#he's the kid that never wanted to participate and always got picked last

[doomhands-jr]

Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Noah is a delinquent with a lot of anger at the church. You're a pastor's daughter plagued by moral perfectionism, charged with overseeing the community service he's been sentenced to complete. You've never encountered true temptation before. How will you fare up against Noah, who not only isn't bound by the same rules of purity as you, but actively scoffs at them?

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Needles, underage drinking, explicit language. This is the last filler chapter before shit starts picking up again.

Masterlist

Thanks to @flowerynerds for the banner!

Thanks to @throughwoodsanddirt for the beta!

______________

The late morning streamed into your room, flooding the ornamental rug in dappled sun. A light snow had begun collecting at the bottom of your window, but the cloud cover wasn’t yet dense enough to obscure the light. 

You’d woken up several hours ago but hadn’t worked up the wherewithal to drag yourself out of bed. Instead, you’d spent the time scrolling through various social media apps, keeping up to date with how your friends were spending their winter break. 

Your mom had Facetimed you that morning to check in. She’d updated you all about the trip she and your father were on. Several prominent members from a network of churches in the region had flown to some obscure part of Africa and were currently building a school and a church. They were planning to open it on Christmas Eve and have a dedication ceremony. They’d also purchased toys for the kids to open on Christmas morning. Her excitement poured through on her face and in her voice, and despite your reservations about missions trips, you smiled. 

As much as you wished middle-class families could participate in philanthropy and still respect the cultural belief systems of the people they were visiting, a school was a school, and you hoped it would be a net positive to the village. 

Once you got off the phone with her, your stomach began to rumble, so you rolled over and dug through a drawer in your nightstand you’d designated as your snack drawer until you pulled out a pack of cinnamon pop-tarts. Probably not the healthiest breakfast you could have chosen, but whatever—you ate them without tasting, continuing to scroll while your thoughts drifted to yesterday.

You heaved a sigh, unsure how to proceed with Noah. He seemed like he was the real deal, but then again, he had seemed like that before and ended up hurting you anyway. Now, he was weaseling his way back into your heart, burrowing under your skin and making himself comfortable as an uninvited guest. Worse still, you found yourself growing soft for him, which was a problem for you.  

It was possible that you were blinded by your attraction to him, giving him the benefit of the doubt because you were naïve and wanted him to be better than he was. 

But yesterday, he’d treated you with more respect than you’d ever received from a man. It didn’t feel performative, either… Your intuition told you he was being honest, but even if he wanted to do better—was he capable? Could he turn his behavior around that easily? Was it all an act just to get back into your good graces? 

You came upon a video that broke you out of your thoughts. Ava had posted herself and her little cousins playing some card game you didn’t recognize. You smiled, noticing how old they were getting. You’ve been close with Ava’s family since middle school and remember when her cousins were first born. As much as Ava fought with her parents, her cousins were always a soft spot for her. 

You replayed the video, brushing the crumbs off your shirt when you heard a knock at your door. 

Speak of the devil…

Cautiously, you slid off your bed and padded over to the doorway, opening it to find a very out-of-breath and sweaty Noah in a black tracksuit and puffer jacket. Impressive, in light of the cold. 

“Hi?” you said, the question likely as evident on your face as it was in your voice. 

“Hey,” he said, watching you observe the sweat that clung to his forehead. “I jogged here.” 

“I can see that,” you replied, fighting a smile. “What’s up?” 

“Do you wanna come work out?” he asked.

Your face contorted with confusion. “Work out? Right now?” you asked, leaning back into your room and checking the weather on the other side of the window. “It’s snowing.” 

“Well, yeah,” he said. “The gym isn’t that far away. I was on my way and thought I’d stop by and see if you wanted to join.” 

You pouted. “Gross.” 

Noah’s face scrunched up as he snickered at you. “Come on,” he pressed. “It won’t be that bad.”  

You wrinkled your nose. “It sounds hard.” 

Noah rolled his eyes. “Go get changed. We’re going to the gym.” 

____________

“Ten,” Noah breathed. “Alright, you can do it. Give me two more and then you’re done.” 

You tensed your whole body, squeezing your core as he’d instructed, the iron bar heavy across your shoulders, knurling cutting into your skin and bruising the back of your neck. 

“I don’t understand why you want to see me suffer so badly,” you panted, struggling under the weight.  

Noah laughed. “Call it a kink. Come on, you can do it.” 

You flushed at his remark, diverting your gaze from his for a moment to collect yourself, and when you locked eyes with him once again in the mirror in front of you, his expression told you he knew exactly where your mind had gone. 

He stood behind you, arms outstretched and ready to catch the bar should you fail. You dipped down into a squat, legs straining to keep you balanced and steady, and then with monumental effort, you brought yourself back up to standing. 

“One more,” he said, voice coming out low and soft to soothe against the burn you felt in your thighs. “I’ve got you.” 

You didn’t think you could do it, every muscle protesting against you, but you’d come this far. You dipped down once more, feeling your legs start to give out. When you got to the lowest point of the squat, you got stuck, legs beginning to give out under the weight of the iron. 

“Come on, get it up,” Noah said, voice gaining in volume. You squeezed your eyes shut, gritting your teeth as you concentrated on standing. A few more moments of strain, and then Noah’s hands grasped you around your middle, warm and firm on either side, holding you steady. He added just enough leverage that slowly, inch by inch, you moved the bar until you were back to standing. 

As soon as you re-racked the bar, you collapsed onto the black rubber mat of the gym floor. Sprawled out, chest heaving to catch your breath, you looked over to Noah, who fought to hide a smile behind a hand that pretended to scratch at his lip. 

“And you willingly subject yourself to this kind of torture?” you said, legs somewhere between numb and burning. You kneaded the soft flesh, trying to bring back sensation into the limbs, now draped uselessly in front of you.

“Give it a few tries. You’ll get addicted to it,” he said, taking a seat next to you and removing the cap from his water bottle. 

The gym he’d taken you to was in an old warehouse that had used to store lumber, Noah had mentioned on the snowy walk there. Inside, an array of rusted equipment littered the room with no real rhyme or reason. You had no idea what most of it was even used for. 

The gym was mostly empty on a Thursday morning. Across the room, a middle-aged man performed set after set of bicep curls in front of the mirror. In the corner, a thirty-something woman jogged on a treadmill, and two teenage boys took turns bench pressing, which you only knew because Noah had given you a run-down of the most basic strength training exercises, as well as lectured you on why they were so important. 

“You can either choose to suffer in ways you can control now or be forced to suffer in ways you can’t control later,” he said. 

You rolled your head across your shoulders to look at him. “What are you even talking about?” 

He rested his weight behind him on his palms and looked down at you with a patient sort of condescension. 

“You’re young and fit now,” he said, “but that goes away more and more every year. Pretty soon, you’ll wake up with back pain and hip pain and all that other stuff. The longer you let it go, the worse it gets, and the longer it takes to fix. If you build a good foundation now, it’s a lot easier to maintain.” 

“Ugh,” you scoffed, leaning back onto the floor and staring at the metal roof above. He had a point, but you hated when he got all preachy—you’d had enough of that in your life. “What got you into working out?” 

“My job,” he said. “It’s really hard on the body—too much repetitive motion.” As if to hammer his previous point home, he hoisted himself up by the side of the squat rack and began loading heavy iron plates onto either end of the bar. “My body is my instrument.” He stepped under the bar, situating himself in the center to evenly distribute the load across his shoulders before he heaved the bar off the rack. “I have to take care of it.” 

You allowed yourself to watch unapologetically, taking in the corded ropes of his hamstrings, the broad expanse of his shoulders, the sweat that dripped down from his forehead, off the end of his nose, and down his chest, pooling in the space above his collarbones. The hard set of his jaw as he focused on his form. He bottomed out in his squat, pausing for a moment before exhaling a heavy breath, then ascended, every muscle in his legs straining against his skin until he stood tall and proud. 

And then he repeated it. 

_________

“Jesus?” 

“Yeah…and?” 

Noah winced, hissing through his teeth. Every time he booked a tattoo session, he was confident that he was familiar enough with the sting of a tattoo needle that it wouldn’t faze him, and every time, he was proven wrong. 

“Nothing, I just…I thought it would have come up before now.” 

Noah couldn’t see your reaction from where he sat in the chair, but he could tell you were mulling over the large portrait of Jesus Christ done in American traditional style on his back. 

“I didn’t want you to read too much into it,” he said, sucking in a breath and holding it while Winston, his tattoo artist, colored in a particularly sensitive spot right over his spine. 

He could tell that was exactly what you were doing by how quiet you were. The Jesus tattoo had started out as a joke—something that allowed him to reclaim a bit of religious iconography in an almost tongue-in-cheek way. As he absorbed more pain from the needle over multiple sessions, however, it morphed into something else. 

In his mind, the figurehead represented a belief that suffering was ultimately the path to righteousness. Not suffering in an unnecessary or gratuitous way, but suffering as in self-sacrifice. And not righteousness in the way Christianity frames it, but from a mental health perspective. 

Noah’s mental health had always been a delicate instrument with which he’d had to tinker. Lately, he’d been learning more and more about what improves it and what causes it to tank. Humble work through low-level suffering has been the best way for him to take control of his psyche. Engaging in pleasures of the flesh was fine every once in a while, but ultimately left him feeling empty. 

It was something he supposed Jesus probably knew all along. Perhaps that what was Christianity should have been about. 

“So why Jesus?” Your curious voice broke him out of his thought pattern. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I saw it in a flash book one time and I just liked it. It doesn’t have any meaning.” 

It did, actually, but he wasn’t ready to unpack all of that yet, let alone admit it. Maybe with time. 

“I’m thinking of getting one,” you said. Noah tried to turn his head to look at you, but his artist tutted and directed him to keep still. 

“Like what?” Rather than look at you, Noah instead focused on the wall of framed artwork in front of him. Hundreds of tattoo designs hung on the wall ahead—sometimes several to one page. Noah had two of the designs on him: one a floral symbol on his hand, the other was a heart with a burning cross on top of it that he’d chosen to incorporate into his back piece. 

“I liked this little rose I saw in one of the flash books,” you said. 

“I could fit in a palm-sized flash tattoo after I’m done with him. My last appointment cancelled. Damn snow,” said Winston. 

“How much?” you asked. 

“Depends on what you want.” 

He heard your footsteps behind him as you walked away and came back a few minutes later. Noah held his breath—Winston was working on filling something in right below his armpit and it took everything in him to keep still. He wished you would hurry up—the conversation with you was a good distraction for him. 

“This one,” you said. You must have been holding the flash book up for the artist. Noah wished he could see which one you were referring to. 

“Black and white or color?” Winston asked. 

“Color.” 

“Same size as the picture?” he asked. 

“Can you do smaller? Like half the size?” 

“Sure thing. That’ll probably run you about one-twenty.” 

“What about for black and white?” 

“If you just want linework, we can do eighty. If you want shading, it’ll be a hundred.” 

“Is there an ATM nearby?” 

“Right across the street,” said Winston. “But we take card.” 

Noah gritted his teeth as the needle ran across a nerve, but he was finally starting to adjust to the feeling. It always took him a few minutes before he got in the zone. 

“I don’t want the charge to show up.” 

Winston huffed out a laugh as a response. He wasn’t overly-talkative, which Noah liked. He’d been going to Winston on and off for the last two years for his back piece, which was so large it took several sessions. He could have done it faster, but tattoos weren’t cheap, and piece work didn’t exactly pay a fortune. It took several months to save up for a session, and then he’d usually drop six hundred at once and sit for hours at a time. 

Today, however, was just a short session. He’d received a small Christmas bonus and had some spare time, so he’d called up Winston that morning to see if he could get squeezed in. Since half the town had gone home for the holidays, the artist’s schedule was open. The last thing he’d expected was for you to want to tag along. 

The bell for the shop chimed and Noah heard you walk back in. 

“Did you decide on color?” asked Winston. 

“Yep! I’m still deciding on where to get it though. I don’t want my parents to see it.” 

“You could always get an ass tattoo,” said Noah. He’d meant it as a teasing remark, but the way you paused to consider it had his gut turning even more noticeably than the needle currently stabbing ink into his spine. 

________

“You’re being ridiculous, you know.” 

Noah didn’t think he was being ridiculous. If anyone was being ridiculous, it was you. 

“It’s called having manners,” he defended. He stared straight ahead at a blank corner of the shop, fists clenched, trying to determine whether the paint on the wall was a true red or if it had a slight orange tint to it. 

“It’s called being uptight,” you said. 

He didn’t blink, set on winning the staring contest he was holding with the wall. “You’re one to talk.” 

“I’m not the one hiding my nose in a corner because I can’t look at a girl’s hip.” 

Noah rolled his eyes, turning around to face the bench and finding you sprawled across it, face down with the waistband of your pants pulled low on the right side. He swallowed, steeling himself against the sight lest his face betray his thoughts. 

“Is mocking me distracting you from the pain?” he asked. 

“Little bit.” 

He relaxed at the same time you hissed and buried your face in your arms. Hesitantly, he allowed his eyes to run over the curve that stretched from the small of your back to the height of your ass cheek and back down to the top of your thigh. 

The tattoo artist ran his needle over the stencil, outlining the small rose nestled right where your ass and hip met, just below where the waistband of your underwear would sit—he could tell from the vague hint of a tan line still left over from the summer you’d spent at the camp you told him about. 

He could picture you there, getting out of the pool with a wet T-shirt draped over your body because the church camp had rules about modesty when it came to swimwear. Despite your best intentions, the shirt still clung to your curves, the hem riding up to reveal the swell of your ass, bikini bottoms suctioned against the skin, water dripping down your thighs, and… 

“Like what you see?” 

Noah’s eyes snapped up to meet yours. You peeked at him over your shoulder with a knowing smile playing on your face.

“Shut the fuck up,” he spat, but it came out whinier than he’d intended. 

You burst into a fit of barely-suppressed giggles. 

“Hold still,” commanded Winston. 

You whispered an apology and tucked your lips between your teeth to keep from laughing until karma intervened and you winced at a sore spot.  

________

“What do wanna do next?” you asked, practically skipping out of the shop in your post-tattoo high. 

“Nothing,” said Noah from behind you.  

You stopped in your tracks and looked up to find him staring back down on you without any expression you could read. “What?” 

“Look around you,” he said gesturing to the snow. You did, recognizing the wind and snow could put a damper on the evening if you let them, but they didn’t have to. 

“Okay, and?” you asked. 

“It’s a fucking blizzard out. Come on,” he said curtly, grabbing your hand and pulling you in the direction of your dorm. “I’m getting you home.” 

Perhaps it was your temper, or perhaps you were still buzzing from the thrill of getting ��your first tattoo but you ripped your hand out of his. “No.” 

Noah spun back around to face you. The wind whipped his hair in front of his face. “What do you mean no? I’m taking you home.” 

“I’m not ready to go home. I want to do something else.” 

Noah sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Like what?” 

“I want to get a drink,” you said, scanning the streets for any nearby bars. 

Noah crossed his arms, tongue prodding at the inside of his cheek. “Are you even old enough to get into a bar?”  

“No, but Folio said he got into bars all the time when he was underage.” You didn’t always listen to Nick when he monologued instead of completing his community service, but that story clung to your mind. 

Noah sighed again. “I told you, I don’t want to overstay my welcome. We’ve already been hanging out most of the day. I don’t want to get in too deep.” 

“You’re not,” you protested. “Besides, you may not deserve it, but I do.” 

At that, he stilled, and you continued. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to be the perfect Christian daughter, okay? I’m so tired of playing it safe. I want a taste of freedom. I’ve earned it. And to be honest, you sort of owe me after the way you treated me.” 

He pursed his lips, considering it, but you already knew you had him backed into a corner with that last remark. A moment later, his shoulders dropped in resignation. “One drink, and then we’re going home.” 

You let out a sound of delight, skipping again to catch up to Noah and then grabbing onto his sleeve when the snow caused your boot to nearly slide out from under you. 

________

“Try not to die on the way there,” he muttered. 

Noah studied the stained glass of the lamp that hung above the pool table, trying to decide whether the red spots were leaves or flower petals. Or were they feathers? 

He wouldn’t let his eyes drift lower, because if he did, he’d have seen your exposed lower back, arching as you bent over the pool table to line up your shot. 

Inside the bar was sweltering. The bartender had mentioned the temperature control on the furnace was on the fritz, and the only options were either letting it run continuously or shutting it off and letting the patrons freeze. 

Sweat beaded at Noah’s temples and at the back of his neck, causing his hair to stick uncomfortably to the skin. Taking an elastic from around his wrist, he gathered his hair and tied it in a knot on top of his head. Even the thin short-sleeved shirt he wore began collecting sweat on the back. 

When the two of you had arrived at his favorite dive bar, the Empty Keg was nearly just that—empty. Nobody had carded you, so Noah had led you to a small table near the back of the place behind the pool tables and told you to sit tight while he ordered drinks from Steve, the familiar bartender Noah had already established a rapport with. 

Guessing at what would be tolerable for you, he ordered you a rum and coke, asking Steve to give you a light pour. He got a whiskey neat for himself and then went ahead and ordered some wings for the two of you to share, since you’d been complaining that you hadn’t eaten much. 

It was torture enough watching you lick wing sauce off the tips of your fingers. Torture again when you peeled your sweater off your body to reveal a practically transparent camisole underneath. Torture a third time when, after your first drink, you asked him to teach you how to play pool. 

He’d tried to remain as respectful, showing you how to hold the cue with verbal direction, rather than being obvious by lining himself up behind you to position you with his hands. A slight hitch in your smile let him know you were frustrated with this, but he insisted. 

You made a show of bending over the pool table to line up your shot, cleavage on display, and Noah had to leave, making the excuse that he was going to buy another round. 

At the bar, he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt and slumped into a stool. The bartender immediately greeted him and asked if he wanted another round.

“Yes,” he answered, without looking up from where his face was planted in his palms. 

“Girl troubles?” asked Steve as he began pouring the rum. 

“I don’t know,” Noah answered, honestly. It wasn’t something he wanted to get into, and sensing that, Steve shrugged and finished making the drinks, setting the glasses in front of Noah with a clatter. 

Noah knew you were flirting and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be tested so directly. You made him weak, transforming his resolve from sturdy to feeble with a simple glance and he felt like he was going to die. 

He was in deep. It took every ounce of his resolve to continue treating you like a normal person and not use every single trick he’d acquired in his long history of fuckboyery to get you naked and in his bed. 

It would be so easy, too. You were already doing your best to tempt him. He knew all he had to do was say the word and you’d be all over him in a second. In the humid, whiskey-soaked haze of the bar, it was growing harder and harder to think of a reason why he shouldn’t just give in. 

Except that he wasn’t ready. He knew it. If he gave in too soon, he risked throwing himself back into his normal fight-or-flight response. He’d overthink it and find some reason to pull away in order to protect himself, like he always did. 

No, this time he had to go about it the right way, and you weren’t making it easy on him. 

Without a good reason to delay any longer, he carried the drinks back over, only to be greeted with the sight of you bent over the pool table, tank top riding up and exposing your lower back and the curve of your hips and the beads of sweat that had appeared along your spine and god, if Noah didn’t want to just collect them all with his tongue. 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

He inhaled and exhaled sharply through his nose, saying a silent prayer to excuse his language. Tensing at his jaw and in his fingers around the glasses, he set yours next to you forcefully before taking his place on the opposite end of the pool table so there was at least something sturdier than his resolve separating the two of you. You took your shot and sunk it into the corner pocket. You were obviously hustling him on top of everything else. 

“Thanks,” you said casually, picking up your glass and sipping from it. “I think it’s your turn.” 

“Right,” said Noah. He set his own glass down and searched for his next ball, glad to have something else to focus on. 

He could tell you were unsatisfied with being ignored. You rounded the table and perched yourself on the edge of it next to him, crossing one knee over the other and swinging your legs casually. You leaned up against the pool cue, letting the strap of your tank top fall off your shoulder as you looked at him knowingly and it took all of Noah’s focus not to look back at you. 

“Noah,” you said, voice low and breathy and full of everything Noah had been trying to avoid, and as soon as his name left your lips, Noah scratched, sending the cue ball shooting off the edge of the table. 

“I got it,” he said at the same time that you huffed and jumped down from your perch. He rushed across the bar, chasing after the white ball and when he came back, you stood next to the table with your arms crossed, impatiently tapping your foot and staring him down. 

You were going to have to work harder than that to break him, though. Noah was dead-set on getting out of this interaction without any incident and it was just a matter of who was more stubborn at that point. 

Without making eye contact, Noah set the ball on the table. 

“You’re up,” he muttered, grabbing his drink and letting his eyes nestle deep within the glass of amber liquid. 

He could feel you boring into his face, but he wasn’t going to crack. As soon as you realized that, you slumped over the table and resumed the game. Noah hid his smile in his glass of whiskey and pretended not to notice the exaggerated arch in your back as you bent once more over the table. 

________

Stepping outside the bar, a punishing rush of wind slammed into Noah, causing him to stumble a bit. The conditions had grown even more severe, and Noah knew there was no way they were going to make it all the way to your dorm. 

You must have come to the same conclusion when Noah did, because you tugged on his jacket to get his attention. 

“My dorm’s too far,” you shouted over the wind. “Can I crash at your place?” 

The obvious answer was yes. Both of you knew it, but Noah was still reluctant to answer. This is exactly why he wanted to get you home earlier. 

He trusted himself at the gym. He trusted himself at the tattoo shop. He even trusted himself (barely) at the bar. But in his home? Overnight? With alcohol making his head all fuzzy and softening the lines between your skin and the cloud of lust around you? 

Noah was cooked. 

“Come on, then,” he said, turning and beginning to trudge down the few blocks it took to get to his house. 

You seemed to understand that it was important for you to be on your best behavior or else he might change his mind about letting you stay, so you silently followed, stepping in the footprints he’d left behind. 

________

“Do you need anything to sleep in?” he asked as soon as the two of you reached the entryway of his dilapidated rental. He rubbed his hands together to warm them up—they’d started aching with the cold. 

“I should be okay,” you said, still shivering despite the warmth of his home. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. He scanned you up and down. Your pants were soaked up to the knees from melting snow. 

“Maybe some sweatpants, then” you said, following where his eyes had gone. 

Noah chuckled on his way back to his room, reemerging later with the same set of clothes he’d let you borrow last time. You thanked him, expression a bit bashful as you grabbed the pile from his hands and rushed to the bathroom to change. 

When you came back, your hair was down, spilling pleasantly over your shoulders and Noah watched the way it reflected the low lamplight in waves as you moved. He’d seen you in his clothes before, but in a much different context. 

Now you were here, making yourself at home on the couch while his sweatpants and hoodie swallowed you in comfort. You rubbed your tube-sock-cladded feet together like a goddamn cricket and wrapped your arms around yourself, still apparently trying to get warm. 

“Hey, do you have a blanket or something?” you asked, scanning over the living room. 

“I was, uh,” he began, rubbing a palm over his chin. “I was thinking you could take my bed. I’d crash on the couch.” 

“What?” you said, face twisting with confusion. “Noah, that’s ridiculous. You sleep in your bed. I’m the one burdening you. I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

“I’d feel more comfortable if you took my room,” he said. As much as he hated his hometown, some things about it still stuck with him, and southern hospitality was one of them. 

“But you’re like, a million feet tall,” you countered. “Would you even fit on the couch?” 

“Can you just humor me?” he said. “I’ve been needing to put fresh sheets on my bed anyway. This will be a good excuse.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes as you always did—an expression Noah was growing increasingly fond of, and gestured to his room. “Be my guest, I guess.” 

He bowed his head an inch or so and returned to his room, rifling through his closet for the only other set of sheets he owned. 

It was silly, and he knew that. Part of him just enjoyed the thought of you sleeping in his bed. He liked the idea that he’d have that shared experience with you. Both of you would know what it was like to be in his room. Perhaps tomorrow, once you were back in your dorm and he was done with his shift at the factory, he’d lay his head down and his pillows would smell like you. 

Jesus, he needed to get ahold of himself. 

He ripped the old sheets off, piling them in the corner of his room and began the arduous process of figuring out which end of the fitted sheet went where. 

When he came back to the living room, you were sprawled out on the couch and with your eyes closed. 

“You asleep?” he asked softly. 

“Mmm, no,” you said without bothering to open your eyes and Noah took a second to taken in your relaxed features and how your skin glowed softly in the low lighting. 

“Bed’s all made up.” 

Your lower lip jutted out in a soft pout and Noah’s stomach did a somersault. 

“Come on,” he said, nudging you with his knee. “Get up.”

You whined in protest, curling further into the sofa.  

He sighed. It was cute, but not cute enough. “Get up or I’ll call the police and turn you in for trespassing.” 

At that you opened your eyes, shooting him a look that perfectly communicated your annoyance. He nodded towards the room. “Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll be out here.” 

You huffed, finally heaving your body off the couch and stood in front of him. “Thanks for letting me stay,” you said in a rare moment of genuine gratitude. 

“Any time.” 

He watched you slump lazily towards his room and listened to hear the click of the door before making up the couch to suit himself. He had to grab a spare blanket from Ruffilo’s room, making a deal with himself to wash it and return it before his friend got back from visiting his family, and then spread himself out on the lumpy sofa, hoping to get a few hours of sleep. 

Sleep, however, did not come. Instead, his mind wandered over to his bedroom, picturing how you looked curled up in his bed and wondering whether you were also having trouble sleeping. 

His dick twitched. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing it away. 

It was one night. One night with an attractive woman in his bedroom. He wasn’t even in the same room. You were on the other side of the house. He could get through this. 

Rolling on his back, he stared at the ceiling and began running through all the steps needed to make a tapping block on his machine. 

Set X to 1.5 inches. Set Y to 2.5. Run program. Remove block. Deburr. Place block back into clamp. Select tool #5. ¾ in. drill. Set Z axis to 1 inch. Run program. 

Fuck. He forgot the next step. 

He tried to get his mind back on the machine, but it was too late. An image of you writhing underneath him flashed in his mind like a lightning strike. 

He dug his fingernails into his thigh, swallowed hard, and went back to the tapping block, already knowing it wasn’t going to work. 

Sighing, he felt around for the remote on the coffee table. Maybe he could put on a documentary or something to distract himself until he fell asleep. 

His hand clasped around the black plastic and he thumbed the power button. The TV flashed, momentarily hurting his eyes until they adjusted. 

Choosing the first streaming service he could find, he searched the documentaries and came up with one about how the Himalayas were formed, and that couldn’t possibly be sexy, so he selected it and waited for his mind to switch off. 

Two minutes into learning about why scientists have found fossils of cephalopods he heard the squeak of a door opening, followed by soft footsteps. 

Of course. 

“What’s up?” he asked softly, without taking his eyes off the screen. 

“I can’t sleep.” 

Your voice came across quiet and drowsy. He looked at the clock and it had already been an hour since you’d gone to bed. 

Sighing and, with great effort, sitting up, he scooted his body to one end of the couch and gestured for you to have a seat at the other. 

“Learning about the Himalayas,” he said. 

“Is this the PBS one?” you asked. 

Noah shrugged, turning his attention back to the TV and trying to ignore the way his body buzzed in your presence. 

“Hard to believe they’re younger than the Appalachians,” you said. The documentary hadn’t mentioned it. This was information you’d apparently gathered elsewhere. 

“I didn’t know that,” said Noah.  

“Yeah,” you continued, resting your toes on the edge of the coffee table. You started doing that thing again where you rubbed your feet together like a cricket—not that Noah was paying attention. His eyes were trained on the screen. “The Appalachia date back to Pangea, and actually part of the range continues on into Europe.” 

“Nerd,” he said. 

“You’re the one watching a documentary about it.” 

Noah said nothing, but his heart thrummed in his chest. 

You kept quiet after that, the two of you watching side-by-side as the narrator talked about the four thousand species of flowering plants native to the zone, and the diversity of fauna, and how the landscapes and ecosystems around the range changed dramatically after the formation. 

Eventually, Noah looked over to see you dozing quietly on your side of the couch. He smiled to himself, knowing that it would probably be better if he moved back into his own room. 

Perhaps in a little bit, he would. It was a really good documentary. 

________

All rights reserved to @doomhands-jr, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

Taglist:

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[lovexjoe]

In Love With A Stripper Part 1 

Synopsis: what happens when a big time cartel meets a stripper? Warning: drugs, language, mention of death, prostitution 

Xiomara was turning 19 today. She’s been stripping since she was 18 and no this isn’t one of those “trying to get to the bag” stories. She doesn’t have a choice. Her boyfriend at the time was killed during a bad drug deal. Which left her to raise a son all on her own. Stripping pays the bills and teaching during the day allows her to save up. She’s trying to move back to the States, if she was by herself she would just pick up and go. But Ricky needed stability and daycare cost a lot in the US on top of housing. 

Tonight was a big night at the strip club as the cartels are celebrating a birthday today. Ricky was with his grandma, who truly felt sorry that Xiomara had to do this. Her son passing the way he did wasn’t ideal but he made his bed and now he sleeps in it 6ft under. Xiomara still provided money to her because her late boyfriend always helped out and it was one of his last wishes. Plus she really was the only family she had. 

Her stage name was Luna. She had one rule, never sleep with anybody. Her friend Chichi at the club informed her she might have to give it up for one night, cause these men pay. They were currently in the alley way grabbing some cocaine and other pills for the girls back at the strip. It helped numb the pain from the heels or whatever reason they had to do it. Spinning around on a pole looking like a fucking Barbie doll will do it to you. She never judged, she just never participated. 

“Chichi dale! I don’t want the rest of the girls getting the best poles. I got stuck on the loose one in the back yesterday and almost busted ass” Xio grew impatient as they wait for the plug to pull up. She acted a certain way around these girls to blend in. During the day she was squeaky clean for the kids she taught. They waited another minute when a man showed up, his eyes meeting Xio’s immediately. She stared at him back as she watched their transaction. He looked filthy rich yet here he was making a quick buck off of women. Disgusting. 

“You doing sum of this?” He looks at her and she shakes her head. 

“Nah not for me.” Interesting he thought. It wasn’t for him either. Her Bambi eyes making her look innocent. She’s still a stripper after all….

“We’ll see you inside Aretas! Move ya ass Luna we’re late already!” Chichi walked as fast as she could in her heels with Xio trailing behind her. 

“You’re not gonna say thank you?” He calls out to her. Xio turns and salutes him. 

“Thanks jefe!” Xio says before laughing to herself. To think that’s what Andres was doing before he left this earth left a sour taste in her mouth. An interaction like that cost him his life. 

~~~~

The girls dove into their choice of drug before heading out on the floor. Xio touched up her lipgloss, sprayed her perfume and headed out on stage. Armando entered the strip with a group of his homies. Tonight was a night for celebration. What’s being in the cartel and committing crime if you can’t celebrate right? His mom’s escape is set for next week, so they have to blend and do their usual shenanigans which is going out. Laying low would cause some suspicions. 

The girl from earlier caught his eye. She seemed pretty young to be working in the strip but then he remembered Mexico wasn’t all it was made out to be. Yes, it’s beautiful but you get caught up with the wrong crowd your future vanishes in an instant. The strip club had a scent of perfume, hookah and sweat. Not the greatest pairings. He saw Chichi his regular, they usually vibe together but tonight….he wanted her. After drinking and vibing out with his friends they all disperse to their private rooms for a dance. 

“Alright lover boy. Who you picking tonight. It’s on the house.” Armando glances around as the manager of this place follows his eyes. He saw her, rotating the pole so elegantly, her eyes alone could make a man empty his pockets. He nods his head in her direction. 

“Her.” 

“Luna! She’s the youngest one here. Have at it pal!” Armando tensed up wanting to punch him in his shit but realized this environment comes with that type of fuckery. He walks over to her, admiring as she spins her way down from the top of the pole to the bottom. She started to dance around the pole, working her body to the beat. They both lock eyes as she walks over to him like a pretty little kitten. 

“May I have a dance? Birthday boy is owed it.” She looks him up and down, taking his hand and leading him to the back. She was thinking about their interaction earlier. So the drug dealer that was outside was Aretas not some random. Well….at least the bills will be paid for months for these girls. He is what everyone says he is: handsome but those looks definitely killed.

He sits down as the music changed to Persian Rugs by PartyNextDoor. She closes the curtain, walking over to him, touching from his shoulders down to his thighs her hands slowly glided. If she was gonna go against her rules for one night it was going to be worth it. She’d rather it be him then some old fuck anyway. Turning around, she starts to give him a lap dance and he’s completely in a trance. 

He’s come in here a handful of times and nothing left him satisfied, but this one she has him hooked. He hoped she was new because if he has overlooked her this entire time he’d be annoyed. Simply because she doesn’t try too much as if she’s just trying to slip under the radar. She worked her waist line and he couldn’t help but touch her as she grinds her ass against him. His hands falling on her waist, he took control, making her grinds slow and pressed up against his bulge. 

You’re usually not suppose to touch, but the way his hands steered her body she didn’t want to object. His cologne and natural scent just gave off money and gave her stomach butterflies too. He made her slow down, her pussy completely pressed up on his bulge. She started to feel herself getting hot. She hasn’t been with anyone since Andres passing a year ago. What’s up with her and drug dealers anyway?! 

He pulls her backwards so she’s completely laying against his chest as she starts to ride his thigh. Her body was so sensitive she could feel every movement against her clit. What the fuck is happening right now. He caresses her cheek, tilting her face to look up at him. 

“Fuck mami, can I kiss you?” Their foreheads touching. 

“Yes” she says breathless. Without hesitation their lips touched, Armando didn’t know what came over him tonight, but it was his birthday after all and she seem to be the only girl that didn’t throw herself at him. She turns her body around to face him. Her hands pulling his body as close as she could have him. Their bodies just melted into each other like as if they were made for this moment. Two puzzle pieces. Armando feels her shaky breaths against his lips and knew this wasn’t an occurrence on a daily basis or probably ever. Most of these strippers were numbed down to the bones yet this Bambi eyed princess has nerves. 

They slowly pull away, but he holds her still. She shouldn’t be cooped up in the club and ogled at. She seemed too delicate to be working here, her skin so soft but her hands had callouses. He tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

“Get dressed, you’re coming with me.” 

“I-I can’t I have to stay here or else-“ 

“I’ll handle it. Just get dressed for me and I’ll pick you up out back.” She agrees and heads out to the dressing room. She didn’t think she had a choice in that decision. She texted Andres’s mom letting her know that she’ll be out for the rest of the night. She changed into her cargo pants and t shirt with sneakers and heading out back.

She has no idea where this night will take her. 

Taglist: @yeahnohoneybye @cardi-bre91 @onlysarang @romanreignsluver1 @minwn

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[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man 13

Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: You remember.

6.5 Words

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12)

March, 1977

You hated the sweater that your grandma had picked out for you to wear on the night of the Hawkins Middle School Talent Show. It was slightly too small for you and you couldn’t comfortably raise your arms without your midriff accidentally showing, the material was itchy and the tag was poking at the back of your neck which made you scratch the skin there which only made the problem worse, and you know that when you stepped out onto the stage the lights would make you feel unbearably hot. 

What you hated slightly less was the poem that you were supposed to recite. You didn’t really have anything against The Owl and the Pussy Cat, but it wasn’t exactly your first choice for the show. Actually, you had about 8 more ideas for your forced performance that had all been shot down by your teachers or parents. 

Being forced to be in the talent show wasn’t the worst thing in the world. You really did normally like being on stage if it was by your own choice and you got to choose what to do. Now, here you were in 8th grade, getting ready to be on stage because of some stupid rule that said that all students must participate in the talent show once in their 3 years. 

You didn’t have a talent in 6th grade, and in 7th you ended up getting the flu which had kept you in bed for a week. Now for 8th grade you had been cornered and forced to recite a poem that put you to sleep and was sure to give every bored parent an excuse to take a bathroom break. 

There were way more interesting performances than you, and you’d rather trade with almost anyone. The girls from the cheer squad always did an original routine despite using the same three cheers at every sports game, there were the Tyson brothers who did their traditional “Who’s On First?” stand-up that killed every year, a few kids playing piano or singing some random song, and one girl doing what you assumed to be some sort of martial art demonstration. The talent here was only marginally better than the ones you had sat through in elementary school. 

Okay, there was one performance that you were looking forward to seeing. Dougie, the guy who sat next to you in English, had been going on for weeks how he was in a band now and that they were making their debut at the talent show that year. He excitedly rambled to you about how they were going to play a Judas Priest song and it was gonna be awesome. 

You had never talked to Dougie before then, but you had made eye contact with him once when he was talking about the talent show and that meant that you were now going to listen to him every time he wanted to talk about his band. Having a full live band at this show sounded a lot more interesting than most public school acts, and the idea that they were going to get away with playing a song that was not school board approved sounded awesome. 

The irony of it all was that about three minutes before the show started he admitted that they had all practiced together a grand total of twice beforehand. 

Dougie was currently jumping up and down in an awkward rhythm from foot to foot, clinging to his bass like it was his last lifeline. When you tried to talk to him, he only responded with a line from the song they were going to sing, having forgotten the rest of the English language in an attempt to make sure he remembered the words to the song. It made you feel a little better, because you could at least recite your poem in your sleep. 

You leaned against a wall and looked up towards the catwalk above the stage. There were two kids up there, and you were pretty sure that they really weren’t supposed to be. One was a girl in a ponytail, wearing a sparkly outfit that matched the group of cheerleaders in the hall, and one was a boy with a buzzcut wearing ripped jeans and a dark t-shirt. Quite the opposite pair. 

You watched them for a moment, unable to hear a word they were saying but they both kept looking out at the crowd. When the five minute warning came, they each scrambled back down to the floor and Buzzcut Kid made his way to Dougie and the girl went out to join the rest of her squad. 

Maybe this would be more enjoyable if you also had friends to do this with. The few friends that you did have had either done their stint in the years before or had decided to do something completely different than you. 

Your only saving grace was that you were up second, right after some 7th grader sang along to the latest pop song that hit the charts about a month ago. This meant that you at least got it over with, and could spend the rest of the show alone and unbothered to watch everyone else. 

That was the plan at least. Unfortunately for you, you had completely overlooked one crucial thing about your fellow peers. 

They were fucking mean.

You really hadn’t thought much about the poem you were going to recite, it was just supposed to be a very quick poem that no one would remember. You had actually learned the poem a very long time ago when you were a kid, so you never made the connection that part of the poem could be taken... incorrectly. 

When your name was called, you stepped onto the center stage, shoulders back and head up straight. You were going to say your poem from the diaphragm, make your parents and grandma happy, and then get off stage. It would take less than two minutes and then you were home free. 

The second you started talking about how the Owl and the Pussy Cat went to sea in their pea green boat was when you started to hear the giggles from backstage. And when the Owl started to sing on their guitar, that’s when you realized your fatal mistake. 

"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,

What a beautiful Pussy you are,

         You are,

         You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

Oh. 

Oh no. 

The giggles from backstage grew louder and you felt your face heating up from more than just the horrible sweater. You could barely focus on the last two verses, where the Owl buys a ring off a Pigs’ nose to marry the Pussy Cat, you could only finish the poem in a deadpan voice before walking off stage as quickly as possible without even waiting for the first applause to start. 

Backstage, everyone was giggling every time they looked at you. Whispers of ‘O pussy, my love!’ and ‘O lovely pussy!’ and (less creatively) ‘pussy lover’ followed you as you made your way out into the hall, trying not to cry. 

They would all call you “pussy poem girl” until you skipped town and left Indiana forever, you just knew it.

You slipped into the bathroom, had yourself a small bout of embarrassed frustration tears, and then stomped your way to the art room. Ms. Teedee, the art teacher, was infamous for forgetting to lock her door which meant that it was easy to sneak in and make your way over to the large box of construction paper and get to work. 

It started out as just a way to calm down after the horrible embarrassment you just faced, but then it became a plan to hopefully soften the blow. 

It took you about a half hour to make, roughly, a million paper flowers from the various sheets of construction paper, which you then shoved into a discarded cardboard box next to Ms. Teedee’s desk. With a final deep breath you made your way back to the gymnasium where the cheerleaders were now doing their dance. 

When they all filed off stage, you stood there with your box of fake flowers and handed each of them one with a “Congratulations!” and “You guys were amazing out there!”.

Maybe if you were nice enough now, they’d drop the Pussy Fiasco and leave you alone. 

While the next act went on, you retroactively passed out paper flowers to the students who had already been on. Everyone stage right was waiting to go on while stage left was for those who already went. The plan seemed to work well enough, and you found the sooner you shoved a flower in someone’s face, the less likely they were to make a crack about your poem. 

At least until Monday when the snickers would follow you for the rest of the school year, and partially into high school by a few asshats who had nothing better to do. 

When you finally had a moment to catch your breath and take a moment to watch the talent show, there was a cacophony of noise coming from the stage. Drums, guitar, base, cracked vocals, were blasting from the speakers, making most of the parents in the audience wince. 

You skirted around to the side of the stage, just out of sight from the audience to see what was going on. Dougie’s act was up and they were... loud. Loud was definitely the right word to use. You couldn’t see Dougie well, he was on the far side of the stage away from you, and a girl with a drum set was behind him. She was banging away on the drums in a way that reminded you of Animal from The Muppets with how much energy she was putting into it. You were expecting her to hit the drum so hard that the stick would go flying. 

Speaking of flying...

The guitarist was the one who captured your attention the most. Under the spotlights you could forget that he was just an awkward 8th grader like you, he looked like... almost like he was flying. That didn’t make much sense because he was standing in place, but it was the only metaphor you could think of that made sense at the time. His vocals were rough, but the passion in his voice was clear. Most students were half-assing their performances out of obligation because they were forced to but not him. Buzzcut Kid played like he needed to, as if his life depended on it. 

The sting of the guitar and the thrumming of the drums drowned out any snickering from the students that had been following you for the past forty minutes. For the next three, you were absolutely enthralled by the kids on stage. So much so that when they all filed off you completely blanked on handing out flowers, your ears still ringing from the act. 

“That was great!” you had managed to spit out to Dougie, who gave you a quick thanks before turning back to the rest of the band, the three talking excitedly about their very first performance. 

Dougie’s band was the second to last performance, followed by a grand finale of a kid playing a medley of old tv show themes on piano. You remembered to give that kid a flower at least. Afterwards, you were all ushered on stage for a bow, your hands felt clammy as you gripped the hand of one of the Tyson brothers, not wanting to look at the audience at all. 

With the show over, everyone filed out into the main area of the school. Kids reunited with their parents and siblings to talk about the show and give congratulations. You saw a few of your flowers already being dumped in the nearby trash can, which stung a little. You sighed and clung to the remaining flowers in your small cardboard box and realized that you never did hand them over to Dougie and his friends. 

Ignoring the fact that your parents were looking for you, you pushed through the sea of people and found Dougie, handing him a flower quickly before moving on before he could say anything else to you. The girl drummer was easy to find next, as she was at the edge of the crowd with an old woman who you assumed was her grandma. You handed her a flower too, with a stuttered “You were so good!” before disappearing again into the crowd. 

There was only one flower left to give out, and you were shaking slightly at the idea of approaching the guitarist. You didn’t know why; shy was never a word that your friends and teachers would use to describe you. But this guy was just so cool and he played guitar in a band! Okay, so Dougie was also in the band but that was different! This guy had played in a way that put air into your lungs and made you forget the disaster of your own performance. You wished that your family had brought their clunky camcorder to tape the show so that you’d never forget it. 

You spotted Buzzcut Kid standing with an older man as they headed out the door of the school, and you panicked for a second. You shifted from one foot to the other quickly as you tried to make a decision. If you didn’t give him a flower then- then- then he wouldn’t have a flower! Then he’d be the only one without a flower and then what? What if he made fun of you for your poem? What if you gave him a flower and he decided to ignore your horrible social blunder? What if he did that anyway when you approached him? What if no one else was going to tell him that he had the coolest act in the show?!

It was that last thought that had you barreling through the crowd towards the door, clinging to your box tightly. You definitely shoulder checked some people on accident as you pushed your way out of the school and started walking quickly to the kid. 

“W-wait up!” you said, nearly stumbling over your feet as you caught up to the kid and the old man he was with. The kid stopped and looked at you, as if confused as to why you were speaking to him. 

Under the lamps hanging outside of the school, you were met with the prettiest brown eyes you had ever seen and your heart thrummed in your chest. 

“Hi...?” the kid said, his brows furrowed in confusion as he looked at you. His voice snapped you out of it. 

“I really liked your act it was really cool and it’s cool that you got away with playing that song without someone pulling the plug or canceling the show!” You blabbed, not stopping for breath or punctuation. 

The kid froze for a second, and then looked a little bashful giving you a crooked smile. You noticed a slight chip on one of his front teeth. 

“We got yelled at pretty bad backstage for it.” the kid said, looking almost proud of himself for it. 

The man who was with Buzzcut Kid placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll meet you at the truck.” he said, walking off and leaving the two of you alone. 

“It was still really good!” you insisted. “It was my favorite part of the show!” 

Had it not been past sunset you might have noticed the way his ears burned from the compliment. 

“Thanks.” he said, shifting slightly. “Uh, which act was yours again...?”

“Nothing interesting!” you said, a bit louder and higher pitched than you meant to, secretly relieved that he hadn’t heard your embarrassing poem. “Oh uh, this is for you!”

You reached your hand into your box of flowers and pulled out the nicest looking one left, a dark blue one that matched his t-shirt. He took it, his hand barely brushing against yours as he did, and he stared at it for a moment. The way he was looking so intently made your stomach turn and you suddenly felt very stupid for rushing after this guy who had no idea who you were just to give him a paper flower that was just going to end up in the trash can later. 

“I gave one to everyone” you started blabbing again. “‘Cause you know not everyone gets flowers after a show but everyone did a really good job so I thought I could let everyone know that they did so that’s why I made them also what song was that that you guys played?” 

It was a lie. Why were you lying? Were you so desperate to not look like a total loser in front of this guy that you’d just lie about the real reason why you made the flowers?

Well, you were in middle school. So, yeah, you were. 

“The song was ‘Prowler’ by Judas Priest.” the kid said, “It was the easiest one we could learn at the last second.” 

You knew that. Right, you did know that, Dougie only mentioned it every single day for the past two weeks. You felt so stupid asking that question, but at least Buzzcut Kid didn’t know that you knew. 

“You guys were really good.” you repeated, not sure what else to say. You were rambling now, and Buzzcut Kid probably thought you were a total dweeb. “I hope you guys keep playing and you’re really good at guitar and I’ve never heard anyone play electric guitar live except for one time when I went to the Indiana State Fair in fourth grade.”

You needed to shut up, you were really running your mouth for no reason and just talking at this poor guy who was just trying to go home. 

“I’ve been playing since I was a kid.” Buzzcut Kid said, and he was still giving you a look. His eyes were so round. “My dad taught me what he knew and I just picked up the rest from there.” He was holding the fake flower carefully, running his finger along the edge of one of the petals. You hoped he didn’t get a paper cut from doing that. 

“That’s so cool.” you said, your voice a little bit slower now as you tried desperately to hold your tongue. 

“Thanks.” he said again, and you immediately ran out of things to say. Of course, later you realized you could have probably kept the conversation going by asking for his name, or offering yours, but there are many downsides to being in middle school and piss-poor social skills is one of them. 

“Okay well you were good and I gotta go, bye!” you said and quickly booked it back to the school, your heart pounding and your cheeks flushed from more than just the horrible sweater. You didn’t even look back at the kid that you had just left standing there with your paper flower. 

You didn’t talk to him again after that. For a small school it was really easy to miss people. Your schedules never lined up, you never saw him in the hallways except for maybe one or two glances before or after school. Dougie never talked to you again, and by the next semester you’d been moved to a different schedule anyway. By the time Spring came around, you barely remembered the kid who you’d gushed to, and when high school came around he was just a distant memory of a night that you really tried not to think about. 

The only evidence of that night lay now in your lap. The Hawkins Middle School yearbook from when you both were in eighth grade had a full color spread of the talent show. The Tyson brothers and the cheerleaders got solo pictures of their acts as well as a small collage of every kid that played the piano. 

But there, in the bottom of the second page, was a larger group photo of every kid that had been in the show that night, the picture taken thirty minutes before the curtain. You were stationed on the second row, on the far right and there on the top row was Buzzcut Kid, the girl drummer (who Eddie had explained was his friend Ronnie), and Dougie. 

No wonder you didn’t recognize Eddie or his band before. Besides Eddie, the whole line up of the band had completely changed since their middle school debut. There was no way you would have placed the tall and lanky kid with the buzzcut as the guy who you’d been seeing for the past few weeks. 

When you had been looking at Eddie’s pictures in your own copies of the yearbook, you had been only looking at high school. It hadn’t occurred to you to try and dig further than that. 

“So this is what you’ve been so cryptic about.” you said finally, looking between the flower and the yearbook. 

“I didn’t think it was a big deal you didn’t remember me.” He shrugged, falling onto his back on the bed next to you. “I wouldn’t remember me either.” 

“Eddie, I was obsessed with you for like, a month after this.” you admitted, staring at him hard. “You were the only good part of that night. I stopped thinking about that night when I didn’t see you again. ”

“You were obsessed with me?” He lifted his head and looked at you with a shit-eating grin. “Stalker.”

You grabbed a flimsy pillow from beside you and smacked him in the face. “Says the guy keeping count of how many times we met!”

“The second time was when you got in trouble with Higgins for skipping class- hey!” Eddie lifted his arms as you whacked him with the pillow over and over. 

“Why-” Smack! “didn’t-” Smack! “you-” Smack! “tell-” Smack! “me-” Smack! “this-” Smack! “earlier?!” 

Eddie grabbed the pillow out of your hands and smacked you back. “Didn’t think it was important.”

“Not important?!” you gaped at him. “Edward Munson, I’m going to use that pillow to suffocate you. I’m so embarrassed now. I remember you as this super cool guy who made me feel better and I was just some random kid who was always crying- oof!”

Eddie smacked you with the pillow a bit harder than intended, but it didn’t matter with how much you two were laughing. 

“You think I’m super cool? Aww, I’m flattered. Maybe I will give you a few autographs to sell, seeing as how you’re my biggest fan.” He teased. 

“I take it back, I take it all back! You suck, and are super lame and not cool at all.” you grabbed the second pillow, slightly less flimsy than the one he was holding and smacked him again. 

“Sweetheart, you’re hurting my heart here.” He held his hand on his chest and gripped his shirt dramatically. “You were the first girl to ever come up to me and tell me you liked my playing, and now you’re taking it all back? I’m wounded.”

“I was?” There was no way that was right.

“Okay, you were the second. Ronnie might count as the first, but all she did was say ‘Fine, I guess we’re good enough we could try and start a band.’”

“And now you’re good enough to possibly get a record deal.” you said, smiling at him. 

“I’ll be sure to thank you when I get my first Grammy.” 

You leaned against the wall that his bed was cornered into and sighed. “I can’t believe you were Buzzcut Kid and that nice guy who stopped me from having a meltdown in the Principal’s office.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t recognize you until halfway through the night at the arcade.” Eddie offered. “I just saw Harrington with a pretty girl and assumed you were more like him.” 

“Steve and I are more of an ‘opposites attract’ pair. I didn’t think I’d end up friends with him, but he’s surprisingly fun to hang out with.” you picked up the flower again, noting how worn it looked. Wait, was that your phone number scribbled on it? “What tipped you off?”

“Air hockey.” Eddie said. “It was when you decided that we should pit freshmen against each other that I remembered Chris telling me once about a girl wanting to join Hellfire. He had made you out to be some sort of stuck-up who wasn’t actually interested and was just asking to fuck with us.”

“Fuck Chris Morrison.” you said, bitterly. 

“Fuck Chris Morrison.” Eddie agreed. “So when we were in the middle of making Wheeler and Henderson fight for our own entertainment, that’s when I recognized you. At the Hideout that’s when I was sure.”

“How did you figure?”

Eddie leaned in close with that same shit-eating grin from earlier. “Because you looked at me the exact same way you did the night at the talent show when we played.” 

“Oh, shit.” You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh of embarrassment. “I’ve never had a good poker face. Do I even want to know how I looked at you?”

“Only like I’m the coolest guy you’ve ever seen in your life.” He said with a nonchalant shrug, but his eyes still had that glint that made you want to smack him with a pillow again. 

“I’m mad, but only because I know you’re right. You, Eddie, are actually the coolest person in Hawkins and also the biggest nerd I’ve ever met.” You crossed your arms and nudged him with your knee. 

“I find that hard to believe, since you’ve met Henderson.” Eddie nudged you back with his knee and you didn’t miss the way he shifted closer to you. “Kid’s probably the smartest person I know. Don’t tell him I said that.” 

“I’m telling him.” you said instantly, giving your own shit-eating grin. “I am forever in Dustin’s debt. He can rent any movie that’s not porn from Family Video as long as I’m on shift and he gets first dibs on any almost expired candy. There’s no way I’m not gonna tell him when someone says something nice about him.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, or at least you assumed he did because his bangs moved slightly as he looked at you. “And what, pray tell, did the little shrimp do to garner such favor with you?” He shifted a little closer under the guise of getting comfortable, and now his leg was oh-so-casually touching yours. The movement was as subtle as your poker face.  

You might not have had Steve’s long track record of dating and sex, but you weren’t completely oblivious. There was no way you were going to keep any sort of neutral expression with what would inevitably happen here soon, so you decided to just lean into it. It’s not like anyone was here to interrupt this time. 

You moved yourself closer to him now, adjusting yourself so that your shoulders were now touching. It wasn’t exactly an ideal position, but it was at least your sign to him that you were not against body contact. 

It occurred to you that you were also sitting on his bed, alone. Okay, that thought had occurred to you earlier, but that had been a hypothetical. A fleeting dirty thought about Eddie as a way to blow off steam while you tried to stop your simmering anger for Chris from boiling over. 

This was starting to feel real now, and you absently licked your lower lip, your cheeks warming up. Eddie’s eyes flicked from yours, down to your mouth and then back up to your eyes for a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it move. 

Perfect. 

“Well as we are now both aware, Steve and I had this thing where we would try and wing man for each other. I’d help him get dates, and he’d help me in return.” you said. 

“And I am still trying to figure out how Mr. Popularity was having trouble getting dates.” Eddie shifted his body towards you, but the contact remained. 

“Turns out that high school tactics don’t work after high school.” you shrugged. “So I gave him some tips, and it turns out he’s a fast learner. He really didn’t need my help, just a good smack in the head.” 

“What about you? Am I one of a long line of boys whose hearts you’re breaking?” It was a good thing you were sitting down, because he was giving you the most unfair puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. Had you been standing, that look might have made you weak in the knees.  

“You are the only guy I’ve been on a date with this whole time.” You admitted. 

“How long has this thing been going on?” 

“Late September, I think?” You tried to think back to that original conversation, but it felt like a lifetime ago. 

“That long and Steve could only suggest little old me? I thought you’d have people lining up to date you.” There was a sincerity behind his teasing that didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Steve said that it’d be easy for me to get random dates, but I am horribly picky, and the dating pool in Hawkins sucks.” You explained. “Steve didn’t even start holding up his end of the bargain until weeks in.”

“Okay, so walk me through how Steve Harrington cares enough about my existence to suggest me as a potential suitor for you.” Eddie looked at you. “I can’t get that out of my head.”

“Again, if you need me to set you up with Steve I’d be willing to-”

“No.” Eddie gave you a look that you were sure scared the freshmen at school, but it only made you laugh, which softened his gaze. 

“It was Dustin.” you managed to say between giggles. Your hand reached out and casually rested on his thigh, and you felt his leg twitch slightly under the denim of his jeans but didn’t pull away. “He loves to come in and talk to Steve and it turns out that there is one good thing about being in that stupid school, and that’s you.” 

“Henderson said that?” He looked genuinely surprised. 

“Dustin Henderson has two male role models in his life, and that’s Steve Harrington and you.” Your thumb rubbed absently along his jeans. “Steve knew I wasn’t going to be interested in just anyone, so after hearing all about the kid’s grand adventures with you, Steve and Dustin set up the meeting at the arcade.”

“That little shit.” Eddie leaned his head against the wall.  

“And when you totally ditched me, Steve decided to try again at the Hideout.” you nudged him with your shoulder. “I figured that I’d blown any chance with you, so there was nothing to lose by hitting on you and playing up my alcohol intake just a little bit.” 

Eddie’s head snapped to yours so fast that you were surprised he didn’t hurt himself. “What? I thought Steve ditched you.”

“No, he’d never!” you said quickly. “I.... told him to leave so that I could spend more time with you because he was, hm... how do I say this- he was cockblocking me.” 

Eddie’s laughter echoed through the trailer, filling the small space up with life in the exact opposite way that Chris’s laughter had done in the theater. The sound alone washed away any remaining anger about the day. “Shit... I was ready to fight him in your honor. I thought he left a drunk girl at the Hideout alone with no way to get home. You’re a crafty one.”

“I have my moments.” you said with a grin, waving the paper flower. 

Eddie plucked it from your hand and looked it over, before leaning to set it aside on top of his copy of The Hobbit. He sat close to you and his arm casually draped around your shoulders as he leaned back against the wall with you. 

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, despite the palpable tension between the two of you. You knew what was coming, it was written all over your body language as well as his. Everything was out in the open now, no more cryptic words, or weird miscommunications. Whatever was next, was anyone’s move. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder, taking in the moment to enjoy how nice the weight of his arm around you felt. When was the last time you had any sort of physical intimacy with someone outside of hugging your friends? Eddie’s thumb rubbed along your shoulder soothingly, and your hand mimicked the movement on his lower thigh.

Every time he shifted, your stomach tensed up and you wondered if this was it. It wasn’t. Time slipped away from the two of you as you rested on his bed, cuddling with each other. The tension between you never eased up- even when your heart beat slowed down, it wouldn’t be long until a simple touch brought it back up. 

Finally his fingers started sliding down your arm, calloused fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. Sturdy fingers found yours and laced through them, and you felt the heavy rings on his fingers press into your skin. It was a slightly awkward position, with his arm now between your back and the wall, but it was progress. 

The stillness between you was different. Normally, the two of you were unable to shut up, always finding new things to talk about, to learn about each other, to explore with this tentative new bond forming between the two of you. Now? There wasn’t the same rush as before, the two of you could just exist by each other. More talking would happen in the future, but for now you leaned against him and waited for something better to do with your lips. 

You shifted and looked over at Eddie, realizing how close his head really was to yours. He wasn’t looking at you though, his eyes were watching the way your fingers were now messing with the torn fabric of his jeans, your thumb moving between denim and skin. You wondered if that spot on his leg burned the same way that your skin currently was.

Eddie smelled nice. There was the faint smell of cigarettes that lingered on his clothes, but whatever body wash and detergent he used seemed to neutralize most of it. Other than that, he didn’t smell like any object or scent that you could put your mind on. You took a slow deep breath through your nose and decided he smelled earthy and warm like late summer or early autumn, with an undertone of boy. 

What was he thinking right now? Was Eddie feeling the tension between the two of you the same way you were? You didn’t think you were misreading this situation, you’d done this before. Something would have to give soon, were you not being obvious enough? Shit, maybe some of Steve’s advice would have been good here. The two other times you had been in a situation like this, you were the one to make the move first, having grown impatient. But Eddie had clearly been the one to start leaning in first at the movies, right? Was it so wrong for you to want him to make the move? 

Maybe he didn’t want to start because of what happened with Chris? Did he think making a move on you when you were upset over being hit on was tacky? That might be it. Why did that only make you want him more? 

You did a quick check in with yourself over this. Were you mad at Chris? Yes. Were you mad he hit on you? Yes. Did you want Eddie to make a move? Yes. Did you only want Eddie to make a move so that you could forget about Chris? No. You wanted Eddie to do it because you liked Eddie.

Why was this so-

Something bumped your forehead and you realized as you were zoning out that Eddie had been staring at you now. This close, you could see every shade of brown in his round eyes. He shifted slightly again, and your heart jumped into your throat. Warmth flooded you from your cheeks to your toes as you felt his finger twitch against yours. 

“Hey.” Eddie’s voice was quiet in your ear, and it made the back of your neck tingle. “You good? You’ve been staring at my knee for a while.” 

“Sorry, it’s just the sexiest knee I’ve ever seen.” You said, smiling at him.

“Yeah? What about my other knee?” His breath ghosted over face as he let out a laugh. 

“It’s just okay.” The tension was easing a bit between the two of you, and you were torn on if this was a good thing or not. 

Eddie moved so that his shoulder was against the wall and he was facing you. You adjusted yourself accordingly, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes flicked down to his lips for a second before meeting his eyes again. 

“Are you sure you’re good?” He asked, staring at you intensely. 

You were good. You were so good. Actually, if something didn’t happen here soon then that would be the reason you would be not-good. 

“I am now.” You squeezed his hand and gave him a look that you desperately hoped he read as ‘Yes you can do it Eddie I am of sound mind and body and if you don’t do it I may actually explode from the tension between the two of us-’ 

Eddie’s lips finally found yours for just a brief moment before pulling back slightly. You followed his lips, not letting him get away that easily. Your lips met again, and this time he didn’t pull back. His hand reached up to cup your jaw, his fingers lightly brushing against the back of your neck in a way that made the delicate hairs there stand on end. 

When the two of you broke apart, it was you who pulled back after a few moments with a smile. 

“So...” Eddie said, looking at you. 

“So...” you echoed. 

“Still good?” he asked. 

“Hmm...” you considered for a moment. “I don’t know. I think you should do that again, just to make sure.”

Eddie’s eyes lit up in a way that you had only ever seen on stage so far. This time there was no hesitation in his movements as he pulled you closer again and kissed you. You grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down on the bed with you, not letting your lips part. 

One of his hands rested on you side while the other was used to keep himself from squishing you under him. If he had, you wouldn’t have minded. 

In a lot of romance stories, you had always heard phrases like ‘he kissed her breathless’ or ‘she let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding’. You had always waited for the day that someone would kiss you like that, but now with Eddie you realized that wasn’t what you needed. 

Because for the first time in a long while, with Eddie nipping at your lower lip and slipping his tongue into your mouth, you felt the exact opposite. 

For the first time in so long, you felt like you could finally breathe. 

a/n: Holy smokes, y'all finally got smooched! But don't worry, the party's not over yet. I still have a few chapters before everything wraps up! I've had the First Meeting written out since March or April, and I though that would make the rest of the chapter faster to write. I was wrong lol

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

Tag List @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n

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@vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirly93

@perpetualmessmachine @thebook-hobbit @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh

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@sheneedsrocknroll92 @kores-mun-son-n-more @eddiebuttcheeks

[slyblonder]

King for a Day

MDNI

Youth Pastor!Mingi x GN!Reader

warnings: sex(gross ikr), its just a blowjob, mentions of fingering, throat fucking, spit mention, hair pulling, tears (Dacryphilia), i cant think of anything else ngl

word count: 1.9k (first long fic les gooo)

“You might want to get an early start on your Hail Marys then.”

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit..Amen.”

Following along you made a cross on your body. This will not be the only time you do this today, and it certainly won't be the last.Mingi and his father had just moved into town, the new pastor and his insanely hot youth pastor son. You had to have him. You needed him like no other. “Lord forgive me for what I do later.” Fixing your dress as you got up, smiling at all the families that passed by you.

You were never the religious kind, you never participated in church, hell you rarely even came to service. But as soon as you caught a look of Mingi you were already in your closet picking out an outfit. You’d always try your best to match him. His outfits were very simple and appropriate but also so slutty somehow. It could be all his rings and chains but once you start thinking about it your mind wonders, thinking about how his chains would look dangling in your face. You shook those thoughts out of your head, saying bye to the last few families to leave.

Upon Mingis arrival to your town you were quick to sign up as an assistant. You didn't care about them damn kids nor the lord but here you were every sunday, helping by his side teaching about the lord.

“Thank you so much for your help today. I know it was a lot harder since we had a full house.” Mingi spoke, making you jump a bit. That’s the other thing about him that had you so enamored..His voice. It was so deep and husky but so soothing. You could listen to him for hours.

“It's no problem Mingi, you did great like always. I’m just happy we let out early today.” You moved out of the pew to now stand face to face with him. “I get to hang out with my favorite person.”

Mingi looked at you with confusion and sight shock, pointing at himself. “M-me?”

Despite his “cold” and “dark” image Mingi was a very gentle and even cute person. Any and everyone could see that. “Yes, you. Why do you think I help you out so much? Why I’m always by your side? Why I’m always at your beck and call?” You watched as his cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. Cute. Walking closer to him he seemed frozen, closing his eyes briefly as if waiting for something eagerly.

“You’re so cute like this…flustered and pretty.” Walking closer you stopped right in front of him, leaning up to his ear with a smirk. “If only the heavens knew how beautiful you look right now.”

“y/n I…w-what's going o-on…” You placed a quick kiss on his cheek, watching as his eyes popped open. He looked as if he saw a ghost but the tint of pink never left his face.

“Ever since you knocked on our door holding that gift basket, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You looked so fucking good Mingi. I wanted you, I needed you. So I signed up to help, anything to be closer to you. Not only did my urges to have you get stronger, I started to grow feelings for you.”

Mingi couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This is everything he ever dreamed of. Yeah, he was the pastor's son and had to keep up an innocent persona;but it was quite the opposite. As much as he was devoted to his faith he could never shake the thought of you ever since he saw you. He wanted to hold you, take in your scent…devour you. Mingi knew it would be wrong and go against his faith, but he couldn’t help but imagine such sinister acts with you.

“You’re very bad at hiding your gaze, Min. I see you stare and used to think nothing of it. 'oh, he's not looking at me, he's just giving his attention like usual…’ until I bent down and saw you staring at my chest.” You took a step back and watched his reaction with a smirk. His hands were balled up, his face still a visible pink, and a much more visible print in his pants appeared. You could tell from the way he stood there he was virgin but not in the slightest innocent.

“I- I tried to hide it…”

“Not well enough.”

Mingi bit his lip before starting to mumble.

“Wouldn’t you like to feel like a king for a day or even forever? I think you liked it.” You spoke with a small laugh moving to sit Mingi in the pew. He sat there and watched your every move, waiting for you to pounce on him.

“Y/n please… I can’t get the thought of you out of my head. I ache for you.” These words sounded like music to your ears. Mingi wanted you, ached for you, needed you. Moving into the pew you sat on his lap, feeling how big he was instantly and watching him let out a soft whimper.

“You might want to get an early start on your hail marys then.” You placed small and slow kisses on his neck, moving up to his jaw, sucking lightly. He sounded so fucking needy, and you to wanted to hear him scream in pleasure but decided to spare him.

“H-hail Mary, full of grace…The L-lord is with thee fuck y/n-“

“Don’t stop, keep going.” You began to bite at his skin, leaving small marks that would disappear pretty quickly. “Blessed art t-thou amongst wo- ahh…women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.” Mingi finally allowed his hands to rest at your waist, gripping tightly with each bite. “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us s-sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Amen.”

“Amen indeed, I can’t believe I have you all to myself Min. You sound so pretty under me. You’re already so hard for me, I think I should do something about that huh?” You laughed a little as Mingi began to nod very quickly, begging to feel something more. Moving off his lap you found a way to kneel in front of him. It was a little uncomfortable but such a small price to pay for what was in store. Mingi took a second to look at you, taking in how pretty you looked in front of him. He mindlessly reached for your cheek and smiled, knowing there was no going back once you started and he was okay with that.

You wasted no time and began to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants, biting your lip as you could see his print more and more. Lifting his hips Mingi helped you pull his boxers and pants down to his mid thigh, giving you more than enough access. Mingi was big. Bigger than most you’ve been with, you were determined to take all you were given. “Please…do something…” Looking up at him doe eyed you licked a stripe up his shaft, smiling as you finally got a taste of him.

Licking up his precum you took as much of him as you could, moaning and slightly gagging at how full your mouth was. Mingis hand quickly moved to hold onto one of the ponytails, bucking his hips at the sudden warmth. Your mouth felt amazing, he was sure he'd cum in no time if you kept it up.. “Your mouth feels better than I imagined fuck..” Mingi moaned, throwing his head back trying his best to keep as quiet as possible. The worst part is if someone walked in right now, he would care less. All his prayers were being answered right before him.

Tears ran down the side of you face as you let Mingi fuck your throat. He was a lot more rough than you imagined but damn did it turn you on. You let your hands travel between your legs, slipping into your underwear and inserting two fingers to fill yourself up more. Feeling so stretched out you let out a moan sending vibrations up Mingis cock. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Lord, please, please please forgive me.” Hearing him beg for forgiveness turned you on so much, inching close to your own release.

You sped up your pace, fingering yourself fast and sucking off Mingi even faster. Every cell in Mingis body felt like it was on fire; He's never felt this kind of pleasure before and hopes that this will never be the last. Mingi grabbed onto both your pigtails, practically hunched over your body. If anyone had walked in right this moment they would just think he was praying. “yn i-im cumming! im cumming oh—oh my god…thank you, thank y-you.”

Cumming down your throat felt amazing to Mingi. From your face stained with tears, spit, and cum; your legs sore and shaking from cumming so hard. You both stayed like that for a second, Mingi finally sitting back breathing heavily. You lifted off his cock, making sure you swallowed everything and taking a deep breath.

“You have a thing for being rough, it's hot. You should also be thanking me, I just gave you the best blowjob ever.” You smiled, moving to place the two fingers you used to fuck your self in Mingis mouth. “A small taste of what's to come. Literally.”

You laughed and used his legs to help you get up, sitting right next to him in the pew. “Y-you want to do this again?” Mingi asked, shocked since he has yet to catch his breath properly.

“I told you I can make you feel like a king for a day, or forever. I think we both want forever…unless I'm wrong?” You searched to see where your bag was, reaching into the pew behind you and pulling it into your lap and searching for wipes to clean you both up.

“No! I mean, you're not wrong…I would really like that,I just feel like I'm still dreaming…” Taking the wipe he was handed, he cleaned up any excess spit and around his thighs before pulling up his boxers and pants.

“Dream or not, I’m all yours Mingi. I’m heavily devoted to you.” He looked at you with so much awe and lust, wiping your stray tears and smiling softly.

“I’m more than willing to sin for you, dream and reality.” And he meant that, no amount of repentance will make up for it and he was okay with that.

“You should come over this weekend, My parents are gonna be out of town. We can see how devoted we are to each other, like the lord wants.” You spoke soft, moving to whisper into his ear before pulling back and giving him a quick peck. “See you soon Mingi, or should I say pastor Song.”

Mingi watched as you picked up your bag and waved bye with such a sinister grin, you truly were a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He sat there and thought back on everything he just experienced, chuckling at how lucky he just got.His prayers were definitely answered. Thanks God. He shook his head and moved to kneel down, folding his hands and bowing his head. Might as well get an early start right? “Hail Mary, forgive me, blood for blood, hearts beating…”

©️slyblonder

——————

a/n :I FINALLY DROPPED THIS FIC OMG!! Sorry i took so long yall, life started turning me every way but loose and then also starting a new job drained me. But enjoy I hope yall like it, if not also lmk you hate it🗿 okay byee love youu

tags:

@slvtiny @pandoora-the-pink-goth @pearltinyy

[livwritesstuff]

If you need incentive to write the 04 scene of Steve’s mom meeting Eddie, Moe, and Robbie, this is it. The image of Steve stepping in front of them??????? Astounding and I am all but begging you to share what was said — if, of course, you feel the inspiration and need that extra push to write it :)

truly anything for you

tbh this is basically an extension of the last part of this

“–Also, my mom is here.”

“What?” Eddie yelps, which, yeah, fair enough, all things considered. Steve’s been estranged from his parents for over a decade now, so it’s only natural for Eddie to be completely shocked finding out that his mom is here, in their home. 

“Well…y’know, I invited them,” Steve replies as he shifts the way he’s holding their eight-month-old daughter Robbie. 

It’s true – he had invited his parents to the party that he and Eddie are throwing today to celebrate…they’re celebrating a lot of shit, actually, because they’d had a pretty wild few months, but he’s invited them to all the important things over the years.

Before Eddie can respond, Moe wanders over and tugs on the hem of Eddie’s shirt as she says, “Daddy, look at ‘dis, Auntie Robin put a flower in my hair.”

“I mean yeah, duh, Steve,” Eddie finally says as he absently picks up Moe (being mindful of the daisy tucked behind her ear, of course), “I mean, you always…Steve, she’s here?”

“Yeah, she-uh, I dunno. She showed up. We – I sorta yelled at her, I think…”

Steve trails off as his eye catches on a familiar figure hovering by the front door – his mom, he knows, even with her back to him. She must feel his eyes on her, because she turns in their direction, and by then Eddie had realized that something was pulling Steve’s attention so he’s turning too, and then Steve’s mom and Eddie are standing face to face, and alarm bells are going off inside Steve’s head that he can’t really explain, but before he can dwell on it, he finds himself slipping into an old tendency to just blindly act, to protect the people he loves before all else. 

Steve takes a step forward.

Where before he’d been standing in line with Eddie, Steve steps forward, meets his mother with a steady gaze as he puts himself between her and his family.

His mother isn’t blind to this. Steve can see on her face the way she recognizes that step forward for what it was, because he’s got one foot planted firmly between Eddie’s own, and his shoulder is blocking Moe from view completely, and he’s angling himself in a way directs Robbie away too even if doing so hadn’t been a conscious decision, because it all makes crystal clear the kind of threat that Steve perceives his mom to be.

She blinks at him, lips slightly parted, and for a moment Steve finds himself feeling a little bad for her – but only for a moment, because she made her choices just like Steve’s father did, and now they all have to live with them.

Steve lives with those choices every day by being the parent he had needed as a child, and right now that means standing between the parents he did have and the family he has now

“Steve, I–” his mom starts, “I need to be going, but…I’d like to be introduced to your…if you’ll let me.”

She’s looking at Robbie (trying to, anyway), and it makes Steve wonder if she’d even be here today if he hadn’t sent his mother a card back in the spring of ‘02 announcing the adoption of Moe, if he hadn’t spent the years since then sending her updates about his kids. She wonders if she would have shown up at all if it was just him and Eddie.

Steve loves his kids with a kind of love he had never experienced before, but the same is true for Eddie. Sure, it’s a different kind of love, but no less big and no less important. There’s no way in hell Steve will be allowing his mother to pick and choose which parts of his life she gets to participate in. If she wants to know the girls, she goes through Eddie first. Non-negotiable.

Before Steve can say as much, Eddie adjusts his hold on Moe (still keeping her behind Steve, he notices) to free up a hand and hold it outstretched.

“Ed,” he says, and he follows it with, “Steve’s husband,” and Steve can hear the shit-eating grin on Eddie’s face without even needing to look, and he knows that he’s smiling too because he always does when Eddie calls himself Steve’s husband. Then he adds, “Can’t believe we’ve gone this long without an introduction.”

Steve’s mother introduces herself and shakes his hand (though she doesn’t seem to have anything to say to his second comment, Steve notes).

Satisfied (because, frankly, Steve couldn’t really have asked for anything more, all things considered), he finally shifts to the side to introduce his daughters.

“This is Moe,” he says, “Wanna say hi, Moe?”

But Moe has suddenly gone uncharacteristically shy (or maybe she senses the tension and is wisely choosing the side that’s kept her snuggled and fed her entire life – she’s smart like that), tucking her face away in the safety of Eddie’s shoulder. 

Steve watches as Eddie murmurs something in her ear, watches Moe nod even as her little arms twine a little tighter around his neck.

She raises her head and gives a cautious, “Hi,” (with maybe a bit more side-eye than necessary, but…whatever. Moe is who she is).

“Hello,” his mom replies, with a kind of smile on her face that Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen before (a real smile, maybe, but he won’t dwell on that). She gives Robbie a little wave, “And who’s this?”

“This is Robbie,” Steve says, running a hand over her curls, “Can you say hi, Beans?”

Robbie only blinks her big blue eyes, one of her little hands clenched around a bit of Steve’s hair at the nape of his neck.

“How ‘bout a wave?” he suggests, mimicking a wave for his youngest daughter, who parrots the motion in his mom’s direction.

“How old is she, again?” she asks as Steve presses a kiss onto Robbie’s chubby cheek. He knows he already told his mother this but, in fairness, it certainly wasn’t the most memorable part of their contentious conversation not too long earlier.

“Eight months last week,” Eddie answers proudly. He looks at Moe again, “And how old are you, bug? Are you…” he pauses, pretending to think. He looks at Steve, “I think she’s only two, right?”

“Oh, definitely,” Steve nods, pretending to be serious, “Definitely two more than anything else.”

“No-o, I’m more three!” she argues, her little brow furrowing (Steve knew it would – with Moe’s third birthday only a few weeks away, they’ve had many a conversation about how Moe thinks she deserves three-year-old privileges because she’s “more three than two”).

“That’s right, you turn three soon,” Eddie nods, “And we’re gonna throw a…what kind of party?”

“A butterfly party,” Moe finishes.

Steve looks back at his mom.

“You’re welcome to come, you know,” he says, and beside him, Eddie shifts a bit closer, his shoe nudging up against Steve’s, “Y’know, if you’re around. I can send you the info.”

He already sent it. He knows he already sent it, but if this is his mom’s way of extending her own olive branch, of taking the first steps in restoring the relationship with her son, he’ll send it again.

“Sure,” she replies, running a manicured hand through her hair, “We’ll…well, you know your father and his schedule – I’d thought he would have considered retiring by now but…” she pauses, then shakes her head, “Yes, I’d like the details.”

Steve nods, makes a mental note to send his mom the information (because, despite his defensiveness, he really does want her to be a part of his life, his kids’ and husband’s lives too).

She takes her leave only a minute or two later, and when she does, Eddie turns to face him.

“Holy shit, Steve,” he says, wide-eyed.

“I know,” he replies, slowly shaking his head.

“Dude, that was crazy, and we’re definitely gonna have to debrief on whatever the hell you guys talked about earlier, but can I just say you got so fuckin’ lucky that Robin didn’t realize she was here.”

Before Steve can respond, he hears an ominous voice behind him say, “Robin didn’t realize who was here?"

[wheneverfeasible]

WIP Word Game

Rules: You will be given a word. Share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

I will continue doing these every time I am tagged, no matter what. I love WIP games the most lol. This time, I was tagged by @scoops-aboy86 whose own fic I am so very much looking forward to reading.

My word was: URCHIN

🔞18+ content below, so as always, MDNI🔞

U

Unlike his former owner, Munson wasn’t an idiot. He couldn’t be to get to where he was now. An idiot would only get themselves killed. Case in point: Carmine “the Uber Dead Asshole” Porzio, gone and soon to be forgotten in the year of our father…Christ, whatever year it was nowadays.

From a so far untitled mafia au scene

R

Robin at least had the decency to wait until after he had dropped the kids off before grilling him for details. Of course, as soon as he mentioned joysticks she had covered her ears and loudly made sounds of disgust, telling him that never mind, she didn’t want to hear about his weird sex adventures after all.

From “Can’t Fight This Feeling” (I’ll finish this fic one of these days, I swear)

C

Christ, apparently all Steve had to do was bat his pretty brown eyes and flash his pink wet pussy for Eddie to fall all over himself about the dude. For his alpha to want to protect this exposed omega before him. That was annoying.

From “Ruin Me”

H

Harrington bared his teeth and growled. “Look, are you going to fuck me or not, Munson. I haven’t got all night.”

From “Ruin Me”

I

“I was also a favorite, sir,” Mona says, making Steve wonder what in the I-am-Spartacus hell was going on. Still, warmth and fondness for his girls spread through him quickly as he looked around and noticed every last one of them had bunched muscles indicating preparation for movement. For him.

From untitled mafia au scene

N

Now, thrown into the cold and damp cell below the pirate bastards’ deck, the knot at the back of his head from where his father had clobbered him still throbbed painfully.

From “Stranger Tides: The Pirate King and the Freak” chapter 2

We’ve got some wips repeats here, but goodness it’s getting harder and harder with some of these letters 😅 especially with longer words

Passing this along now with: QWERTY 😈

My hostage hotties to make them read everything I write: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump

No pressure participation tags: @fkinkindagauche @steddieassheg0es @estrellami-1 @eddiethebrave @augustjustice

I honestly keep forgetting who I’ve tagged before in these games so if I’ve already tagged you lol oops my bad 🤭 just pick what word you wanna do or do both of them muahahaha

[redsrooftopprincess]

Pumpkin Sugar (Part 3)

Raphael x GN!Reader - Established Relationship

Part 1 . Part 2 . Part 3 . Part 4 . Epilogue (🌶️ Fem!Reader)

Based on this ask by @gornackeaterofworlds

More of a question to expand on than a detailed request, but would raph help a teacher reader grade papers?? Would he get invested in gossip on the kids??

I was zoning out and somehow thought about elementary school teacher readers, coming back to the lair with papers to grade, Donnie getting angry over the lesson plans you have to use, etc. And then, like always, raph thoughts(I am unbelievably gushy to raph x lil sweet cheery readers) Being oh so sleepy tired but still having work to do. Grading papers, getting activities printed and cut, weekly plans. I'd like to imagine he helps to get you to sleep faster, all the while listening to the venty yapping about which kids are troublemakers

Special thanks to @the-cauldron-witch . The best brainstorming buddy I could honestly ask for. Could not have written this without you. 😁

You look out on the soccer pitch you've requisitioned for the experiment as you lead your students toward today's science lesson. In the middle of the field is a gigantic blue tarp, on which are two rows of folding tables, wrapped up in black contractor bags. The pumpkins are placed in a single row on the tables, facing in, beside which are gloves, glasses, and the usual "mad scientist" PPEs.

You make an annoyed, but amused face. You can tell which ones are Raph's and which are yours because you carved normal, boring Jack-o'-lanterns, and he made fucking works of art because OF COURSE HE DID. Jerk.

The kids are stoked. The moment you said "we're going outside for science today," they were ON BOARD. And the second they see the experiment set up they lost their god damn minds. These kids are awesome.

After a scramble to select the right pumpkins, which included more than one fight over Raph's, the kids pick their places along the outside of the tables and begin exploring their setups. It isn't long before someone exclaims, "Dude, I've got candy!"

There followed a chous of happy, "Me too!"s and "So did I!"s and you laugh when you realize what he did.

"Excuse me?" says a kid at your elbow, unsure.

"What's up?"

"I found this." She says, pulling a post-it with familiar handwriting on it out of a pumpkin carved with a witch, and you can't help the grin that splits your face. He's such a sap sometimes.

You unfold the note fully:

The day we met I fell under your spell, and I never want to wake up.

You grin. Between the candy and the note, you can't believe he did all of this just to be sweet. Ugh. Gross.

"Hey, I got a letter!" Says another little girl, pulling a yellow paper out of a pumpkin with a spray of candy carved all over one side of it, "it says... 'Just one sweet kiss from you is worth all the sour moments...' awwwwww..."

You walk over to her, and she hands you the note, "Who are these from?"

You chuckle as you read over the note, "My boyfriend," you say to a chorus of ooooooooOOOOOOOO, "he helped me with the pumpkins last night."

"Did he do the good ones?" Asks the little shit at the end of the row.

You give him a withering look, and then laugh. "Yes he did, and he really needs to stop showing me up in front of my class."

"I got one too!" a little boy holds up a yellow paper, victorious that he could participate. He jumps up and down behind a pumpkin carved with some kind of monster, "I got one! I got one!"

"Okay! Okay! Let's see it!" You say, matching his enthusiasm.

The kid hands the note over.

"What's it say?"

"Ooooooooo"

"Shut up!"

"What's it say?"

"Shh!"

"I may be a beast sometimes, but you will always be my beauty."

"AAAAAWWWWWWWWWW"

"EEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWW-UH"

Ugh. God. You hate him. Why does he have to make you all giddy and stupid when you're fully across town and can't see him for HOURS?

"Found one!" Shouts someone else.

Occasionally, he'll leave you little notes in your lunch bag, but nothing like this. He was sweet, romantic even, but this was above and beyond his normal. You remember your suspicions from last night / this morning, and briefly wonder if he's been replaced by an imposter.

They hand it to you, over a pumpkin with a cat on it, and your grin is replaced with a sigh and a begrudging chuckle.

Lemme get that (see pumpkin).

Nope. Yup. That's all Raph.

Silence surrounds you.

"Well?" says a little boy in the back.

"This one's private..."

"Oh come on!"

"Seriously?!"

"Awwwwww"

"Hey, I got one!" says another little girl, waving it in the air above her head and the haunted house pumpkin.

There is silence as you take it from her.

"You'll always be my home. No matter how scary (shit) things get(s)." You grin and laugh, head in you hand. Eight-year-olds, Raph. They're fucking eight-year-olds.

There is a chorus of both delight and disgust. Once it dies down you look around at your students and huff out a deep breath, "HO-kay, are there any more notes?" You look up and down the row of pumpkins.

At the end, a kid with messy blond hair looks a bit uncomfortable.

"Avery? Did you find something?"

"No..." he says, unconvincingly.

You walk over to him and hit him with your "teacher look."

"Avery...?"

"I found something..." He admits, "but I want it," he whines, "it's my mom's birthday tomorrow and it's really pretty and I want to give it to her."

*Pretty...?*

...

After you left Raphael went to put the ring away before anything else could almost happen to it. When he reached into his pocket and found it empty, ice cold dread crashed over him.

No.

Oh no.

He looks around at the foam disaster that is the living room. It's in there. Somewhere. He dropped it and he'll find it while he's cleaning up and it'll be fine. Please let it be fine.

After meticulously picking up every piece of foam, every candy wrapper, and essentially tidying the living room from top to bottom, there was still no ring.

He storms into the lab.

"It's gone."

Donnie, who jumps, startled, as some hardware scatters across the floor, "Huh? What? What's gone?" He asks.

"The ring!" Raph yells, pacing, "the ring's gone!"

"Okay, breathe, when did you have it last?" Donnie asks, setting his current project aside.

"This morning. I just took it out to look at when I - " a look of horror comes over him, "the pumpkins. It must have fallen into one of the damn pumpkins."

"Okay, don't panic, the odds of something like that happening are... not fantastic." It wasn't a lie, technically, but conditions that would need to be met were pretty specific. And, while, yes, the chances are definitely quite a bit more than zero, his brother didn't need to know that.

Donnie places a stabilizing hand on Raphael's shoulder, and steers Raphael out of the lab, and back into the living room.

"Maybe it rolled under something," Donnie suggests. casually lifting the couch to check under it. Raphael does the same with the recliner and moves the coffee table to check under the rug.

On his way to check under the entertainment center, he brushes by Mikey, without a word.

"Rearranging?" Mike asks, brightly.

Raph ignores him.

"What's his problem?" He asks Donnie, making a face, and gesturing over his shoulder.

"He lost the ring."

"What ring?"

"Y/N's engagement ring."

"YOU'RE GETTING ENGAGED???" His excited screech ricochets of the walls.

"Jesus, Mike, I don't think they heard you in Jersey. Yes. Maybe. I don't know how I'm gonna ask her yet. Could you HELP?" He says, getting on his hands and knees to check under the entertainment center with his phone.

Mike immediately jumps in to help as Leo's bedroom door opens. He walks across the landing and places his hands on the banister, looking out over the living room.

"Did I... hear what I think I heard?" Asks the eldest terrapin.

"That depends, what did you think you heard?" asks Mikey, looking up at him.

"Something about Raph getting engaged...?"

"Oh... Then, yes." Says Mikey, returning to the search.

He nods, accepting this, it was bound to happen eventually. "So, what's going on... here?" He gestures to the living room.

"Raph lost the ring," Don says over his shoulder without looking up.

"Ah." He says, nodding, fighting the amused smile. He knows that Raph could ask you with a ring out of a 25¢ machine, and you'd still say yes.

Jumping the railing, he lands on the floor below, before scanning the lower level of the lair, "Well, what's it look like?"

...

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo

....

Part 1 . Part 2 . Part 3 . Part 4 . Epilogue (🌶️ Fem!Reader)

[epinebleue]

for him (m) | 02

after a year abroad, you think summer back home can’t get any better. then, a charming ginger boy catches your eye.

pairing: nakamoto yuta x reader (female)

genre: rich kids!au, fluff, angst, mature.

warnings: mention of low self-esteem and racism.

chapter index | previous chapter | next chapter

Every summer, Jennifer’s parents spend two weeks in France to celebrate what they call their “annual honeymoon”.

Every summer, Jennifer throws a pool party while they’re away.

You’re supposed to be at her place at 10 AM to help her prep the space, but having stayed up late the night before, the annoying sound of the alarm does little to wake you up in the morning, Oliver doing so, instead.

You step into Jen’s patio exactly two hours later. She clicks her tongue at you, as if saying: “Finally!”.

Through the dark lenses of your sunglasses, you glance at her body as she approaches. The beautiful baby blue bikini she’s wearing fits her like a glove, as if it had been tailored with her in mind.

You’re used to feeling insecure whenever you’re around Jen. You know you shouldn’t, but you do.

It’s been this way since middle school, when one day the boys in your class rated the girls’ bodies from 1 to 10 on a piece of paper. You came second to last, while Jen’s name sat comfortably in first place.

“I know, I know.” You let out a sigh, allowing Jen to give you a tight hug. “I’m sorry.”

Johnny and Sooyoung wave at you from inside the pool and you wave back, walking to where the rest of your friends are. Wendy, who was sunbathing, sits beside you under the parasol. Victoria gets out of the pool and joins the group soon after.

Once settled on the lounger, you scan the space. Ten and Lucas are sitting on the edge of the pool with sunglasses on, swinging their legs in the water, immersed in what seems an intense conversation. Sooyoung and Johnny splash around as they try to drown each other, much to Yuta’s annoyance, who finds their game an obstacle to what he really wants: swim in peace.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but then, the switch in your mind flips: someone’s missing.

“Hey, where’s Chris?”

There’s a moment of silence where Wendy takes a sip of her lemonade, eye-siding Jen. “They argued yesterday.”

Your brunette friend looks away, missing your surprised expression. “Again?”

Chris’ parents are family friends, so you’ve known him for as far as you can remember. However, you had never interacted much until he became Jennifer’s first serious boyfriend.

Being an only child, Chris is expected to inherit his family’s wealth and business. If he’s famous for something, though, that’s his looks. You must admit he’s drop dead gorgeous. Of course, Jen wouldn’t settle for less.

Soon after they started dating, you realized that having a handsome partner had its drawbacks. Jennifer would whine in your group chat every week about how hard it was to stand girls checking him out, how some would go as far as to sneak papers with their phone numbers when she wasn’t looking.

Even if Chris politely rejected their approaches every time, Jennifer started to gradually get sick of the whole situation until, one day, it exploded.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“He’s a Greek statue come to life, Jen, of course he will be hit on!” Wendy says. “You’ve got to learn to cope.”

Jen rolls her eyes at Wendy’s words, a sign she’s getting angry.

“On what side are you on, exactly?”

“We aren’t picking sides.” You try to mediate, making a gesture to your blonde friend, asking for her sun cream. Having prepared your bag in a rush, you must’ve left yours at home. “I know it’s hard to watch people flirt with him all the time. But Wendy has a point, too. Being good-looking isn’t his fault, you know?”

You end your statement with a glance in Victoria’s direction, but the girl doesn’t say a word. She’s the type to not participate in debates like this.

“Exactly!” Wendy agrees, pointing at you. “Besides, he always rejects those advances. He would never hurt your feelings on purpose, Jen. He’s literally the sweetest boy I’ve ever met.”

“Talking about me, I see.”

You turn around to find Yuta standing behind you, soaked from head to toe. A water drop on the tip of his hair falls on his shoulder and you follow it as it slides down his chest and reaches his happy trail.

You fan yourself. Good thing it’s hot today. Otherwise, what would you blame the fire in your belly on? 

Jen chuckles as Yuta sits next to her, seeking protection from the aggressive sun. “Humble as always.”

“I thought I was the nicest boy you’ve ever met.” He shoves her with his shoulder, smiling. You’ve got the urge to look away. The fire in your belly is quickly replaced by an unsettling feeling you’re familiar with.

“After Chris.” Victoria finally speaks. “If that makes you feel better.”

“Not really, but I’ll get over it.” Yuta shrugs. “How come you’re still dry? It’s a pool party, ladies, come on!”

All your friends stand up, encouraged by his words and the terrible heat, and start walking to the pool. Except you. When Yuta notices, he gestures to you to join them.

“I’m not done.” You say, shaking the suncream bottle in the air.

“I’ll wait for you, then.”

“It’s fine.” He sits exactly where he was a few seconds ago. “Just go with the others.”

“Some more time in the shade never hurts.”

“So that’s why you’re here.” You find it hard to hide the disappointment in your tone. “You’ve fooled me. I thought you were a gentleman.”

Yuta leans back, his abs flexing as he speaks. He’s got such a tiny waist, adorned by a tattoo of a butterfly. You wonder if it carries any meaning.

“Oh, but I am.”

“I don’t believe it.” You finish extending the cream on your left arm. “You’ve hung around Ten for too long.”

“Other people’s personalities don’t change mine. I’m not Lucas.”

“Hey, don’t be mean to him.” You’re aware of the bad reputation that precedes Lucas. A drunk heart-to-heart conversation that happened before you went abroad helped you realize Lucas uses his behavior as a mask to hide his numerous insecurities. In a way, you can relate to that. Besides, being the youngest of five successful siblings makes him subject to his parents’ expectations, which tend to be unrealistic. And his brothers, far from supportive, are entitled assholes, straight-up bullies. No wonder he feels he has to act all tough to be taken seriously. “He’s a good kid.”

“Sorry, are we talking about the same person?” You’re about to defend Lucas again, but upon watching you struggle to apply the cream on your back, Yuta interrupts you before you can talk. “Do you need a hand?”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ll get sunburnt there, anyway.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Yuta grabs the bottle and sits right behind you, deaf to your words. At his insistence, you reach for your hair with trembling hands. Before you can even move it aside, he does so, his fingers brushing your back in the process.

You hold your breath at the sound of the cream coming out of the bottle. And then, his hands are on you.

You think your heart will jump out of your mouth and start running around the patio.

His warm palms delicately rub the cream into your skin, and you hope he doesn’t notice the goosebumps that bloom when he reaches the small of your back.

God, you’re so touch-starved it’s embarrassing.

You wonder if you’re tripping when Yuta takes a little longer to massage your shoulders. Trying to focus on anything else, your eyes land on Jen, who has joined Lucas and Ten by the edge of the pool. The bikini lets her flat stomach on display. Unconsciously, you suck in yours. She places her hair behind her shoulders as she laughs at something that Ten says.

Even her laugh sounds beautiful, everything about her is!

That must be why Yuta likes her so much.

You stand up, getting as far away from his hands as possible.

“I think that will do.” You say, eyes fixed on the floor, aware of how much you’ve just embarrassed yourself. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing.” His tone remains normal, but if you had looked at him, you would’ve seen him frown at the sudden mood change. Yuta leaves the bottle on the chair and follows you to the pool.

“About time you stopped playing handsies back there.”

You simply lift your middle finger at Ten, quickly making your way towards the staircase, hoping the water will hide your body from the rest.

It’s close to midnight and you’re on the verge of begging your parents to leave.

You’re celebrating the promotion of someone you don’t even know; drinking alcohol-free champagne, which you don’t even like that much; and bored Robinson Crusoe level.

Oliver and Noa left the moment they found their friends. Oli had invited you to join them, but you kindly refused, knowing that you would feel like a babysitter around his friends.

So, here you are, glued to your parents’ side, forced to listen to important conversations with important people, interested in neither.

Why have you been forced to come if your presence isn’t even going to be acknowledged? Your dad said it would be rude not to attend after a year abroad. What you understood was that they wanted to show you off, and the party seemed to be the perfect occasion.

You gulp the remains of your drink and leave the empty glass on the nearer table. You open your mouth, about to ask when you will be heading out when your dad’s name comes from the crowd.

“Jonathan!” He exclaims in surprise, shaking the hand of the man that appears in front of him. “Natalie! I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Well, we didn’t know you were coming!” Natalie, or what you call her out of respect, Mrs. Fulger, kisses your mother’s cheeks before addressing you. “You’re back from your trip! How was it, darling?”

You deliver a polite smile to the Fulgers, saying how the trip was “absolutely fantastic” and “a truly enriching experience.”

“You must be proud of her.” Mr. Fulger tells your parents, placing his big hand on his son’s shoulder. “Chris will take a gap year after graduating. One last taste of freedom before joining the company.”

The Fulger marriage laughs and your parents join them, and in less than a minute you’re back to being ignored, business taking over the conversation. You awkwardly stand beside your mom until you decide it’s enough.

“I’ll get something to drink.” You excuse yourself. “I’ll be back.”

“Chris will be enchanted to go with you.”

His father pushes him forward slightly. Chris gives you his signature charming smile before saying: “Of course.”

You make your way towards the bar immersed in an awkward silence. Of all people, you had to bump into him.

“Are you liking this party so far?” 

“I’m bored to death.”

“Me too.” You tap the bar counter with your long nails, laughing at his honest answer. “How’s life going?”

“Good, it’s good.” He looks around, playing with the glass he’s holding. “I’m in the training process to start working in my father’s company. He wants me to get familiar with the business and its processes before stepping in.”

There’s nothing worse than inheriting a position in a family business, but that’s just your opinion.

“You must be excited.”

“I am, yeah.” Chris nods, taking a sip of his drink. Even if you’re both trying hard to ignore the elephant in the room, Chris gives in first. “Have you talked to Jennifer, by the way?”

“She’s my best friend, Chris.”

He gives you a half-smile, only realizing now how stupid his question must’ve sounded.

“She won’t return my calls or my texts. She has blocked me on every social media, she doesn’t even want to see me! I don’t know where we stand right now.”

You’re not sure of what to answer, afraid you may say the wrong thing. One thing you know, though, is that even if you’ll always be loyal to Jen, you must admit she’s handling this whole thing terribly wrong.

“I’m sure it sucks.”

Chris genuinely laughs for the first time tonight.

“Yeah, a little.” You laugh at his irony-filled tone, too, and the atmosphere feels much lighter now. “Relationships are so fucking complicated. Don’t ever get into one.”

“I’ll be fine.” You say, taking a sip of the drink the waiter has just served you. “It’s not like there’s a long line of men dying to date me.”

“Now, that’s surprising.” 

Much to your delight, he’s too invested in his problem to notice how the blood has rushed to your cheeks.

A certain someone comes to your mind and with him a question you’re dying to ask.

“Please, don’t take this the wrong way.” Chris straightens his back, shoving a hand into the pocket of his suit pants, nodding. “Have you and Jen argued due to a… third person?”

It’s just like when people yell at a character to not go into the room where the killer awaits. But it’s just you in the cinema, screaming at yourself to stop talking.

“Of course not! What the fuck?” Chris’ blue eyes open wide in shock as he reaches for his phone. “Did she tell you that? Does she think I’m cheating?”

“No, Chris.” You place a hand on his arm in an attempt to stop him from texting Jen, who will murder you if she finds out you have planted a new suspicion in Chris’ mind. “God, I’m so stupid, I’m sorry. It was just a question! I swear-”

“Hey.”

You aren’t sure if you should celebrate or bury a hole in the floor and hide when Yuta appears out of thin air, his eyes falling on Chris’ arm, where your hand is. You quickly move it away, which is exactly what is needed to make everything look suspicious.

“Hi.” Chris greets, not interested in Yuta’s presence at all. His head is elsewhere now that you’ve completely fucked up. “I’m leaving, I need to call her.”

Chris disappears in the crowd before you have the chance to say goodbye, leaving you behind with Yuta, who raises an eyebrow at you.

“Um, what was that?”

Whatever he’s insinuating offends you terribly. Do you look like the type to steal your best friends’ guys?

“That was nothing.” You snap. “He’s Jen’s boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend.”

“It’s a rough patch, they’ll end up getting back together.”

“Hopefully, they won't.” Your heart drops at his remark, but Yuta’s too busy looking in the direction Chris has disappeared, resting an elbow on the bar. “I hate that guy.”

Chris has always seemed kind and very down to earth. You wonder what could he have possibly done to gain Yuta’s resentment. To that question, you’ve got a theory. And you’d hate being right.

“I think he’s nice.”

“Oh, you think he’s nice?” Yuta snorts at your words. “You don’t know him that well at all, then.”

Yuta glances around the room, which allows you to scan him for a while. He looks really handsome in a suit. He reminds you of those vintage Hollywood stars.

“Why do you hate Chris? Is it because you like Jennifer?”

The question shocks you both. Again, you’re alone in the cinema begging yourself to just shut the fuck up.

“What?” He lets out a laugh of disbelief. “What does Jen have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know...”

“Oh, you do know. What have you seen that made you think that?”

Congratulations! You’ve just dug your own grave.

“Nothing in particular.” You answer, shrugging. “You seem to get along really well, now you hate her boyfriend...”

“First of all, I don’t like Chris because he’s a racist piece of shit. And I get along really well with Johnny, too. Do you think I want to fuck him, too?”

You can feel the color draining from your face.

“I don’t know what you like.”

If there’s something you’ve learned about Yuta, it’s that he’s the straightforward type. He’s unbothered and an expert when it comes to turning around the conversation to make it beneficial for him. He’s something like a mastermind, you’d say.

“Do you like me?”

“What?!” You shriek, trying to hide your shaky voice with a laugh. “Absolutely not.”

“Why then would you ask me about Jen?” Yuta presses, tilting his head to the side. “Are you jealous?”

“I’m not! I was just curious!”

“You’re full of shit.” You’d be lying if you said you don’t find his smirk insanely attractive. “Just so you know, I wouldn’t mind. I would be very glad, actually.”

It’s at this point that your head starts spinning.

You see, you have never been confident. Out of the friend group, you’ve always been the shiest one. You don’t smile in pictures because you think your smile is ugly, and you don’t wear tight clothes because you hate your body.

You have had a single relationship in your life, at sixteen, and it crushed your self-esteem even further. A promise to yourself was made after that: no one would put you through that hell again.

Is that what Yuta is playing at? Making you believe he likes you just to laugh in your face once you take the bait?

He had seemed genuine when he defended you the night you met. Had it just been to give a good first impression?

You hold your purse tight, hold your head high.

“I hope the rest of your night goes well, Yuta.”

And you walk away with your dignity intact.

No reposting or translations allowed.

© epinebleue 2023

[britishassistant]

The collectivel group of Yuus (an Exasperation of Yuus?) have been put through the wringer lately, might I suggest pranks at the expense of villainous embarrassment?

(Corvid Prompts is a writing prompt blog that has a lot of Hero/Villain/Vigilante story ideas. Many of which encourage writers to break out of a typical plot for such genres. I got this idea from them.)

Since they all work under the same League, what petty pranks would the villainous groups pull on each other for the hell of it?

Who would send a goat (or other farm animal) to another hide out to as a reminder to an unfortunate (but funny) goat related incident that happened in the past?

Another incident where during another League thing out of town/country where a pair (from different groups) had to pretend to be married to get out of a mess? What jokes are made for the lack of "wedding" and subsequent "divorce"?

Who fills the entire lair of a villain with plastic balls as disproportionate retribution for taking the last muffin?

You don't need to write anything, but just imagine the insanity? Can you imagine Yuu in any form just exasperated?

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

Well, Poison Queen’s already pulled the “prank” of attempted love potioning, though that did backfire rather spectacularly on him. Epel would like to say he’s good at pulling them, but Vil’s usually easily able to avoid them. He’s had much more luck with the other rookie minions though!

Rook pulls a prank every time he says he’ll fight White Neige.

Royal Flush would never be caught dead indulging in something as puerile as a prank!… But if he makes the appropriate suggestions to his minions and just so happens to leave plans for them around? Well. He can hardly control everything they do, now can he?

Ace and Deuce are the best at following those and tag teaming to ensure they work, while Trey and Cater specialize in innovating to cover any potential pitfalls. Ace also pulls pranks on Deuce and the rest of Heartslabyul regularly, but woe betide him when his seniors decide that he’s had enough fun, and team up with Deuce for some payback.

Leona loves stealing whatever he can get his hands on from his rival supervillains. If they have it, he wants it, for no other reason than ruining their day when they realize it’s missing. Unsurprisingly, “whatever he can get his hands on” usually ends up being “Yuu the Reporter”.

Ruggie has a very similar mindset, in that he’ll only pull a prank if there’s something physical he gets out of it in return. Usually food.

Jack will not mastermind pranks, because he is a Good Boi. Doesn’t mean he won’t join in on one someone else has thought up.

Azul considers himself too professional to “pull a prank” as the kids say, but he will gladly point Jade and Floyd at his inconveniences dear colleagues and watch the sparks fly.

Floyd has an abiding fondness for large quantities of anything small, plastic, and loud. Jade prefers noxious, brightly colored substances that are a pain to wash out of clothing or architecture.

Kalim is the master of accidental pranks! He genuinely doesn’t mean to get people soaking wet or make their food too spicy or tea too sweet! But if everyone is laughing, he’ll laugh with them!

Jamil doesn’t do pranks. Jamil does retaliation.

One of the small joys of Idia’s life is getting one over on these Luddite normies. If he just wants a quick pick me up, a virus that constantly plays an annoying song on loop or hides files is always a fun way to spend the day. If he’s feeling vindictive, mass ordering insects or livestock to be sent to their lairs is an old favorite.

Ortho will also gleefully participate in his Nii-san’s pranks!! They’re so fun!! However, if Idia hasn’t gotten enough nutrients or fresh air recently, Ortho’s not above pulling a prank or two of his own…

Malleus once tried to prank a NRC conference by balancing a bucket of water on the doorframe. He had no way of knowing that Yuu was going to be sneaking in to eavesdrop and would end up getting drenched.

Lilia isn’t allowed to prank anyone anymore. Not when his pranks verge on the level of psychological warfare.

It’s very, very rare, but Silver occasionally pulls pranks by falling asleep somewhere inconspicuous and summoning inconvenient wildlife to his location. No one ever suspects he can do it on purpose.

Sebek has tried to pull pranks before. He gets too impatient and always accidentally spoils it before the payoff.

Jade and Trey have had to fake getting engaged at least once in order to avoid getting found out as minions during a Fae Incorporated(TM) sponsored gala.

Trey has also had to pretend he was married to Rook in order to maintain cover at another, completely separate event.

Jade and Rook like to tease poor Trey about his “infidelity”. Floyd once tried to beat up Trey for his brother’s honor.

Trey still isn’t quite sure whether he was serious or not.

[papastarion]

Papastarion Headcanons Pt. 3

Uh-oh! She’s at it again! (But you’re here, too, so what does that say about you, hm? 😂) This one feels very long and just as indulgent as all the others, so strap in.

•Their kids as a collective are affectionately known as “the Brood.”

•In my canon, they have four boys and one girl by the time they’re finished having children, on top of their two adopted daughters. So far, I’ve named three of the boys. In order: Nero, Eldritch (“El”), and Apolinary (“Arry”), Their last biological child is their third daughter: Phaedra (“Phae.”) I’ve got one more boy left to name, but I’m being indecisive. :)

•Naming the kids is a group effort. They’ll take input from literally anyone. Astarion even asked Petras once. (Never again.) They didn’t think they’d make it this far, they didn’t discuss baby names or dream them up before there were babies to be named. Thea’s wanted kids her whole life, assumed she would never get the chance, and never once had a single name ready to go just in case. She thought it would come to her when the time came. (Spoilers, babe: it did not.)

•Gale is not allowed participating in any naming discussions after suggesting Telemachus for their first child. He considers this a fair point in hindsight. He gets to keep his uncle privileges, though, and he loves all his honorary nieces and nephews just as much as the other members of their little troupe do.

•Karlach (once her engine’s fixed) thinks they should all be named Karlach. When it seems impossible to agree on a name or come up with one at all, it is very tempting.

•Astarion and Thea didn’t expect it to be possible to have any biological children, but once they adopt the girls, and then when Nero comes along, they both discuss what they would like their family to look like. Astarion strikes me as an only child, and Thea came from a very messed up family dynamic (Bhaal aside), and they mutually agree they wouldn’t mind having a bigger family, if it works out. (“Your eyes? My hair? Our genetics would be lethal, love.”)

•For all the hassle, they always manage to land on the perfect name, in Astarion’s very unhumble opinion. And for all the hassle, too, he wouldn’t trade those nights where Thea can’t sleep because she’s thinking too much or can’t get comfortable where they’ll nestle up together and talk over their options while feeling this poor person they can’t name move around.

•They didn’t want to name their kids after anyone, either. There are precious few people between them who deserve that honor, and they mutually agree it feels right to give their children names unencumbered by any legacy.

•Astarion’s parents are very much alive in my mind. For personal context: his father is a high elf and his mother is a wood elf, bit of a star-crossed thing going on with their backgrounds. His father is a highly-esteemed magistrate named Gildersleeve but he goes by Sly, his mother is a woman named Orianna who loves nothing more than playing high society while the nobility of Baldur’s Gate are scandalized by her. After Astarion’s death, they both became very withdrawn from social activity, though Sly continued his council duties. They never thought they would know what happened to their son after his murder, let alone that he would come home to them again, married, and that they would be grandparents in the not too distant future.

•They dote on their grandchildren, adopted and blood alike. There’s no difference to them. More than once, Sly has walked into a day of legal work with a six month old dhampir on his hips because Thea and Astarion needed a babysitter, and what’s he going to do? Not spend time with one of his grandkids? Not Gildersleeve.

•Astarion has learned how to do hair over the course of his life and unlife. He would do his sisters’ after Cazador’s torment left their hands shaking and unable to properly finesse their braids back into place before entertaining a new guest. He picked up even more styles from Thea and their first adopted daughter along their little tadpole adventure. So, of course, he helps take care of his kiddos hair, too. There are full on (affectionate) fights about who can do it the best.

•Obviously not one for rules or social standards, Astarion is absolutely there for each labor and delivery. He doesn’t like seeing Thea in pain (anymore), but her discomfort outweighs his own. He and Thea are partners, equals in all things. The very least he can do for her is be by her side, if she wants him there (and she absolutely does), and the rest of the world can be damned. It’s a stupid “rule,” in his opinion, anyway.

•He watches all five kids come into this world he had a small hand in saving, and he’s grateful everyday that some trick of fate found him deserving of such an honor. He’ll always have his scars and his nightmares, but every last night spend under Cazador’s thumb is a little more distant any time he holds little Nero, and when he gets to teach El how to read, and when Mina laughs, when Thea asks for his hand so he can feel one kick. They’re all priceless to him, worth every terrible night.

•On a lighter note to end this one: Astarion is the one who patches up any clothes that get torn in the throes of playing (or teething.) He likes to put little inscriptions in hems for the kids to find, because he’s turned into a sentimental and mushy fool, and he doesn’t mind a bit.

[oswaldsleftbicep]

Hey,how are you? I know that you're not very atm but i saw that you had 0 asks so I thought I'd leave one here for when you come back :)

I'd like to know your headcanons about them boys in a human high school, since we already got the college hcs

anyways, take ur time and i hope you will feel better <3

the boys as high schoolers

omg this was so fun to think about lol also you're so sweet :,) i am doing a lot better, just trying to push myself back into getting my life back together again

genre: crack, unintentional angst

cw: american high school, language, mention of sex

Lucia

❧ deffo in the popular crowd, the one with the preppy boys and girls who are also all involved in a sport, throughout all four years of high school

❧ he gave off the vibes that he would be kinda stuck up and would laugh at you behind your back, but he was actually one of the nice ones, albeit just a tad bit insensitive

❧ played a sport, maybe something like lacrosse or basketball, and was the captain of his team in his last year of high school. he'd also been on the team since he was a freshman, spiking his popularity immensely

❧ his favorite class was probably chemistry, because of the experiments, or gym, because it was easy

❧ his language arts teacher loathed him because he just could not understand any of the books they assigned. he would always take things too literally or say "it's not that deep, bro" to the teacher's face lmao

❧ he and his friends would sit to the side of the class, never up front but not quite in the very back, and this mf would always be making some kind of noise, either tapping his pencil or running his mouth-- at least he was kinda funny

❧ he was on grade level for most of his classes, except for being in honors sciences beginning his second year. he managed to graduate with a 3.1 gpa!!

❧ went to all the dances and formals, and he won prom king his senior year, although the girl he went with wasn't even nominated for prom queen awkward

❧ he honestly had one of the biggest glow ups, but like personality wise. when he was a freshman he was obnoxious and running through the halls and bothering people with rude jokes, but then he got diagnosed with adhd, got meds, and learned a bunch of coping strategies that calmed him down and made him a better student and friend

❧ picked on levy in the halls every chance he took, and if it weren't for the teachers, he would've picked on him some more in the classes they shared. he would've done the same with mefy, but his youngest brother always seemed to evade him somehow

❧ had a petty rivalry with mikael, and was pretty good friends with ricardo in that they always got into shenanigans together

Levy

❧ straight-a student and valedictorian the year he graduated :,) you bet your ass lucia was cheering so loud for him during his speech

❧ volunteered in the school library all four years, but especially so in his senior year when he had a bunch of free periods. anytime he had free time or it was study hall, he'd go to the library

❧ valued comfort in terms of his outfits but he also wanted to look put together, so he'd always be in a sweater or nice shirt with dark jeans or casual dress pants

❧ had a small group of friends that consisted of people he'd have multiple classes with or was in clubs with, but he also spent a decent amount of time with mefy and kaim

❧ speaking of clubs, he was in the book club all four years of high school as well as participating in the debate club. he was also in several honors societies and acted as a peer tutor, and you bet he was decorated as hell during graduation

❧ wanted so bad for his school to have an equestrian team, which they didn't because what kind of school has that, so he joined a local team instead, which got a few snobby popular kids to tease him for being "a horse girl"

❧ he liked all of his classes, although is favorites were history and english; his least favorite was gym, hands down. he would always be doing the bare minimum and coming up with excuses to get out of the more intense sports

❧ didn't go to any of the typical high school events like dances or games because he thought he was above all that, but he was really just too anxious

❧ he played an instrument in his first year of high school, something he carried over from middle school, but he just got too busy for it and it was no longer a priority. he either played viola or some shit like the oboe

❧ his teachers at the start of every year would see his last name and get filled with dread like "oh no not another one" but they then visibly relaxed when they realized he wasn't anything like lucia

❧ was in a lot of above grade level classes, which eventually led him to be in the same class as lucia a few times. levy thought it was so embarrassing and tried to sit as far away from lucia and his friends as possible. lucia has tried to get levy to do his homework before lol

Mefy

❧ he was an enigma to like ninety five percent of the school; he barely associated with anyone, always stuck to himself, wouldn't linger in one place for very long, and no one could find him during free time

❧ this unfortunately led him to be labeled as the "school shooter kid," which never bothered him but his brothers would be livid at hearing anyone call their baby brother that awful thing

❧ he had like two close friends and spent a lot of time with levy, and he was also close with the psychology/sociology teacher, whom he would eat lunch with every day for his last two years of high school. he liked that they never seemed to mind his deep, somewhat worrying questions about life and the human psyche

❧ his first year he stuck with levy in the cafeteria for lunch, then his second year he'd steal lucia's student id to eat outside in the senior courtyard

❧ he was a brilliant student, but he hardly ever participated in class and didn't put in more effort than he needed to which lowkey brought his grades lower than they could have been. his phych/soc teacher was the only one who noticed this and talked to him about it, which earned them his respect

❧ his favorite classes were psychology, sociology, and computer science, in that order. he was okay with the other classes, but refused to take any that would draw attention to himself, like theater or music

❧ he faked a doctors note that got him out of gym and levy was so salty about it. so all he ended up doing for that semester was walking laps lmao

❧ he joined the debate club with levy, but solely for the purpose of arguing with people and being able to get under their skin and gaslight them without serious repercussion. the advisor for the club knew what was up but genuinely did not care enough to stop him

❧ for his foreign language credit, he probably took something less popular like german or latin, and he'll just be saying shit in that language to lucia while levy snickers in the background

❧ he came up with the senior prank for his class and everyone loved it and immediately had a change of heart for him like, "man maybe this kid wasn't so bad." the prank ended up being a little too much for the principal, who demanded to know whose idea it was, but nobody snitched

❧ ...which made him feel just a little bit bad for hacking the school's grade system and changing everyone's grades to a d it got fixed don't worry

Oswald

❧ the american football coach tried so hard to get him on the team, but oswald didn't trust himself to go through with it because of his anger issues. he also didn't know if he could keep his grades up enough to stay on the team

❧ also kind of a loner, but in that he didn't really have anyone who he was close with at all. he hung out with noel the most, and lucia and kaim every so often, but for the most part he walked the halls alone

❧ he was a part time babysitter all four years of high school, and all four years he worked for kurt's family, and he brought that kid to watch every football game the school had

❧ he was a below average student, graduated with a 2.8 and had to retake algebra 1 his freshman year. he had to get a tutor for pretty much every general subject, especially for language arts his handwriting and essay skills are atrocious

❧ the one subject he never had to get help in though was science. earth and space, biology, chemistry, somehow even physics he always excelled in. physics was a bit of a struggle for him because of how much math is in it, but at the time kurt really wanted to be an astronaut and oswald was willing to learn physics to help him achieve that goal

❧ by the time oswald graduated, kurt no longer wanted to be an astronaut :,) rip

❧ he found out about the votech program and enrolled his junior year. he joined the agriculture one and fell in love with it, setting up an easy career path for him to go on as soon as he graduated

❧ he joined the environmental club starting his second year and managed to convince the principal to start a student garden! oswald spent pretty much all of his free time taking care of the garden, making sure it was watered and weeded

❧ he was so close to being able to join the science national honors society, but his gpa was just under the minimum requirement :(

❧ which meant that he didn't have any chords or anything during graduation which is nothing to be ashamed of, but he was kinda hard on himself about the snhs thing, so little eight year old kurt made him an honor chord by messily finger crocheting a row of chain stitches out of neon green yarn :,)

❧ he wore it with pride and anyone who'd ask about it would swoon at the answer, "my kid brother made it for me"

❧ he was low-key a heart throb in his school, but solely for his tall, dark, and handsome appearance. anyone who tried to ask him out or confess immediately found out that he's kinda clueless and not at all the bad boy they thought he was lmao

Kaim

❧ he was absolutely that mf who wore a suit to school every day. he'd go "casual" on friday by wearing a cashmere sweater and some dress pants

❧ his mom is friends with the brothers' mom, so he was close with all of them growing up but more so because his mom told him to "look out for them," knowing he was the only one out of all of them who had any real sense

❧ he was lowkey the therapist friend but on a more crisis intervention scale than a "do u need to vent" scale. he called lucia out several times for his shenanigans, kept mefy from becoming a bully, and talked oswald down from a lot of near spirals

❧ his favorite class was consistently language arts and he could write one persuasive ass essay, which helped him a lot in history, too. his least favorite class he had to take was computer science; no matter what he did, he just could not get his code to work and it nearly cost him his flawless gpa lmao

❧ speaking of gpa, he maintained honor roll throughout the entirety of high school, and graduated with a 4.0. he was above grade level in all his classes but refused to take ap classes, claiming they were a waste of time and money they are

❧ he favored his electives a lot more than his general classes. he low-key thrived in home economics, and the teacher convinced him to take the culinary class starting his junior year and got him enrolled in the field experience for culinary arts in his senior year

❧ he absolutely was an orchestra kid and had been playing the cello since fourth grade, earning him first chair by the time he was a junior. he also played the piano and helped out with school musicals and talent shows by playing the piano for songs if it required live music

❧ he earned a decent amount of chords for graduation: honors society for language arts, culinary club, orchestra, honor roll. he now uses them to tie his curtains back lmao

❧ everyone low-key dreaded being partnered up with him for projects, only because he's such a perfectionist and would make damn sure everyone did their part of the project and did it correctly

❧ absolute teacher's pet though, all of them loved how diligent and intelligent he was, making him the high school version of a teacher's assistant

❧ my school didn't have this, but he would absolutely have been hall monitor. he was, however, almost elected student body president despite not running, his class just nominated him lol

❧ much to his dismay, he was elected vice president of the student body and was put in charge of organizing student events. planning prom almost gave him grey hairs at the ripe age of seventeen

Mikael

❧ he didn't really fit in with a particular crowd, so i guess you could call him a wallflower in that sense? he was kinda a loner, but didn't give off the typical "loner" vibes

❧ very quiet, always got his work done on time, and always did his work exceptionally well, which made him a straight-a student as well

❧ he very well could have been the top of his class, but his lack of participation in class discussions and such knocked his grades down slightly. he always preferred to work alone, hated presentations, and never elaborated his verbal responses

❧ the one exception to him working alone was if noel was in his class; he knew that noel would be reliable and would just want to get the assignment over, and he wouldn't talk his ear off

❧ some of his teachers understood that he just wasn't comfortable and made an exception or didn't deduct points because they saw how eloquent his written responses were, but there's always those few teachers that just don't care lol

❧ he graduated with a 3.9 unweighted gpa, and he took several honors and even a few ap classes on top of being in science national honors society and national art honor society twin; he's a smart cookie

❧ his favorite classes were astronomy and art, he loathed gym and, despite him being good at math, he just could not understand geometry. he chose latin as his world language, although i could also see him taking greek if his school offered it

❧ he took ap psychology and ap world history, amongst a few others, and the exams annihilated him; he would have been elated to get a 3, but was beyond shocked when he saw he got a 4 on all of them

❧ his immense knowledge about the christian religion and the bible impressed the school's christian athlete leader did y'all's school have one of those?? and she tried to recruit him thinking he'd be perfect for the group, but he looked at her with the most perplexed look ever and responded, "i'm neither christian nor an athlete, why are you asking me this??"

❧ she got super embarrassed and refused to look at him when he took her sat prep class the next semester lmao

❧ he ate his lunch consistently in the atrium for the first three years of high school, and then in the senior courtyard next to the little fountain his last year, always alone though

❧ he was in choir for the first year of high school, something he'd done since elementary school, but he quit after seeing how petty everyone was to each other

❧ he'd hated lucia since he met him in the third grade, and on graduation day, mikael told lucia that he was genuinely surprised to see him graduate lmao

Ricardo

❧ definitely a student athlete, his first year was spent in basketball and his last three years were in american football, and he definitely got benched a few times

❧ he actually almost got kicked off the team in his sophomore year for bringing a fucking knife to school-- at least he was smart enough to not bring his gun

❧ he's a decently smart guy, but he just didn't put in the effort for his classes-- he did just enough to stay on his team. he was practically on a first name basis with his guidance counselor from how many visits they'd have between his grades and since the knife incident

❧ that being said, his grades never saw above a 3.0, in fact he averaged about a 2.6 all of high school. he also didn't bother to take the sat because he genuinely didn't think he'd go to college until the last semester of his senior year when he got a surprise scholarship for his athleticism

❧ his favorite class was gym, he always made sure to take a physical education class once a year. he also secretly really enjoyed the home economics class he put off until his last semester of senior year. the teacher was this older lady, and they grew pretty close and he'd even eat lunch with her, spending his free period and study hall in her classroom under the excuse that he needed more help on a certain topic. he gave her his jersey at the end of the year and she made sure to get a photo with him on graduation day :,)

❧ definitely infamous in his school for being a massive flirt and has definitely hooked up with several cheerleaders. it's funny cuz he always scoffed at what you learn in health class about sti's and safe sex, until he caught mono from someone in the theater class lmao

❧ i'm sorry but he was low-key very disrespectful to his teachers, at least for the first half of high school. like he'd roll his eyes at them, leave a mess, be on his phone all of class

❧ he was also a pain to be partnered up with for a project; if you got stuck with him, you bet your ass you'd be doing all the work. anything he said he'd do would be half assed, and you better hope you had a teacher who didn't grade collectively

❧ the academic classes he'd pay the most attention to were history and government, especially in terms of war periods and diplomacy. he lowkey loved playing devil's advocate in these classes which pissed off everyone else lmao

❧ his freshman year he was definitely the kid who wore those god awful graffiti-style backpacks with a speaker inside them, blasting the worst trash rap you ever heard

❧ another thing that almost got him kicked off the team, he got caught bullying a freshman in his junior year. he had to have a meeting with the kid's parents and apologize formally to the kid, and he got a semester's worth of detention and suspended from his sport for a month

❧ he shaped up a lot after that, and he ended up becoming one of the team's star players, definitely not the mvp or the captain, but he was valued for being a machine on the field, pure manpower and determination

❧ was pretty close friends with lucia, and although they drifted apart in their junior year a bit, they got close again come senior year and talked about going to the same college together after ricardo found out about his scholarship

❧ brought an air horn to the graduation ceremony and almost didn't get to walk the stage lmao

Noel

❧ won the superlative for being the quietest in his class lol; it got to the point where his teachers wouldn't cold call him for discussions knowing they'd get one word responses that wouldn't contribute anything at all

❧ he was always seen alone, or with either mikael or oswald, never anyone else. with mikael, they'd just eat together every once in a while, or they'd work on a project together. with oswald, they were just the oddest duo to see: a behemoth of a man and a small guy with a killer resting bitch face

❧ he really enjoyed biology as a class and elected to take anatomy, but promptly dropped it when he learned what they'd be dissecting. instead, he switched to forensic science and had a little too much fun making his crime scene diorama

❧ this poor kid could barely make it through his math classes. he had to be tutored in math all through high school and oswald became his study buddy aw

❧ the same thing applied with his language arts class: he just kept falling behind, his written grammar skills were awful, as was his handwriting. between this and the fact that he hardly spoke, his teacher just assumed that he didn't speak the school's primary language and had the bright idea of putting him in an "x for speakers of other languages" class lmaoo

❧ he was evaluated and it turned out that he, in fact, could understand the primary language, he's just very silent and is bad at grammar. so, he was moved again to a lower language arts class

❧ he didn't particularly hate any of his classes, he just knew he had to suck it up and do them. he'd try his hardest, sure, but sometimes he'd just do the minimum effort required if he really wasn't feeling it

❧ he joined the environmental club with oswald and helped him with the gardens. he also tried out the culinary club, but upon promptly burning his first dish to ashes, determined that maybe it wasn't for him lol

❧ so aside from the environmental club and tutoring, he didn't really have any extracurriculars. he was very much a "i'm here to learn and go home" type of guy

❧ he graduated with a 2.8 gpa, and hated the grad cap lmao he absolutely wore his casual clothes under his gown, which he took off almost immediately after the ceremony was over

Lucas

❧ very well known through the whole school, he was regarded as a heartthrob and resident pretty boy, but for some reason he didn't seem to have very many friends, and no one really seemed to know much about him

❧ he was as active as possible in school life; he joined the yearbook committee in his first year and started taking journalism classes in his junior year, he also one of the only ones to pay attention to student board elections

❧ he was very big on the arts classes that his school offered, especially photography, which in turn helped out a lot for the yearbook. he also took a ceramics class, and the art teachers loved him so much that they gave him his own senior studio space in his sophomore year

❧ he actually did really well in all of his classes, he's a quick learner and had a phenomenal memory. the one thing he sucked at was note taking. so when he took a history class that required cornell notes?? bye, that was the lowest grade he's ever gotten

❧ mans was the king of extracurriculars, on top of the yearbook committee he was in the gsa and best buddies, and he scored national art honors society

❧ he hung around a different friend group every day, so he knew everyone's beef all the time, which easily made him the most powerful man in the school in a way. he never used it for bad, but it would give him topic ideas for the school newspaper

❧ failed the pacer test so bad in his freshman year that half the people in his class that had crushes on him got the ick and stopped lmao

❧ he tried doing theater in his sophomore year, but everyone was so in each other's business that he stopped after that one year; he landed a spot in the musical though and killed it

❧ the psychology/sociology and language arts teachers always got a kick talking to him because of the odd shit that comes out of this guys mouth; he'd pose the most thought provoking and lowkey existential questions about the content material that had the teachers on a tangent for the rest of class. his classmates would either love him or hate him for this, grateful to have an easy rest of class or freaking out at the question too

❧ he graduated with a 3.6 gpa, and he had several chords from his extracurriculars. he didn't really want to wear them, not finding them important or that big of a deal, but his art teachers convinced him that he worked hard for them

❧ the yearbooks all four years of his high school career were the best the school had seen that their sales went up. after he graduated, they dipped in quality and the yearbook committee advisor was so sad lol

[atths--twice]

The First Halloween

It's William's first Halloween. Who is more excited?

Season 9 never happened. As far as we're concerned, the story faded out with two people celebrating the birth of their son. They have moved on in many ways, together, as it should have been. This year, William celebrates his first Halloween as an active participant and it's hard to tell who is more excited.

Fictober Day 2 prompt: Just in case this doesn't work

October 31, 2002

“Oh my goodness. He looks so adorable,” her mother said to Scully, smiling at William in his puffy pumpkin costume. “I don't think that little hat will last too long, though.”

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t,” Scully said with a laugh. “Although we have been putting it on him every day for the past couple of weeks to get him used to it. He’s better about it, but I’m not too hopeful it will stay on all night.”

“It does complete the pumpkin outfit, but he’s still cute without it.” Her mother knelt down beside him, touching his costume. “So cute.”

“Gamma,” William said, handing Maggie a colorful block. He looked up at Scully and touched his hat. “Off. No.”

“You don’t want to wear it?” she asked and William shook his head, tugging at the strap of the hat. “Okay. You don’t have to wear it.” She helped him take it off and then kissed his rosy cheeks. “I love you, little pumpkin.”

“Puh-in,” he said, patting his costume and smiling. “Puh-in, Mama.”

“Yeah. You’re my sweet pumpkin.” She kissed him again and caught her mother staring at her. “What?”

“I’m happy to see you happy. To have him. To have…” She broke off as tears filled her eyes and Scully reached over to hug her. “I’m just so happy for you, Dana.”

“I know, Mom,” she said, closing her eyes as she held her tightly. “I am too.”

Little hands patted against both of them and they laughed as they separated and turned their attention to William who looked at them curiously.

“William, my love, what do we say when we knock on the door?” Scully asked, smoothing back his light brown hair. “Knock, knock.”

“Tick teet,” he responded, grinning at her.

“Oh my God,” her mother said, laughing and crying at the same time.

“That’s right. Such a clever little pumpkin,” Scully said to him, kissing and hugging him as he repeated himself over and over.

“Hey hey,” Mulder called out as he walked in the front door, home from work at last. “It has been a day. Oh, hi Mrs. Scully… sorry, Maggie.” He smiled at her as she rose to greet him.

“Hello, Fox,” she said, kissing his cheek. “I’ve come to join the stroll through the neighborhood this fine Halloween evening.”

“Good,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and looking at Scully and William with a smile. “Speaking of which, I saw some kids out when I was driving in. Is the candy ready?”

“In the bowl on the table. Oh! I forgot to light the pumpkins.”

“I got it,” he said, giving Maggie a quick squeeze before stepping away to pick up William who was running to him as quickly as he could in his costume.

“Dada! Dada!”

“Hey, little pumpkin man. You are so adorable.” He kissed William’s forehead as William patted his cheeks and giggled. “Hat didn’t make it, huh?”

“As we predicted,” Scully laughed as she joined them, putting one hand on Mulder’s back and the other on William’s. “Did you not have a good day, hon?”

“Eh, it was fine. But it’s better now.” He smiled at her and she raised up, kissing him softly. “How about we wait on lighting the pumpkins and giving out the candy and we head out now?”

“No, we can wait. My mom brought dinner with her and I’m sure you're hungry.” She gave him a pointed look, knowing he most likely missed lunch as he was wont to do, his focus on teaching becoming all consuming.

“I can-” he started to say and she stopped him with a shake of her head.

“We’ll eat first. Go change.”

“Was she always so bossy?” he asked Maggie, handing William off to her. “Or has it just been since I’ve known her?”

“Little bit of both, I’d say,” Maggie said, smiling as she looked at Scully.

Ding dong.

“Saved by the bell,” Scully told him, raising her eyebrows at him as she went to grab the bowl of candy. “Go. Change.”

“Alright. Alright,” he said, sharing a look with Maggie as he began to untie his tie.

Thirty minutes later, the dishes soaking in the sink for their return, they were heading out for William’s first Halloween.

Scully blew out the candles in the pumpkins and a sound to her left made her look up to see Mulder pushing the stroller.

“Just in case this doesn’t work with him walking the whole time. He’s small yet, but still, he gets heavy.”

“I was going to suggest it, actually. For the exact same reason.”

“Great minds,” he said, grinning at her and stealing a kiss as he passed.

Children of all ages ran past or walked at a slower pace, the streets empty of vehicle traffic. William stopped to watch them, waving excitedly and clapping his hands.

Two little girls dressed as angels stopped and told him he was a cute pumpkin.

“Puh-in!” he exclaimed, touching his costume. “Puh-in!”

“Yes. You’re a pumpkin. We’re angels. See our wings?” They turned around and he gently touched the delicate silver and white wings.

“Pity,” he said softly and Scully exhaled a shaky breath while her mother gasped and put a hand to her mouth.

“Thank you, little pumpkin,” the older girl said, smiling at him when she turned back around. “Happy Halloween. Have fun!” And then they were off, with William waving goodbye.

They all walked to the first door, but let him go the last few steps on his own.

“Knock on the door, honey,” Scully said. “Knock, knock.”

“Tick teet!” William called back to her and they all laughed.

Mulder walked up and rapped on the door twice before stepping back to rejoin Scully and Maggie.

The door opened and an older woman drew in a deep breath at the sight of him. Squatting down, she smiled at William.

“Did you knock on my door, little pumpkin?”

“Knot. Tick teet. Knot.”

“Trick or treat, yes. Would you like some candy?”

William nodded and then noticed a cat that was behind the woman.

“Oh! Cat. Hi, cat!” He waved and the woman chuckled softly.

“Come here, Blue. You have an admirer.”

The snow white cat chirped and wound itself around the woman’s legs, staring up at William with big blue eyes. William placed a hand on the woman’s knee and lowered himself onto his own knees to get closer to the cat.

“Mulder,” Scully whispered, shaking her head, thinking they should stop him.

“He’s okay,” he whispered back as they watched him pet the cat and then press his forehead to the top of the cat's head.

“He likes you,” the woman said as the cat dropped to the ground and started rolling around.

A group of kids ran up, pushing past the three adults and startling the cat. He ran back inside the house and Scully hurried forward to collect William.

“Hold on now,” the woman said firmly to the other children. “This little pumpkin was here already, he gets his candy first.” She handed William a bag of m&m’s and he took them, looking around for the cat.

“Cat?” he asked as Scully picked him up.

“Thank you,” she said to the woman and she nodded as she began handing out candy to the other children. “Come on, sweetie. We’ll see the cat later. Do you want to go to the next house?”

“Cat,” he said, looking back at the house sadly. “See cat.”

“I know,” Scully sympathized, kissing his head and holding him close.

“Maybe we need to have another discussion about getting a pet,” Mulder said hopefully as they walked to the next house and William continued to look over Scully’s shoulder.

“Maybe,” she agreed.

“You heard that right, Mrs. Scully- I mean Maggie? You heard that she agreed to have a pet?” he asked, turning to look at Maggie, who was pushing the stroller.

“I heard an agreement to a discussion,” she answered, smiling mischievously as she met Scully’s eyes. “But if I get a vote, I’m definitely pro pet.”

“Yes! You definitely get a vote,” Mulder said, nodding enthusiastically.

“Mulder,” Scully laughed, shaking her head.

Four more houses and William lost interest, not knowing or caring about getting candy. They walked around the neighborhood looking at decorations instead, William now in the stroller. When he began to yawn, they headed home.

Pajamas on, stories read and lullabies sung, he was down for the night.

The dishes washed and put away, they answered the door for a few more children before turning off the porch light and joining Maggie, who had been persuaded to stay the night, in the living room for a glass of wine.

“So about that pet discussion,” Mulder said, taking a drink and winking at Maggie. “I say we skip right past it and just vote yay or nay to getting said pet. Mrs… Maggie?”

“Mulder,” Scully admonished him with a laugh.

“I vote wholeheartedly in favor of getting a pet. Do I need to remind you about Mr. Buttons, Dana?”

“Mom,” Scully said, her mouth dropping open in disbelief.

“Ohhh, who’s Mr. Buttons?” Mulder asked.

“He’s the cat we had when I was younger. He looked similar to the one we saw tonight, but he was more of a soft gray color,” Scully explained, shaking her head at her mother.

“And you loved him,” Maggie stated, before taking a sip of wine.

“I did. Very much,” Scully agreed softly, thinking of the sweet, soft cat who used to sleep at the foot of her bed.

Mulder and Maggie looked at each other and Scully sighed.

“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes affectionately, knowing she had been outvoted. “Let’s get a pet.”

Expecting a whoop of happiness from Mulder, she was surprised when his celebration was quiet.

Leaning forward, he tapped his wine glass to Maggie’s and grinned at her.

“I thank you, Maggie. Wholeheartedly.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, Fox. More than welcome.”

[dnangelic]

Does Daisuke have a preference in sports or physical activity beyond his usual phantom thief shenanigans? Does Dark enjoy anything similar?

@remunporium

hmmm! i can give a few different forms of answers to this so let me start by saying in any sort of school / public setting daisuke usually tries to hide his physical capabilities as a phantom thief. there are things like his grades in PE being poor or himself landing really nasty falls when he could easily save himself because he's always trying so hard to not look conspicuous, but he also gets caught up in things like being picked for active roles in school stageplays/performances that requires stunts anyways, so he "flubs" up practice nonstop then does perfectly fine during the real thing.

these are just examples of him sucking on purpose though (and sometimes he really does suck on clumsy accident, like not paying attention and falling flat on his face, or falling flat on his face because he's stealing someone's wallet back from a pickpocket,) obviously he's got stellar acrobatic capabilities overall and has a surprising amount of strength for someone with his build, (this post covers it well, really, nobody's allowed to forget daisuke climbed an entire ferris wheel with his bare hands lmao) but if it's an actual sport you want to see him enjoying, then he's probably going to pick swimming.

group oriented activities generally stress him out, and frankly he'd probably stress out any group he was with too - he's got that sad, awkward 'last kid picked for PE' energy and always does all his heists alone!! this rules out 99% of sports for him. swimming does away with all of that group necessity, and he's canonically a good swimmer too- has to be since his parents trained him for anything. (even though thanks to transforming and wiz trying to cover for him, everybody at his school thinks he almost drowned one time.)

most of daisuke's physical 'skills' he feels only should apply to his 'work,' so on top of the social anxiety ruling out, the range of things he enjoys doing alone is left extremely small - and really, if he actually has that much freetime and is feeling restless, (daisuke is almost always sleep deprived, he should be asleep, just like me fr) then he's probably going to be flying, which is also dark's preference outside of pulling a heist.

dark needs the thrill of pursuit on occasion, but on others he and/or daisuke just want to cruise. azumano is beautiful, and it's even more beautiful from above, so as the freaks(singular) with wings they'll just go for a nighttime flight in the sky, sometimes heading over to tokyo since that's where a lot of daisuke's friends (as in, my muts' muses,) are, and it's supposed to be close by. (azumano is a fictional province, but it's imagined around east japan, not too north or south.) otherwise, dark has even less interest than daisuke in actively participating in sports or anything; he's never gotten to try anything in the past and he doesn't expect himself to ever be able to anytime soon, so it's a moot point for him.

he's still, of course, very flashy and plainly skillful anytime he does manage to get his hands on something to mess around with - for example, hand him a basketball and he can keep it spinning on a single finger without any trouble, he can juggle quite literally anything, and he had no issue twirling a glass shoe around on his finger for fun while he chat with someone else in one of the light novels or catching arrows with his bare hands or dodging piano strings laced up in some woods purely by ear. dancing, forms of it like ballroom, waltz and tango would be something he could deeply enjoy --- but those require a partner, and that loops back to him not usually having the freedom to pursue any of that.

that's about it, i think. dark n daisuke's jock alignments are very very low LOL but that's because their heists nearly kill them all the time and push their physical capabilities to the extreme! if it's not the usual phantom thief shenanigans then this boy should be in bed, but sometimes you'll see him in the sky anyways because what's the point of bearing the burden of black wings if you can't indulge in the occasional gift and itch of flight. 🦅

[giggly-squiggily]

miss rey is having a sick day and she's gonna spend it sending you kny modern au christmas thoughts 😌 working in this goddamn elementary school has gotten me into the spirit for the first time in years and i need to embrace this while it lasts.

growing up sanemi never really got anything big for christmas, over the course of november he mostly necessities like new shoes when his old ones didn't fit anymore or a winter jacket and then on actual christmas day maybe a dvd or something handmade. it got a little better once he was old enough to do parttime jobs but even then he used most of his earnings to get something nice for his siblings. when it came to sanemi money was always tight and he was okay with that if it meant genya or the others could get something out of it. and when he got older and his friend group started to give each other christmas presents, the first time they'd come up to him like "we got you something" he'd be like "... why would you do that 🤨" - literally the second kanae hears that he never really got nice christmas presents you KNOW she's dedicating eight months of the year to plan something for him and it makes him cry every single time.

with tengen it's the same thing but sort of in the other direction. got everything he never wanted for christmas every year which was annoying and draining and just felt so detached and performative. the first time makio hands him a box with self made cookies and says "i'm sorry, i would've bought you something but i didn't find anything you'd like" he almost proposes on the spot because it just feels so great to have people actually put thought into their gifts for him and not just grab the shiniest looking thing from a shelf. (not that he doesn't love getting shiny things but only if it's a shiny thing that the person picked specifically because they thought he'd like it)

obanai is the grinch for exactly however long it takes him to discover that mitsuri loves christmas more than anything. once he's a bit more open to the idea he also discovers that it's actually fun to exchange gifts and spend time together during the holidays (who can blame him, he never had that prior to going to university) and he gets really into it. people are always surprised by his great gift giving skills but it really pays off to sit in the corner and listen in on conversations quietly, he really picks up on a lot of wishes that way and when december rolls around he just knows what everyone wants or needs. on their first christmas together mitsuri gives him a little scarf she made and says "so kaburamaru doesn't get sick" and obanai decides right then and there that christmas is his favorite holiday of the year. (ONLY christmas eve and christmas day though and ONLY for exchanging gifts and spending time together, all the blinking lights and santa merch and mariah carey can go to hell)

tanjiro is always all over the place during christmas time because there's just so much to do and so much to take care of and oh son of a monkey i have to go gift shopping and oh fudge what am i gonna cook and fiddlesticks i forgot to put the tree up and GOD FUCKING DAMNIT INOSUKE STOP EATING THE ADVENT WREATH - it's a lot. so on actual christmas day he's usually exhausted and his friends have to tie him to his seat so he doesn't continue to run around and try to do everything for everyone. he still loves it tho, he's always participating in social projects around that time as well and getting gifts for homeless people, children in poverty and volunteering to dress up and collect kids' wish lists in hospitals etc.

sabito on the other hand grew to despise christmas because of his job at the elementary school. it's just too much. all the music and all the glitter and the all the christmas shows he has to attend (and organize!), the baking and crafting and reading christmas stories and looking out so children don't burn themselves with the candles and putting up that dusty old tinsel that makes his eyes water and pretending that santa is real, christmas is the bane of his existence. of course he gets his loved ones some gifts and maybe goes out to eat with them but once that's done he immediately goes home and sleeps through til new year's eve. everybody knows not to say merry christmas until sabito has left because one time they all said it when they met up during the holidays and when they got to sabito he went "if i have to say that one more time i'm gonna kill each and every one of you and then myself" and now they just do it when he's not around.

that's all the thoughts i have for now, sorry for barging in with this long ass ask like that 💀 stay hydrated, i send you a fluffy blanket and a kiss on the forehead but with a mask so you don't catch my cough :3

Oh Rey! *hugs and brings all the healing vibes and tissues* I'm sorry you got sick; something about this season just brings all the germs! And lets go getting into the spirit of things! :D

IJKRKJERJEJKRJ AHHHHHHH THESE ARE FREAKING DELIGHTFUL! Sanemi prioritizing his siblings and necessities is such a canon thing he'd do; and Kanae making it her life's mission to give him a good christmas is so KJEJJREKJREJ She's the queen of gifting- she knows everyone's taste and preferences and while it takes a while to get any info out of him, she'll find him something special. He's always so touched by it and makes it a point to do the same for her- saving up to get her one of those nice hair ornaments or dedicating any free time he has to making her something from scratch. He is a jack of no trades, but the effort is there and seeing her genuinely love it is the best gift to him.

Oh my god YES! I feel like Tengen doesn't really like christmas all that much? Mainly like you said, gifts always felt draining and preformative and also, despite growing up in a large family, maybe it didn't feel like a loving home? (Going a little into his canon background there) Like- his family held christmas parties every year but gifts were more like bragging rights over their guests vs actual care and thoughtfulness. Christmas with the girls is so much more special to him cause everything feels like they really thought of one another. (Also Tengen liking shiny things makes me laugh- he's like a crow ajerkjajekraejrj)

KLJERKJLEJKLRJKERJ OBANAI HELP! Grinch 363 days a year- the last two it fades away, especially with Mitsuri. He's a gift giving god; rivaling Kanae with his observation skills and such. You know he's always dressing Kaburamaru in his little scarf during the colder months- even when it starts to get a little worn down. (Mitsuri makes it her new tradition to make him a scarf every year after that.) They'd be the couple sneaking kisses under the mistletoe throughout the party.

TANJIRO YES! He's a little busy bee running about during December; baking treats and keeping Inosuke off the advent wreath (that's freaking hilarious oh my god) and volunteering and just- all of it! Christmas rolls around and he's so tired he can't even keep his eyes open for a good few hours into the day. It's his little reward for working so hard; a nice break on the big day ajerjaejarj

Sabito hating christmas is a whole mood akjekjrakjejkrajkerja He might have liked it at one point, but after working at an elementary school and being overdosed with the holiday spirit he is so burned out jareajreajjaerjkeajr (NOT HIM QUOTING ROSE KLJWJRKEJRJEJR) Of course he's gonna keep the vibes up for the children and his love ones but when the day is done he's hibernating with a heated blanket ajkaerjae

Just to add on:

Akaza wins ugly christmas sweater every year; he has so many cause he unironically thinks they're cute (and they keep him nice and toasty during the cold months). He gets matching ones for his favorite/only nephew Rui; they take pictures every year and have a whole album dedicated to it.

Douma is a pro figure skater without the pro part; good luck keeping him off the ice this season, especially if you put on "Theme of King JJ"; he also sings christmas songs non-stop and while he has a nice voice and can carry a tune, there comes a time when someone's about to shout "STOP SINGING ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS, IT'S FREAKING JANUARY!"

Zenitsu is absolutely the one to plan a trip to a warmer part of the world during winter; he cannot stand the cold whatsoever and saves up every year to escape for a week or two. If it happens to fall during Christmas, he facetimes everyone with a drink in hand on the beach wearing pineapple sunglasses he bought at the souvenir shop like the absolute tourist he is.

Thank you for sharing these, Rey! They are absolutely delightful! :3

[invisibleraven]

And power is out. Where do you keep the candles? Sweet tarts

"Alright, I think that's everything," Reggie said as he looked over the poster board.

"Thank goodness," Carrie said, then caught Reggie's crestfallen expression. "Nothing against you, you made this project bearable, but I am kind of glad it's over."

"I get that," Reggie said. "But it was fun working with you."

"It really was," Carrie admitted. "Usually I pair with one of the Candis, but with Kayla out with mono and the others already together, you made a good substitute."

"Well thanks," Reggie snarked. "You were a far better partner than Edgar Burrows, he always slacks off."

Carrie wrinkled her nose at the thought of the other boy, no one ever wanted to work with him, but their teacher paired him with Reggie during the last project. "You want a snack?"

"Always."

They munched away at apple slices, chatting about school, the latest drama concerning the cheerleader captain dumping her basketball star boyfriend. The upcoming battle of the bands they were both participating in.

Outside the wind picked up and the sky turned a sickly green colour. "Ugh it's gross out there," Reggie commented as he helped Carrie clean up. "I should probably head out before it gets worse."

"On your bike?" Carrie asked. "No way. I'll get Branson to drive you home."

Reggie was about to tell her it was fine when the rain started, a torrential downpour falling from the sky. "Great."

Suddenly there was a crash of thunder, making Carrie shriek, then a flash of lightning and the room was plunged into darkness.

"And power is out. Where do you keep the candles?" he asked.

"U-upstairs," Carrie stuttered. "In my dad's meditation studio."

Reggie nodded and went up the stairs quickly, fetching a bunch of candles and a box of matches, starting to light the candles. Then he noticed Carrie curled up on the floor, hugging her knees.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, squatting so they were eye level.

"Not a big fan of storms," Carrie admitted, shaking as another streak of lightning lit up the sky. "Or the dark."

"Me neither," Reggie replied, sitting next to her and slinging an arm around her shoulders. "When I was a kid I made blanket forts during storms, pretending that I was a brave knight in a castle under siege or a pirate with my ship being stormed, anything to get away from the reality."

"I've never made a blanket fort," Carrie whispered. "I always had play houses or tents to play in. Plus nannies and maids if I ever got scared."

"What about your folks?" Reggie asked.

"My dad was always in the studio or on tour or on some sort of retreat," Carrie replied, her eyes a little red rimmed, but her breathing had calmed. "My mom... I never knew her. She dumped me on my dad when I was only a few months old and hasn't been heard of since."

"Well she sucks then," Reggie assured her. "She doesn't get to know you, and you're pretty great."

"Yeah?" Carrie asked, looking up at him.

"Yeah," Reggie nodded, leaning in to rest their foreheads together. "Really great."

She leaned up and captured his lips in a tender kiss, grinning as they broke apart, the lights flickering back on when they did. "Well then," Reggie drawled. "You still wanna call your driver?"

"Maybe stick around for a bit?" Carrie requested. "In case the lights out again?"

"I can do that," Reggie grinned, leaning in again, and promising himself that next project he was going to have to do for this class, he was picking Carrie.

And Carrie? Decided to pick him as a partner in a much different sense of the word, but Reggie had no problem with that!

[abysscronica]

Hibari uses a rifle that transforms other weapons in flowers…this type of rifle was invented by Vegapunk when he was younger.

Do you think Vegapunk (or some marine weapon artisan) proposed Birdie to take this type of rifle ? 🤣🤣

(Birdie seems to use Egghead technology to fight…maybe she met Vegapunk and went to egghead too?🤔)

Very good catch! Birdie does indeed use Vegapunk's technology to fight and she spent some time on Egghead.

A few of you have noticed that, in chapter 1066, Vegapunk shows Luffy & co. antigravity boots that are awfully similar to what birdie uses to enhance her mobility...

Her boots come indeed from Egghead! The same goes for her rifle, Stray. This is an extract from the prologue of Bonds:

Stray was part of a prototype stock that Vegapunk and the Scientific Division never pursued after the first trial. The sniper squad found them too light, and the finesse required to use the rifle properly was way too demanding, unrealistic to be used in battle. The prototypes were handed over and recycled for different, heavier weapons. Except for yours, because you refused – and Aokiji enabled it. The last of its kind. You named it Stray.

Differently from her rifle, which was a "failed" experiment, the hypermobility boots are a successful model, although Vegapunk does not consider them a finished product yet. Birdie was not the only marine using them, but they haven't been mass-produced because of the high costs of production and necessary training. You have to put in a special request to get the training and, once completed, another special request to get the boots. Birdie was able to skip all of this thanks to Aokiji (say what you want about her time in the Marines, but as long as Aokiji was around, ya girl was quite the spoiled brat) (this also means she had to learn how to use the boots by herself tho).

Vegapunk's team sent other samples her way, stuff comparable to Hibari's flower rifle. The hope was to refurbish these more "pacifist" designs, since birdie was one of the few soldiers that could make full use of this technology, somehow. But birdie fired such rifle once, made a disgusted face, and dropped it forever. On the other hand, Hibari picked it up and breathed new life into those ideals.

All this taps a little into birdie and Hibari's relationship. Initially, Hibari looked up to birdie as one of the best snipers in the Marines (and another young woman at that). Also encouraged by Koby, she asked birdie several times to train her, but birdie always refused to formally take her as an apprentice. She gave Hibari a few pointers and that was it. Eventually, Hibari started to view her as a selfish snob - and it wasn't totally unjustified. Add a bit of jealousy in the mix because of Koby, and you'll get to the point when Hibari decided to do everything in her power to surpass birdie. Despite being two sharpshooters, the two characters are in antithesis, and Hibari's weapon of choice is another element to it. There are more: Hibari's colorful and accessorized outfits as opposed to birdie's simple style, her kind and sensitive nature, good team work abilities, etc. It's also ironic that Aokiji froze Hibari without a second thought.

Coming back to the original question, I mentioned in the story that birdie spent a few days on Egghead during her rehabilitation, just after her captivity with the Kid Pirates. That's where she got a newer version of the boots. She also participated in firearms testing and was scheduled to receive several prototypes to test in the field... if only she hadn't deserted. She never met Vegapunk in person though, he's far too busy to spend his time with such a side project. She only briefly met Edison.