sighed.

“Well, I do know this diner…”

Tim narrowed his eyes just before deciding to tap his chin in thought, caught up in Jason's pace.

“My adoptive older brother owns it. It’s like, a pretty big deal…”

“Hmm,” Tim hummed.

Jason added, “And actually, there’s this part-timer that works there and to be honest, I always try to drop by when I might see him, but he doesn’t seem to have, you know, a regular schedule. Probably because of school. Preparing for the end and all of that.”

“ What?” Tim asked.

Fact number 6: Jason apparently had a thing for Timothy Drake.

“Do you want a burger or not?” Jason asked, headed back to the car.

Tim wondered if he could pass the flush off as cold, or if Jason would see right through him. He also recounted all the times he’d seen Jason, all the unnecessary refills, the way Jason’s gaze had seemed cutting, when it was entirely something else.

“A milkshake,” Tim said slowly, turning, feeling on fire - spontaneous.  As he tugged open his car door, his eyes danced up to Jason, whose gaze sauntered back.

“A milkshake,” he agreed.

Tim felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out, not entirely surprised to see a text from Conner letting him know that he and Cassie were leaving and that he hoped Tim was okay - and also, who was that guy?

Tim wasn’t too sure how to reply, but he thought about what Jason had said - about things ending, and happened to look over to Jason, who was fiddling with radio stations, trying to find his way back to something recognizable.

Change wasn’t bad.

 Actually, it kind of felt like a new beginning.

[bibiko0838]

Wallflower (BTS Jungkook)

Genre = romance, college au

Characters = OC, Jungkook and BTS for minor roles

A/N = this was supposed to be a one shot but was getting too long so I guess not.

(GIF not mine)

He’s beautiful. Yup. That’s the only way to describe Jungkook. He grew up since you’ve last seen him. He filled out that shirt nicely and is now towering over you. Not that he would notice. Because as usual, you are standing on the sidelines like a wall flower. High school separated you from the three men now currently forming the central attraction for all the girls in the room. Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook. It’s not fair really. All the girls are reduced to giggling idiots.

You sighed and looked at the clock again. Unbelievably, time is still moving too slow. You have no idea how you got drafted into this soirée with guys from the other Department. Somehow, you found yourself getting dragged by your roommate to this party. And it was here that your startled eyes landed on Jungkook. You grew up with them. You lived next door to Jimin and three doors down from Taehyung. You all went to the same elementary school. But your parents moved to America and took you with them when you were in high school.

You decided to return after a couple of years and finish the rest of your studies back home. Your parents relented on the condition that you move in with your grandparents. It’s not surprising then that most of your peers find you too boring or too old fashioned. University life is certainly different. Half the people here were like you, buried up to their noses in books, assignments and academic responsibilities. The other half were partying like there’s no tomorrow. Just like your roommate.

You turned and headed for the snack table to grab a can of beer and whatever looks edible. You were still pondering your choices when you felt somebody standing behind you. You ignored whoever it was since there were too many people in this party for you to recognize anybody. You certainly didn’t expect your childhood crush to be here.

“The nuts are stale if you’re thinking of grabbing some of that.” The person behind you spoke up. You raised your eyebrow and turned to look. It’s Jimin. He’s still got that friendly smile that he used to have.

“Hey neighbor! Long time no see.” You blinked at his words, surprised that he actually remembered that you used to be neighbors, let alone the fact that he’s talking to you and making you the target of several glares.

“Uh...yeah. Okay.” You grabbed a can of beer and hastily tried to make escape. You bumped into somebody almost immediately and felt large hands grasping your shoulders to hold you steady before you fall flat on your face. Looking up to mumble a word of thanks, you nearly swallowed your own tongue. Taehyung was looking down at you with a touch of concern in his eyes. He was smiling slightly, and looking slightly puzzled. You nodded thanks, and apologized for bumping into him, and shrugged off his hold before anybody notices.

Running off to one of the plastic chairs currently scattered around the backyard, you picked the farthest and most isolated one. You need time to recover from that double encounter. Sighing in relief, you plopped down on the chair and pulled the tab on your can of beer.

That’s when disaster struck and the beer went off like a bomb in your hands, spewing the golden liquid inside. Your clothes were soaked in seconds. You were still looking dumbfounded at the now Half-empty can, feeling wetness of your clothes as it clung to your chest, when Jungkook approached you.

“Hey, you Okay?” He bent down slightly to peer down at your face which is currently dripping in cold beer. Wet tendrils of hair obscured your eyes and your mouth was still agape in surprise. He bit his lip to stop himself from smiling. Perfect. You see Jungkook for the first time in how many years and you look like a downed rat. He gently brushed aside the hair from your eyes and crinkled his eyes in silent laughter as he tapped your chin lightly to close your mouth.

You squeezed your eyes closed in embarrassment for a second. You were surprised to see him suddenly stiffening looking everywhere but you. He turned around quickly and took off the plaid shirt he was wearing over his t-shirt. He handed it to you without once looking at you. Frowning, you looked down and gasped. The cold beer plastered your top to your chest, it ceased concealing your body and instead accentuated every curve. It also pebbled your nipples making them stick out like small nubs. You crossed your arms over your chest and hastily accepted the shirt he offered to conceal your body.

“Thanks.” You mumbled as you stood up. Now is definitely the time to leave and go back to your dorm. You shivered slightly and wondered how you are going to manage to go back to the dorms without going through the house which is still in full swing for the party. Loud music was still blaring from the open windows. Hesitantly, you peered at the dark path on the side of the house wondering if you have the guts to walk in the dark.

You took three steps and darkness immediately swallowed you. You’re scared but determined to take this path rather than go through the house and have everybody stare at you. You shrieked when a hand grasped your wrist and started tugging you forward.

“Hey, it’s me.” Jungkook was holding his phone and shone the dim light briefly on his face so I can see who nearly killed me with a heart attack. He was leading me out of the path quickly but surely.

“Come on. I’ll help you get out of here. Your going back to your dorm, right?” He threw a glance back over his shoulder and flashed a quick smile my way. His face was bathed in moonlight. Like I said, he’s beautiful.

“Uh, Yeah. Wait a minute, do you know me?” I asked him, wondering if he recognized me or he was just being a gentleman.

“Of course. We used to be neighbors and we grew up together until you moved away. How ‘bout you. Do you still know me?” He smiled and glanced down. He slowed down his strides now that we are in a more lighted path. At what point did his hand ended up holding mine instead of grasping my wrist, I can’t say for sure. We were both unaware this and were walking comfortably in silence, side by side for a few minutes.

We eventually reached one of the crossroads in the University grounds. I was peering at the signs to check where we were, while Jungkook was busy waiting for the crosswalk sign to change. He took out his cellphone from his pocket to check a message with his right hand while his left hand was still holding mine. The crosswalk sign changed and Jungkook shoved his phone back inside his pocket and took one step to cross the street. I squeezed his hand briefly and let go.

“What? Why?…”he immediately turned back around to grasp my hand but I had both of them clutching the shirt he gave me.

“Um, I don’t know how to tell you this but I have to go back the way we came. My dorm is actually on the other side of the university grounds. Thank you for lending me your shirt. I’ll get it back to you as soon as I can.” I hastily bowed down and turned around to start walking.

“I’ll come with you. I’m not letting a girl walk by herself at this time of the night.” He smiled at me. He tugged at my right wrist and gently placed my hand in his. We started walking back the way we came.

“When did you comeback from America? How come we never heard from you again?” He was throwing questions at me without giving any opportunity to answer him. I hid a smile and continued walking. His phone had been pinging constantly, indicating text messages coming in.

“Shouldn’t you answer your phone first?” I nodded towards his jacket pocket where his concealed phone just gave another ping.

“Not really. Its either Jimin or Taehyung. I’ll call them later. I already texted my whereabouts to Seokjin Hyung.” He was actually blushing but I didn’t want to point out the obvious.

“Seokjin…?” I prompted him to elaborate instead. He grinned and quickly replied.

“Dorm’s housemother. I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t tell him where I am this late especially since I left Jimin and Taehyung back at the party.” He grimaced but I thought it was adorable. We continued walking the rest of the way back to my dorm in companionable silence. We arrived at my dorm and I was attempting to withdraw my hand from his but he wouldn’t let me.

“You can let me go now. We’re here.” I tapped his shoulder to get his attention.

“Umm. I don’t really want to, but I guess I must.” He raked his now freed hand through his hair and bit his lip seeming to think of something.

“Do you want to come in for a drink of hot cocoa?” He’s wearing only a thin white shirt, and although it’s late spring, you still need a light jacket at night. He must be cold. Even though I think he’s extra hot.

“Sure. If you don’t mind.” He flashed a smile and I felt my heart flutter excitedly.

I opened the door to the dorm and led the way to the kitchen. A couple of girls sitting on the couch watching TV did a double take when they realized who was following me. I had him sitting in the kitchen with a warm mug of drink before I quickly excused myself to changed out of my wet clothes. I walked back into the kitchen and found him flanked on both sides by the two girls who were watching TV earlier. He looked awkwardly uncomfortable.

“Jungkook, thank you for lending me your shirt and walking me back home. I’ll wash it first before I give it back to you.” I quickly rescued him from the two barracudas currently targeting him. They both glared at me but I just looked at them with a blank face until they both left the kitchen.

“Thanks.” He rubbed his neck and hid a small grimace. Some things never change.

“That must happen a lot.” I brought my mug to the table and sat across from him. Little tendrils of steam wafted from my hot cocoa. I stared at it in fascination, too shy to actually look at his face now that darkness cannot conceal my face.

“A little too often.” He nodded in embarrassment. I’m not really surprised. He’s young and good looking. He must attract the opposite sex like flies. He cleared his throat and opted to change the topic suddenly. “So when did you transfer to study here?”

“What do you mean? I’ve been studying here for the last the three years. I’m graduating in two more semesters.” You looked back at him with a frown.

“Really? How come I only saw you for the first time tonight? I’m not a party animal by any means but I usually see familiar faces in most of the parties.” He couldn’t seem to grasp why we never bumped into each other.

“I don’t really go to any of the parties and I’m still not sure how I got dragged into one tonight.” I shrugged and started drinking my hot cocoa.

“Three years…” I heard him muttering under his breath while he once again combed his fingers through his hair. His phone started vibrating on the table. He glanced at me apologetically before answering the call quickly. I got up to wash our mugs in the sink and to give him a bit of privacy. “Hey. Yeah sorry for abandoning you guys. Yes. I got your texts. I just hadn’t gotten time to read it yet. Sorry. Yeah. It is her. I’m actually here with her. I walked her back to her dorm. Dammit get off the phone. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Um. That was Jimin. I guess I have to go now.” He smiled ruefully at me before standing up. I walked back with him to the front door and opened it for him. I opened my mouth to thank him once again but was startled out of my wits when he pressed his lips on mine for a quick kiss. He straightened up immediately and looked flushed before he jogged out of the door and waved as he left.

What the hell just happened?