#enby people filled with air

[yellowbunnydreams]

Bunny Ears (Part 7) ~William Afton X F! Reader~

~Sorry for the very silly previous part, it was part of a headcannon me and friend had and it was too good to not write about. *Cue 'was that the bite of '87?!' Meme here*~

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Tag List: @ruh--roh-raggy @h4nluv @sleepy---head @do-double-g @confiscated-peaches-main @dij-ology @viviennemuerte @robin-the-enby @shari-berri @randymeeksisafinalgirl @hallow1090

Cw: CW: Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - 30's), divorce/processing divorce, Afton being a sarcastic hot ass, Henry being such a dad, grumpy x sunshine . Faz-Fuck TM

Half-way through the day, you were only half-way through your shift and you felt as if you could curl up and go to sleep then and there, but you knew you were in for a late night anyway since you still had to wait to be driven home. Henry had been taking you a lot more lately, but tonight he was going to his kid's recital and so you had to wait for Afton, although he was going to be working late in the parts and services room and so you would have to hang around and wait for him.

Looking at the drink in your hand, you went into the staff fridge and grabbed some more water, humming as you moved along the back corridors and kept out of the way of people. Nodding to people as you went past, it was a strangle quiet day at Freddy's. But apparently the local school had a big recital on that night so most kids were there, you almost wondered if William wouldn't be going to his daughter's.

Knocking on the door to parts and services, you peered in cautiously. "Are you decent this time William?" you jokingly called out and you heard his deep rumbling laugh in response.

"Depends on what you find decent, sweetheart." He felt the grin spreading across his face as your silence filled his ears, knowing that your cheeks were flushing and you were getting that slightly glazed look as he put the thought in your head.

"But if you mean am I wearing clothes and not shorts today, yes, yes I am very much decent." He chuckled, hearing you step into the room and letting the door close softly behind you. Appearing from behind a shelf with a bottle of water in your hand, smiling in that way that made his chest tight and his body ache to have you curled against him.

"I brought this for you, I figured you would probably be thirsty."

"Cheers sweetheart, I didn't realise the time honestly." He admitted, looking at his watch and smiling at the little bunny bracelet sat just beneath it, knowing you would see he was still wearing it too. Taking the bottle and unscrewing it, gulping down half the bottle in one breath before he gasped for air, feeling better for the cool water as he wiped his brow with his forearm. Not caring as it almost got on his shirt sleeve that had been rolled up as he focused on the animatronic hand in front of him again.

Frowning, you look at your own watch and then back at William, hands on your hips as you realise this was one of the rare times your head was above his whilst he was hunched over and working.

"Do you even eat whilst you're here William?" You asked, not noticing the slight pause as you said his name, turning and raising an eyebrow at you as he sat back in his seat, crossing his arms for a moment and assessing you before he leaned forwards to work again.

"You're spending too much time around Henry, he's being a bad influence." William scoffed, reaching for a fine tipped screwdriver from the bench and reaching into the mechanism he was tinkering with, slowly and carefully turning the pin-fine screw that he hoped would still be stable enough to support the connection he had put it in.

"Oh and you're a perfect influence?" You ask cheekily, smiling at him as you watched him work, leaning in to get a better look at what he was working on.

"Didn't you know I was a perfect school boy growing up? Would never do anything naughty, especially with an innocent young lady like yourself present." Chuckling as he finally managed to get the screw to the perfect tightness and was about to start tightening another nearby, placing down one screwdriver for another as you spoke up.

"What makes you think I'm so innocent William?" You'd stepped closer and almost whispered it against his ear, not close enough to be considered intimate, but your breath barely scraped his ear and he froze. It was your turn to break him as he felt every muscle tense in his body at your words, swallowing hard as a different kind of ache burned in his stomach instead. Clenching his fists and unclenching them as he slowly turned the swivel chair to face you.

His eyes that were usually such a silvery grey seemed almost charcoal under the light as he looked up at you, his expression totally serious despite there being a little sparkle inside them still. You watched his adams apple bob repeatedly, his hands clenching slightly as you stood before him and his eyes seemed to slowly trail up your body. Your stomach sank as you wondered if you had pushed your friendliness too far with him.

"I suppose I deserve that for making you so flustered all the time." He swallowed, averting his eyes from you as you felt guilty at his expression, shoulders sagging slightly and fingers intertwining together and keeping your eyes down on the floor. William ran his hands through his hair and sighed, his head tipped back slightly as he closed his eyes.

"You've got the worst of both us," he joked, opening his eyes and noticing your quizzical look as he tipped his head towards you. "you're caring like Henry and you've now developed my flir-....humour." he said, catching himself before he called it flirting. He was struggling, and he looked at his hands himself.

"I don't think either of them are bad things." You say softly, coming in close to him and nudging him with your shoulder playfully, your fingers brushing against his arm as he looked at you. "I like your...humour, William. I'm sorry I caught you off guard."

"Apology accepted sweetheart, I guess I just wasn't expecting it to come from you." he spoke softly, letting his hand come up and meet yours briefly like some forbidden touch. His ring catching the low light, making you feel ashamed all over again.

"Still friends?" You asked hopefully, your brow furrowed in concern as he gave you a sweet, lopsided smile.

"I wasn't aware we'd stopped."

~~

It became part of your ritual during your shifts after that. For the next two weeks you brought William water and home-made packed lunches, claiming you'd made extra by mistake and it would only go to waste otherwise. Spending what time you could listening to him talking about his projects whilst you both ate, or him listening to you complain about working with the general public. The kids could be great, but the parents could be nightmares, and he fully understood where you were coming from.

But it was a Saturday once again, and the place heaved with children and grown-ups alike. You'd been running around on your feet all day and you were sure your hair was a mess, face an intense smile or locked in concentration unless something snapped you out of it.

A kid came running up to you, although they didn't scream for attention like some kids so you crouched down and spoke to them softly and evenly. "Are you lost kiddo?"

"No..." Their voice was very soft, clearly nervous that you had taken the time to speak to them rather than them being able to run off again. "You're miss spring-bonnie aren't you?"

You blinked at the question, your cheeks heating up as you were asked and tried to think about how to answer.

"Can you clarify what you mean buddy? Like.. how am I miss Spring-Bonnie?"

"You helped him when he fell over!" The kid beamed and suddenly you understood what they meant, chuckling as you nodded. They lit up as you answered and grinned at you leaning in and whispering to you conspiratorially in the loud way that only children could do. "Will you say hello to him for me?"

"Of course! I'm now going to see him, so I'll say hello then." Watching the kid running off and skipping happily as you headed through to the breakroom. Grabbing your lunches out and some sodas as you walked through the back-halls.

The route to parts and services was familiar now, and you knocked on the heavy door to let William know that you were coming in as you stepped through, his head barely turning as he focused intently on the endoskeleton sat between his knees. Shoulders clamped between his knees as he deftly worked on the wires in the head, you carefully stepped around him and placed his lunch down, opening the box and cracking the drink for him so that he could get straight to eating when he was done. Not having to wait long before you heard the creak of metal and a grunt from William as he hefted the metal skeleton onto a stand opposite where he was working.

"This looks great! Thanks for bringing me this, although I'm suspicious about how much you 'overcook'." He said playfully, his hand brushing your back as he raised an eyebrow at you, making you blush and look at your feet before you spotted a clean spot on the workbench, jumping up onto it and sitting facing him as he remained standing, stretching himself out slightly.

"No, really, I'm just shit at measuring whilst cooking." You lied slightly, whilst you weren't the best cook in the world, you were fairly good at estimating only how much would feed you. But you were happy to be cooking extras and that he seemed to be enjoying them.

Eating in silence for the most part, you were always surprised how quickly he ate. Like he was starving or simply that he was worried somebody might take his food from him if he didn't eat it then and there. Taking a swig of his soda, William smiled and placed his hand next to your thigh, making you think he was picking something off the bench next to you.

"Thank you, bunny." he spoke softly, closing the small gap between you and planting a kiss on your lips, leaving you breathless despite the briefness of it. Taking a second to comprehend what happened just as it took William a second to realise too.

"Did..Did you just kiss me?" You asked, blinking and reaching up to your lips and brushing them with your fingers as you watched William's face fall at the same time he looked relieved.

"I guess..I did, didn't I?" He asked, clarifying you were both on the same page. He rubbed his face and groaned into his hands, thinking about how you would react to him making an impulsive move.

"You stole my first kiss." You murmured, making William's head snap up, still covering his mouth with his hands and looking at your expression for any signs of joking, but when he saw none he groaned louder and ran his hands over his face again, one going into his hair and staying there.

"Shit, I am so, so sorry." Afton felt his heart pounding in his chest as he realised what he'd done, he'd taken your first kiss. You'd just looked so right sat on his workbench and bringing him lunches that were clearly made with love, and he'd acted impulsively as he thought that the time might never be as perfect as the peace the two of you had carved out in the workshop.

"Why are you sorry?" Your voice broke him out of his thought spiral, looking back up at you and adjusting his glasses, seeing you smiling at him in the way that made his chest tight and his stomach flutter nervously, so vulnerable and trusting.

"You're not mad?" Swallowing softly as you shook your head in reply, he took a careful step towards you again. His hand going back to where it had been whilst the other hovered over you shoulder, breathing deeply and raggedly as you saw the darkness that you had seen once before back in his eyes. Hungry, untamed as he met yours. "Then... Can I kiss you again?"

Instead of answering him, you placed your hand against his cheek, feeling the stubble beneath your fingertips and how he leaned his head into your hand slightly, shuffling forwards and your knees sitting either side of his hips as you leant up slightly. William smiled and placed his large hand on your cheek and kissed you back, tender and soft despite the fact his beard scratched slightly at your skin. Taking your breath away again as suddenly all those thoughts you had had where you thought he was handsome, or a million and one times you had stared at him and wondered how his hands felt against you felt justified.

Pulling back after a moment, William placed his forehead against yours, catching his breath and allowing you to as well. You suddenly broke out into a grin and giggled, remembering what the kid had said to you earlier, William raising an eyebrow in question.

"A kid called me 'Miss Spring-Bonnie' earlier, apparently they were psychic." William snorted a laugh out as well, pulling his forehead away and leaving his hand on your face, thumb stroking over your cheek and feeling how soft you were beneath him.

"Oh, you're all ready to be 'Miss Spring-Bonnie' are you, little bunny?" He teased, making your cheeks flush hot at the comment and he chuckled again, leaning in and taking another quick peck from your lips. "How about we seal that with a kiss before you go back to work?"

And you happily obliged as you pressed your lips to yours once again.

[chronicallybloodless]

Heavy to Hold - Chapter 5

Bitter Memories

Pairing: Astarion x enby!tav Status: in progress Rating: Explicit (18+ only) Genre: angst/comfort | slow burn Alternating second-person POV Contains spoilers for the whole game basically TW: it's an astarion fic: descriptions of trauma, abuse, sexual violence, etc. | smut | full tag list on AO3 Read from the beginning: AO3 | Tumblr Listen to the Playlist

Maybe the temptation you felt that night was just you seeking an escape from your cruel fate, a desperate attempt to indulge for once in your miserable life, even if it would have likely meant your end. Or maybe there really was something special about their blood, something that made them worth the risk. And they didn’t even remember that it had happened.

Read on AO3

Read on Tumblr ↓

Astarion's POV

Dusk was falling around you as you finished off your evening meal—an unlucky boar that happened to cross your path. You were fortunate to have caught anything at all given how distracted you were with your own thoughts after the group discussion at dinner. Tav’s words were echoing in your head: “No, I don’t recall us meeting before now.”

Why won’t they admit that we met? You asked yourself. Do they truly not remember? Your ego was a bit bruised at the thought of being that forgettable to someone you nearly bedded.

The details of that night were seared into your memory. The sweet smell and taste of Tav’s blood on your tongue—the first blood you had tasted that didn’t come from a filthy rat. Just the memory of it had made the boar’s blood you just consumed seem like stale pond water in comparison.

You remembered how close you came to plunging your fangs into their bruised neck, damn the consequences. The smell of their blood pooled just under the skin was a temptation you were oh too eager to indulge in. In your 200 years, you had never come so close to disobeying Cazador’s ban on drinking from people.

Once you had been turned, you had delved into every text you could find on vampirism, trying to understand the reality that you had found yourself in. Every description in every book was the same—Vampires were cruel and indulgent creatures who enjoyed decadence in all its forms. How ironic then, that as a spawn you were fed scraps and slept in grime-filled barracks underneath a literal palace.

Maybe the temptation you felt that night was just you seeking an escape from your cruel fate, a desperate attempt to indulge for once in your miserable life, even if it would have likely meant your end. Or maybe there really was something special about their blood, something that made them worth the risk.

And they didn’t even remember that it had happened.

“I was ready to throw my life away for a taste of you, and you don’t even remember my face,” You muttered under your breath as you slumped against a tree. Your tangled thoughts weighed heavily on you.

You weren’t sure what you were most upset about—was it because you didn’t complete the act and drain them? Or was it the fact that you had considered it at all? If you had just taken them directly to Cazador, perhaps you would have escaped this tadpole in your head. But then you would still be a slave to him, at least now you have some chance at freedom. Was it simply a bruised ego that someone you had treated as prey—whose life you held in your hands—had come away from that moment with no recollection of who you were while you, on the other hand, were out in the middle of the woods having an existential crisis about it.

You played that night over and over again in your head as you tried to make sense of it. The taste of their blood as you licked it from their fingers. Their soft breasts exposed to the cool night air, moving steadily in pace with their rapid breaths. The moans they made as you kissed their neck.

For so long, sexual encounters had just been a chore to you. Every now and again you would be with someone who genuinely felt good, but the cruel end to the night always hampered any enjoyment you could have had, to say nothing of the pure repetitiveness of it. You were bait, nothing more. No sense in overthinking it because there was nothing you could do to change it. Best to forget as much of it as you could.

But now, things were different. And that night was different. You wanted them for yourself.

The way your trousers were starting to feel tight suggested that you still did.

You hesitated for a moment. You hadn’t had many opportunities—much less reason—to pleasure yourself in quite a long time. Given your “responsibilities” for Cazador, you generally felt too spent to want to touch yourself. But right now you felt like you could burst.

Gods, this is embarrassing, you thought to yourself, but your body didn’t seem to care. You bit your lip gently as you loosened your belt and trouser ties, carefully sliding a hand past your waistband to grab your stiffening cock. You shuddered from the touch.

You put your mind back on that night with Tav, slowly stroking yourself as you remembered the warmth of their skin on yours. You rocked your hips, recalling the moans they made as they bucked against you, practically begging for you to take them.

You felt the slickness of precum on your fingers as you continued to stroke yourself, building a knot of heat in your core. Your pants were uncomfortably tight now. You tugged your waistband down further to expose your throbbing cock and began stroking more steadily.

You moaned softly as you quickened your pace, feeling the tension building. Your hands felt good, but you desperately wished you had someone here to share in your pleasure. Your mind went back to Tav and the needy sounds they made when you let them grind against your leg. You ached for that wetness as your hand moved steadily over your length. You felt your body shiver when your thumb rubbed against the sensitive head of your cock. You wished you had moved faster that night so that you would know now what it felt like to be inside them.

You let your imagination fill in the blanks, dreaming of what might have happened if you hadn’t been interrupted. You would have kissed their neck more, gently biting on their collarbone—not to drain them, but enough to make them bleed and fill the air with their delicious smell. You would have run your hands down their sides, feeling their soft skin as their back arched and their hips bucked, begging for you to take them. You would have held their gaze as you positioned yourself at their entrance, watching the pleasure on their face as you filled them with your cock.

The thought of their warmth around you nearly pushed you over the edge. But that wouldn’t have been the end of it. You wanted to fuck them until they moaned your name over and over, feeling their pussy tighten around you as they came. You wanted to fuck them better than they had ever been fucked before, and when they were a breathless mess completely undone from your efforts, you wanted to push deeper and fill them with your cum. You wanted to hear them cry out in pleasure as you plunged your teeth into their neck, your cock still filling them as you drank. And in that moment, they would have been yours.

Your cock shuddered at the thought. The noises you were making were undignified, but you were lost in the fantasy as you stroked yourself. The sound of Tav’s breathy moans echoed in your head as you climaxed. Waves of pleasure washed over you as the tension released, your cum dripping across your hand and onto your clothes. Your strokes slowed as your sensitive cock began to mercifully soften.

As your mind began to clear, you realized you had made a complete mess of yourself. You had cum on your shirt, along with some blood from either the boar or from you biting your own lip too hard. You wondered how long you had been gone from camp and whether any of them might come looking for you. You stood, you legs still somewhat shaky, and tried to tuck the worst of your mess back into your pants.

As you walked back towards camp, the same thought kept echoing in your mind.

They didn’t remember any of it.

[badgirlcoven-official]

[partial ID: Comission info for The Owl House fanfiction writing comissions.]

Opening up writing commissions for the first time! I'm hoping to expand the payment options sooner rather than later but that'll take some time to setup properly.

For more examples of my writing you can find me on Ao3: @badgirlcoven_official

Full transcript under the cut!

The commission pages are over a screenshot of the Collector’s checkerboard and play area from Watching and Dreaming, the information is written in three different fonts and mostly in white with yellow titles on some pages. 

The first page, titled, “The Owl House fanfic commissions” has three sections each with a different commission type. They are as follows 

Requests+ 

You give me a prompt

You get one chance after it’s finished to request revisions

You pay for the minimum word count you would like it to be 

The prices are:

$10 for 1000+ words, $15 for 1500+ words, $20 for 2000+ words, up to $50 for 5000 words. 

Requests for $5 

You give me a prompt

I write my interpretation of that prompt to the best of my ability 

No revisions / I have full creative freedom 

Professional

0.018 per word (e.g $9 for 500)

Can provide a partial or full outline that you would like me to follow

Can specify dialogue or passages you would like me to include

OCs welcome! (character chart to be filled out will be provided)

2-5 revisions allowed

You set the minimum amount of words you'd like + the maximum amount of words you are willing to pay for

Page two lists what the author is comfortable with writing, split into two sections. 

Will Write: 

Depicted and referenced physical and verbal abuse

Mental illness + trauma 

Depicted and referenced religious trauma/cults

Referenced queerphobia 

Depicted and referenced ableism 

Plural characters! 

Trans and Enby characters (+ pronoun HCs!) 

Neurodivergent & physically disabled characters! 

AUs and canon divergences 

Won’t write

Smut/sex scenes 

Referenced or depicted sexual assault 

Depicted or heavily referenced self harm 

Drug or alcohol addiction 

Depicted fatal illness/cancer

Glorified depictions of abuse, self harm, or bullying 

Anything including incest, pedophilia/uncomfortable age gaps

Racist stereotypes + characters experiencing racism

Pages three and four include writing excerpts screenshotted from google docs, each different document having its own color and all of them in comic sans font for readability. The first page gives a description example whereas the next page shows dialogue excerpts. 

Description: 

As he ran, mist kissed his arms and face, leaving goosebumps all up his body. Nylon flapped against his shins and each new pace sent a shockwave of energy up his legs. Haggard breaths had his lungs feeling like a swing set and a dizziness tinged his every move.

Fog rolled in from the distance, the moonlight overhead was the only thing to disrupt the nautical twilight that submerged his surroundings. Without stopping, all he really saw were blurs and shadows streaking across his peripheral.

His footsteps made loud thuds and rustled the fallen leaves. Around him, the forest was anything but quiet. Loud chirping and croaking and hooting could be heard all around him, everything pulsing that little bit of life into his veins.

The deep blues of the forest should have been calming, the cold air running down his throat should have made him feel exhilarated. Instead, bile pooled in his stomach and his throat had begun to ache and his eyes to sting.

Dialogue #1:

"I saw the stuff he did to you, too…" they admitted, glancing sideways at him to check for signs of anger. "It looked like it hurt… I'd broken toys before—Uh, real toys not people— but I'd never been that mean about it so watching him do all that kinda scared me…"

Dialogue #2: 

Eventually, Hunter found his voice again. "Please don't blame yourself for what Belos did to you," he was speaking as much to the Collector as he was to himself. "It wasn't your fault, it was never your fault and what we have now is good so I forgive you."

He paused again to think about things. "You know that I'm real now and you're nice to me and that's all that matters now that Belos is dead."

Dialogue #3: 

“Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.” She came and sat down next to him, stretching her pajama-clad legs into the grass and wiggling her toes absentmindedly. “I dunno anymore either…”

She took a deep, quiet breath, and then let it out again, hugging her knees to mirror him and get comfortable. “So, why’d you come out here?”

Page five has payment info. The author is currently accepting payment in amazon gift cards while working on other options. 

A screenshot example is given of a page to send a digital e-card on amazon over email. 

The agreed amount should be addressed to badgirlcovenofficial@gmail.com. If the payment is over $20 you can send one half before and one half after receiving the commission. 

End of transcript.

[jaybarou]

Hi, femme-enby!

(and I apologize to OP for highjacking your post a little)

You were checking your insurance policies on your phone, completely engrossed in the minutiae that could leave your mother uninsured if any step was done wrong. You were so deep as to ignore the half-smoked cigarette, its ashes approaching slowly to your fingers, and the rest of your surrounding area. You were ignoring the whole huge Pizzaplex at your back.

You took a drag of your cigarette and held it while you skimmed over the terms of a long-term stay in the hospital, then went to blow the smoke to the other side with a big sigh.

And you found yourself staring at a collection of turbid bubbles... And at a plastic bubble maker right between your eyes, attached to a blue hand. You cranked your neck up.

“Moon!” You frowned a little. “Where did you get that?”

“Confiscated!” He dipped the plastic stick in the soap and offered you the renewed delicate tensed surface. “Again!”

Your smile twitched to life and you indulged him, because how could you not? He sat by your side and you let yourself be used as a human bellows for your and his amusement.

The insurance policies were put on hold for the rest of your break.

🌜

The next night you tried to read the exact same paragraph again. Yet another cigarette in your hand. Focused again on what dire consequences may come from the hospital stay. Economical at least because the health ones you had no way of predicting.

You should have seen it coming. This time you should have seen it coming.

You took a drag of your cigarette and held it while you read, then went to blow the smoke with a sigh.

“Twuuuut”

You shook, startled out of your musings by the noise. You turned looking for the culprit and of course Moon was there, so close that you almost startled again, holding a kazoo between his fingers in the exact same position as your cigarette.

“Wa- How did you…?” If yesterday had taught you something, it was that he didn’t have lungs, so…

He made a gesture with his unoccupied hand to yours. You moved your arm and he moved his so you played along. You took another drag and he mimicked you, down to how his chest piece seemed to fill and expand with air with just a change of posture.

You held your breath for a moment wondering what was going to happen now. Then you let your arm with the cigarette hang and he did the same.

You exhaled.

“Twuuuut”

You couldn’t help yourself and cackled.

“It’s your speakers!”

“Twut Twut twt twuut twuut!”

“That’s cheating!”

“Twut Twut twut!”

Well, you were not getting any conversation out of him today, so you took another drag and expelled long and continuously.

“Twuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut- Tw tw tw tw.”

The last of your smoke and his twuuting stuttered because you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You didn’t need to bring the kazoo if you are going to make the noises with your ‘mouth’.”

“Twut twutn’t twut tw twuut thw twtoo tw tw tw twing tw twk tw twuut twt twt twuut.”

You didn’t expect any less of him.

“You are Twidiculous!”

“Twut Twut twuuuut!”

Yet another break where you didn’t manage to read a single line.

🌜

So much time had passed, you no longer cared for that particular insurance policy. Instead, now you cared about what half-destroyed bots would be sent to your workshop, what Sun would think if you bought him a Rubik cube, what Moon would think of getting new clothes, what your friends at The Rooms would be plotting this time… But today had been a long day and you had had to put on a front for people who would rather see Sun and Moon back under the orders of FazCo. It had been rough.

You patted your jacket and felt the box. Just what you needed after such an ordeal.

You leaned against the wall of the hotel, well outside the streetlamp area, and Moon followed. Then you got out of an inner pocket a cigarette box. Something still rattled inside.

“No,” Moon chided you immediately.

“It has been a long night,” you complained.

“The last one was the last one.”

“Just one,” you even put one finger up in front of him.

“No!”

“Yes!”

You didn’t give him any more time to complain. You opened the box, whipped out the content, held it between your fingers and…

“Tweeee!” ...blew the party horn right to his face.

Moon didn’t move. He said nothing.

“Tweeee!” you repeated, making sure the end of it tapped his faceplate.

Said faceplate twitched to the left. And just when you were about to ask him what was-

“Twuuuut!”

You knew that noise clip!

“Tweeee!”

“Twuuuut!”

“Tweeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

“Twuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut!”

“Twee!”

“Twut!”

“It’s two am, I’m going to call the Police!”

You looked up. From the window of the hotel you saw a spiked silhouette leaning, his face on his hand and watching you.

“Twee!”

“Twut!”

On AO3

My friend sent me this post and said it was Sun core so y'all know what I had to do.... 🤭😭✍️

[bokebelle]

𝐚𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 + 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 —

WARNINGS: 16+. mentions of kissing. (duh)

CHARACTERS: porco gallliard, eren yeager, jean kirstein, levi ackerman

TAGS: fluff, gn! Reader

A/N: trying out a new format! if you don't see it again, then it didn't work out lmao or let me know what u guys think!! also i haven't written for my og boys in a minute and I missed them

reblog if you wanna kiss ur fave <3

porco galliard

— Porco's kisses are soft but rough He can't help but grab you and pull you as close to him as he physically can. Rough and grabby hands on your body, but his lips against yours are soft. He wants to cherish the way your lips feel on his, how the soft and warm flesh of your lips grazes his. There are very few times, with very few people, wherein Porco allows himself to be soft. But with you, even with a tight grip on your waist, he allows himself to be this vulnerable because, well, it's you, and even in his vulnerability you manage to make him feel invincible.

jean kirstein

— Jean's kisses are gentle and soft. He loves you, he really does, and you can feel in the the way he kisses you. You feel the love pouring from his heart to his hands that gently cradle your face as if you were a delicate piece of chinaware. You feel how much Jean loves you through the way he softly presses his lips against yours, molding themselves perfectly into your kiss. Soft touches that trace the outline of your jaw, followed by warm lips on even warmer skin. Soft kisses on your cheeks, your forehead, across your jaw, down the column of your neck. They're soft, tender, pure; exactly the kind of love you have with Jean.

eren yeager

— Eren's kisses are rough and passionate. Eren leaves you breathless with his kisses. They can be messy, rough, sometimes a little clumsy, but they're so full of love and passion. Eren's kisses are all-consuming. His hands are all over your body, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. Your arms are thrown around his neck, and your mind is filled with nothing but Eren. He loves you passionately, fiercely, and he has no problems showing you just how much he wants you and needs you. Eren's kisses are so him and as you both pull away for some air, he wants you to remember that, even if he isn't kissing you, he is all yours, and you're the only one who can leave eren this breathless too.

levi ackerman

— Levi's kisses are passionate and gentle. Levi isn't normally one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but when you kiss him he's ready to bare it all. When he kisses you, can almost feel how much Levi wants this — how much he wants you. His kisses are passionate, his lips firmly against yours as his fingers dig into your hips. But they're also gentle. Levi no intention of leaving yours lips swollen (though sometimes it can't be helped), but he wants to leave his mark on you, something you can still feel even when you're alone. His kisses are full of passion, but they show a gentle side to the love Levi gives you with his whole heart

taglist: @crapimahuman @novasblogs @notgoodforlife @hannie2kay @tanakaslastbraincell @hznji @toji-dabi-wife @f4riytales @frog-wrld @tetsunormous @lazyezstudy @ereh-simp @dukina @enby-bpd @oblxvion @odmlevis @bakugohoex @6oldie @lemvis @erwinslut @suyasgf

[magicapandora]

Love at First Bite; Charmed

Chapter 1

A repost of an ongoing story! For my Rosie x Victor lovers out there!

Victor had never been the one to fold over for anyone .

Did he have crushes? Sure, but they were just crushes. Puppy love, you could say. Small infatuations with fellow students he hadn’t even talked to, back when he dressed like it was winter year-round. He’d just aimlessly watch them come and go, without them even knowing his name or even looking at his direction.

Though now it meant nothing. Now he could have anyone he wanted regardless of anything and everything. He already had girls giggling while giving him love letters, guys asking him to hang out while tripping over their words, and others just simply admiring him from afar, much like he did with his idols.

He always gave a Hollywood smile and wave when passing by, his admirers swooning over his dazzling smile and his squealing over almost all of his features, from his well kept hair (so many hair products) to his pure charisma. It seemed like everyone was at his beck and call. And almost all of them were.

Almost .

As Victor was at the Ravenclaw table, answering Penny’s seemingly non-stop questions about his vacation to Paris and Andre asking for his exact measurements to make an outfit suited for him, he sees Penny quickly turned her head towards the entrance of the great hall and wave, yelling out a “Hey, Rosie!”.

Victor quickly heard the chipper voice that came from that direction and felt like his heart was beating out of his chest, his attention off his admirers and now to the Slytherin walking towards their own table.

The first thing that caught him was the eyepatch. Of course, you don’t see a lot of students with that certain physical trait, but the pink leather with the blue embroidered rose certainly caught his eye. Next was their hair, the curls and coils shone in the light coming from the large windows of the great hall, making it look like the brown curls were spun from gold and bronze itself. And the smile . As the brown skinned Slytherin walked past, they waved back at the blonde Hufflepuff girl, a crooked but shining smile forming on their scarred face.

Victor felt like he’d just seen a model strut down the runway. They had an air of elegance, holding their head up high and their shoulders back, the click of their heels thumping in his ears. They oozed pure charisma, as if it was second nature to them, quickly saying greetings to friends at their table, sitting down and almost immediately having a crowd around them, mirroring his own situation. The sheer confidence that came from them was enough to knock him down to his feet.

The vampire cleared his throat, straightening his back and propping his elbow on the table. “Pardon me, Penny, but who is that?” He asked, his eyes still locked on Rosie, as if looking away wasn’t an option, trying to drink in every single detail of them.

The blonde looked over to where he was staring, her face breaking out into her signature smile. “Oh, I’m surprised you haven’t heard of our resident cursebreaker! That’s Rosie Mayfield, a 7th year like us!” she chippered happily, all of her attention now fully on the black haired vampire in front of her.

“Rosie Mayfield, you say?” He mumbled, the knuckle of his index finger placed in between his lips as he focused on the curly haired enby. “If I may inquire, what’re they like?”, not bothering to ask a particular person near him, just anyone who would fill him in on the elucid cursebreaker. That’s when the Ravenclaw fashionista spoke up, scooting closer to Victor.

“Oh, Rosie? They’re literally like, one of the sweetest people I’ve met. A total angel who would give them their own clothes off their back if someone asked. Plus, they have an absolutely fantastic taste in fashion,” Andre, propping up his hand under his chin, the other tapping on the wooden table. “Not to mention, a complete badass. I never met anyone who could rock heels while also going up against the most terrible foes of the wizarding world!”

“Andre, Double jeaning isn't a terrible foe.” Penny piped up, laughing quietly at her own joke. Andre rolled his eyes, gently nudging the blonde with his elbow, “Pen, you know my stance on double jeaning. It's a disease .”, throwing his hand over his forehead, dramatically leaning onto Penny’s body and putting all his weight on her, Penny laughing louder and shoving the Ravenclaw gently off her.

Victor had completely pushed those two’s voices into the background, completely drawn in with the cursebreaker. Usually he wasn't the one to dwell with others, paying them no mind after a while but something was so utterly magnetic about this person, he couldn't help but take in everything about them. Like something was drawing him into her, an insect to a venus fly trap. No, that's too harsh for someone as sweet-looking as them. Perhaps, a butterfly to a flower.

Victor’s interest only grew, making him stand up from his seat, adjusting his hair and leather jacket before turning to the others. “Well, it’d be quite rude of me to not introduce myself.”. He waved at Andre and Penny before striding over to the Slytherin table, the other students already whispering about him in hushed giggles and compliments. Rosie was a bit preoccupied, her attention towards a black haired girl of the same house, before noticing the Ravenclaw walking towards her.

“I'm afraid we haven't met before, Rosie Mayfield, is it?” He extended a hand forward, the Slytherin’s attention was now his. Rosie looked towards him, her eye quickly darting back and forth between him and his hand. They extended their hand as well, grasping it, Victor feeling their well manicured nails on the palm of his hands. He took their hand and brought it up to his lips, gently kissing the knuckles of their hand, feeling the cold metal and gems of their rings decorating their fingers.

The crowd around them quietly went mad, the whispers only getting more frantic. Victor expected Rosie to blush at this gesture, to swoon like a lovesick girl. What he didn't expect was the melodic laughter that came out of their mouth, like bell chimes on a windy summer's day. They retracted their hand, still giggling and covering their mouth, trying to stifle the laughter.

“I’m so sorry, but that’s quite a bold move! Especially since I don’t even know your name!”. Victor felt like he just got slapped over the head. Doesn’t know his name? Almost everyone knew him, and if they didn’t he’d make sure they would. It’s like he was drawn more and more in as she spoke, noticing the way she curled her hand up to her mouth, and how their eye and nose scrunched up whenever they tried to hold back their laughter.

Victor composed himself, flicking his hair to the side with a confident smile. “My apologies, where are my manners? Victor Ketsueki, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”, he winked, offering his hand once again. The brown haired cursebreaker smiled, taking his hand once again and shaking it. The cold metal of their rings feeling at home in Victor’s hands.

“ Charmed .”

Hearing that single phrase made a shiver go down Victor’s spine. The smooth and flirtatious tone of their voice made Veela's song’s sound like mere common talk. He felt his throat tighten, like a wire was wound up around his vocal cords and ready to make his voice crack if he opened his mouth.

If beauty had a face, Rosie was the spitting image of it.

He let go, putting his own hands into his jacket pockets, feeling the slight sweat on his palms. How did he already get this nervous? Was he always this sweaty?

He composed himself once more, the slight waiver of his confidence settling down and his facade was up again. “So, I was hoping for us to get to know each other more. Perhaps we can, tonight?” He asked, his Hollywood smile shining once again, his fangs now on display. “I'm throwing a bit of a party for everyone, new school year and all that. It would be wonderful if you could come.”

Rosie hummed, their eye looking around in thought, their elbow resting in their hand while the other cupped their face. There was a moment of panic that flooded Victor’s mind. Were they gonna reject him? In front of all these people? No, why would they do that? He was Victor Ketsueki for Merlin’s sake. But the thought rattled in his mind, feeling all of these eyes on him. He'd just recently got rejected in the most humiliating way possible, luckily it was between him, and two of the most terrifying Slytherin’s he’s ever met. He did not want another one for the score. He’d rather crawl back into his mahogany coffin than get rejected once again.

Luckily, he got his answer soon enough.

“Oh, well, I don’t see why not,” Rosie finally responded, straightening their back. “Sure, I'd love to go!”. Victor felt like he could breathe again, letting out the small breath he held in his chest, the small weight fading away. The brunette smiled softly, the left corner of their mouth tugging more so and a small crooked smile appearing once again. Rosie squinted a bit at the vampire in front of her, as if to focus about...well, everything about him. He had just nonchalantly came up to her, not even introducing himself, and just greeted her as he was courting her already. He just had an air about him, something sharp and cold yet smooth, like sleek ice on a cold winter’s day. It was almost as if he prepared what to say while on the way from the Ravenclaw table to Slytherin table, which he did.

He just didn’t expect that reaction.

“It’s at 8, by the way. Sphinx Clubroom. I cannot wait for you to come, Rosie,” Victor said, his voice still having that sharpness to it. Victor adjusted his jacket, laying the lapels down flat, hands brushing off whatever ended up on his jacket, “Well, I suppose I’ll be on my way. Again, a pleasure to meet you.”, Victor snapped his fingers, giving a small wink and grin while pointing at the Slytherin. Rosie huffed a bit, a dry laugh at his outro of sorts, as if he just walked straight out of a movie. They wanted to pinch themselves, making sure they were awake and this wasn’t some weird fever dream. But Rosie couldn’t think of that right now, as soon as Victor left that vicinity, everyone around them was asking questions like crazy.

“ Did you see the way he looked at you?! ”

“ So you’ve never heard about him? That’s ridiculous! ”

“ Please tell me you're going to that party! And tell me all about it when you come back! ”

If being enclosed in a glass casket felt like anything, Rosie was feeling that now. The constant eyes and ears near them made it feel like they were 5 seconds away from shouting at everyone to just be quiet for a moment, please. They were usually good with this kind of thing, being in crowds felt like home to them, wanting to share things and make conversations, but now, it felt like stones were being compressed onto their chest and their tongue was gonna pop out any minute.

“Okay, that’s enough! C’mon, Ro. Let’s go,”

Rosie’s chest was now stone free, thanks to her black haired friend. Ismelda grabbed the other’s hand, basically dragging them outside the great hall. Rosie yelled a quick goodbye, waving to the other’s still at the table. The brunette almost fell, their heel getting caught in one of the dents in the floor, but thanks to Ismelda’s weird strength, they got back up easily enough. As soon as they were out of the great hall, Ismelda let go of Rosie’s hand. letting them be free of her iron grasp.

“Thanks, Melds. I owe you one-“

“No need to thank me, Rosie. I could see you freaking out in that bubblegum pink brain of yours, I couldn’t just leave you hanging.” Ismelda interrupted, walking towards the east corridor. Rosie quickly caught up, the frantic clicking of her heels filling the hallways.

“How come you always know how I am, like, feeling? You got some empath thing going on?” Rosie asked, her hands moving about, as if they were trying to communicate their feelings.

“Well, first off, I’ve lived with you for 7 years, so there’s that ,” Ismelda started, adjusting her scarf and fiddling with the end wool bits. “Also you do this thing where you seem fine but you clench your fists and your jaw tightens when you’re nervous. Also, you have this look in your eye that screams ‘Save me’ whenever it happens. It’s a bit creepy, to be honest.” Ismelda continued. Rosie’s shoulders tightened and hunched up a little in shame, looking towards the ground.

Merlin, do I do it that often?

“But anyways, what’s with you and Victor, huh?” Ismelda snorted, turning to Rosie and halting her walking to a slow stroll. “You two just met and he’s acting like he’s known you for years.”.

“Don’t ask me, he’s the one who greeted me like a gentleman at a ball,” Rosie shrugged their shoulders, putting their hands into their pockets. “He’s cute, I have to say. And that jacket was definitely made with Parisian leather. The cut and the color of it and the way the light just hits it? Can’t be anything else,” Rosie mused for a bit, trying to recall the quick but fresh interaction. Ismelda scoffed, stopping completely and making Rosie stop in her tracks, looking at the black haired Slytherin with a raised eyebrow, “What?”.

“Seriously? The most popular guy in school basically asks you out and you’re focusing on his jacket? No wonder guys don’t ask you out,” Ismelda laughed again, moving forward again and Rosie huffed, catching up to her friend.

“Well, I just met him. What do you want me to do? Bow down to his greatness, Mr.Leather and chains?” Rosie asked, focusing now on her nails, slowly chipping away at the pink and white paint on them, making sure to use their other hand to steady themselves on the stone steps to the dungeons.

“I have no idea but don’t be surprised if he sweeps you off your feet on the dancefloor tonight,” Ismelda grinned, opening the door to the Slytherin common room.

Rosie followed suit, feeling the cool air of the rest area rest on her skin. The clicking of her heels echoed louder here than anywhere else, the tall staircase still carrying the sounds as both of them reached their dorm room. The black haired girl sighed, dropping down on her bed and kicking her black tennis shoes off, Rosie almost doing the exact same, dropping their heels messily onto their desk and laid down for a moment. And then two. And then a lot more. Rosie’s mind rattled with the thought of having a crush on someone they didn’t even know. The only thing they’ve gotten from him was his wardrobe and his confidence, but that’s nothing. It’s bread crumbs to the actual Victor Ketsueki. They wanted to know more.

Rosie quickly got up, heading towards their wardrobe, opening the dark wood doors and sifting through the multiple hangers, taking handfuls of dresses, blouses, and jackets and laying them down onto the emerald green sheets of their bed. They quickly grabbed a dress and a cardigan and stood in front of the full length mirror, as if calculating.

Ismelda looked up from their book, peeking over the pages to see their roommate, with almost a look of determination in their eyes.

“What're you doing?” Ismelda asked, tipping her head to the side, blowing her hair out of the way.

Rosie smiled a bit at her through the mirror, more like a grin if you asked anyone else, and turned around towards Ismelda.

“Well, like you said, Victor may sweep me off my feet. Gotta make sure he at least stumbles a bit.”

[velvetvexations]

Hi, I'm a trans woman, and fuck your composure. You are a vacuous living monument to ignorance and hypocritical cruelty spreading the idea it's totally cool and praxis to use slurs for other trans people. Your attitude about "cafab enbies" (CAFAB is an intersex term, btw!) is disgusting and fills me with shame, not as a trans woman but just as a human being, someone who has to breathe the same air and occupy the same physical reality as you. Go literally to actual Hell.

The word "theyfab" is literally like the gom jabbar test for cafab enbies. Trans women online are using a mean word, will you maintain your composure or will you snap and go off about these mean shemales and their male socialization? An animal caught in a trap will gnaw off of its own leg to get away, what will you do

[itadorisgf]

coming out (as nonbinary).

this is self-indulgent and for all my enby babes<3 i adore you and love you so much. also, this is all platonic because i love platonic relationships<3

nanami kento and zenin maki.

gn!reader/enby reader, platonic relationships.

— nanami kento.

you’re jittery with nerves as you walk down the hallway to the room where nanami’s currently filling out paperwork for his latest mission.

you got this. you got this. you got this.

you repeat that phrase over and over in your head as an attempt to psych yourself up. it took you some time to figure it out, but now that you know you’re nonbinary, you’ve decided it’s time to let people know, starting with your closest friend. standing behind the closed door, you take a long, drawn-out breath before knocking on it twice.

shit, shit, shit. maybe, you should just tell him some other time when he’s not busy. yeah, that sounds—

“come in.”

fuck. 

you slowly turn the door handle and push the door open. nanami glances up from behind the desk he’s working at with a tired, though not unhappy, expression. he’s slipped off his glasses and loosened his tie while his coat rests on the back of his seat. the sleeves of his dress-shirt have been neatly rolled up to his elbows and there’s a pen, paused in mid-air, resting in his hand.

“sorry to bother you, nanamin,” you sheepishly apologize, bringing a hand up to nervously rub at the back of your neck. his mouth tightens for a brief moment at the usage of the nickname that gojo originally came up with before relaxing. it’s irritating when gojo refers to him like that, but not when you do. at the most, he feels fond exasperation whenever you use the nickname.

“you’re never a bother,” nanami smoothly states, placing the pen in his hand flat on the desk. there’s a questioning arch of his brow as he folds his hands together. “though, you don’t normally come to visit me when i’m filling out paperwork.” 

you squirm underneath his gaze before taking a seat in the chair across from him. you force a chuckle to try and dissipate the tension in your frame. it doesn’t work. you drum your fingers against the edge of the desk and bounce your knee underneath it.

“yeah, i actually have something to tell you, nanamin.”

you got this. you got this. you got this.

you take a deep shuddery breath and meet his eyes.

“i’m nonbinary.”

silence fills the air as your knee bounces faster in anticipation. you’re unable to read anything from nanami’s expression, which only serves to worsen your nerves. maybe, you shouldn’t have just blurted it out like that. maybe, this was a mistake.

“what are your preferred pronouns, then?”

the calm and collected sound of nanami’s voice draws you out of your spiraling negativity. you rush to inform him of the new pronouns that you wish to go by and nanami simply nods in response.

“i am glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me. though i don’t say it often, you’re a friend i deeply value and trust.”

a giddy grin spreads across your cheeks at nanami’s words and easy acceptance of who you are.

“yeah, yeah. love you too, nanamin.”

— zenin maki.

maki picks up on your nervous energy right away. you keep on fidgeting with your hands, something that you only do when you’re anxious. you also refuse to meet her eyes, keeping your head down low as if the concrete stairs you two sit on are incredibly interesting. there’s no way that they’re that interesting. no, something is definitely bothering you. your out of character behavior is unsettling and maki can’t take it for much longer.

“spit it out.”

you flinch, caught off-guard by the suddenness of maki’s statement. you lift your head from boring holes into the asphalt to look at her. with her brows drawn tightly together, her expression is deceivingly annoyed, but you know her better than anyone else. you can tell maki’s actually worried for you, and you can’t help but feel guilty for making her feel that way.

“spit what out?” 

you feign ignorance, playing dumb to put off the inevitable. you want to tell her so badly, but you're afraid. afraid that she may think of you differently after you confess something that you hold so close to your heart. it’s dumb, to be honest. logically, you know that maki’s not that type of person. she’s your best friend, who’s only ever supported you. (well, most of the time, anyways. she tends to call you a dumbass when you do things without thinking them through ahead of time.) but in fear of getting rejected and shunned, all logic is thrown out the window.

“you know what i’m talking about.” 

maki tilts her head, giving you a pointed look that has you averting your gaze away. you’ve never been a good liar and maki knows you too well. she heavily sighs and knocks her shoulder against yours.

“you can always tell me what’s bothering you, dummy.”

her voice softens in a way that others wouldn’t believe zenin maki was capable of. you count yourself lucky that you’re one of few to have the privilege of seeing this side of her, not that you’d ever tell anyone about it. (maki threatens that she’d beat your ass if you did. you’d rather not take your chances. you know it’s not an empty threat.)

“i know.”

you take a deep breath to calm your racing nerves. maki’s knee brushes against yours and you nearly cry at the action. (that’s always been her attempt at grounding you whenever you get too lost in your head.)

you raise your head to look into her eyes and force the words out before you can back out.

“i’m nonbinary.”

her eyes widen slightly in surprise from your statement, and perhaps the sheer volume of your voice, before she quickly regains her composure. each second that passes by stretches on for hours in your mind as you wait for her to respond. a small smile plays at her lips as she raises her hand to gently hit the top of your head.

“you got all worked up for that, idiot?”

a startled noise escapes you before you pout and rub circles at the spot maki hit. she rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath about how she didn’t even hit you that hard.

“i was nervous! i didn’t know how’d you react.”

her eyes soften before she lightly scoffs. 

“i don’t think of you any differently if that’s what you’re concerned about. in my eyes, you’re still the same idiot you’ve always been and always will be.”

[jaskierswolf]

I talked to Sock the other day about Cahir in a dress. And I saw your hug prompt. The number doesn't matter as such, but could enby Cahir in a dress get a hug??

This is set loosely before the Battle at KM in TW3.

CW: coming out

_

Kaer Morhen, the infamous keep in the mountains and the one place that Cahir had never expected to end up, but Ciri had needed them. Cahir had never been able to say no to the princess, even when they’d been stuck under Nilfgaards’s thumb.

The tension was thick in the keep, everyone preparing for the battle, but there was always a calm before the storm that Cahir found addictive, that hyper awareness of one’s own mortality that made their hair stand on end. Everyone was processing the pre-battle nerves in their way. Vesemir had decided on an early night to get some rest and go into battle as bright eyed as he could be, suggesting in a gruff voice that they all do the same, but Lambert’s home-made vodka had become the preferred activity of choice. The dining hall was buzzing with drunken witchers, bards and well… Cahir.

So with a loose tongue, Cahir let their secrets fall from their lips. If they were going to die the next day then they wanted to die as themself; no more hiding.

“I’m not a man,” they blurted out, not really sure how to explain it.

Three pairs of golden eyes stared back at them, and there was the sound of lute strings twanging from the corner as cornflower blue eyes peered up from under Dandelion’s hat.

“Cahir?” Dandelion asked with a tilt of his head.

“I- I’m not quite sure, but I’m not a man, but- but, well, I’m not a woman either,” they stammered.

Lambert just grinned widely and jumped up from the table before scurrying from the room, leaving Cahir feeling a little lost.

“I-” Cahir felt their heart sink. It wasn’t as if they’d been expecting acceptance but to have Lambert flee from the room in such a manner hurt more than they’d anticipated.

Before they could spiral too much, Eskel’s hand was on their shoulder. Strong, dependable, caring Eskel who’d known what was wrong before Cahir could voice it. A warm crooked smile on his lips, giving Cahir hope when hope was in short supply.

“He’s tactless, but just wait,” Eskel’s deep bass rumbled in their ear. “Bastard’s just excited.”

And sure enough, Lambert returned soon after with bundles of cloth in his arms. He beamed brightly at Cahir as he offered the bundle to them. “I Know you said you aren’t a woman, but these aren’t women’s clothes, they’re mine, and well, I thought maybe you’d like to try one on, see how it feels?” Lambert trailed off, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. It had been more words than Cahir had ever heard him say at once before.

Cahir’s cheeks flushed and they felt their heart race a little faster, tears springing to their eyes at the blatant display of acceptance. The dresses in their hands were soft against their war-hardened skin and they quickly chose a silk garment to try on. They’d never worn a dress before, too scared of the people around them, but here, in an old crumbling castle filled with witchers, bards and mages… they felt at home.

The dress flowed around their ankles, dancing in the air as they span, and Dandelion wolf whilst, his bright cornflower blue eyes sparkling. Cahir felt like themself for possibly the first time in their life, and they fell to the ground, overwhelmed by all the emotions that swirled inside of them. Lost and found, happy and sad, confused and yet seeing clearer than they had ever before.

Arms wrapped around them, then another pair and another, until Cahir was buried under three witchers and a bard, a long feather tickling their nose. It was hard to breathe under the combined weight, but it was oddly comforting regardless, and Cahir found they were quite content to remain there for the rest of the evening.

_

Tag list undercut:

@geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde, @comfyswitcherblanketfort, @fontegagrilledcheese, @dani-dandelino, @dapandapod @unyielding-as-the-sea @officerjennie @feraljaskier @geralt-of-riviass @kueble @gilberik

[lovingrosewho]

Fake Dating (pt. 3)

Part 1 // Part 2

Here’s part 3! As usual, I hope you enjoy and any feedback is highly welcomed! 💕

MULTICHAPTER

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Rating: T. More fluffy this time

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester need your help with a case, which involves pretending to date the King of Hell.

Warnings: I think none, some cursing maybe

The evening goes as planned. You don’t talk much except for the occasional question directed at you, so you mostly dedicate to eat, report to Sam and Dean discreetly on your phone, smile, and squeeze Crowley’s hand under the table. He’s been a charm to be honest, his entrancing smile and deep chuckle could definitely make anyone fall for any lie, you’re not surprised he’s sold sin to saints for centuries.

It’s weirdly... easy, pretending to be a couple. And you’re astonished to see and listen just how much he knows about you just by indirect comments with the boys. Your favorite bands, your favorite color, he even knows you think roses are lame, and much deeper stuff, about your family, your past. It could be catalogued as weird, but thing is, it isn’t. It just seems normal. And truth be told, you know a lot about him as well. All those late nights doing research on the bunker’s library, on your own, with just the company of a single lamp and a pile of books, and him popping in, looking for the Winchester brothers, not realizing what time it was, trying to make just a little of small talk with you, it surely looks like you picked one or two things about him. It’s nice, not having to pretend to hate him for once, but quite the contrary, you can, for a few hours, let him peck you on the cheek and smile, or kiss each others hands, taking special care on the knuckles, running your fingers mindlessly on the surface of the skin of either your legs, palms or arms. Yes, it’s nice.

Now it’s been almost three hours and you think you’ll go crazy if you hear one more anecdote about some luxurious art gallery where rich people go to satisfy their ‘spiritual needs’.

“Excuse us but,” you say when they’re finished speaking “we should get going. You know, Queen and King of Hell and everything”.

Crowley’s eyes spark when you refer to yourself as the ‘Queen of Hell’.

“Of course!” the lady says in a tone you don’t quite like “But wouldn’t you prefer if we moved the party to our house?”

You consider the possibility for a second, if you could get there, perhaps you could help Sam and Dean too. You look at Crowley, who is watching you expectantly, waiting for your verdict. When he sees the silent sign for approval, makes an affirmative gesture.

Crowley pays the whole tab, which you’re certain wasn’t cheap, but he insists and doesn’t even let you nor your companions see the bill. Not that, being the King of Hell, matters a lot, apparently. You get going, driving along the shifters on an, also fancy, surely private, cab. The whole drive you don’t talk and you can barely look at Crowley, but his hand never leaves yours, and you’re relentless to let it go even if it seems, and probably is, wrong, given the facade is supposed to be over by now. He respects the silence filling the space, and keeps to himself any kind of comments he might have about the evening, or about you, conforming with watching you admire through the car window the few snow flakes that have started to fall from the sky.

About thirty minutes later, you arrive to a medium-sized house, considering you were expecting a mansion.

“What is this?” you ask quietly to Crowley.

“They’ve got plenty of houses all over the country, this one might just happen to be near, they move all the time” he explains in a shrug.

Even if Crowley’s explanation seems logical, you still have a bad feeling right in your gut, you take a firm grip at the silver blade you’re carrying to at least be prepared.

When you enter the household, the coziness of it immerses you; wooden floors and warm light surrounding you all of a sudden. You’re frankly impressed and glad to have left the luxurious side of it all back at the restaurant, but when you turn to Crowley, his face tells you something’s off.

“Everything alright?” you mutter closely to him.

“Yes, it just seems... weird. There’s no security system in this one and, one other minor detail, where are the Moose and Squirrel?” he mutters equally. Damn it. You forgot.

“Maybe they got the house wrong?” you keep speaking the same way, but the shifters interrupt you, conducting you to the living room, taking your coat off your hands and putting it on the rack. You obey, following carefully, looking for Sam and Dean on every corner, until they push a button at the side of the switch, hence you and Crowley are surrounded by metal walls, being left with only the center portion of the living room, meaning, just the sofa, a rug, and a lamp on top of the end table, the room being illuminated only by that single light, leaving you almost in gloom. You immediately take out your phone, but of course, it reads ‘no signal’.

“Ah” Crowley expresses “There’s the security system”.

You look at him in irony and turn to the nearest wall, punching it several times, like if it was gonna make a difference.

“You really thought we wouldn’t recognize a stupid hunter whore?” the shifters say through the wall.

“Bite me!” you scream, punching the metal again, taking your silver knife out and stabbing it too, only causing it to blend and almost break. You throw it furiously across the room and Crowley barely dodges it.

“Somebody’s got a temper” he mentions but regrets it the moment you storm towards him, ready to beat him too, he catches your fists in the air and backs you against the wall, his hot breath against your mouth “Easy there, love. I’m the last person you should be aiming your dandery nonsense to”.

“Really?!” you yell, liberating from his grip, not being able to control yourself “Cause it seems to me you set this all up and now you’re gonna snap someplace else and leave me all on my own!”

He rolls his eyes in a bored way.

“In case you haven’t noticed, which wouldn’t turn up as a surprise given the insane amount of anger you have in you as of now, there are devil traps right in this wall,” he starts pointing at the right one “and that other one”.

He’s right. The light makes it hard to perceive, but there are devil traps set with stainless steel all over the right and left walls.

“They’re not idiots, love” he tells you calmly “They know what they’re doing”.

“I should have known...” you say, more to yourself than to him.

“Kitten...”

“I should have fucking known. Fucking stupid. Flashed by the decor. Fuck!” you scream. Crowley comes up to you and engulfs you in a hug. You shake him off and walk a few steps away “Leave me alone”.

He looks in awe at you.

“You’re not about to behave like five hours ago, are you?” he exclaims, not exactly angry, but unsettled at the very least “Are you really going to pretend we didn’t share a moment back at the restaurant?”

“I said. Leave. Me. Alone” you repeat, going to the furthest corner of the room, sitting down and bringing your knees close to your chest. Crowley stares at you in disbelief.

“Suit yourself” he says, tone still calm but more severe.

A couple of hours pass. Room is still dim, the only light creates some harsh shadows and the temperature has started to drop since you’re in the middle of January. You can’t help the shivers, and the cold metal on your skin isn’t helping at all, but you’re too prideful to walk by the sofa, where Crowley is.

“Love...” he murmurs, trying to sound irritated still, watching you “You’re gonna freeze to death over there. Come here”.

You don’t make a single move, but are tempted to. Degrees keep lowering by the second, every time you exhale, a puff of steam comes out. Even thinking about a way out is becoming more and more difficult, with the lack of heat you’re unable to concentrate.

“Love?” Crowley calls again, this time there’s more concern in his voice. Your mind has started to drift, it feels as if any minute you were about to faint or quake uncontrollably. Lights begin to fade, Crowley’s voice too, your body seems to be shutting down to prevent you from going into shock from the unbearable cold.

Part 4

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST: @enby-thesbian (if you’d like to be tagged feel free to let me know! 💕)

[inks-books]

Find Word Tag Game

My words are jump, slip, green, and music.

Your words are lean(ed/ing), song (sing/singing), death (dead/dying), sweet

I tag: @episstolarian, @leodorevitamor, @everydaycharlatan, @winterandwords, @genby-enby! No pressure, but feel free to see this and want to do it and tag me as your tagger! Just tagging some of the new people following this blog :D

Jump

Skrit-skrit...skrit-skrit.

He stopped and looked up toward the window again. A claw appeared on the windowsill, and a nose rose just above it and began sniffing the air. The preacher held his breath, staring wild eyed at the thing, and not daring to move. A dozen prayers were running through his head for every patron saint he could think of to please protect him from whatever demon had crawled its way out of the depths of hell and found its way into the holy grounds.

“Hello? Father?” a man entered the room and looked around.

The preacher looked back at the window expecting the creature to jump out and tear the poor soul to shreds, but the creature was gone. There was no sign it had been there.

“Father?” The man turned on a light.

“In here!” cried the preacher.

“What happened?!” the other man asked, as he rushed to the door to let him out.

He untied the rope around the handles and threw the doors open. The preacher was at a loss for words. All he could think of was the woman that had disappeared as abruptly as she had appeared.

“Call an ambulance!” he instructed, getting his thoughts together. “a-and the police!”

“What? Why? What happened?”

“Just call them and tell them a woman has just been severely injured near the church,” he instructed. “Some kind of animal has attacked her.” The man nodded, rushing out of the room leaving the preacher alone with the child.

He stood there for a while trying to figure out what happened. He was only woken out of his reverie by the sound of sirens filling the night air.

He looked back at the child.

“They’ll never believe me if I tell them it was a demon. They’ll think I’ve lost my mind,” he breathed.

Slip

“That coyote knows my NAME,” Rodney whispered in a strained, panicked voice as he continued to slap at Tursanay’s shoulder, trying to force himself to wake up or come back to reality.

“That coyote is TALKING, Rodney!” exclaimed Tursanay smacking him back, equally as panicked. “I think that’s a little more disconcerting right now!”

The coyote scoffed, then threw its head back and howled.

“RUN!” exclaimed Soren taking off for the door farthest from the howling beast. The others needed no more convincing as they crammed through the door trying to get through. A snarl ripped through the air from behind them, and Rodney, the last to get through the exit, turned to see the coyote lunging for him as he tried to slam the door closed. The beast managed to wedge enough of itself between the frame and the door to grab hold of his arm in its teeth and yank his arm back through.

Rodney screamed in both sheer panic and pain as all his weight was pushed against the door against his arm as teeth dug in on the other side. The others scrambled back to his rescue, fighting with the door and the coyote to get his arm free. At last, the beast seemed to slip on its grip, and Rodney was pulled free. Soren slammed the door shut, barricaded it with a nearby discarded board, then barked at the others to get moving. Rodney cradled his arm against his chest with his good hand and ran with them, too afraid to stay put and have the creature come after him again.

Green

“Um, hi, yes,” he stammered. “Me again. Uh, how do we know which Dai-Nē is which exactly?”

“By the stones in your markings,” Xeshin replied. “Each stone represents a different power.”

“Mine is the black onyx,” Tursanay piped up.

“Then you are the Dai-Nē of Light Magic,” he said. “You will have dozens of teachers to teach you each aspect of your power. However, your main teacher will be Master Ross.”

A man with cold piercing blue eyes lifted his chin to look at her. He leaned against his cane and said nothing.

“Mine is an opal,” Amara said.

“You are the Dai-Nē of Element,” he answered. “Your teachers will be Loki master of the art of earth; Yasar, master of the wind, Nuri, master of fire; Anan, master of water, and Nyx, master of plants.”

“Mine is green agate,” Soren said.

“You are the Dai-Nē of Ether,” Xeshir answered.

“And I already know I’m the Dai-Nē of Alchemy,” Rodney added. “What about her?” he pointed to the girl who’d been declared a Dai-Nē first. She was rather short with black hair to her shoulders pulled back into a ponytail, and dark eyes and tan skin.

“I am the barite stone,” Attalira answered. “The Dai-Nē of Shapeshift.”

Music

José turned on music and they enjoyed the sound, and being able to understand the lyrics of the songs they could tell were in spanish.

Their rounds came to a close, and they drove back to the farm where they first met the two men, and Armando drove slowly up the driveway almost like he didn’t want the trip to end. From the open window in the truck, the Dai-Nē could hear them turn the radio down and speak to each other.

“José,” Armando was saying. “I want you to have the farm. You always loved this place.”

“I loved it because you were there, Armando,” José replied softly. “You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine,” Armando agreed. “But I... I gotta go now. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, if at all.”

“That’s... Oh man I didn’t think you might never come back,” José replied, horrified.

“It’s something to think about, man,” Armando said. “It’s the same if I went to a galaxy far far away.”

José started tearing up. “I didn’t think about that either. I always thought we’d experience those adventures together.”

“Me too, man,” Armando said, trying not to show he was crying too, but failing.

“Do you have to go away forever?” José said. “Can’t you just go for a little while and come back?”

“I don’t know how long it’ll take, man,” Armando said. “I don’t even know how far away it is.”

“I love you man,” José said. “Never forget that.”

“I love you too, José,” Armando replied. “I’ll never forget you.”

“You better not!” José cried. “You better write to me all the time even if I’ll never get to see the letters.”

“All the time, man,” Armando cried too, almost wailing. “All the time!”

The Dai-Nē exchanged looks and frowned at each other.

[themysteryofwriting]

5 Times Something was Wrong with Pidge and the One Time they Realized what it meant

TW: Dysphoria, Self-Doubt, Unintentional Misgendering

(A/N:This is dedicated to the person in the enby pidge tag who told me I couldn't headcanon enby Pidge. You filled me w/ enough rage to write this.)

1.

How ironic was it that it was the announcement to the team telling them that she was a girl that started Pidge’s realization.

She thought it would bring a weight off her chest, the secret she had been keeping from most of the team finally revealed.

And yet...that wasn’t the case.

All Pidge could feel was this...sinking feeling as she told them. Like there was something wrong in what she was telling them. And that sinking feeling only got worse as everyone except Lance told her that they already knew.

Pidge could tell something was wrong but she couldn’t tell what. Shouldn’t she feel better after telling them? Why did she feel so much worse instead? Pidge wasn’t a boy so...why did it feel so wrong being called a girl?

Pidge..didn’t want to think about it. She was probably overreacting. After all she had been living with nothing but guys for months and pretending to be one, that was bound to mess with her a bit.

~~

2.

Pidge tried to push down the feeling she was getting in her gut that something was off. And for the most part she succeeded.

At least she did until she walked in on Hunk and Lance talking about her.

“...I still can’t believe I didn’t realize Pidge was a girl Hunk,” Lance groaned, complaining to his fellow Paladin, “I mean it’s soo obvious now, I should have realized she was a girl back in the Garrison.”

Lance clearly hadn’t noticed Pidge yet, as Pidge was pretty sure he wouldn’t be saying this if he knew that she was right behind her.

But as she heard Lance talking, she froze as the sinking feeling returned with a passion. If she had thought it had felt bad telling everyone she was a girl, that was nothing compared to hearing Lance call her a girl.

Pidge had planned to get a drink from the kitchen, but they had to go through the common room to do that and they just...couldn’t. Not with this terrible sinking feeling in her stomach.

Pidge quickly walked away, not even noticing the two had stopped talking and someone was calling out to her.

Wanting to ignore the weird feeling in her chest, Pidge threw herself into some projects. It was easy to forget about what she was feeling when she was working on things.

~~

3.

It was maybe too easy sometimes that she tended to forget to keep track of time when she was working on stuff.

She hadn’t even noticed how late it was until Shiro came into the lab.

“Pidge, how long have you been working,” Shiro called as they walked in, making Pidge jump a little.

“Uhhh I think it’s only been an hour or two,” Pidge lied, hoping Shiro would buy it.

But glancing back at Shiro, Pidge could tell that wasn’t the case.

“Pidge, it’s late, bedtime.”

Pidge groaned, but listened, knowing Shiro would make her if she didn’t, and headed to her room to get ready for bed.

Pidge sighed as they went to change into some more comfy clothes to sleep in. As the started to change they glanced over at the mirror and the weird feeling they had started moving on from their stomach, instead crawling all over their skin.

Wanting the feeling to go away, they quickly shoved the hoodie they were planning on sleeping in.

Immediately the feeling went away, leaving Pidge with a question as they headed to bed.

How long had it been since they were last able to look at themselves in the mirror?

Pidge shook it off, it was probably nothing, and besides she needed to head to bed before Shiro actually came in to check on her like he tended to do when he was worried people weren’t taking care of themselves.

~~

4.

The next day, Pidge was planning on heading back to the lab, after all they didn’t want to think about...whatever happened yesterday anymore than they had to.

And it wasn’t like anyone was going to treat her differently now that she had told them she was a girl right?

As it turned out, the answer to that was a no as Allura came to talk to her while she was eating breakfast.

“Oh Pidge! Good you’re here!”

Pidge flinched a little, having not heard Allura approach. Why did the Alteans have to be so fucking quiet all the time.

“Is there something you need Allura,” Pidge asked, then wincing slightly at how blunt that was, “Sorry I didn't get much sleep last night.”

Wasn’t a complete lie. Pidge had tossed and turned a bit last night, thinking over the weird feeling they kept getting.

Allura nodded in understanding. She probably thought it was nightmares, not whatever Pidge was dealing with.

“Anyways I was thinking, I saw in some of your pictures that you liked to wear dresses when you were younger. I was wondering if you’d like some of my old ones.”

Pidge hesitated for a second. Something about the idea of wearing dresses again felt...wrong to them.

But Allura looked so hopeful and Pidge didn’t want to let her down. Maybe she could just take them and wear them later if she was in the mood?

“Uh sure, I don’t see why not,” Pidge said after a moment.

Allura seemed to light up. “Great, then you can try some on real quick to see if they fit?” Fuck. Pidge couldn’t help but feel like she didn’t have a choice here. “...Right.”

Allura beamed and dragged Pidge along to grab the dresses. Pidge had a sinking feeling that there wasn’t going to be an easy way out of this.

Once they got to Allura’s room, Allura dug out some of the dresses that she had been talking about and handed them over to Pidge. “Hoefully these will work for you, you can try them on in the bathroom over there.”

“Right,” Pidge said, muttering under their breath slightly as they headed to the bathroom. Hopefully just one would appease Allura so Pidge wouldn’t be here all day.

Pidge sighed as they quickly got changed. Just one to appease Allura and then everything would be fine.

At least that’s what Pidge thought until she actually got the dress on and suddenly everything felt so wrong.

She glanced in the mirror after getting the dress on and could feel her skin crawling. All she wanted to do was get this damn dress off.

But why? She had been fine wearing dresses before? Why did she now just want to tear this dress off and never look at it again?

Pidge flinched upon hearing the knock on the door. “Pidge, is everything okay in there?”

“Sorry, I just got a bit distracted,” Pidge called. She hesitated for a second before adding something on. ‘I think this dress is a bit too small for me.”

Pidge hadn’t even realized that as they put it on, but it was clear now. Why else would it feel so tight? Plus it would explain why Pidge wanted to get it off as soon as possible.

“Well I’m sure I have some bigger dresses.”

“Thank you for the offer Allura,” Pidge said, quickly changing back into some more comfortable clothes, but I have work I need to be doing.” As she said this she handed the dresses back to Allura and got out of there as quickly as she could.

~~

5.

Alright enough was enough. Something was up with Pidge. She wasn’t sure what it was but enough stuff had happened in the past few days that she could tell something wasn’t right.

After some pacing, and trying to see if she could figure out what the fuck was going on on her own, she turned to Google.

Well it wasn’t technically Google, giving they were lightyears from Earth and most certainly not close enough for Google to work

It was more like a Space version of Google that Pidge had worked on to make sure it was a language she could understand.

She wasn’t sure exactly what to look up at first, so many different things had been going on recently that she wasn’t sure exactly she was looking for.

After a bit of debate, she decided to just look up everything she’d been feeling recently and hope that something clicked.

After a wild goose chase that Pidge had needed to take a break to eat in the middle of, she found something.

It was a single word but it kep popping up so Pidge figured she should look it up.

“Nonbinary,” she muttered to herself, reading the definition out loud. “an umbrella term for gender identities that are neither male nor female‍ or identities that are outside the gender binary.”

That had to be a coincidence. Pidge had been a girl for the longest time, she would have realized by now if she was nonbinary.

And besides she had been fine getting called a girl before this. She was just being weird now, nothing more than that.

Pidge closed her laptop and walked off, needing to get some fresh air. She really needed to figure out what was going on with her before it started interfering with stuff.

~~

+1

Pidge probably should have realized that people would start to worry about her when she disappeared all of a sudden. She had just needed some alone time to figure stuff out.

That was kind of ruined when Shiro entered. “There you are Pidge,” Shiro sighed in relief. “Everyone’s been looking for you.”

Had it really been that long since she had come out here? “Sorry Shiro, I didn’t mean to worry you guys.”

If it had been anyone else, they would have brushed it off and just let the others know where Pidge was.

Shiro wasn’t just anyone however, and he could tell when people weren't okay.

“Katie, is everything alright?”

The second Pidge heard her real name leave Shiro’s mouth, she flinched. She didn’t understand why but it was...instinctive.

Katie was still her name, even if she preferred to go by Pidge so why did she flinch?

“What’s wrong with me,” Pidge muttered to herself.

Shiro, if he hadn’t been worried before, was definitely worried now.

“K-,” Shiro stopped himself before calling Pidge Katie again. He probably had noticed her flinch when he called her that before. “Pidge, you know you can tell me anything.”

“If I knew what was going on with me, you’d be the first to know Shiro,” Pidge said, “But honestly, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”

Pidge was half expecting Shiro to call her out on her cursing. But apparently Shiro knew she needed to get it out.

“Why don’t you explain to me everything that’s been going on recently and maybe I can help.”

Hearing Shiro’s words, Pidge spilled everything they’d been feeling recently. All of the weird feelings they’d been getting for seemingly no reason and how everything just felt so wrong.

Shiro paused before speaking. “Pidge, I know you dismissed it before, but what you’re describing sounds like you might be nonbinary.”

Pidge wanted to dismiss it but she (they?) hesitated. It was one thing for Pidge to think that but for Shiro to think so to. Could she….could they be nonbinary?

“..I’ll let the others know you’re okay Pidge, I know you’ll need some time to think this over.”

If Shiro’s talk with Pidge led to them coming out to the team a second time, well that was no one’s business but Pidge’s.

~Bonus~

Pidge was on their way back to the lab after finally getting that weight off their chest. The others all accepted them, though they had to explain to Allura and Coran exactly what nonbinary meant.

Before they got too far though, they heard someone calling out to them. “Pidge! Hold on a second.”

Pidge turned around to see Lance running to catch up to them. “Hey Lance, what’s up?”

Lance took a second to catch their breath before speaking. “I wanted to apologize for earlier, when you overheard me talking to Hunk.”

Pidge hadn’t even realized Lance had noticed them standing there. Then again, thinking back on it the two had gone quiet right before they ran off. “Lance it’s fine you didn’t k-”

“Pidge, it's not fine, it really hurt you. I know if I had been in your position, someone complaining about not realizing my gender, it would have really hurt me.”

Pidge blinked a bit at that, the way Lance had said that...it sounded like he was speaking from experience.

“Lance...are you?”

Lance hesitated slightly. “Kind of? I’m not cis if that’s what you’re asking. But uh...I’m trans ftm, not nonbinary. And I know how much it hurts to be misgendered.”

Pidge thought about how weird it had felt being called she and nodded. “I forgive you Lance. Besides I know you couldn’t have known so you didn’t have to apologize.”

Lance grinned. “What can I say, us non-cis folk have to stick together.”

Pidge snickered a bit at that. “I guess you’re right.”

[goldencatchflies]

𝗗𝗶𝗻𝗼𝘀𝗮𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝗜𝗻 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲

⊹ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @blakes-dictionxry @spencerreidstie @reese-the-edgy-enby @moreid187 @hannibalslut @gaymemeaesthetic @reidrights @agentshortstacc @moreidism @ssaemxlyprentxss @pretty-b0yy @abitcriminalminds

⊹ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid ⋆ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1492 ⋆ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Alcohol Use! (nothing violent though, this is pure fluff)

⊹ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Spencer finds out about the Dinosaurs In Love song, and he gets really soft over it. Cue a shit ton of fluff.

⊹ 𝐀/𝐍: I didn’t plan on posting this, but here you go! There’s a little bit of angst if you squint, but I’m sure it can be over looked by the fluff! (Also this the type of thing where if I hadn’t added a literal kiss scene I would’ve been like "cOuLd bE rEaD As pLaToNiC!1!1!")

Spencer sat on his motel bed, hugged to a half empty wine bottle, as he stared ahead singing mumbles under his breath.

“Pretty boy, you alright?” Derek sat at the end of the bed, and placed his hand on Spencer’s knee, bringing him out of his thoughts. Spencer sniffed, wiping away his tears, and nodded slightly.

“‘M fine,” He sighed. “I was just thinking about the dinosaur song.” He smiled, shyly when Derek grinned at him. He rubbed Spencer’s knee, and brought his other hand to the boy’s chin, making him look at up.

“You sure that’s all?” He gazed into Spencer’s eyes, deep enough to recognize he wasn’t, in fact, ok.

“I was just thinking...” a tear slipped down his face, as he looked anywhere but Derek’s eyes. “We’re the dinosaurs!” He scoffed with a sad smile.

“Ok, I think you, Mister,“ Derek started, getting up and removing the bottle from his hands. “Have had too much of this!” He wiggled the bottle in the air, placing it on the counter on the other side of the room, and he moved to lay next to Spencer.

“I mean think about it!” He tried to convince Derek as the older man pushed him back on the mattress, and lifting his leg so the heel of Spencer’s foot rested at Derek’s chest.

“I’d rather not,” he smiled, untying his shoe laces, and sliding the shoes off his feet, placing them in front of the nightstand before moving to Spencer’s go bag to find his pajamas.

Spencer sat back up right, staring at his mismatched socks. “Where did my shoes go?” He whispered under his breath, causing Derek to chuckle. “Anyway, just think about it!” He looked back up at Morgan, who was currently removing a white tee shirt, and a pair of black sweatpants from Spencer’s duffle bag.

“Ok, doctor, enlighten me!” He sighed, raising his brows sitting next to Spencer on the bed.

“What if-“ Spencer’s voice broke as he started sobbing uncontrollably. Derek furrowed his brows and stared, surprised at the way his mood changed in the matter of seconds. “What if one day our Big Bang-“

“Our Big Bang?”

“Comes, and- yes! You know like, like-“ he stuttered “like an unsub...” he whispered, sighing in frustrated. Derek nodded, whispering a small ‘ok’ before Spencer kept explaining. “What if our Big Bang comes, and I can’t say goodbye?” He leaned over, resting his head on Derek’s shoulder, as he cried.

“Ok, yeah, you are definitely drunk!” Derek said to no one in particular. He knew Spencer wasn’t too drunk so he’d remember this in the morning, but he still didn’t want to admit that the kid had made himself a really good point. He ran his hands up and down his back, as Spencer sobbed into his chest.

“C’mon, pretty boy,”-he started, lifting them up untill they were standing between the hotel beds-“get changed, at least, ok?” He said, softly. Wether Spencer would remember this or not, Derek still tried his best to take care of him. The young man nodded, taking the clothes that had once been forgotten on the bedside table, into the bathroom to change. He came out a little while later, rubbing his eye with his palm, stumbling and sleepily making his way to Derek’s bed.

“Pretty boy, what’re you doing?!” Derek said, automatically scooting over, and letting Spencer lay next to him. They stayed next to each other, with Derek’s back against the headboard, and Spencer’s head on the pillow beside him. Spencer looked up at him, causing the older man’s eyes to dart down to meet his.

“What?” Derek chuckled lightly, as Spencer stared fondly. He nodded 'no' against the fabric, and lifted his head so it rested on Derek’s lap. The older man ran a hand through the boy’s hair, as Spencer fell asleep, waking up a few hours later to a pair of strong arms wrapped around him.

He moved carefully, trying not to wake up whoever was next to him and turned to see Derek, pressed directly against him, holding him tightly in his arms. Spencer’s eyes went wide, as he tried to remove the pair of hands that interlocked behind his back. Once he was finally free, and off the bed, panic started to rise, and he stormed off to the bathroom. He came back out to see his best friend sprawled out on the bed, and he couldn’t help but stare for a while.

The golden lighting from the window matched perfectly with his dark skin. Spencer memorized this moment like it was the most important thing in the world. He memorized the way Derek’s back muscles fit perfectly on the white bedsheets, creating a beautiful contrast. He memorized the chirps from the birds that passed by the open window, and the way Derek breathed in his sleep. He sat on his bed, not taking his eyes off the older man even for a second.

Derek huffed and moved slightly, the soft sunlight hitting his eyes, giving him a morning kiss. He woke up with a heavy sigh and big smile as the memories from the previous night flowed back into his mind. He turned to find Spencer staring directly at him with the most mesmerizing softness to his expression.

“Good morning my little dinosaur!” He teased, snapping Spencer right out of his thoughts. They boy blushed lightly, bowing his head in hopes that Derek didn’t notice his rosy cheeks. “Like the view?” He chuckled, making Spencer smile a little. The young man might’ve been filled with embarrassment, but Derek always found a way to make him smile. It took a while for the previous comment to hit him, but once it did he was confused as ever.

“‘My little dinosaur?’” he questioned, making Derek chuckle, as he sat upright on his own bed, directly across from Spencer. The beds were close enough that their knees brushed up against each other, but not too close where it would make them uncomfortable.

“Dinosaurs eating people, dinosaurs in love...” Derek sang, and Spencer gasped, trying not to laugh as the events from yesterday slowly came back to him. He lowered his head, hiding his embarrassment in his hands, and Derek laughed. “C'mon, it was that bad!” He loved marking Spencer blush.

“Oh god!” Spencer’s laugher was muffled by his hands, but still audible. “I’m so sorry!” They laughed and smiled, and Derek made his way to sit next Spencer, bumping him in the arm as the boy died inside of embarrassment.

“Y’know...” Derek started once the laughter had died down, and mood had softened. “You did make... an interesting point...” he moved his hand to rest atop Spencer’s, and the other man took in his own, subconsciously, as they both stared down at the soft movements. “If... something ever happens, out in the field...” he darted his eyes to look up at Spencer’s, hoping he would mimic the movement, and he did. They looked at each other for a moment, and it was Derek’s turn to be overwhelmed by beauty.

He stared into hazel eyes, as the sun kept rising, lighting up the room, brightening it more and more by the second. He moved his free hand to where finger tips met Spencer’s jaw line as they stared at each other. “I need you to know...” he trailed off for a moment, as they moved closer and closer. “How much you mean to me...” Spencer nodded, tightening his grip on Morgan’s hand, leaning forward and pressing his lips to the other man’s. There weren’t fireworks, there weren’t sparks, there wasn’t anything special. It was just a kiss. A long, soft, the most chaste kiss of Derek's life, but still just a kiss, and the sun sparked golden shadows on their faces as they broke apart.

“Derek I-“ they pressed their foreheads together, as Morgan dropped his and to hold Spencer’s. “Nothing will happen to us, ok?” Spencer moved back just enough to look into Derek’s eyes. The older man nodded lightly and smiled, for what had he now to fear? Spencer dropped his head on the crock of Derek’s neck, and let go of his hand, pressing them to his chest, and pushing him back down on the bed. He moved to sit on top of his stomach, as Derek wrapped his arms around his waist, and Spencer rested his head on the older man’s shoulder.

It’s a quarter past 6, and they knew they didn’t have to go into work for another 2 or 3 hours, so held they each other in their arms. Spencer recited the song lowly, running his fingers over Dereks collarbones, while he thought of nothing in particular. Derek, on the other hand, couldn’t stop staring out the window, seeing the birds chirp and dance around one other, praying they’d never get their Big Bang, as he held Spencer tight, hoping the same for themselves.

[cadence-talle]

Moonlight Burst Into the Room

Pairing: Marella Redek/Linh Song

Wordcount: 2,203

TW: mentions of transphobia 

Notes: For @marellinh-week-2020​! Doesn’t totally fit any of the prompts besides First Kiss/Confession so let’s just pretend I posted it then instead of several days late 

Taglist: @everyonehasthoughts, @clearlykeefitz, @loverofallthingssmart, @a-lonely-tatertot, @enbies-and-felonies, @molly-sencen, @lemontarto, @appalyneinstitute1, @ruewen-and-rising, @silver-snow, @linhamon-roll, @hyperlollypop, @never-ever-too-many-fandoms, @keeper-of-the-lost-queers, @impostertamsong, @vibing-in-the-void, @yeetersofthelostcities, @mistythegirlfluxmess, @diamond-dreamerr, @we-have-no-bananas-today, @an-absolute-travesty, @callas-starkflower-stew

Linh has never had a nickname. 

When she was younger, still living with her parents, names were a point of frustration. Her parents never used pet names, which meant they always referred to her by her given name- the wrong name. Always the wrong name, until Linh had to tell them to stop. 

(That conversation was quiet, hushed, like her parents couldn’t quite believe it. They had simply stared at her when she said I’m a girl and then shared a long look.)

Her parents had called her Linh from then on, but it still felt strictly impersonal. As if a wall of water had sprung up between them and drowned any hope of parental affection. 

Once they were banished, names were hardly ever used. Elves at Exillium weren’t considered to have names; they were referred to in a group or not at all. So Linh grew accustomed to turning at a simple shout, to only hearing her name spoken by her brother. Lonely? Sure, but at least she didn’t have to hear that disappointed sigh of Linh whenever she messed up.

(The way Tam said her name wasn’t disappointed, not ever. But it was resigned, like he knew he was the only one who would ever say it. Like he had come to terms with the fact that they were going to fade into oblivion.)

Then Sophie turned up and ushered them into her friend group, into warmth and belonging and people talking to Linh. People saying her name.

Sophie’s group didn’t use nicknames much- besides Keefe, of course, who seemed to be in a competition against himself to come up with the most ridiculous titles for Sophie- but just hearing her name said in a way that told Linh people wanted her here was enough. 

And then Marella Redek becomes a bigger part of Linh’s life, her fiery temper charging into arguments and her endless vocabulary of pet names filling the air, and Linh doesn’t know what to do with herself. 

-/-

“Hey, sweetheart, could you grab me that box?”

Linh turns just in time to see Dex hand Marella the small wooden box in question with a confused look. The blond girl grins at him and opens the box, digging through its contents. “Ooh, a necklace! And… Prattles?”

She holds up the package for all to see. The three of them are the only kids at Havenfield today- the others are all off on various errands. Even Sophie’s out in Atlantis, shopping with Biana. Linh doesn’t mind much, though, even as they embark on the laborious task of sorting through the stuff in Edaline’s cluttered office. She’s still marveling at the fact that she has friends now. 

“They’re probably really stale by now,” Dex says. Marella shrugs, ripping off the top and popping a candy into her mouth. She makes a face.

“Oh, ew. Why did you two let me eat that?”

Linh giggles and Marella smiles at her. There’s a strange flush on the other girl’s cheeks, and Linh wonders if you can get sick from eating old Prattles. She hopes not. 

“He did warn you,” Linh points out. Marella puts a hand over her heart in mock insult. 

“Betrayal! I thought we were friends, sweetie.”

Linh shrugs nonchalantly, trying to hide the warmth she can feel creeping up her neck. Marella does this all the time, she reminds herself, and Linh just needs to get used to it. “Sorry. All’s fair in lov- in war and stale Prattles.”

Dex snorts, shooting Linh a knowing look. Linh blinks and he shakes his head. “We should get back to cleaning. Marella, put the Prattles down.”

Marella, who is apparently a three-year-old in the body of a fifteen-year-old, shoves two more Prattles into her mouth and pockets the drawstring bag that holds the pin. Dex rolls his eyes and turns to a huge green chest. Marella nudges Linh’s ankle with her foot. 

“You know, hon, this stuff really isn’t bad. You wanna try?” She holds out the box. 

Linh shakes her head and Marella puts the package away. Linh’s thoughts, though, can’t be dislodged so easily, and the word hon echoes in her mind for the rest of the day. 

-/-

The transition from Exillium to Foxfire was a hurried one, a few busy days of reading schedules and getting used to being around normal people again. It felt almost too fast in the moment, too quick for even the little they were leaving behind.

Linh has left a lot of things behind in her life. She doesn’t miss them most of the time, but on days like this- days where it’s quiet and cool and the winds whipping past her sound eerily like the whispers in her head- it’s hard not to remember. 

She wanders outside of Solreef, settling down under a tree where she won’t be directly visible from the house. The grass around her is still slightly damp with dew, and Linh tugs a few blades out of the ground to fiddle with. 

Tiergan’s house is very different from anywhere she’s ever lived. The rooms are large and sprawling but still cozy, perhaps made so by the various pillows and classified scrolls that are scattered across nearly every surface. It’s not the rugged landscape of Wildwood nor the smoothed edges of Choralmere, and Linh is glad. Things are calm here, but not so calm she’s afraid to walk on anything but tiptoe. 

She broke a vase, once. One of her mother’s heirlooms. Tam had been chasing her through the house and Linh hadn’t had a chance to slow down in time. Quan had shouted louder than she had ever heard, too angry to even call Linh by the right name. 

It’s been years since that event, but the disappointment still presses on Linh’s skin. Covers her like a heavy blanket woven from sad sighs and ignorant comments and constant dissatisfied looks. The idea that Linh would never be enough. 

Will never be enough, no matter what she does. 

(There have been too many conversations for her to ever disprove that.)

“Linh?”

Abruptly, Linh realizes she hasn’t been breathing. She breaks away from the fixed point she’s been staring at and pastes a smile on her face. 

“Marella! Hey, sorry, I must have forgotten you were coming today.”

“You didn’t,” the blond girl responds, sinking down next to Linh. “I wanted to surprise you. Are you okay?”

“What? I’m fine. Why?”

Marella gives her an utterly unimpressed look. 

“Hon. You looked about five seconds away from crying when I showed up. And that’s not a bad thing,” she hurries to add when Linh opens her mouth to apologize. “I just want to help, if I can.”

“I-” Linh trails off, staring at the ground. “I was just thinking. About… stuff. Names. Memories.”

“Huh.” Marella doesn’t press, which Linh is thankful for. “Names can be weird sometimes,” she says carefully, turning to face Linh. “My mom- on her better days, she calls me Ella.”

Linh blinks. “I thought you didn’t like being called Ella.” Marella had almost taken Keefe’s head off when he had called her that once. Marella shrugs. 

“I don’t know. It’s different when Mom does it. It tells me… she’s there, I guess. She’s there and she loves me.” Marella worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “It’s hard to see, sometimes. What she’s going to do. What I’m supposed to do when she gets frantic or starts crying.” 

“I get that. Well. Not the ‘frantic and crying’ part, but I get not knowing what to do.”

Marella smiles, a tiny, crooked thing. “I thought you would, sweetie.”

Linh turns back to the landscape, staring out at it. Next to her, Marella shifts so she’s facing the same direction. Her eyes are still fixed on Linh, though. Maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the sweetie, but Linh speaks up a few moments later. 

“My parents… didn’t always remember to call me Linh.” She says, testing the waters. Marella’s head inclines a tiny bit, encouraging her to go on. 

So Linh does. She tells the whole story, all those lonely years in Choralmere and then the too-free years in Wildwood. She’s never had to tell anyone that before- Tam has always known, and neither of them needed to say it out loud. 

When she finishes, Marella is silent. Linh worries she’s made a huge mistake. 

“Sorry,” she says quietly. “You don’t have to- I mean, I know this changes-”

“Hey, darling.” Marella shifts to sit on her knees in front of Linh, leaning forward and grabbing her hands. “This doesn’t change anything, okay. I mean, obviously it does,” she says thoughtfully, “but you’re still Linh, okay? You’re still Linh and you’re still beautiful. And I totally understand if you don’t want me to make a big deal out of this, but if you do, I happen to throw legendary parties.” 

Linh laughs, a half-choked sound of relief. Marella settles back against the tree with a grin and they stare at the horizon again. 

“Thanks,” Linh says after a moment. Marella gives her a thumbs-up.

“What are friends for, right?”

“Yeah.” Yeah, Linh reminds herself. Friends. 

-/-

“Whoa. Hon, look at this.” Marella pulls a tiny marble out of a box, glittering pale yellow and about the size of her thumbnail. Linh would almost mistake it for a Councillor’s cache if it weren’t for the absence of tiny jewels inside. 

They’re back in Edaline’s office, digging through piles of junk, but this time it’s just the two of them. Linh is halfway sure that’s intentional, actually- even Grady and Edaline suddenly decided to take an impromptu trip to Mysterium today. They have Havenfield all to themselves. 

(That sentence seems to fill Linh’s stomach with the mechanical butterflies they accidentally unleashed earlier. She doesn’t think about that too hard.)

(If she does, she knows she’ll find out something very odd about why she always feels warm when Marella calls her a pet name.)

“What is it?” She asks Marella. The other girl lifts one shoulder. 

“I don’t know, but it’s pretty. Let’s see...”

She taps the marble with two fingers and the lights cut out. They come back a few seconds later, Marella grinning sheepishly.

“Whoops. Sorry, sweetheart-”

“Stop calling me that.”

The words are out before Linh can stop them, and she flounders. “I mean- I just-” She shakes her head. “I can’t. Not when I know…” You don’t mean them, she finishes mentally. It hurts too much to hear you throw them out that easily. 

Marella’s expression shutters and she looks away. “Right,” she says, sounding oddly defeated. “Of course.”

She turns around, muttering “of course you would have figured it out” under her breath. Linh frowns and, since her mouth and her brain seem to be operating on different planes of existence today, says,

“What? Figured out what?” Her tone is almost challenging, but even Linh isn’t entirely sure why. Marella turns back around, arms crossed defensively.

“Really. You’re really gonna make me say it?”

“Say what?”

Marella throws up her hands. “Fine. I like you, okay? Is that what you wanted?” Her voice drops lower, less frustrated and more finished. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be weird. I’ll get over it.”

“You. You like me?” 

Marella doesn’t respond, already sorting through another pile. Linh takes a deep breath and uses what’s left of her courage. 

“I didn’t know that. I wanted you to stop calling me pet names because I thought they didn’t mean anything to you.”

Marella pauses. Straightens up. 

“They did,” she says, so softly it’s almost imperceptible. “They all did.” 

“They meant something to me too.” 

Edaline’s office is quiet. Linh doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, tries not to even think until Marella turns her head. 

“I hear there’s a really good restaurant in downtown Atlantis,” she says. It’s a question, an outstretched hand. Linh smiles and takes it. 

“That sounds amazing,” she responds. “Honey.”

The marble slips from Marella’s fingers and the lights turn off again. Marella’s smile, though, is enough to brighten the room. 

-/-

When she was little, Linh never had a nickname. 

They were too frivolous for her parents, too unnecessary for the people who sometimes forgot to even call her Linh. Nicknames weren’t needed for someone who barely had a name at all. 

Nicknames are never really needed, but they’re used here. 

“Mare,” she calls across their small kitchen, “we need to go.”

“I’m here! I’m ready,” Marella responds breathlessly, pecking Linh on the cheek as she rushes to pull her coat on. 

“Bi is going skin us alive if we’re late to Sophie’s party.”

“Good thing we’re not late then, sweetie.” Marella grins at her and moves out of the door. They are late, actually, but neither of them really care. 

It hits Linh sometimes, how very different her life is now. She has friends, and family, and a wonderful wife who deserves the world. 

(The ring on her finger seems to shine. That conversation was feather-light and delighted, a gasped yes and cheers from all their friends.)

“Hon, come on!”

She has a nickname now. Dozens, in fact. But she also has a name.

Linh Redek steps out the door. 

[thetomorrowshow]

Slower Than Words Ch. 23

First  -  Previous  -  Next

Hey..... a member of my household just tested positive for Covid-19, and I am displaying symptoms sooooooo hopefully that won’t affect posting but it has made this chapter a little shorter than I had wanted. Basically if the next chapter isn’t out on time that’s why.

cw: b a d parenting, references to trauma

~

Remus chewed on the end of his pen. Riley, Alberts, Robertson, Robinson, Richards, Allison, Reese, Arlowe . . . something that started with an 'A' or an 'R'. But what? Why couldn't he remember his own last name?

Logan was always saying something about brainwashing and trauma, but Logan knew his own last name! Stupid Logan Sanders and his calm explanations for everything in Remus's life. He didn't want someone telling him how he felt or why, he wanted to move on. He wanted to figure himself out for himself. He wanted out.

The trip to the library a couple weeks ago had been even worse than expected. Logan hadn't even let go of Patton, despite how uncomfy the kid looked. It had to suck to be twenty-something and have your dad drag you around by the shoulders everywhere you go.

Patton had only wanted one book, for some reason. There were so many books in that building, and Logan had pulled like a hundred from the shelves just to show him. He'd signed so quickly about the book that Remus couldn't keep up, but Logan had frowned and talked to the librarian for a few minutes, before eventually presenting Patton with a book—which was probably the one he'd been asking for. His face looked weird after receiving it, happy, but also seriously depressed. It looked pretty old, Remus had no idea why he'd wanted that book.

Rivers, Albright, Abbott, Ramsey, Russell, Reed, Rowell, Austen. . . . Nothing. Not even a smidge of anything. Well, if he couldn't remember his last name, what about the name of where he used to live?

The city came to him almost instantly.

Sharon.

Remus snorted. That was a stupid name for a city. Actually, he could remember joking about it with his brother, about how their mom shared it.

Energy flooded to his limbs with a suddenness, and when the bell rang from the door opening beside him he literally fell out of his seat.

“W-welcome to Chevron,” he said, straightening up. The customer nodded barely at him, making a beeline for the refrigerators in the back. Remus quickly wrote on the scrap of paper he'd been doodling circles onto so far: 'sharon – town and ma'.

Now he just had to figure out which state sounded the most familiar, and if Sharon was a city there. He'd spent days just driving around town with friends, he probably still knew his way around.

The customer paid for a few jugs of Gatorade, then left, dust puffing up behind his truck as he pulled out of the parking lot. Remus sat back down, scratching his mustache with his pen. He could google the city when he got home, then. . . .

Then he'd figure out how to tell Patton and Logan he was leaving.

-

Patton sighed, flipping through the first half of the book again. Summer, it was called. This copy looked almost identical to the other one. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers along the slightly indented title, like Virgil would. He'd had it for almost two months now, asking Father to renew the book instead of allowing it to be returned. He really wanted to finish it, after all.

Not that he could ever get himself to read past around the middle.

Patton's notebook was almost full now, but he couldn't ask Remus for another. Not after how much Remus was already doing for him. The pages were filled with studying mouth movements, bad jokes, and journal entries that mostly were about Virgil and what they'd do when they were together again. In tiny, cramped handwriting was a detailed recollection of everything Patton could remember that Virgil told him about where he lived—which wasn't much. It was hard to hold on to any memories from there. His therapist said it had to do with trauma memories being stored incorrectly, and said he might have flashbacks about it. So far, none had happened, but sometimes he wished one would—just so he could see Virgil again.

He wasn't good at drawing, but here and there in his notebook were vague sketches of Virgil. Some days, Patton woke up not sure what he looked like. He couldn't forget him. Patton would never forgive himself if he forgot the lovely mistiness of Virgil's eyes, the way his hair fell into his mouth and made him sputter, the stark paleness of his face against his black hoodie. . . .

Patton wrapped the hoodie around himself. He needed to think about something else, or else he'd start crying again. Crying made his head and ears hurt, which his doctor said would probably always be the case. So he mostly did his best to not cry, ever.

Patton cast his mind around for something new to think about, and landed on the trip to the library several weeks ago. The trip wasn't . . . optimal?

No. The trip sucked.

Father wouldn't let go of him, which just made him feel like a toddler having to be guided around. It was bright, and had a lot of people, and was a little startling, but Patton was sure he could have handled it. Why didn't Father trust him?

It wasn't just that. Father made him go to bed at a specific time every night, wouldn't let him have any say in what he ate, wouldn't even let him pick what to watch on the TV. It was . . . it was stupid! It was awful, it was embarrassing, it was demeaning! It made Patton feel worthless, like he wasn't even a proper member of society! He wasn't a boy anymore, he had even had a job back at the Haven, he wasn't helpless!

Maybe soon, with all that he'd been learning, he could prove to Father that he was capable. And if Father wouldn't believe him, well . . . Patton would have to make him.

Again, that anger was right at the surface, ready to spill out into the air. At least he had the book.

-

Somehow, Logan had let Remus convince him that he didn't need to go to every therapy appointment with Patton, so Logan was at home alone. For the first time in months. He was exhausted, but he did not have time to sleep.

Patton was hiding something. Logan was undeniably certain of it. And when Patton hid something, he hid it under his bed.

Logan didn't get up immediately. This was a matter of privacy, after all. He understood that he was likely being a little too restricting with his son, but who could blame him? He'd almost lost him. So if Patton was hiding something, it was likely best to know what it was. Patton didn't seem to realize the amount of danger he was in. It wasn't his fault, he was just a child. Children weren't supposed to worry about this sort of thing, it was their parents' jobs to care for them. So, naturally, he had to make sure that whatever Patton was hiding wasn't going to bring harm in some way. If it was, he could gently confront him about it, and explain why it was not acceptable.

With that plan in mind, Logan stood from his desk and made his way to Patton's room. His door was always open, even when he was inside—it made sense, all things considered.

The room still had almost precisely the same setup as Logan had put together, down to the making of the bed. He'd told Patton that he was allowed to customize his room and ask for personal items, but so far he had done neither of those things. The only difference was that the small closet now had a few more pieces of clothing in it.

Logan bent to his hands and knees beside the bed and peered beneath. Sure enough, there were items underneath the boy's bed: a battered blue notebook, the singular book that he had wanted from the library last month, the jacket that had belonged to the other other prisoner. Logan reached for the notebook, grunting when his back popped.

He pulled himself onto Patton's bed to open it. It was confusing, at first, some jokes in his son's handwriting, rather poor sketches of an unfamiliar face. Then. . . .

Oh.

That—that was bad.

Logan took a few deep breaths, then flipped another page, then another. More of the same. This wasn't good. This was not good at all.

These diagrams and instructions, clearly for lip-reading? These would get Patton taken away from him. These would hurt him. These would make Patton want to leave the safety of home.

These were dangerous.

~

Taglist: @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222 @basiic-emo @patt0n-sanders @rosiepupper @fangirlgeekandfreak @dn-fan21 @that2000skid @remy-the-lemon-berry @itsadastraperaspera @xionbean @sanderssides-angst @hell-yea-we-gay-tonight @maybedefinitely404 @broken-pencils @thewhimsicallibrarytech @doomllily @hereissananxiousmess @judyismydog  @arodynamic-enby @at-that-one-nerd @therapysides @awkwardandanxiousfander @thekitchenpan @im-an-anxious-wreck @larkiaquail

[fics-n-stuff]

Becoming Number Eight - Prologue

Masterlist | Next

Summary: With the timeline finally restored, The Umbrella Academy hoped that they could remain unbothered by any major anomalies or crises for a while, but when a stranger appears in their living room with a familiar flash of blue light things become far less normal in the Hargreeves family home as they try to adapt to having somebody else around.

Word Count: 869

A/N: This is the prologue to a short series I'm gonna be doing. Yes I ignored the very end of season 2 to write this, I ain't dealing with no Sparrow Academy. In this story things went back to normal when they got back to 2019 (so unfortunately Ben is still dead). I used they/them pronouns for the reader so it can be enjoyed by all the guys, gals and enby pals! 😊💕

Klaus and Vanya were just having a casual conversation when the living room suddenly filled with blue light. A moment later it was gone, and there stood a young stranger clutching a briefcase.

“Shit.” Klaus muttered, standing up from the sofa as Vanya called out for Five. He blinked into the room, ready to ask what the hell they wanted, but his mouth stopped before he could as he saw you standing there, your entire body trembling as you held onto the briefcase.

“Hello?” He said, stepping more into your field of view, and you flinched. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“Are you number Five?” You asked quickly. He gave you a confused look.

“That’s me.”

“Can you help me? Please?”

Five looked over at Klaus and Vanya, who were staring at you in utter bewilderment, before squaring his shoulders and turning back to you.

“Who are you?” He repeated his initial question, more firmly this time.

“My name’s Y/N.” You answered.

“Okay, Y/N, how did you get that briefcase?”.

You looked down at the black case in your arms as if only just remembering you were holding it. Slowly, you released it from your tight grip and held it out to Five, who took it from you and put it down behind himself.

“I ran away from the Commission.” You answered. “The Handler killed my mother and took me when I was ten. I didn’t want to work with her so she kept me trapped at the Commission trying to get me to crack.”

“Why’d she do that?” Vanya asked.

“Well because... because I’m like all of you.” You explained. Klaus whistled lowly, Five and Vanya shared a look, and you wrung your fingers together nervously. “I, um... I create stuff.”

“Create stuff like what?” Five questioned sceptically. You hummed thoughtfully before holding out your hand, a small flame appearing in your palm. You smiled slightly as you extinguished it, tilting your head as you slowly imagined a small knife into existence floating above your palm.

“I have this other cool trick.” You smiled, grabbing the knife out of the air. “Might I be allowed to cut somebody?” The three of them looked between each other before Klaus silently stepped forward and held out his arm to you. You made one quick cut to his skin before letting go of the knife, it disappearing as you did so, and gently grabbing onto his arm.

“Oh, that is pretty cool.” Klaus said as you ran your thumb gently over the cut and it began to heal before your eyes.

“My mother tried to help me navigate my powers as best she could, but when she was killed I was on my own.” You told them, wiping the blood from Klaus's arm to show the faintest of scars. “I didn’t want to work with The Handler so she never trained me.”

“Is that what you came here for? Training?” Five pushed.

“No. No, I just want to be around people who understand what it's like to have these powers.” You mumbled, wringing your fingers together once again. There was a long silence, and you felt like Five was staring into your soul as he seemed to observe and assess you before coming to a decision.

“Okay.” He nodded. “I’ll talk to my family and get back to you. Until then, you stay here. Vanya, go and get mom so she can keep an eye on Y/N.” Vanya quickly nodded and exited the room, and when she came back with Grace the three siblings disappeared, presumably to find the rest of them.

They reconvened in the kitchen with Luther and Diego. They had Alisson on FaceTime since she was back in L.A. with her daughter, and together the six of them discussed the logistics of you staying with them.

“Of course we should let them stay.” Vanya said, Alisson immediately agreeing.

“But how do we know that we can trust them?” Luther countered.

“We don’t.” Five stated matter-of-factly. “The question is whether we're willing to trust them enough to let them stay.”

“Well The Handler is dead. And the Commission should be under better management now.” Diego justified. “What reason would they have to come here to kill us?”

“Maybe they're lying to us.” Luther offered. “Maybe they were actually working with The Handler and they've come here for revenge.”

“But we didn’t kill The Handler.” Vanya defended.

“Maybe they don’t know that.”

“If they came from the Commission then they probably know that.” Alisson replied flatly. “Klaus, what do you think?”

“I like them.” Klaus smiled. “I think they seem nice enough.”

“Let’s take a vote.” Five said. “All in favour of them staying, raise your hand.” Diego, Allison, Klaus and Vanya all raised their hands. “That’s the majority then.”

They hung up with Alisson before heading back to the living room where you were waiting. The conversation that you were having with Grace immediately halted as they entered, and you swallowed nervously as you stood up from your seat on the sofa.

“Welcome to the family, I guess.” Five said, and you let out a sigh of relief as a small smile formed on your face.