#i don’t know whether she likes me and I’m just dense as a brick or she’s a kind and friendly person and I’m just fuckin gay

[shadowsandstarlight]

I cannot focus on my crocheting because I am having too many homosexual thoughts, send help

[notmanagingmymischief]

𝒩.𝐵. || 𝒶 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝑔𝑜.

WOW, USER NOTMANAGINGMYMISCHIEF ACTUALLY STILL POSTS ORIGINAL WRITING??? :000000

shocker, i know

~~

word count: 1,964

warnings: death/dying, mentions of incestual tendencies on Norman’s part, survivor’s guilt, ambiguous ending?

~~

tag list:

@takemercyonme @when-i-miss-you @damagnificentcookie @straight2hades @marvelgeek09 @herashifts @crime-ninja @onebigsimp @emiliaisdead @sapphic-stress @nonbinary-cryptid-baby @merci-bitch @feartheclipse @mxbeezkneez @fxoehy @ahoy-gays @sythaerin @consciouschunkofmoss

if you’d like to be added to my tag list, send me an ask or comment, or fill in this form! <33

~~

enjoy xx

~~

I had been in love with Norma Bates for as long as I could remember. From the moment I laid eyes on her, probably. It took almost two long years for me to finally confess to her, and three for us to completely and totally settle down with each other. It was on what was supposed to be a calm, easy day—one where neither of us had work to do, and we could just exist with each other—where something finally went wrong.

Well, that isnt entirely true; the past couple of days we’d been having this weird tension between each other. Norma had been busy with the Motel, Norman was being a pain in my ass, and my estranged family had decided to reach out again after years. All of the stress culminated today, though. When we had nothing to distract ourselves with, and somehow it ended up in an argument. One of our worst we’d ever had, in fact. I mentioned something about my parents getting on my ass, which led to the conversation of Norman. This was already a rather sensitive topic for everyone, and I’d been too stressed to filter myself. A stray comment I made had Norma all up in arms, and so here we are; in a screaming match in our shared bedroom.

“You can’t say that! I know you don’t get along, but Norman is my son, whether you like it or not!” Norma exclaims, throwing her hands up exasperatedly. I scoff and cross my arms. “Yeah, thats the problem, Norma. He’s your son.” I give her a Look, “He acts like he’s your boyfriend. Have you seriously never even been slightly freaked out by that?” I make perfectly valid points; Norman has always been weirdly attached to his mother, in a very creepy way. But Norma was unwilling to acknowledge that. We bicker back and forth some more, poisonous words thrown back and forth between us. “At least he didn’t abandon me!”

That. That was the final straw right there. Norma knew exactly how to get to me. I confided with her about my family issues and there she was, using them against me. I reel back with a hiss. “You—what?” I spit, glaring at her. But Norma doesn’t even take it back; I sense we’re both too upset to really consider each other's feelings. I shake my head. “No, thats too much. I can’t—you know that isnt what I did!” Norma mirrors my action, shaking her head and giving me an exhausted look. “Isn’t it?” she asks, and I have to clench my fists to stop from hitting something. We stare each other down for a moment, neither of us willing to speak. And then she does.

“That’s it. I’m done. We, this,” she gestures vaguely between the two of us, “is done.”

It hits me like a bag of bricks. I’m not stupid, or dense. “Are you breaking up with me right now, Norma..?” I ask, tears stinging in my eyes. “I didn’t want to say it but yes, I think that’s what has to happen. I just—I’m done.” I keep staring at her in shock, trembling violently. I can’t speak, can barely even breathe, and Norma wont even look at me. Finally, I choke back a little sob, and with a cracked little voice, I go “Fine. Fine, then. G-Goodbye, Norma Bates,” before turning on my heel and doing my best not to run from our room, from our house, from our life. It doesnt take me more than twenty minutes to grab some essentials, only what I’ll need for a couple days before I can come pick my stuff up, and throw it and myself into my car. Not once does Norma show her face, and I’m almost grateful for it. I only spare one glance up at that old house on the hill before pulling out of the lot and onto the freeway. I don’t know where I’ll go, I don’t know what I’ll do—I just need to get away.

I drive down the highway, vision dangerously blurry from tears, for what could be minutes or hours. I have the radio up as loud as it’ll go, I’m clenching my fists around the steering wheel to the point of my knuckles aching. But nothing matters, because everything just hurts. Everything hurts so much.

It hurts so much that I don’t notice myself shaking so badly my driving has become erratic. It hurts so much that I don’t see myself accidentally veer to the left with a particularly body-wracking sob. But it doesnt hurt enough to stop me from seeing the headlights blinding me. And all I have time to do is let out a choked gasp and shrill shriek before—darkness.

~~

Norma had been a wreck. Since she watched you from what used to be your bedroom’s window, watched you drive away and not look back, since she realized what she had done. She fell onto your—no, her bed—and put her head in her hands. She didnt cry, she couldn’t. But she did just sit there in silence, running through everything that had happened in the past hour in her head. When she did finally get up, her stare vacant and eyes dull, she went about the rest of her day without any of her usual fervor. Dinner with Norman was filled only by him, telling her about whatever taxidermy he’d done that day. And when she went to bed, Norma finally let herself cry. When she went to bed without you, and realized how cold her bed was. When she realized that the sheets hung too loosely over her shoulders because your body wasn't behind her to elevate them with your own. She didn’t sleep that night.

The next morning, Norma Bates is roused from her exhausted silence by her phone ringing. Not by her alarm, it was much too early for that. No, this was a call. With a sleepy groan, the blonde turns to grapple for it, answering the thing without reading the caller ID with an unimpressed “What?”

“Is this….Norma Bates?”

Norma didnt recognize the voice on the other end. “Uh…yes, this is she. Why..?” she mumbled, rolling onto her back. “This is Pine Bay Medical Center. We have Y/N L/N here with us…you were her emergency contact.” This immediately snaps Norma’s exhaustion out of her and she sits up in bed quickly. “What? You—what happened? Y/n? Is she alright?” “Ma’am, please breathe. Are you sitting down?” Norma’s breathing is already rapidly increasing, and she nods before realizing they cant see her and quietly choking out a “Ye-Yes, I am.”

“Mrs Bates, I regret to inform you that Miss L/N passed away this morning at…15:23 PM.”

The world goes silent. It falls out from under Norma and leaves her reeling; she nearly drops her phone from her hands as she just…stares. Stares at her wall in silence. The woman on the end of the line must be speaking to her, but all Norma can hear is a persistent buzzing behind the ringing in her ears as those words bounce around her head. After too long, the woman finally croaks out “Can I see her?” The moment she’s given the okay, she hangs up and snaps into action. She throws on the closet dress she can find, and doesnt even bother checking on Norman as she practically throws herself out the door and down the stairs.

Norma makes it to the hospital in record time, thankfully not stumbling across Alex to give her a speeding ticket, and the car is barely in park before she’s out the door and sprinting into the ER. Her voice shakes something fierce as she begs the receptionist to let her see you; as though begging them to bring you back. It takes too long for them to understand her but when they do, they give her a knowing look. “She’s..already at the mortuary, second floor.” Norma doesn’t bother thanking them before she’s gone, up the stairs and frantically searching for the room.

It doesn’t really sink in, she thinks, until she gets through to the workers and is finally led to the wall. When the small door is opened and a metal slab is slowly pulled out. And when she stares down at you. Down at her girl; peaceful but cold to the touch. It doesn't sink in that you’re gone until she rests a trembling hand on your cheek and can’t feel the warmth of your skin, when you don’t automatically lean into her touch. It isn’t until that moment that the world, reality, finally comes crashing back in and down onto her shoulders. The reality where you’re….not here.

Without being able to stop it, a shrill sob falls from Norma’s lips, and just like that she collapses against the wall. The mortuarists don’t intervene—they’ve seen this happen too many times—and let her grieve. They let her sob and plead and press her fingers to every cut and scratch on your pallid complexion, until she’s finally guided slowly and carefully from the room, still crying and repeating your name desperately. She’s sent into an empty room to be by herself, but she can’t even make it to the chair before she’s on her knees on the ground, sobbing all over again. Face in her hands, nearly screaming with the agony filling her entire body and soul. Gone, gone, gone, gone. You’re gone. Nothing Norma can say or do can take back what happened, and now you’re gone.

You’ll never wake her up with breakfast in bed again. You’ll never laugh at her stupid jokes. You’ll never hug her from behind and press your face into her hair as you grumble about the workweek’s stress. She’ll never kiss you again. She’ll never stay awake talking until past midnight about anything and everything again. She’ll never even…see you again.

Norma doesnt know how long she stays like that; eventually someone must have shown up because now she’s sitting in an uncomfortable chair and being asked too many questions, being talked at too much, and everything’s too loud. And Norman is there. He appeared a few hours back, but didn’t dare try to speak to his mother. She was too deep in her grief to even recognize his presence yet, and when she answers questions they’re brief and mumbled. The clearest thing that passes by her hearing is a doctor saying “Your wife was very strong in the OR. She fought hard, and it’s a real shame she didn’t make it.”

Her wife? When had she been put into the role of your wife? It was only once she was given your phone that she realized her contact was titled “wifey <333”, her name only written in the subtext inside the contact info. This brought on a new wave of tears. More unidentified time passes, until Norma is finally left alone with Norman in silence.

“I’m done.”

Norman looks up at his mother with a confused look. “What did you say, mother?” She slowly raises her head from her hands; “‘I’m done.’ That’s the last thing I said to her,” she breathes, eyes glistening with more tears that prepare to join the ones already streaming down her cheeks. “The last thing she thought she knew was that I hated her,” Norma chokes, sobbing again and letting her head fall back into the wall. She doesn’t even register the dull sting, too consumed by guilt and shame and grief.

What flowers will they have at your funeral? Did you ever write a will? Who would they tell? Would she let your family know?

But worst of all—how would she live with herself knowing that this was all her fault?

[halloweenhoneylover]

dark and stormy

summary: steve's enamored with the guitarist in eddie's band who is much cooler than him (steve harrington x fem!reader)

word count: 5.4k

warnings: almost entirely fluff, steve and his parents

author's note: indiana underground music scene my beloved

Gravel crunches under the tires of Steve’s car as he pulls into the parking lot of the Red Key Tavern, a dingy bar in Indianapolis. After an hour and a half of being crammed into the backseat, his slew of kids wasted no time in pouring out of the car, moaning and groaning and lamenting limbs that had fallen asleep. Ducking out of the driver’s seat, Steve props an elbow on the roof and surveys the joint bathed in red neon. “Dude, are you even old enough to get in here?”

“No, but Eddie said he could get us in anyway.” Dustin readjusts the hat on his head, his nearly unshakeable confidence thrown just a little at the thought of being in a real bar with real adults. (The ones he hung out with didn’t really count.)

A few days prior, Hellfire Club had been ablaze with the news that Corroded Coffin had finally booked a gig in a real venue in the big city, and as soon as he’d heard, Dustin had begged Steve to drive them up to see the performance. After some minor debate, he had agreed to shuttle the kids there, but upon seeing the building, Steve was beginning to doubt whether or not this was a good idea. “I’m sure we could find somewhere to get dinner that’s a little more…family friendly.”

“No way are you backing out on us, dude, you promised!” 

“I know, dipshit, but I’m just not sure—”

“My disciples!” From the alley beside the bar emerges Eddie Munson in all his glory, peacockish tendencies peeking through as he greets the group with wide arms and a gleaming smile. “Glad you could make it.” Crooking his finger, he motions while stepping back into the alley. “Follow me.” The boys flock towards him, Max drifting behind them all unimpressed, while Steve rolls his eyes at Eddie’s antics. He locks the car and saunters behind the group.

Reaching the back door, Eddie corralls the herd of teens through the maze that made up the backstage while Steve strolls behind, sizing up the place. Sharpie stains the crumbling red brick walls with the signatures of performers long forgotten. The hallway is illuminated by a flickering fluorescent on its last leg, and it smells like someone had been spraying cologne indiscriminately. 

Suddenly, the group comes up on a door which Eddie opens with exaggerated chivalry, ushering them into the bar itself and then excusing himself to make final preparations for the performance. In the densely populated hall, Steve isn’t worried about the kids being seen and kicked out, but upon further inspection, an unfamiliar itch of anxiety creeps up his neck as he sees a mass of people his age who all don black and leather and look like rejected members of Depeche Mode, and he begins to feel sorely out of place with his light-wash jeans and boy-next-door sweater. Where was Robin when you needed her. The one time she wasn’t glued to his side, and he was immersed in a crowd much more her speed without a crutch. 

He is drawn from his thoughts when he sees his own crew nervously eyeing the sea of people and sets aside his own fears to put them at ease. “Hey, why don’t we stake out spots close to the stage?”

He’s met with a chorus of nods. Up at the front of the group, Max grabs Lucas’s hand and begins leading them towards the stage, which sits empty aside from the drum kit, a keyboard, a couple mic stands, and a labyrinth of cables connected to imposing amplifiers. Laying a protective hand on Dustin’s shoulder, Steve holds up the back of the pack and makes sure no one gets lost in the crowd. 

Once they reached the stage, the nerves ebb, replaced by the excitement of doing something very grown-up and a little rebellious. Mike nudges Dustin with a knobby elbow. “Do you think they’ll open with Starcrusher or Valley of the Beast?”

Dustin scoffs. “Dude, there is no way they wrote the utter masterpiece that is Steel & Iron, and they’re not gonna open with it?”

This comment opens the floodgates for an intense but familiar round of bickering that leaves any nervousness long forgotten. 

Without any warning, the stage is bathed in a molten red light, and behind them, chatter subsides, everyone’s attention directed at the stage. From the speaker mounted right beside Steve’s head, feedback squeals, and he cringes, rubbing a hand over his ringing ear. “Ladieeeees and gentlemen,” a deep, theatrical voice booms out of the soundsystem. The boys in Hellfire immediately recognize their DM’s voice, the put-on low sound a staple in many of their campaigns, and they batted at each other’s arms excitedly. Max watches unamused. “We know you’ve been dying to hear some real music tonight, so be prepared to be laid to rest by Corroded Coffin!!!!”

From an open doorway at the back of the stage, Eddie emerges to the applause with all of the pomp and circumstance of a real James Hetfield, stomping in a pair of black boots and his trusty guitar slung at his side. With significantly less practiced showmanship, the other members of the band trail out in Eddie’s wake. Steve recognizes the other guys from times he’s picked up Dustin from Hellfire: Gareth twirling a drumstick in his fingers, Jeff fiddling with the buttons on the keyboard, and Grant fumbling with a quarter-inch cable connected to a massive bass amp. Eddie is adjusting the mic stand to his height and working the crowd when movement at the stage door caught Steve’s eye. Out from the darkness comes a fifth member of the band he’d never seen before. 

She’s cool, that’s indisputable. Doused mostly in black, she sports dark liner smudged effortlessly around her attentive, watchful eyes, and her lips are curled in a supremely confident half-smirk like she knows she’s blowing all the other dorks on stage out of the water. All aloof and beautiful, she reminds Steve of Debbie Harry (whom he was deeply familiar with after being shown a whole magazine spread about her by an obsessive Robin). Guitar in hand, she waltzes up to the mic stand slightly behind Eddie and pulls the strap over her head, grabbing a nearby cable to plug into her guitar’s jack. Nudging Dustin with his elbow, Steve jerks his chin in her direction. “Who’s that?”

A knowing grin on his face when he sees who Steve is motioning to, he says, “That’s [Y/N].”

Steve nods, trying to seem uninterested and removed.

“She’s too cool for you.”

Steve gives him a betrayed look. “Dude.”

“I’m just saying!”

And before Steve has a chance to retort, Eddie is slashing a huge, resonant chord that riles the crowd. Gareth hits his sticks together in a four-count above his head, and the band is off to the races. With a sick sneer, Eddie is spitting a quick riff on the upper frets, and the kids seem to recognize it because Mike hits Dustin with a triumphant I told you! 

While Steve was never a big fan of the heavier rock stuff, he had to admit the band was pretty good. Eddie is scream-singing into the microphone in that distinctly metal way, something about treading carefully in the valley of the beast, and Steve watches as you grin at your frontman and strum rhythmic power chords to back up his frilly licks. Shouting into the mic as backup, you echo Eddie’s lyrics in the gaps between phrases, and at the chorus, you both sing in unison, playing off each other with shared glances and mirrored smiles. 

Another verse and chorus go by, and Steve finds himself enjoying the show more than he ever thought he would. He supposes it doesn’t hurt that there is a hot girl shredding the guitar four feet in front of him. Soon, you’re stepping out from behind the mic stand to face Eddie who turns to you. Underscored by the consistency of the keys and bass, you launch into a melodic solo with your fingers flying over the fretboard, and soon, Eddie offers a twin harmony. All together, it can only really be described as face-melting, and the kids next to Steve are reaching out towards you and Eddie with wiggling fingers. You let the final note ring, and while Eddie turns to finish out the last chorus, you drop to your knees at the edge of the stage to spit out a couple more accenting licks. The kids are simply losing their minds, and Steve is a little breathless with you having landed right in front of him, close enough to reach out and touch you. After a few more hammer-ons and bended strings, you strike one final chord to end the song. 

Focus finally pulled from your guitar, you look up only to meet Steve’s eyes where he’s already staring, but he can’t find it in him to pull away. You squint at him bewildered for the slightest second before you recover your rockstar coolness to send him a wink that leaves him reeling. 

—

People are filtering out after the set, and Steve’s at the bar, ordering a drink. After the show, Eddie had invited the kids backstage to see the dressing room and experience the “real rockstar lifestyle,” and while Steve liked Eddie enough now, he was content to have a breather from his babysitting duties. Leaning on the countertop, he silently nurses his drink and gazes around at the illuminated wall of liquor, at the few stragglers sitting in booths having vivacious conversation. 

“Hey, can I get a Dark and Stormy?”

He looks to the patron who had appeared on his left and is surprised to see his favorite Allison Reynolds knockoff. Feeling eyes on you, you meet his gaze and offer a subdued smile. Your untouchable on-stage character has faded, but Steve still finds himself a little starstruck. There is an undeniable self-assurance and maybe that’s why he thinks you’re so cool; he doesn’t think you would ever let anyone give you shit. Maybe it’s why he’s nervous to talk to you: he’d been accused before of being full of shit, and if that was true, you’d see it in a second. 

Despite it all, he pulls back his shoulders and clears his throat. “You did really great up there.”

You’re surprised he decides to talk to you, but you hide it well. You look him up and down, sizing him up, and he feels bare under your gaze. “Thanks, man.” 

It starts to look like that might be where your conversation starts and promptly ends, but you’re intrigued by him, so you press on. “This doesn’t really look like your crowd.”

He laughs at your astute observation. “What gave me away?”

Trying to suppress a teasing smile, you look at his teal sweater and white sneakers and shrug. “Lucky guess.”

He shakes his head and looks into his drink. “Yeah, I had a couple friends who wanted to come see you guys, and I offered to give ‘em a ride.”

“Oh, so you’re with the group of kids backstage?”

Having failed to avoid being pegged as the babysitter, he lets out a rueful laugh. Already in this short conversation, he knows he’s paling in comparison to the beautiful musician next to him. Any chance he has at impressing you seems lost. His tone grows sullen. “Yeah, those are my kids.”

The bartender sets your drink on the countertop next to you, and you slip him a five with a soft thanks. Taking a sip of your drink, you eye his cup suspiciously. “That’s not very responsible of you as a chaperone.” 

He winces a little. “It’s a Shirley Temple.”

Your laugh is a little surprised but mostly really pleased, and he can’t help staring at the way the corner of your eyes crinkled with good humor. “Point taken, Harrington.”

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, and he tilts his head to the side. “How do you know my name?”

You wish you hadn’t shown your hand so quickly, but it is rather amusing to watch him as you pull the rug from under him. You sip your drink again. “You don’t remember me, Steve?”

“From the stage, yeah, but—”

“No, from high school.”

The words die in his throat, and he looks at you with a new set of eyes as he tries to place you in his memory but comes up short. He feels a little guilty as he shuffles through the yearbook in his brain to no avail. “No, I don’t, I’m sorry.”

You find yourself surprised by him again because you think he really is sorry, so you let him off the hook.

“Don’t sweat it. You didn’t come to many jazz club performances, I didn’t go to many basketball games, we’re even.”

His eyebrows are still pinched as he continues to survey you, turn you over in his mind and hope to find you in a lost memory. “Still sorry, though. Thought I’d remember someone like you in high school.”

You don’t really know how to process that statement, so instead you push the focus back onto him. “You were a little…preoccupied back then.”

His cheeks flush with embarrassment at the reminder that news of his relationships were public knowledge in high school, but you don’t seem cruel in your discrete mention of his King Steve era, only honest. “Yeah, uh—needed to get my priorities straight.”

Something in your eye glitters at this seeming character growth, and he claims it as a victory, wanting to be just as fascinating to you as you were to him. And when the playing field finally feels even, you down the rest of your drink in a gulp without blinking and give him that cheeky grin that is entirely too disorienting. “I gotta go finish packing up, but it was nice talking to ya, Steve.” The newly familiar name feels foreign on your tongue, and he decides he liked the way you say it. 

Before he can get a handle on his eagerness, it rears its head, and he’s watching your retreating form and calling out to you much too loudly. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

Looking at him over your shoulder, your grin stretches, and you shrug. 

“Maybe.”

—

Steve isn’t excited for dinner. Sitting in the back of his dad’s car, he looks as stiff as he feels in nice black slacks and a stuffy white button-up. He feels like a kid, sitting in the backseat fiddling with his cufflinks while his parents chat about everything and nothing in the front. His head lolls back as he stares out the window at the lights of Hawkins’ main drag passing by. 

His dad has a client in town and had invited him out to dinner at the town’s finest dining establishment, Enzo’s, and Steve is being dragged along to complete the manufactured image of the Harrington nuclear family. So he ventures into the depths of his closet to find the nice suit his mother had bought him at Christmas for ‘special occasions or maybe a job interview.’ (Subtlety was not always Mrs. Harrington’s forte.) Unable to stomach a moment of full rebellion, he had left off the suit jacket and tie to silently protest the dinner, and while he was met with a disapproving eye from his father, he was not told off, which he deemed a success. 

In the back of the car, tired of fussing with uncooperative cufflinks, he ditches them entirely and rolls the sleeves up to his elbows. He jolts a bit as the car parks, unaware that they’d reached their destination. Without acknowledging him, his parents exit the vehicle, and Steve lets out a sigh before summoning the strength to follow them into the restaurant. 

Despite being the only semi-fancy restaurant in a small town, the place is really rather nice on the inside, dim and candlelit with soft jazz from a live band in the corner. His dad catches sight of his client, and they greet each other jovially while Steve becomes increasingly fascinated by a scuff on the ground which he toes with a loafer. They’re clapping each other on the back in the familiar way that middle-aged men do, and the man shakes his mom’s hand oh-so-politely when all of the sudden Steve is getting clapped on the shoulder and introduced by his father to this strange balding man. “And this is our son, Steven!”

The man offers a handshake which Steve takes half-heartedly with a weak smile. “I’m your dad’s pal Phil, it’s nice to meet ya.”

“Likewise.”

Much to Steve’s pleasure, the conversation shifts away from him to business or golf or politics or some other thing he didn’t care about. A host ushered the group to a table where Steve sits with a straight back next to his mother who’s politely smiling and nodding. He watches her sadly for a moment as she observes her husband’s conversation, beautiful and put-together and never speaking. Steve thinks she’s actually a pretty smart lady, interesting too, but his dad never listened to her long enough to know. 

Steering his thoughts from something too melancholic, he shifts his gaze to the rest of the restaurant where other tables are chatting and eating. His eyes wander from the main floor to the corner where the jazz trio was set up: a guitar, a stand up bass, and a piano. The piano and bass are played by older men, but the younger girl on guitar seems oddly familiar. He cocks his head as he runs through his memory to place her when he realizes he met her 80 miles away in Indianapolis.

Your mane of hair has been tamed back away from your face cleanly, and you have ditched the black for a white turtleneck and white slacks. The dark shadow on your lids he had come to admire is nowhere to be found, and he’s surprised by how easily you could tuck away your rock persona to be some plain restaurant musician, not meant to attract any attention. Your attention is focused on a stand of music in front of you. Steve watches enraptured as your delicate fingers expertly navigate the fretboard, picking chromatic scales and diminished sevenths. He had wondered before if he was just awed by you before because of your avant garde fashion and too-cool persona, but now, he realizes something about you is inherently magnetic as he stares and stares and st—

“Steve.”

His father’s stern tone yanks him from his reverie, and he blinks, trying to orient himself in the conversation. 

“Darling.” His mother gently placates him with a manicured hand on his shoulder. “Phil was asking about school.”

Steeling his jaw, Steve offers Phil a forced smile. “Oh, uh, I don’t—I don’t go to school.”

“Really? You seem like a total college man to me.”

Hot under the collar, Steve grimaces before responding, “Yeah, just didn’t work out for me like that. But I do have a job. I work at the Family Video down the street.”

His father’s stare sharpens at the mention of Family Video, but Phil remains ignorant to his displeasure. “Always good bring home some bread, but lemme tell ya, if you ever wanna get back into the college game, I know a guy at Wabash and—”

Phil continues monologuing as Steve nods and feigns interest in whatever the hell he’s saying, but all he can think about is somehow finding a way to escape this godforsaken dinner. Eventually, the conversation leaves the topic of Steve’s future, and during a lull, he excuses himself to the bathroom. He files past tables to the back of the restaurant and once he reaches the restroom, he sees a door labeled ‘exit,’ so he pushes out into the night instead. A rush of cold air greets him as soon as he steps out, and with eyes closed, he heaves a sigh and leans against the brick exterior, relieved to have found a moment of refuge from his parents and their grilling and fucking Phil. 

“You look tired.”

A familiar voice startles him out of his reprieve, and he looks to his side to see his favorite musician slouched against the wall with a cigarette between your two fingers. Your eyebrows are quirked in an amused but sympathetic manner, and you take a drag off the cig before offering him a hit wordlessly. He watches the smoke curl out of your pretty pursed lips, and when you look up at him from under your lashes, eyes shining in the harsh fluorescence, he wants to beg like a dog begs for table scraps. When he can finally pull his gaze away, his eyes shift to the cig in your fingers and then back up to yours with a guilty expression.

“I told Dustin I quit smoking.”

You shrug, and somehow with your nonchalant approval, Steve doesn’t feel guilty taking a long drag, feeling that familiar burning sensation in his lungs. He lets the smoke go on a slow exhale, savoring the forbidden pleasure. He hands the cig back and mumbles a soft thanks, which you accept with a small nod.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you survey the dirty parking lot behind Enzo’s before taking another drag, and your preoccupation with the dimly lit asphalt allows him to stare. He liked your other look a lot, but he likes this one too, the neat hairstyle pulling it all out of your face, so he can see it all clearly: the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheek, the crinkling corners of your eyes. You’re statuesque and divine, the way you lean against the wall and glow under the light. Angelic in all white.

“Do you prefer this look?”

Your words are spoken into the encroaching night, and Steve wonders why you won’t look at him. He turns to lean on his left shoulder and face you better.

“What do you mean?”

Your lips pull into a tight smile, and you continue to watch the dark. “Just that you always seemed like a more clean-cut guy in high school, dating preppy girls and wearing polos.” He chuckles at your description of his archetype, and your smile is tight in an effort to be contained. “Thought I might’ve scared you before.” It’s kind of a joke, but it also gives voice to an insecurity that bubbled up in the time since you’d last spoken.

“I’m not easily spooked.” He’s smirking, and it looks good on his face, but it doesn’t really settle your stomach the way you wanted it too, and somehow, he realizes that and makes an effort to reassure you. 

“I like your other look. I really do. The makeup, the hair—it’s cool. It’s very…alternative.”

It’s your turn to laugh. “It is. Feels more like me, though.” 

“Not to say that I don’t like this get up,” he says, gesturing to your outfit. “Can finally see your whole face.”

You can’t help it when the heat rushes to your cheeks, and your eyes swing to his to see what he meant by it, but he’s indecipherable. Why does Steve Harrington want to see your whole face???

You clear your throat and try to divert attention from whatever weird tension was weaving its way between you. “Yeah, they want us to look all nice and clean and polished for the guests here, so they told me to put the hair away.”

He’s laughing again, and you can’t understand why pride swells at your ability to make him laugh. He looks beautiful beside you. Shadows gathered under his cheekbones and his jaw, under his eyes. His Adam’s apple jumps with laughter, and you want to tear your eyes from his neck but are failing miserably. Sure, he was handsome in high school, but he was far away on an untouchable pedestal back then, and now he’s real and right next to you and too tangible. Your gaze searches the night again, your smile small like a hand of cards tucked against your chest as his laugh finally fades.

The quiet that settled is not uncomfortable but the balmy feeling of possibility. You risk a sweep of your eyes up his figure to his face, and that sadness he’d come out with once again rests on his forehead, and you aren’t quite sure when you became bold, but you break the silence. “Why’d you come out here?”

His smile is rueful but not unkind, eyes looking down at a crumbling parking space barrier. He picks his words carefully. “Shitty parents talking about wasted potential.”

You hadn’t really known Steve in high school aside from peripheral knowledge, but you had enough context clues to understand. You nod slowly. “I get what that’s like.” 

His eyes raise to yours in silent question. You continue, “My parents aren’t exactly stoked that their daughter is trying to be a musician. Unstable career path, starving artist bullshit.”

“But you’re, like, really good.”

When you meet his eyes again, he’s all earnestness. Normally, you would have protested and shivered under the compliment, but something about him and the way he’s looking at you makes you believe it.

“Thanks, Steve,” you whisper.

“I’m serious, dude. You could move to Nashville, do the whole nine yards.”

His blind belief in you makes you chuckle lowly, and you tap out the ashes before taking a drag of your nearly forgotten cigarette to settle the uproar of something soft and fluttery in your stomach. Something about the sight of the cig reminds him of the smoking warzone left in the restaurant that he had to return to. Jerking a thumb in the direction of the door, he says, “I should probably head back in, but uh, it was good to talk to you. Again.”

Your lips curl in that otherworldly smile of yours as he reaches for the door handle, and it takes all the strength he has to resist the pull to your side. He sends a tight-lipped smile as he pulls the door open, and he’s about to leave when you call out.

“The band is playing the Hideout on Tuesday!” Your cool exterior has cracked in your desperate attempt to keep him near, but you recover yourself. “You should come.”

He returns your toothy grin.

“I’ll check my schedule.”

—

Once again, Steve feels out of place. It’s not as bad as Indianapolis, but he doesn’t feel exactly comfortable. He’s been to the Hideout before, but it was when he was in high school with a group of rowdy basketball jocks with fake IDs. Now, he feels like he sticks out like a sore thumb against the smattering of metalheads that have gathered in Hawkins’ dingiest dive bar on this random Tuesday, and he surveys them nervously.

With a rough hand on his tensed shoulder pulling down, Robin scoffs. “Will you chill out? You’re looking around like you’re about to commit a crime.”

Grimacing, he pulls his shoulders back and takes his hands out of his pockets to look less sketchy, but then he looks even more awkward, not knowing what to do with his hands. Robin’s face assumes one of disgust. “Nevermind, that’s even worse.”

“God.” He flexes his hands and then smooths his hair back before crossing his arms on the bar. “I’m acting like a fucking freak. Why am I so nervous?”

“Because you’re crushing on a girl who’s way out of your league.”

“Not helpful.”

“Just—order a drink or something, you’ll be fine,” she mollifies while signaling the bartender. 

He shakes his head. “I used to be good at this, Robin.”

The bartender arrives, and Steve orders a beer and a vodka soda for Robin. 

“You were good at this. With a very different target audience. But just ‘cuz you’re dealing with a new demographic doesn’t mean the whole game has changed. Just be nice, tell her her band is good, and ask her on a date.”

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. He rubs a thumb on the space between his brows which has grown sore from the constant concerned furrowing. Finally giving up on the tough love act, Robin pushes the beer toward him and sighs.

“You’re gonna be fine.”

“You’re right,” he conceded. “You’re right. I’ve been rejected on a nearly daily basis for almost a year now, so one more shouldn’t hurt.”

She flicks him on the forehead. 

“Ouch, dude!”

“Not the right attitude,” she chastises.

Before he can properly retaliate, the lights dim, and the sound of Eddie’s spoken intro booms from the speakers. The band members begin to filter on stage to mild applause from the rest of the patrons. Steve views the lackluster greeting with disdain before amping up his own clapping and adding a few cheers for good measure. Last one out on stage, you smile lightly, decked out once again in your black and your eyeshadow and your hair, but the sound of a boisterous audience gives you pause. Squinting into the stage lights, you try to identify the source, and your eyes land on Steve, who gives you a big smile because he can’t help himself, can’t stay cool and reserved. You grin to yourself as you plug in your guitar.

At his side, Robin bats Steve’s arm and mouths to him, That’s a good sign!!

He agrees.

“We are Corroded Coffin!” Eddie wails into the mic, and the music begins thunderously. 

The band plays some of the same songs and some new ones, and Steve should probably pay more attention to the music, but he’s staring at you with hearts in his eyes instead. He catches your eye a couple times offstage, and it feels like a secret he’s begging to share. He wants to grab the old drunkard next to him by the lapels and shake him and yell, She’s looking at me!!! The guitarist is smiling at me!!! because you’re a star up there, and he’s happy to just be in your orbit.

The set lasts for their hour slot, and it closes with a galloping original song with lots of crashing symbols and dirty driving guitar. Again, Steve finds himself clapping and cheering the loudest, so he elbows Robin, so she hoots and hollers alongside him. On stage, you give a small salute in gratitude to the audience and dip into the darkness of backstage. 

“Yeah, she’s definitely too cool for you,” Robin says plainly.

“Dustin first and now you,” he laments, shaking his head. “I know it’s true, but you don’t have to say it out loud.”

“Hey.”

It comes from behind him, and he turns to find you rocking back on your heels and staring up at him meekly. His breath catches at your nearness, and he’s smiling. “Hey.”

Robin witnesses this greeting with baited breath and wide eyes before spewing words, “Such a great show, [Y/N], I’m gonna go talk to Eddie, okay, bye!” She speeds away, giving Steve a very pointed look that he doesn’t miss. 

Attention back on you, he inhales quickly, brain scrambling to come up with conversation. “Yeah, you were really great.”

“Thanks. It was pretty fun tonight, most of the time the audience is a bunch of drunk dudes who couldn’t give less of shit, but for some reason, they were really responsive tonight.”

Steve feels a blush creep up the back of his neck at your teasing, and his eyes are trained on the ceiling with a dopey smile on his lips. “Yeah, I don’t know, maybe something special in the air tonight.”

“Maybe.” You chew your lip, the corners of your mouth turned up. The conversation comes to a standstill, and your skin itches until you blurt out, “Thanks for coming.”

“‘Course. Gotta see all your shows before you get famous, and I can say I saw you before you were big.” You’re laughing, and he’s kinda joking, but he really does think you could go all the way if you wanted. 

Your face feels hot, staring at his shoes because his eyes are too much. “God, you’re really yanking my chain now, huh?”

“You need to stop selling yourself short. You gotta believe in yourself more, you’re incredible.”

Rolling your shoulder back, you realize the dam has broken, and some courage that you didn’t know you had is unearthed in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes meet his, and you smile proudly. “D’you wanna get a drink with me, Steve?”

He nods before he can even really process what you’re saying, his grin stretching wide once he does fully realize. 

“I’d like that a lot.”

—

pls consider leaving a comment or reblogging if you enjoyed!!! :)

[haleigh-sloth]

I'm just waiting on metas that call out Shouji for daring to say that he won't forgive other mutants for not thinking about the consequences of their actions because villains can do what they want without thinking of the consequences but teenagers have to.

First: I honestly want the real deal translation for this one, to see what is actually being said. Because the comment about the hospital here and during the war is a little confusing.

Second: I’m of two thoughts, it’s intentionally somewhat dense and the follow up will make it feel more like a necessary response OR it really will just be a lesson of “right and wrong” and it’ll fall flat

I say dense because it’s not really about consequences and whether or not the villains think about them. We know they don’t. We also know they aren’t unaware that consequences exist. And at the same time, the UA kids are kids that have been taught that right and wrong are a simple concept. So no, Shouji doesn’t need hate. The writing has yet to deliver so I think we should give it a chance to do that. So I do hope there aren’t a ton of posts complaining when next week could very seriously answer all of their questions.

I’m much more convinced it’ll be the former, because this reminds me a lot of Ochacko’s “you’ll have to live with the consequences” at Toga. Which, yes, consequences are very real! And Toga can’t kill people to live how she wants. But the point is that killing people isn’t what Toga wants, that’s consequential. There’s an unmet need that comes before the killing.

**cue the scene from Silence of the Lambs when Hannibal is helping Clarice understand the serial killer she is trying to hunt down by saying exactly this lol**

So Ochacko wasn’t wrong per say, but she missed the mark. That wasn’t the point.

When you say “I’ve felt so unloved as I was born my entire life and because of my quirk I confuse love with blood and I never get any love back from people so I just feel suffocated and stuck and—“ and then someone says “you gotta live with the consequences man :/“, it’s like, that’s correct. But Toga is beyond caring about consequences dude. She’s part of the most wanted criminal group in the world now at the age of 17. She doesn’t care about consequences, she’s in fight or flight mode 24/7.

So the same applies here. These people who have been hurt and discriminated against are beyond caring about consequences. They’re past that point. So Shouji spouting that to them is like yelling at a brick wall.

The difference is we have seen the follow up with Ochacko. She has now thought back to that conversation and wondered where she went wrong, what she missed.

Which is why I am banking on the follow up of this to make it fall into place.

[supercantaloupe]

okay yeah actually, i’ll bite. i’ve got some of my own thoughts about the unsleeping city and cultural representation and i’m gonna make a post about them now, i guess. i’ll put it under a cut though because this post is gonna be long.

i wanna start by saying i love dimension 20 and i really really enjoy the unsleeping city. i look forward to watching new episodes every week, and getting hooked on d20 as a whole last summer really helped pull me out of a pandemic depression, and i’m grateful to have this cool show to be excited about and interested in and to have met so many cool people to talk about it with.

that being said, however, i think there is a risk run in representing any group of people/their culture when you have the kind of setting that tuc has. by which i mean, tuc is set in a real world with real people and real human cultures in it. unlike fantasy high or a crown of candy where everything is made up (even if rooted in real-world cultures), tuc is explicitly rooted in reality, and all of its diversity -- both the ups and downs that go with it. and especially set in new york of all places, one of the most densely, diversely populated cities on earth. the cast is 7 people; it’s great that those 7 people come from a variety of backgrounds and identities and all bring their own unique perspectives to the table, and it’s great that those people and the entire crew are generally conscious of themselves and desire to tell stories/represent perspectives ethically. but you simply cannot authentically represent every culture or every perspective in the world (or even just in a city) when your cast is 7 people. it’s an impossible task. this is inherent to the setting, and acknowledged by the cast, and by brennan especially, who has been on record saying how one of the exciting aspects of doing a campaign set in nyc is its diversity, the fact that no two new yorkers have the same perspective of new york. i think that’s a good thing -- but it does have its challenges too, clearly.

i’m not going to go into detail on the question of whether or not tuc’s presentation of asian and asian american culture is appropriative/offensive or not. first of all, i don’t feel like it’s 100% fair to judge the show completely yet, since it’s a prerecorded season and currently airing midseason, so i don’t yet know how things wrap up. secondly, i’m not asian or asian american. i can have my own opinions on that content in the show, but i think it’s worth more to hear actual asian and asian american voices on this specific aspect of the show. having an asian american cast member doesn’t automatically absolve the show of any criticisms with regard to asian american cultural representation/appropriation, whether those criticisms are made by dozens of viewers or only a handful of them. regardless, i don’t think it’s my place as someone who is not asian to speak with any authority on that issue, and i know for a fact that there are asian american viewers sharing their own opinions. their thoughts in this instance hold more water than mine, i think.

what i will comment on in more depth, though, is a personal frustration with tuc. i’m jewish; i’ve never really been shy about that fact on my page here. i’m not from new york, but i visit a few times a year (or i did before covid anyway, lol), and i have some family from nyc. nyc, to me, is a jewish city. and for good reason, since it’s home to one of the largest jewish populations of the country, and even the world, and aspects of jewish culture (including culinary, like bagels and pastrami, and linguistic, like the common use of yiddish words and phrases in english colloquial speech) are prevalent and celebrated among jews and goyim alike. when i think of nyc, i think of a jewish city; that’s not everybody’s new york, but that’s my new york, and thats plenty of other people’s new york too. so i do find myself slightly disappointed or frustrated in tuc for its, in my opinion, rather stark lack of jewish representation.

now, i’m not saying that one of the PCs should have been jewish, full stop. i love to headcanon iga as jewish even though canon does not support that interpretation, and i’m fine with that. she’s not my character. it’s possible that simply no one thought of playing a jewish character, i dunno. but also, and i can’t be sure about this, i’m willing to bet that none of the players really wanted to play a jewish character because they didn’t want to play a character of a marginalized culture they dont belong to in the interest of avoiding stereotyping or offensive representation/cultural appropriation. (i don’t know if any of the cast members are jewish, but i’m assuming not.) and the concern there is certainly appreciated; there’s not a ton of mainstream jewish rep out there, and often what we get is either “unlikeable overly conservative hassidic jew” or “jokes about their bar mitzvah/one-off joke about hanukkah and then their jewishness is never mentioned ever again,” which sucks. it would be really cool to see some more good casual jewish rep in a well-rounded, three-dimensional character in the main cast of a show! even if there are a couple of stumbles along the way -- nobody is perfect and no two jews have the same level of knowledge, dedication, and adherence to their culture.

but at the same time, i look at characters like iga and i really do long for a jewish character to be there. siobhan isn’t polish, yet she’s playing a characters whose identity as a polish immigrant to new york is very central to her story and arc. and part of me wonders why we can’t have the same for a jewish character. if not a PC, then why not an NPC? again, i’m jewish, and i am not native, but in my opinion i think the inclusion of jj is wonderful -- i think there are even fewer native main characters in mainstream media than there are jewish ones, and it’s great to see a native character who is both in touch with their culture as well as not being defined solely by their native-ness. to what extent does it count as ‘appropriative’ because brennan is a white dude? i dunno, but i’m like 99% sure they talked to sensitivity consultants to make sure the representation was as ethical as they could get it, and anyway, i can’t personally see and glaring missteps so far. but again, i’m not native, and if there are native viewers with their own opinions on jj, i’d be really interested in hearing them.

but getting back to the relative lack of jewish representation. it just...disappoints me that jewishness in new york is hardly ever even really mentioned? again, i know we’re only just over halfway through season 2, but also, we had a whole first season too. and it’s definitely not all bad. for example: willy! gd, i love willy so much. him being a golem of williamsburg makes me really really happy -- a jewish mythological creature animated from clay/mud (in this case bricks) to protect a jewish community (like that of williamsburg, a center for many of nyc’s jews) from threat. golem have so often been taken out of their original context and turned into evil monsters in fantasy settings, especially including dnd. (even within other seasons of d20! crush in fh being referred to as a “pavement golem” always rubbed me the wrong way, and i had hoped they’d learned better after tuc but in acoc they refer to another monster as a “corn golem” which just disappointed me all over again.) so the fact that tuc gets golems right makes my jewish heart very happy.

and yet...he doesn’t show up that much? sure, in s1, he’s very helpful when he does, but in s2 so far he shows up once and really does not say or do much of anything. he speaks with a lot more yiddish-influenced language than other characters, but if you didn’t know those words were specifically yiddish/jewish, you might not be able to otherwise clock the fact that willy is jewish. and while willy is a jewish mythological creature who is jewish in canon, he isn’t human. there are no other direct references to judaism, jewish characters, or jewish culture in the unsleeping city beyond him.

there are, in fact, two other canon jewish characters in tuc. but...here’s where i feel the most frustration, i think. the two canon jewish humans in tuc are stephen sondheim and robert moses. both of whom are real actual people, so it’s not like we can just pick and choose what their cultural backgrounds are. as much as i love stephen sondheim, i think there are inherent issues with including real world people as characters in a fictional setting, especially if they are from living/recent memory (sondheim is literally still alive), but anyway, sondheim and moses are both actual jewish people. from watching tuc alone you probably would not be able to guess that sondheim is jewish -- nothing from his character except name suggests it, and i wouldn’t even fault you for not thinking ‘sondheim’ is a jewish-sounding surname (and i dislike the idea/attitude/belief that you can tell who is or isn’t jewish by the sound of their name). and yeah, i’m not going to sit here and be like “brennan should have made sondheim more visibly jewish in canon!” because, like, he’s a real human being and it’s fucking weird to portray him in a way that isn’t as close to how he publicly presents himself, which is not in fact very identifiably jewish? i don’t know, this is what i mean by it’s inherently weird and arguably problematic to portray real living people as characters in a fictional setting, but i digress. sondheim’s jewish, even if you wouldn’t know it; not exactly a representation win.

and then there’s bob moses. you might be able to guess that he’s jewish from canon, actually. there’s the name, of course. but more insidious to me are the specifics of his villainy. greedy and powerhungry, a moneyman, a lich whose power is stored in a phylactery...it does kind of all add up to a Yikes from me. (in the stock market fight there’s a one-off line asking if he has green skin; it’s never really directly acknowledged or answered, but it made me really uncomfortable to hear at first and it’s stuck with me since viewing for the first time.) the issue for me here is that the most obviously jewish human character is the season’s bbeg, and his villainy is rooted in very antisemitic tropes and stereotypes.

i know this isn’t all brennan’s fault -- robert moses was a real ass person and he was in fact jewish, a powerhungry and greedy moneyman, a big giant racist asshole, etc. i’m not saying that jewish characters can’t be evil, and i’m not saying brennan should have tried to be like “this is my NPC robert christian he’s just like bob moses but instead he’s a goy so it’s okay” because...that would be fuckin weird bro. and bob moses was a real person who was jewish and really did do some heinous shit with his municipal power. i’m not necessarily saying brennan should have picked/created a different character to be the villain. i’m not even saying that he shouldn’t have made bob moses a lich (although, again, it doesn’t 100% sit right with me). but my point here is that bob moses is one of a grand total of three canon jewish characters in tuc, of which only two humans, of whom he is the one you’d most easily guess would be jewish and is the most influenced by antisemitic stereotypes/tropes. had there been more jewish representation in the show at all, even just some neutral jewish NPCs, this would not be as much of a problem as it is to me. but halfway through season 2, so far, this is literally all we get. and that bums me out.

listen, i really like tuc. i love d20. but the fact that it is set in a real world place with real world people does inherently raise challenges when it comes to ethical cultural representation. especially when the medium of the show is a game whose creatures, lore, and mechanics have been historically rooted in some questionable racial/cultural views. and dnd is making progress to correct some of those misguided views of older sourcebooks by updating them to more equitably reflect real world racial/cultural sensitivities; that’s a good thing! but these seasons, of course, were recorded before that. the game itself has some questionable cultural stuff baked into it, and that is (almost necessarily) going to be brought to the table in a campaign set in a real-world place filled with real-world people of diverse real-world cultures. the cast can have sensitivity consultants and empathy and the best intentions in the world, and they’ll still fuck up from time to time, that’s okay. your mileage may vary on whether or not it’s still worth sticking around with the show (or the fandom) through that. for me, it does not yet outweigh all the things i like about the show, and i’m gonna continue watching it. but it’s still very worth acknowledging that the cast is 7 people who cannot possibly hope to authentically or gracefully represent every culture in nyc. it’s an unfortunate limitation of the medium. yet it’s also still worthwhile to acknowledge and discuss the cultural representation as it is in the show -- both the goods and the bads, the ethically solid and the questionably appropriative -- and even to hold the creators accountable. (decently, though. i’m definitely not advocating anybody cyberbully brennan on twitter or whatever.) the show and its representation is far from perfect, but i also don’t think it ever could be. still, though, it could always be better, and there’s a worthwhile discussion to be had in the wheres, hows, and whys of that.

[send-allmyloving]

daisuke with jealous s / o? I think it can be interesting and maybe even cute, depends on the reaction of daisuke 🤔

ohoho funnn thanks for this ask!

Daisuke with a jealous s/o

Working at Tokyo’s Metropolitan Detective Division could be a real pain in the ass. The environment there was just not as professional is you thought it would have seemed, and working as an interrogator was only slightly thrilling; you were still restricted to the Modern Crime Prevention Task Force along with Haru, and the jobs that you were forced to handle were nothing above the ordinary; just the same old drug busts and whatnot.

Of course, having your multi-millionaire boyfriend, Daisuke, at your side took off the edge a little bit, but you can’t help but be annoyed at how little things were going on in your life. You needed some form of thrill, which is why you went through the hell of studying forensic science and detective work, yet here you were sitting in a plain office with only a few people in your division, filing out paperwork.

However, what was really irking you today was seeing all the girls and guys that flocked around Daisuke everywhere he went, whether it was on missions or even in the office. He didn’t seem to mind, accepting the snacks some of them would give him and allowing them to engage with him in any kind of stupid conversation, even if they were so obviously flirting with him! Though you knew how stupidly oblivious this man could get, you still got so damn jealous that those people were trying to get to him shamelessly even when they were openly aware of the relationship you and him shared.

Your resolve finally snapped when you had just finished a field job with Haru and Daisuke, seeing the client talk with Daisuke on the side with a shameless blush dusting her face as she handed him a small gift bag, as well as a slip of paper that you were certain had her phone number on it. Your hands were balled into fists, fingernails digging into the flesh of your palm as you restrained yourself from giving the girl a punch to the face after seeing your boyfriend take both the gift and paper without even blinking.

“Haru, I’m going home. Tell Daisuke that I took the cab once he’s finished messing around with that stupid client,” you snapped at the taupe-haired man beside you while shoving your fists into your coat and briskly walking towards the street.

“H-hey! (Name)! Are you alright?” Haru attempted to call after you, but you blocked out his voice as you hailed down a cab, refusing to think back to the exasperating scene in front of you.

Daisuke turned around as the woman left, eyes meeting with Haru’s and widening with surprise as he took note of what just happened.

“Why’d they leave?” He asked his companion, genuine confusion arising in his deep voice.

Haru groaned. “You’re so damn dense. That girl was flirting with you right in front of your significant other, you idiot!”

“Was she? I didn’t know... She just gave me a gift bag,” Daisuke muttered, his eyebrows furrowing as he processed the situation. Was that considered flirting?

“Of course she was! Are you stupid?! She gave you her damn phone number too! Did you see the blush on her face at all?? She was obviously trying to get with you!” Haru yelled, pinching the bridge of his nose in utter exasperation. 

Daisuke looked down at the slip of paper in his hands. “But I thought she was just trying to give us a form of contact in case anything else--”

“Oh for fuck’s sake... You’re the densest man in this universe. You’re denser than a fucking brick. Just go home and talk to them already!”

He sighed, walking towards Haru and shoving both the gift bag and the slip of paper into his hands before walking towards his car to head home to you.

~

You were in the kitchen, making yourself some hot chocolate to distract yourself from the stinging pain in your heart as you thought back to what happened today. It wasn’t his fault, he was too stupid to realize when anyone was trying to flirt with him. It was a surprise that he was the same someone who’s had one night stands with anyone before meeting you. 

You sighed as you heard the doors of the mansion open. Your boyfriend was home. Usually you would be greeting him with open arms and a wide smile, but you decided that you needed a break from him for tonight.

“(Name)? I’m back... where are you?” you heard him call out to you, footsteps growing louder as he walked towards the kitchen. You stayed silent, lips pressed together as you focused on stirring the pot of hot chocolate on the stove, your fingers tightening against the counter as you tensed.

You felt arms slip around your waist from behind and a chin rest on your shoulder, making you gasp faintly in surprise, but quickly you came to realization that it was none other than your boyfriend, probably still completely oblivious to the situation at hand. You refused to look back at him, leaning away from him as he attempted to kiss your cheek.

Daisuke felt his heart ache. He knew he hurt you, even if he didn’t mean to, but he was never used to you being this mad.

He moved his arms to hold you tighter, pulling you close to his chest, a pang of guilt crossing his heart as he felt you tense in his arms.

“I’m sorry, my darling,” he whispered, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

You froze, your stirring ceasing as your grip on the spoon tensed, teeth worrying at your bottom lip. He was apologizing. What were you supposed to say?

Daisuke’s head rose after he heard a faint hiccup emerge from your lips. He leaned his head over to see your face from the side, and sure enough, he saw small tears leaking from your eyes as you bit down on your lip to keep the sobs at bay.

“Hey... what’s the matter, angel?” he asked you softly, moving his hands up to place them gently on your arms.

“Not now, Daisuke. Please...” you choked out, still avoiding his face as you turned off the stove, moving away from his embrace as you attempted to leave.

A hand on your wrist. You stopped, still refusing to turn around to face him. You didn’t know why you were feeling so hurt by this.

“Talk to me, (Name). Just let me know what I did so I can fix it,” he pleaded.

Your heart ripped. Now you made him feel like it was his fault. Great.

“You didn’t do anything, Daisuke,” you said tearfully, finally turning to face him.

“Then tell me what’s hurting you. I’ll make it right,” he said, his voice low and gentle as he pulled you to his chest. “I’m not going to hurt you, my dear.”

You couldn’t stop it. The tears continued to flow down your cheeks as you buried your face into his chest. Daisuke calmly stroked your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he soothingly rubbed your back.

“It’s just... I-I get scared. I see all those people who flirt with you and--” a sob shook your body and Daisuke tightened his grip on your waist as you leaned into him. “I-I know you don’t realize... that.. but--” you hiccuped, “but I’m just so scared Daisuke. I’m so scared... you’re going to find someone more deserving of you and then--” a torrent of sobs took over you, as you held him tighter, your tears wetting his dress shirt, but he didn’t care. All he could feel was the throbbing pain in his chest as he watched you come apart. He felt his heart slowly breaking in half as he watched you cry.

“You’re... you’re going to leave me...” you weeped, your fingers gripping onto the fabric of his jacket as you continued to cry out your heart.

“No...” he whispered, trying to keep his voice from breaking, but to no avail. He felt a tear fall down his cheek, but ignored it as he continued to hush your sorrow-filled sobs, fingers running gently across your back and down your arms to calm your aches and tremors.

After you had quieted down, Daisuke pulled back to wipe your tears before cupping your cheeks. He stroked your cheek with his thumb, his eyes teary as he looked at you with the most heartfelt expression you’d ever seen him with.

“You deserve more than anything in this world, sweetheart. You deserve more than everything this universe holds. I love you so, so much, my angel. And I will never leave your side. Not now, not ever. I promise you, my love. You are my everything.”

You looked up at him, breath hitching in your throat. God, you were so in love with him. How could someone be so kind, and so loving?

He took your hands into his as he lifted them to his lips, planting a kiss onto every little finger. “I love you. I love every part of you,” he murmured.

Fingers still interlaced, he let go of your other hand to pull you into a warm kiss, your troubles melting away.

Pulling back ever so slightly, he slowly peppered kisses down from your jaw to your neck, and back up to your ear, his free hand sliding around to the small of your back.

“Daisuke...” you whispered timidly, holding on tightly so that the nervous quaking of your hands wasn’t obvious.

“You went through so much today because of me...”

“N-no! It’s not your fault--”

“Hush now, my angel,” he said softly, letting go of your hand to brush back your hair with his fingers as he kissed down from your lips to your jaw once more, his hand slipping under the hem of your shirt to caress your skin. He spoke once more, his sultry voice filling your ears with a melody of love and lust.

“Let me take care of you tonight.”

// what the fuck i’m so sorry i’m taking so long to complete requests sighhh anyways i hope you like this mwah mwah

[hb-writes]

True Stories

Written in response to Hauntober prompt #6: Fog 

Summary: Little Lady Blinder universe. Clara and Finn chatting about ghost stories while taking a ride on Uncle Charlie’s narrowboat.

Characters Featured: Finn Shelby, Clara Shelby (Shelby!Sister), Charlie Strong

-----

Clara regretted it a bit, begging for her and Finn to be allowed to come along with Curly on the narrowboat instead of just taking the train to London.

The twins had spent much of their childhood playing on their uncle’s boats as they moored in the yard or moved about the city, but Clara had never ridden them beyond the city limits. She had never been subjected to the long stretches of deserted towpaths between towns or the low, suffocating tunnels, the dense fog that made her wonder how Curly could even steer the boat straight. And worst of all, she was cold, chilled right through her fingers and toes and spine, feeling more frozen than she remembered being in the entirety of her life. 

But Clara would not tell anyone that, not even her dear twin, Finn, because he’d go spouting off about it the very moment they arrived to Ada’s, and then she’d go and tell Tommy, and then Clara would never hear the end of it. 

Tommy already had quite enough things to tell the youngest Shelby ‘I told you so’ for, though he never did, not with those exact words. Tommy needed much less pizzazz than the phrase supplied to get his points across, and he preferred a raised eyebrow or a long stare or a smirk, maybe a single well-chosen word, his little sister’s name said in just the right tone. 

So, Clara sat beside Finn, shivering as he smoked a cigarette, and she didn’t think once on the idea of uttering aloud a single grumble about the cold or the dampness or the fact that she’d decided she didn’t much like traveling the cut at night, not this time of year, at least. And further more, Clara decided on telling Tommy a grand story about their journey on the Grand Union, and in her telling, she’d claim being nothing but comfortable and content and express only the sentiment that she’d thoroughly enjoyed herself.

“Here,” Finn said as he offered his cigarette. “This’ll warm you up.”

Clara frowned and shook her head, her arms wrapped around her legs, her head resting against her knees. Even if the cigarette could give her any significant warmth, Clara wasn’t a smoker. She would rather have a cup of tea, or a sliver of whiskey, not that either would truly warm her. More than anything, she longed for a well-stoked fire and the pile of blankets back home on her bed. 

Finn shrugged, pulling the cigarette back.

“Tom told you to wear more than that silly coat,” he said. “You’d say you’re freezing in the middle of July and you wear that thing this time of year?” 

“I’m fine,” she insisted, pulling the silly coat a bit tighter.

“Trying to be all posh down in London,” Finn continued. “Don’t know why, not as if Ada will let us get up to anything.” 

Clara lifted her head, leaning back into the boxes behind them. “If you’re going to insist on being irritating, you can go and--” Clara started.

“Fuck! Did you see that?” Finn asked, knocking Clara’s shoulder as he nodded ahead. 

“See what?” she asked, squinting as she searched the dark, hazy expanse in front of them. “How the hell can you see a bloody thing with all this fog?”

“There’s another tunnel up ahead,” Charlie interrupted, stepping up behind his niece and nephew, leaning on the box. “It’s a low one though, best to go on inside.” 

“We’ll be alright, eh, Clara?” Finn asked, nudging his sister in the side. “The whole point of this trip was because she wanted to sleep out under the stars.”

Charlie glanced up, but there weren’t any stars to be seen through the fog. He shrugged, learning long ago that there was seldom a time it was worthwhile to go about arguing logic with the Shelby lot of bullheaded children. 

“Suit yourselves,” Charlie offered as he headed to join Curly at the back of the boat, bringing the lantern with him as he left the kids in near darkness. 

Clara shifted further down against the crate as the boat entered the cavernous mouth of the tunnel, the crumbling brick just visible through the fog. She’d never considered herself claustrophobic, but something about being so close to walls on three sides with water on the fourth, and with no end of the tunnel in sight, set her pulse a bit quicker. She shivered as the tunnel’s damp air chilled her further, the shaft seeming to narrow as the boat trudged along. 

“What’d you see before?” she asked, turning to look at her brother.

Finn shrugged. “I don’t know. Thought I saw a light or something,” he said. “You know, they say over a hundred people died here in this tunnel.” 

Clara watched Finn, his face little more than a dark silhouette though he was just beside her. 

“You’re making that up,” she answered.

“I’m not. There was a tunnel collapse and a crash and who knows how many people have accidentally drowned in there.” Finn flicked his cigarette over the side of the boat and sat up straighter, shifting so his back faced the boat’s bow. He watched his sister as she remained propped up against the crate, her shivering arms crossed tight over her chest. “And then there’s the story about Sarah Kitchens...” 

“Stop trying to scare me, Finn,” she answered. “It’s not gonna work.”

“I’m not trying to scare you. It’s a true story. Go ask Uncle Charlie if you don’t believe me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re too scared to walk the boat alone in the dark.”

“I am not. I’m just not going to make the trip because you’re being an idiot.” 

“Well, I’m telling the story whether you wanna hear it or not, so if you’re too sca--” 

“Yeah? You gonna tell it to yourself if I go in?” she asked, scoffing. “Just tell the fucking story, Finn.”

Finn cleared his throat. “Well, the way I heard it, Sarah Kitchens was the love of one of the rich lads in town, a real pretty girl, about seventeen or so, but she’d met a navvy who was here building the tunnel, this guy from a few towns down, and they fell in love,” he said, “And they’d come down here, Sarah and the navvy man, when the tunnel was deserted and they’d well, you kno--” 

Clara cuffed Finn on the arm and he raised an arm to shield himself from another smack.

“What the hell?” 

“Just get on with it,” she answered.

“Well, anyway, they’d come down here with their candles and all, to get some time alone, and one night the rich lad, he gathered his friends and followed her, cause she wasn’t seeming so interested anymore and well, they found her with the navvy, and him and the friends, they grabbed Sarah and they walled her up alive right then for cheating on him--”

“For cheating? You never said she was dating the rich lad,” Clara said.

“Yeah, but he liked her,” Finn answered.

“But she wasn’t cheating on him, then.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Fine, he walled her up ‘cause he was crazy, then. Doesn’t much matter why he did it. Either way, she ended up stuck somewhere in these walls.” He nodded up towards the ceiling of the tunnel. “Some say there are nights, must be when she’s missing her navvy, and you can still see their candles, like she’s waiting for him… and there’s others say they’ve seen her blood on the walls, seeping right through the rock and--”

A stream of cool water flowed down from a crack in the brick above them. 

Clara’s scream pierced the air, reverberating off the tunnel’s walls, overtaking the dull hum of the boat’s motor and the calm lapping of the water against the hull.

Finn's responding laugh echoed too, booming off the walls as he laid back holding his stomach.  

“It’s not fucking funny,” Clara answered, flicking away the water that had landed on her neck and in her hair and shoving her heel into his leg.

“Yes, it fucking is,” Finn answered, grabbing her ankle. He lifted his free arm to block an assumed onslaught of smacks. 

Instead, Clara jabbed him under the ribs. 

Finn dropped her ankle and shifted away, both hands held up in defense. “Christ, don’t you start with that.” 

“You were--” Clara started, her attention drawn to the flickering light at the far end of the tunnel. “What the fuck is that?” 

“What the fuck is what?” Finn asked.

“The light!” Clara pointed to the source of the faint. Finn eyes followed. 

“A fu... it’s a fucking candle,” Finn mumbled out, a pitiful wail escaping his lips as he abandoned his sister, nearly tripping over himself as he moved toward the back of the boat.

Clara was still giggling to herself in the darkness when Charlie came up to check on her, not getting a word out of his nephew as he sped by to get in the cabin.

“What are you kids playing at? Shrieking like banshees in a fucking tunnel?”

Clara snorted. “Finn just scared himself with a ghost story. Thought he saw the candles of Sarah Kitchens and the navvy up ahead,” she answered, nodding towards the tunnel’s far end, and the dim light shining through the blanket of fog. 

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “You mean the boat coming the other way?” 

“I know what it is,” Clara answered. “Finny didn’t though.”

“Well, I heard you screaming, too.” 

“Got dripped on a bit,” she answered.

“An awful lot of noise for a few drops of water.” Charlie turned away from his niece for a moment, took note of their general whereabouts before meeting her eye again.

“The story’s true though,” Charlie said, the smirk on his face hidden as he lifted his lantern to reveal the reddish-brown blemish covering the tunnel wall. 

It was nothing more than a conveniently positioned iron stain, a well-timed trick Charlie Strong had been employing to scare Shelby kids for over two decades now, but Clara didn’t know that as she too sought the shelter of the narrow boat’s cabin. 

The twins didn’t come out again until they were nearly to London, when there were no more eerie tunnels in sight and the night’s fog was long past burned off by the morning sun.

-----

Read more Little Lady Blinder stories here.

[itsthesinbin]

I posted 1,492 times in 2021

762 posts created (51%)

730 posts reblogged (49%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.0 posts.

I added 1,236 tags in 2021

#mod talks - 523 posts

#obey me - 130 posts

#asks - 109 posts

#mod liveblogs - 96 posts

#thimble in galar - 81 posts

#anonymous - 75 posts

#art - 68 posts

#mass effect - 58 posts

#nsft - 48 posts

#hades game - 48 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#if a person says they hate kids im immediately like cool im not letting you within 100 feet of my house bc i have two kids living at my home

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

my girlfriend got me into ice planet barbarians and this is the ONLY straight smut writer that is valid

125 notes • Posted 2021-06-11 01:00:42 GMT

#4

a self published smut series has NO business being this funny and cute

139 notes • Posted 2021-06-14 08:02:08 GMT

#3

people are getting mad that ppl are simping for lady dimitrescu bc “omg no she’s evil and tortures/kills people tho” and all i can say is they hate to see a girlboss winning 💕

148 notes • Posted 2021-05-10 00:00:17 GMT

#2

Obey Me!

The brothers with a MC who has a shitty home life and is genuinely scared for their life as it gets closer to the end of their 1 year student life with them?

this got long so after lucifer’s it’ll be under a read more! as will most requests like this probably, cause both a lot of characters and im trying to like.... make hc posts longer

Obey Me! One Master to Rule Them All

- Lucifer sees your hesitation and anxiety, as the year comes to a close. He’ll pull you aside to ask what’s wrong, and if there’s something he can do to help. He will be HORRIFIED when you tell him of your situation. His jaw will tense, before he simply pulls you into his room and pulls his phone out. Guidelines be damned, he’s not about to send you back to a place where he can’t readily protect you. Sure, the Devildom is dangerous, but at least here you’re safe with him.

“I’m sure Diavolo will understand and allow us to bend the rules of the exchange program a bit.”

- Mammon is a dense as a bag of bricks, so he doesn’t realize something is up until you’re mid panic attack. Aka he walked in on you while you were mid panic attack. He was flustered, going back and forth on whether he should get someone else, before shutting himself up and coming to help you. He’d guide you through the breathing exercises, trying to get you calm enough to speak. He’d stay with you no matter how long it took, and would listen to you shakily explain what happened. And oh, the guy gets furious.

Sure his brothers may be mean to him, but the idea that you were terrified of your own family? It made his blood boil. You’d have to stop him from going to the human world or else he’d do something drastic. Pulls you down against him while calling Lucifer.

“I don’t give a fuck about the rules- you ain’t going nowhere! Especially not without me!”

- Leviathan is a master at spotting anxiety, so he’s on you in an instant in his own way. He’ll drag you to play games with him, side eyeing you the whole time with an increasingly-reddening face until he finally asks you to talk about your problems. It almost seems like he isn’t paying attention, because he kinda keeps playing while you talk. Until the controller just snaps under his grip. He gets startled for a minute, before he shakes it off and pulls you to him.

“I... I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you, alright? I’ll get Lucifer to keep you here- I’ll fight Diavolo himself if I have to.”

- Satan is on top of it. He can tell you’re anxious, and he knows it’s more than just about leaving. He’ll bring you to his room for a private talk, and will let you vent about it. He tries to keep his composure, he really does, but you look up and he’s in his demon form without even realizing it. Slowly, he calms himself back down, and goes back to his human form. The last thing he needs is to scare you.

“You aren’t going anywhere, I’ll make sure of it.”

- Asmodeus makes little jokes at first, when he realizes you’re stressed. Stress just causes wrinkles, you know! But then he realizes it runs a lot deeper than just surface-level anxiety. He does what he knows best- gets you in a bath with him, just to relax, and sees if you want to talk. When you do, and he learns of your situation, he can’t help but cry with you. He’ll hold you until the bath water turns cold, joking that you two turned into prunes as he gets you out, dry, and into the bed with him so he can continue to comfort you.

“Well, I was thinking of trying to keep you here for myself, anyway. Guess there isn’t much to stop you from agreeing to stay with me, right?”

- Beelzebub is another thick one. He means well, he just doesn’t see the telltale signs right away. He notices after you accidentally cut your finger while on kitchen duty, and just... break down in front of him. The small cut was the catalyst for everything else, and you start spilling to him after he asks what’s wrong. He listens intently, carefully dealing with your cut as you cry to him. As soon as you’re done, he places a hand on your head gently. He’s smiling, but his eyes are serious.

“I’ll protect you. I always have.”

- Belphegor is immediately aware something’s wrong. He invades your dreams, witnessing nightmares of distorted family members and memories. As soon as you both wake up from your nap, he’s rolled over on top of you. He hovers over you, staring down at you in both concern and anger. He gets the truth out of you, maybe a little more forcefully than he meant to, but he never raises his voice. Once you’re finished, he’ll roll back over onto his side to pull you close to him. He’ll let out a bittersweet chuckle, pressing his face to the top of your head.

“I was even going to ask you to stay with me and Beel, on your last day here. Guess I know the answer that ahead of time, cause I’m sure as hell not letting you leave.”

151 notes • Posted 2021-05-16 03:21:35 GMT

#1

ruby dixon said “im gonna play into your breeding kink AND your fantasy of a possessive doting partner that makes you the center of their world AND your fantasy of a giant monster treating you like the most precious thing in the universe” and slapped me in the face

1115 notes • Posted 2021-06-16 06:19:23 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[towerfandoms]

Hanahaki Disease

“When the victim coughs up petals from one sided love”

A/n: Ok so I know I have a bunch of requests to get through but I was reading about Hanahaki disease and thought about Khun and one thing led to another. Regardless I hope you enjoy this even though it’s longgggg. I just feel like this will help me get out of my writing slump so yeah enjoy. And please feedback is always appreciated. Part 2 is now up here

Genre: ANGST, ANGST, ANGSTY ANGST. idk did I mention angst?

Warnings: mentions of death

Word Count: 2.2k

Aguero made it impossible not to believe in love at first sight. His angelic smile, velvety laugh, porcelain skin and his piercing, bright blue eyes. He was the definition of perfection. When you first met him you questioned if he was hand-carved by the Greek Gods themselves.

Khun was a reserved man. He didn’t let many people in. Despite his cold and harsh exterior you had seen something else in his eyes; exhaustion, pain, a little bit of weariness. He was hurting, badly. That’s why you made it your mission to break down those barriers and offer him a little kindness. Try and ease his pain.

Your efforts eventually paid off. Khun considered you as one of his closest companions and cared deeply about you. Although he still couldn’t fully open up to you he let his guard down more around you. And in that moment that was enough.

With each test, every fight, every loss you two went through, the pain lessened knowing you had each other by your side. At first your attraction to him was purely superficial. Nothing more than a typical “high school crush”. However as the years went on these feelings developed into something much bigger. Every time your shoulders brushed it sent a fizzle of electricity down your spine. Or how the blood rushed straight to your face whenever he leaned down to inspect your wounds.

Slowly, everyone around you began to notice. It was to be expected really. Hell, you couldn’t even look at the blue haired man in the eye anymore. Even Bam, who was as dense as a brick, noticed your lingering eyes on Khun whenever he turned his back. If Bam noticed then there was no doubt Khun knew or at the very least had an inkling suspicion. Of course he stayed true to his ways, never letting you know whether he knew about your crush on him or not. Soon these feelings became something much harder to control. They were threatening to explode, crush you. You knew this wasn’t healthy. You had to do something about it. And soon.

So you did what you decided to be the most rational idea. You were going to confess. You were pretty sure he didn’t like you romantically. He never flirted or showed interest in anyone. You supposed he was much too busy trying to survive to court anyone but you still had a little shred of hope. Maybe you’d be the exception. Maybe he was waiting for you.

You shook your head trying to shake away these thoughts as you walked to his room. Getting your hopes up was far too risky especially as you were 99% sure of the outcome. Still it did ease your nerves and even added a light spring in your step as you walked through the hallway.

You slowed down as you neared Aguero’s room. Come on y/n. Now is no time to chicken out. You reached his door and breathed deeply. It’ll be ok no matter the answer. He likes you back, yay. If he doesn’t then that means you got closure and can finally go back to normal. So just knock already damn it. With that, you knocked sharply on the door three times.

You wanted to curl onto the floor and die. Why were you doing this. What if you ruined the friendship. Damn it, damn it, DA-

Your thoughts were interrupted by Khun opening the door. His face contorted in worry when he saw your scared expression.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?!”

“Can we talk inside please,” you barely managed to squeak out.

“Of course.” He opened the door further to let you inside.

When you stepped in, you knew it was now or never. So you let out a shaky breath and tried your best to speak normally.

“I know this is completely out of the blue but I came here to confess. I really like you, Khun. A lot more than friends do.” You nervously chuckled and looked down at the floor, avoiding his face. “Actually it’s be better to say I’m completely in love with you but i know you probably don’t feel the same way about me but i just felt like letting you know”

Only when you finished your tangent did you look back up at him. You expected to see a blank face, maybe surprised. Even a small smile. Not this. Not like he was in agony.

He looked like he was in so much pain it was all you could to stop yourself from reaching out and comforting him. There was something else though mixed with the pain. Pity. Complete and utter sadness… for you. You felt a sense of dread blossoming in the pit of your stomach.

The air felt heavy, it was a struggle to even breathe. Time felt so slow. What was happening? When did it get so cold? Why isn’t he answering?

However Khun smoothed out his features just as fast, quickly replacing the pain with a blank face. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. You always prided yourself on being one of the only people who could tell what Khun was thinking and be able to read his face. But now, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

You were afraid.

You swallowed thickly, waiting for his response.

Time ticked by slowly. How long had it been? It felt like 10 minutes though you knew it couldn’t be more than 30 seconds. At last it seemed like Khun finally knew what to say. He opened his mouth to speak. You braced yourself for his harsh words. In fact you prayed they’d be cruel. Anything to help you get over him faster.

“I’m sorry. I appreciate your words and I do care a lot about you but… I’m sorry I don't feel the same. I know this sounds stupid but it would probably be the best for you to get over me.”

Quick answer him now so you can get out of here.

“Of course, I expected this. Thank you, Khun and have a good evening” You surprised yourself by giving him a big smile and quickly walking over to the door before you could hear if he said anything back. You half hoped he would run after you and tell you he shared the same feelings. But you knew this would never happen. Aguero was not this type of man.

He was kinder than expected when rejecting you but still. It hurt so much more than you would’ve thought. Although you expected that answer why was it not the closure you needed. Why did your heart still quicken at the thought of him. You felt tears threatening to spill and you raced to your room before you could see anyone.

Every day was becoming more and more painful. Even looking at Khun hurt. He treated you more or less the same way acting as though the confession never happened but there was a noticeable distance. He was probably trying to give you space and you hated it. Every second of this. Every step was excruciating pain. It took everything in you to hold it all in. To not break down at any second.

Then after a week when you thought you would’ve been over it, came the flowers. You didn’t notice at first how the pain in your lungs wasn’t normal. You chalked it down to heartbreak but when you began coughing up blue petals mixed with blood you knew this was far from normal.

The petals seemed oddly familiar. Blue Himalayan Poppies. Your favourite as they reminded you of Khun’s bright blue hair. Your chest hurt more at the thought. No matter what you did there were always constant reminders of him. You couldn’t escape. You let out an empty laugh. When will this pain end?

Wait- choking up petals??? It sounded familiar. Almost like an old tale your mother used to tell you about. You quickly searched up the symptoms on your pocket and found what you were looking for- Hanahaki Disease.

Hanahaki Disease: It’s a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear. There is also a chance the victim may forget their old lover.

Your eyes widened when you read through it. It described your predicament exactly. It was obvious you’d have to get surgery but the thought of forgetting Khun, forgetting your love for him seemed too real. You knew it was stupid clinging on to one sided love like that. But your love for him was one of the main things that had driven you up the tower. Now what. Everything seemed so bleak. You felt so lost and confused.

Stop it, stop it, stop it! You weren’t thinking properly. You had to get surgery. If you didn’t and died, Khun would blame himself. And besides you were in so much pain, it physically hurt to breathe. And these damned petals. Blue. Never letting you forget about your love for Khun. You tried not to think about how you could potentially forget about Khun. Those were just rare cases anyways. Best case scenario you’re fixed and can go back to caring about Khun normally. Like the old times. So you went to the hospital in the tower to get the surgery done.

You decided not to tell anyone about this. Maybe you’ll tell Endorsi after the surgery but she couldn’t be trusted not to blab. You didn’t tell Khun because you didn’t want him to blame himself. You never blamed him for a second. He was allowed not to love you back, as much as that thought hurts. Khun was driven by his desire to get you, Bam, Rak and himself to the top of the tower. Of course he wouldn’t have time to court anyone. You tried to console yourself with the thought that at least you were one his cherished companions. But now, it was ruined. You slapped the sides of ur head trying to get rid of these thoughts. No. after the surgery everything will be ok. You kept repeating this as you walked to the hospital, barely convincing yourself

The surgery was successful. All the roots were removed from your lungs and you could take deep breaths again without feeling like your chest was going to rip apart. However there was something off… you felt like you were forgetting something. But you just had surgery so it was to be expected with the anesthesia.

You didn’t remember the last time you felt this good. The air felt so light. You skipped along, feeling so happy and free. Breathing had never felt better and all you wanted to do was run and around and play like a kid again. Your thoughts were so positive and you couldn’t wait to go back. You had to hurry up though as you had another test soon and you needed to train. Maybe you’ll get Hatz to show you how to use a sword properly. He may seem rude and stand-offish at first he was a sweet boy deep down and you knew he’d be glad to help. Yes everything felt so much better after the surgery. You didn’t know why you hadn’t confessed earlier.

Confessed to who?

You brushed that thought off with still being groggy from anesthesia and nearly skipped up the steps of the penthouse. You felt so giddy and all you wanted to do was laugh and talk. You had a big smile on your face as you rooted through the fridge looking for something to eat. You were so lost in carefree thoughts that you didn’t hear someone creeping behind you.

“Y/n!” came a foreign voice startling you out of your pleasant thoughts. You stood there confused as you couldn’t pinpoint exactly whose voice it was, thought it was familiar.

You turned around, still with a smile on your lips.

“Hm?” you replied, taking in the sight of the person in front of you.

He had an angelic smile, velvety laugh, porcelain skin and piercing, bright blue eyes. He was the definition of perfection. You questioned to yourself if he was hand-carved by the Greek Gods themselves.

“Are you ok? I haven’t seen you in a couple of days?”

“I’m so sorry if this sounds rude but do we know each other?”

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

summer sizzle | darlin, adam page [m]

[ prompts used ]

** again, one day I’m going to sit down and locate every single list I used to write all these one shots. Credit to the amazing prompt makers on the internet, I love you guys.  The plot / the unnamed OC belong to me.**

Kisses Where One Person Is Sitting In The Other’s Lap + heavy making out/dry humping + after an injury - of the emotional sort + chair sex - almost happened but did not + calming the other’s anger with sex + locker room - technically, it’s the bar room set from backstage, but.. We’re making it work darn it.  - ( bonus points, kayfabe is real… for the angst.) 

[ warnings ]

18+ only. All children, hit the bricks. Go play outside. Something. You know the drill. Swearing, sex - of the unprotected variety, semi public setting, angsty / hurt comfort -if you squint and I did my job right (probably not lmao), biting, body fluids, slight body image issues ( Oc is curvy bc OC here is basically my ass with changes ) and hangman’s anxiety, ftw. Oh yeah, and alcohol is involved here. 

[ authors notes ]

Look, I really did like writing this, it was like a self-soothing thing for me. I’m lowkey proud of how this came. Things are gonna end on a bit of a cliffhanger, but... perhaps if people actually like it, I’ll find a way to continue it at some point. I wanted to give it an actual end, but honestly, this worked out better in my opinion... Anyway, yeah. if enough people shout at me to go somewhere with this, i just miiiight?!? 

[ pairing ]

Adam Hangman Page x curvy!unnamed ofc, - it’s hinted at throughout.

[ tag squad ]

@kyleoreillysknee

@rampagewriting

@writertoo18

@thatnerdwriter

@wrestlingismyguiltypleasure

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@unabashedwrestlefics

@wardl0w 

@missjenniferb

@wrestlingthot​ 

[ tag list doc - if you’re not on there/ haven’t said you wanna be tagged, you’re not tagged, so.. | masterlist | about page ]

                                         D A R L I N’ - ADAM HANGMAN PAGE,

“Did you see where Hangman took off to?” my question was met with a scowl from his former friends. I glared right back at the group of them, arms folded over my chest, my foot tapping against the tiled floor, the soft click of my heels almost matched to the way my heart was about to beat right out of my chest at the moment.

“Does it look like we care?” Kenny started to ask the question but Matt nudged him, a warning look and the shake of his head. The two shared a look and then they both fixed their gaze on me. “Don’t know what good it’ll do, but he’s still down at the bar area. Typical.” Matt muttered the answer to my question quietly and I asked hesitantly,“Is he alone?”

“Yeah. As soon as the interviewer got what she needed and we spoke our piece, we bailed. Are you sure you wanna go down there right now?” Matt questioned and I didn’t bother with a reply, instead I wasted no time in taking off, glad to be out of their way.

“I cannot fucking believe he just stood there and let it happen.” I mutter mostly to myself as I shove open the door to the bar and peek into the room. The shattered mirror caught in the dim lighting above and Adam was sitting there, a bottle of Jack in front of him.

“Adam?” I called out to him, barely raising my voice above a whisper.

“Better if y’ go.” Adam didn’t even bother looking up from the half empty glass in front of him, choosing instead to raise the glass to his lips and finish it off, shaking his head a little as soon as he had.

I stepped into the room, shutting the door behind me and locking it softly. He tensed but he didn’t turn around. His fingers dug against the wooden bartop and he sighed quietly. The sound seemed to hang in the air.

Our eyes finally met in the mirror and when I saw the pain and frustration in his, I bit my lip, a hand raising from my hip to drag through my tall teased hair. 

My mouth opened and closed and he gave this bitter and quiet laugh. “If you’re gon’ lecture me right now, don’t.”

“I didn’t come to lecture you. For the record, what you did out there was pretty damn stupid, but honestly… I get it.” I found myself fidgeting under his intent gaze as it roamed my body. I tugged down the clingy black spaghetti strapped dress because of it. The air was getting thicker between us by the second. Rather than stand there and gawk at just how truly beautiful the man is, especially in a semi-darkened room with that angry gleam in his eyes, I fixed my eyes on the bottle of Jack and nodded to it. “Think you can spare some of your drink, cowboy?”

He eyed me, a brow raised. To prove that I was being serious and I had no intention to leave anytime soon, I settled down on the stool beside the one he’d been sitting on. I let the stiletto heeled boots on my feet settle to the floor with a quiet clank and I eyed him, finally reaching for the bottle on my own. As I twisted the cap off and poured the liquid within into both our glasses, I stared at him almost defiantly. Daring him to do anything to try and make me leave.

Rather than argue, he gave a tired flop onto the stool he’d been sitting on before I came in. After a few seconds of both of us drinking in silence, he spoke up.

“Didn’t you have some hot date tonight with a biker?” Adam asked the question through a tightly clenched jaw. He made it quite clear that he’d rather be alone right now, but I chose to ignore that.

The guy needed a friend right now.

,, sure. And this has absolutely nothing to do with your thing for him..” my brain scolded and yes, I chose to ignore that too.

I threw my head back and laughed. “Me? Right.”

“You said so earlier when I was in your chair gettin my hair tended to.” he spoke up again, a brow raised as his eyes met mine. Almost as if he were questioning not only why I was here, but whether he wanted me to stay or not. 

“Oh, yeah. I did.” I trailed off, muttering a soft “Fuck.” under my breath. Honestly, when I said it, I hadn’t actually thought he was paying me any kind of attention… Pretty much as usual.

My brow raised as soon as it sank in that he’d heard me and he hadn’t been sitting there with earbuds in. He hadn’t been as absorbed in his phone as I tended to think he always was. Before I had the courage required to ask him about anything else he might have heard me tell Stella Kay, I shoved it out of my head.

So he heard me tonight. Didn’t mean anything other than that. I reminded myself of that too. I shotgunned about half of the drink poured into my own glass and reached for the bottle again, but his hand shot out and he stared me down.

“I say you could come in and help yourself to my Jack?” Adam was still angry, I could hear it seething through in his tone when he spoke. It hurt. I didn’t know how to deal with Adam like this… Hurt and angry and confused, broken like the mirror in front of him.

,, to be fair, he did bring a little of this on himself.” my brain scolded again and again, I ignored it. He may have been going off the rails for the past few weeks, but this chain of events, at least in my eyes, that was all started by friends who teased and ignored him.. Made him feel like less when honestly, he was so much more than the lot of them combined. They may have started to try and change at the end, but by then, it was clearly too late. Adam was lost by that point, drowning in his own misery. And Adam lashed out. Or he started trying to.

“No, but… I’m thirsty, I’m obviously not going out with a biker tonight and I need it. You’re not the only one with problems, you know.” I pouted at him, shaking my wrist free so quickly and easily that it had him blinking a little, and I uncapped the bottle again, pouring myself a little more to top off.

“So I’m selfish on top of everythin’ else. Good to know.” the tone in his voice and the fact that he didn’t even bother meeting my gaze had me sighing and swearing, even rolling my eyes a little in frustration. Every part of me wanted to scream at the guy “No, but obviously you’re fucking blind and a little dense, because I’ve been trying to start conversations and stuff with you for weeks now.. I’ve tried to build you up when they were tearing you down, but you ignored it because it’s not what you wanted to hear.” - but I managed to keep that internal.

I didn’t want to kick him while he was already down. I care far too much about him to do that.

,, and maybe you want to be the one who makes him forget about tonight, even if it’s only a few hours. Says a lot about you.. Mainly how pathetic you are.” my brain was at it again, scolding me for what I wanted. And again, I ignored the noisy scolding thoughts.

Instead, I focused on the glass filled with amber liquid sitting in front of me. Circling my black tipped fingers around it’s edge as I just let my mind sort of wander and hoped to God that it’s wandering came back with some form of game plan beyond the one I’d had coming in here to find him. Because literally all that had been was getting to him. Because it hurts me to see him hurt. He’s a sweet guy. A good guy. ,, A guy you could love if only you weren’t so scared to reveal your feelings.” this time my brain was taunting me. If I never actually do anything about my feelings, I’ll never have the chance to know.

And maybe that internalized taunting was enough to make the remaining shred of any pride I had left snap in two.

“Adam.” I spoke up quietly, snapping my fingers lightly  at him to get his attention.

“What?” Adam answered, eyes locked on me and in a daze. I bit my lip and leaned in a little, smoothing a blond curl out of his eyes, letting my hand catch on the side of his face. Catching sight of the two of us in the shattered mirror out of the corner of my eye had me giving a soft smiling laugh and shaking my head.

Just the contrast there, me with my dark crimson lipstick and the little black dress and the dark hair… The curves and yet still somehow inherently plain to look at according to most. The grumpy demeanor most of the time, the dry wit and sarcasm that’s more than once left many an other man eviscerated in public..

 Him with the sunny blondish brown hair and the dancing baby blue eyes, the gentle words and rough hands.. The holes in his jeans and the boots on his feet..That big heart and all those good intentions.

My laughter had him raising a brow, of course. I shrugged and raised the bottle to my lips, keeping my eyes locked on him the entire time I did it. I still somehow managed to miss the way he was leaning into me, teeth tugging at his lower lip, eyes darting from mine to the bottle raised to my lips. Until he was reaching out and trying to drunkenly pull me from my stool to his lap. I nearly choked mid-swallow and laughed out, “What the hell are you doing right now? This stool is not gonna hold my thick ass and you, sir.” 

“Figured since you keep takin my damn bottle, woman..” Adam managed a weak smile that still somehow managed to completely light up the space we were in. He finally got me settled on his lap and I bit my lip, finding myself hyper-focused on his mouth.. The way his upper lip forms this little almost perfect little v. I must have been too obvious with my staring, because he cleared his throat and nodded to where I’d tossed my red covered cell phone.

Which was now playing Fiona Apple’s Criminal.. Which obviously meant it was ringing, shit, fuck, shit, fuck…

What Adam said next absolutely surprised me. And it proved just how little I knew about how much he might know about me. He chuckled and nodded to the now silent phone and after a second, he took the bottle from my hand and raised it to his own lips again. We were sitting so close by now that we nearly pressed together, despite all earlier voiced objections about my size and the stool being able to hold both of us up.

“Didn’t you sing that song when you were out with Allie one night?”

“I..” I wrinkled my forehead and thought about it, giving a sheepish laugh when I remembered. “Yeah, I did. It sounded like cats dying.”

“Didn’t.” Adam muttered, taking another sip from the bottle, staring me down intently. I wrapped my hand around his wrist, guiding the bottle away from his mouth and towards my own and I took a sip as he tilted the bottle a little to allow me to do so. After I swallowed the bitter liquid, I laughed softly. “I most certainly did, sir.”

“You like t’ argue.” Adam chuckled softly, cocking his head to the side slightly, still staring at me intently. His gaze moved from my eyes down to my mouth and I swallowed hard, licking my lips on instinct.

“I’ve heard that now and again, yeah.” I wiggled around on his lap a little, trying to get a more sturdy seat because I was trying to keep a conservative and safe distance between us, but that was making me nearly fall off his lap. 

He sat the bottle down and scooted the stool closer to the bar, putting my back into it. He was inching closer, little by little. “Why?” he asked quietly, his breath warm against my lips, almost brushing against them when he mumbled his question.

“Why what?” I answered his question with one of my own, barely restraining a whimper at the fact that suddenly, I wasn’t sitting on his knees anymore, suddenly I was… So much closer. 

Had I moved closer or had he moved me closer? Because I remembered his hands kind of resting at my hip but I’d honestly been so caught up in our back and forth -and the fact that it was actually, ya know, happening, that I didn’t remember him moving me. I pulled away from his face just slightly because our faces were so close that our lips nearly brushed every time one of us said something to the other.

“Why’d you come in here? I know it wasn’t just to drink up all my whiskey. Or maybe it was.” Adam’s usually thick accent was… Much thicker. A slow and easy drawl that had me getting wetter with each word he spoke. When he reached for the bottle again and nearly fell into me, my breath caught in my throat but I held the bottle up and put it behind me, where I thought it would be out of his reach. 

And after lightly grabbing at his stubbled jawline and guiding him to look at me, not down or around the empty room, I bit my lip and took several shaky breaths. I swear, I meant to go with an attempt at humor, but the look in his eyes, the raw pain there, I just… Couldn’t. 

When my mouth opened, the truth just started to pour out.

“You’re right. I d-didn’t come down h-here to drink all your booze. I don’t even l-like this shit, honestly. I p-prefer Tito’s tequila.” I stopped to breathe because my words were tumbling out and I just needed to figure out a way to put what I knew was going to come pouring out at any second.

But nothing came.

Actions seemed easier. Actions, I was infinitely better at.

Obviously, right?

I was leaning in a little closer, his jaw still in my hands. The kicker here was that he wasn’t backing away like I half thought he would. No… He was leaning in too. His fingertips squeezing into my hips gently were what kind of bought me out of my own head and into the moment again 

“If you’re gonna do somethin, do it already, darlin.” Adam’s mouth brushed right.against.mine. Literally right against the corner. And it lingered there just long enough for me to whimper quietly as I slowly exhaled, my breath shaky. My eyes popped open wide and he bit his lip, eyeing my lips and then the bottle with this look in his eyes that made me think he couldn’t decide which he’d rather taste more right now.

And that crazy random thought took hold in my tipsy brain. As he started to back away, afraid he’d crossed a line, I gently grabbed hold of his face, resting a hand against each side, my mouth colliding against his, tongue darting out and tracing the shape of his mouth lazily. His lips fell apart easily and one of his hands left my hips to tangle in my hair, making me pout against his mouth and whine playfully, “Seriously? I just spent thirty minutes on teasing that up..” 

“Ya didn’t have to, either.” his tongue was now clashing against mine, colliding and battling for control of the kiss as he continued to drag his fingers through my hair and tug at it a little here and there. I suspect that he may have been doing it just to get a response from me, but I was too caught up in kissing him to give a damn. I wiggled in his lap a little, my legs wrapping around his hips and he sucked in a sharp breath, bucking into me from below.

If I thought his fingers were wound up in my hair before, now he was tugging a little more urgently, his hand on the back of my neck, pulling my mouth into his all over again so deep that I almost didn’t know if I was breathing on my own or he was doing it for me.

It was desperate, needy and yet, somehow it was still gentle and careful. Cautious. Like he wanted to do it for a while now, but he’d finally been presented the chance to do it.

The actions of a man who felt he had absolutely nothing left to lose.

I rubbed myself against him, whimpering into his mouth when I felt the way he strained hard at the blue jeans he wore. His mouth broke from mine to trail down my neck, muttering softly against my skin, teeth hooking in spots and patches and gingerly leaving clumsy little marks. 

His other hand wandered down, slipping up the short hem of my little black dress and I nipped at his lip, rubbing myself against his lap even more. His hand crept higher, cupping my core, squeezing and rubbing the flat of his hand against it and sending shivers rushing through me. “Mmm.” his tongue rolled around the edge of my ear, his lips catching on my earlobe as he muttered a quiet, “Stop me if..”

“Now why would I want to do that, hm?” I managed to breathe out the words, rocking myself against the hefty bulge in his jeans and the way he continued to squeeze and rub my aching cunt. I knew he had to feel the way I was dripping, literally flooded already. 

The stool gave a foreboding creak and I tensed a little against him. He chuckled and nodded to the half circle bench and the table nearby. “Okay, alright.” he stood up, my body wrapped around him with me clinging to him and my nails lightly digging into his shoulders because me, with the trust issues, has never really… let anyone carry me before… For any reason. 

“I’m not gonna drop ya.” Adam stated quietly.

“I know, just… never really let anyone carry me.” I muttered against his neck, my lips latching on a little, daring to leave just a hint of a mark behind. He sucked in a sharp breath and sat me down on the tabletop, stepping between my legs, his hands all over me.

The Jack Daniels sat on the bar across the room, getting warm. Neither of us were worried about it anymore.

He leaned into me a little more -or maybe I was clinging to him still, either way, and his hand was back up the hem of my dress. My head fell back and my eyes fluttered open and closed as I rocked myself against his hand. I gripped hold of his shirt and pulled him into me more, muttering against his mouth, “If you’re going to do something, Adam, do it… Please?”

“You’re sure?” Adam questioned breathlessly, fingertips brushing past my soaked panties, grazing right up and down my center as his mouth dove down, fixing on the front of my throat, leaving a tender little line of marks in the path his lips took down.

“Please?” I begged, my voice raising to a quiet moan that died to a laugh when our foreheads bumped together. He bit his lip and pulled back a little, staring at me for a few seconds that felt like they stretched out into forever. I eyed him right back, my heart kicking up a storm against my ribs, on the verge of nervous fidgeting and suddenly self conscious about every single little thing about me to the extreme.

I was a breath away from slipping off the table he’d sat me on and walking out but just as I got to that point, he seemed to sense it and step forward, looking down at me and then back at the door. “If you’re changin your mind, darlin. There’s the door.” 

He was appealing to me one last time. Giving me one last chance to back out. Considering that neither of us have anything to lose, I wasn’t about to take him up on it. I eyed him, a brow raised, clearly confused as to why he kept giving me opportunity after opportunity to leave and then, oh.. Then it hit me. 

And I ached for him.

Not just in the physical sense like his touches had driven me to. In the mental sense because I knew exactly where his mind was going right now… I knew it because it was a state my own seemed to stay in when it came to other people and the habit I have of judging myself against them. Often unfairly.

“Oh, Adam.” the words punctured the sliver of space between us softly, his name lingering just a second or two. I raised my hand to his cheek, letting my fingertips move over the sharp outline of his face, making my last stop his lips. As I dragged my index finger over the outline of those very kiss swollen lips, I made an effort to move myself as close to him as I could get, letting my legs circle his waist all over again. My head fell to the right slightly, exposing the left side of my neck.

I wasn’t an idiot, I saw the exact second those baby blue eyes settled hungrily on exposed and unmarked skin. Lowering my fingertip, I finally spoke again.

“If I were going to walk out, I never would’ve bothered coming in here, Hangman.” I took a deep breath that tried to hang in my throat a little at what I was doing and I rose up a little straighter, the hand resting against the side of his neck moving to the back of his head. Fingertips tangling gingerly in soft blondish-brown locks, tugging his mouth closer to mine. Adam leaned down a little, his lips clumsily ghosting along my neck, catching sporadically here and there. “This is really okay.. You.. Want this.” he asked the question quietly, the warmth of his breath and the drawl in his tone sending shivers through me.

I locked eyes with him as he pulled back slightly. “I’m not smashing my knee into your nuts, am I?” I gave a soft laugh at the end so he’d be able to differentiate between my usual grumpy demeanor and gentle teasing. A lot of people can’t where I’m concerned and the way Adam is hurting right now, I want the way I feel to be perfectly crystal clear.

I don’t want him to have a single reason to second-guess or keep stalling. I guess maybe in some ways, I was trying to force him to have to be the one to politely say this had gone too far and he wasn’t interested. Because like he needed to hear me say such a thing, I needed to hear him say it.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone had. I braced myself for him to find some polite excuse to put all this to a grinding halt, but instead, I got a quiet chuckle and Adam leaning in all over again, nearly putting my back flush with the table. When he bucked himself against me, I shivered and my teeth caught on my bottom lip as I stared up at him. His hands roamed up and down my thighs softly, a ginger attempt to push my little black dress upwards to my hips was made. My strap was slipping up top and Adam’s eyes caught on to that face. When his teeth grazed against my skin as they tugged the pesky falling strap completely down, I whimpered, squirming against him, desperate for more friction.

His hands dug into my hips, grinding me against him even more and at feeling the hefty bulge formed and straining against his jeans, I found myself whimpering even more, breathless, desperately arching my body and rubbing against him harder and faster. His grip on my body tightened and he bucked right back against me, his mouth moving over each of my collarbones and then right back up the front of my throat again. One of his hands slipped down to the exposed thin waistband of my underwear and with a careful tug, those were being torn away, tossed out onto the floor. 

As soon as it hit me that he wasn’t backing down or bowing out either, I reached up, pulling the front of his shirt apart, tugging it down his arms. It hit the floor beside my panties and as my lips latched onto his neck all over again, my hands dropped between us, going for the belt buckle at his waist. The soft clink of the metal buckle as I pulled it open echoed when it hit against the button below it. With slightly shaking fingers, I worked the button free and then the zipper. Adam’s mouth dug deeper against the breast he’d managed to expose a few minutes before and my head fell back, a sharp and prolonged whimper filling the air as soon as his jeans settled around his ankles and he was scooting me towards him on the table, his cock grazing right between both my dripping folds and sending a shiver of pleasure racing through my entire body. 

“Wish we didn’t have t’ hurry, darlin.” he drawled as his tongue circled my nipple, teeth scraping at it, tugging until it stood at a point. I was clinging to him by now, my arms around his neck, fingers buried in his hair. I met his gaze and swallowed hard, nodding.

Every part of me wanted to make some clever remark about a next time, but at the same time, every part of me didn’t dare because I knew this might just be happening due to the alcohol and Adam’s current emotional state and my own feelings about him.

I desperately wanted to believe there would be a next time. God did I want to. But I was realistic enough to know that there most likely wouldn’t be. And in that moment, I decided to just find some way to be okay with that. 

“Darlin?” he’d pulled away, he was studying me with a concerned look. I distracted myself with running my fingers over the outline of his muscular chest because I was mostly afraid if I looked up at him right now, I would wind up making this deeper and more emotional than it had to be.

But then he was raising a hand, tilting up my chin and making me look at him. He repeated himself a third time. “You’re sure…” his voice trailed off and he tensed a little, I could feel it because he was still holding me close to him as he could get me. I smiled and nodded, my fingers digging into his hair again, pulling his mouth back down to mine. “I’m absolutely sure. I want you. So much.” 

And I meant every single word when I said it.

My answer seemed to satisfy him and I rubbed myself against him a little more impatiently, urgently. “Please, Adam?”

“Fuck.” he gasped against my skin as he started to buck against me, the tip of his cock sinking into my cunt, making a moan bubble up from the depths of my throat as I dug in my fingertips just a little, adjusting to the size of him. He captured my mouth in a desperate and deep kiss and sank his cock in a little more, his fingertips digging into my hips as he pumped himself in and out, quietly groaning, growling my name, nipping at the side of my neck.

 “Feels so good, darlin. Hope,” his voice was drowned out by my needy whines and whimpering as he started to fuck into me deeper and a little faster, his cock strking against my spot and making me curl my toes against his ass just to get any kind of actual grip on anything and maybe alleviate the ache and desperate need for more friction. “You hope what?’ I asked the question softly, my words ripped from me in breathy gasps as his hips snapped against mine, burying himself even deeper inside with each thrust of his cock. 

“Hope I’m makin you feel good too.” he took a few seconds to say it. I took his face in my hands, our mouths colliding as I used my heels to drive him in even deeper, my back arching as I focused on kissing him until neither of us could breathe. As the kiss broke and we pulled our mouths apart to catch our breath, I muttered against his ear, “So amazing, Adam.” to answer his question. “Don’t fucking stop baby, please.” I urged him to keep going, harder and faster, and he obliged, picking up the pace with each time my heels dug into his ass. “Ugh, Adam, fuck.. You’re so fuckin big.” I moaned out at one point, a little louder than I meant to. Adam was quick to lean in, his mouth meeting mine again, swallowing up my loud moans and swearing in ecstasy as he chuckled against it, his own grunts and quiet needy groans being swallowed by me when I deepened the kiss and rubbed my body against his over and over again just because I love the way it felt… Softness against hardened muscles.

“Darlin, fuck.” he moaned out at one point and I whimpered in response, “Adam, don’t… Fuck, don’t stop. Right there.” as my head fell back and my fingers toyed with his hair and dug into his shoulders even more. He was really slamming into me at this point, the booth top I sat on creaking quietly, making me tense a little when I first noticed it. 

Adam slowed slightly when he noticed me tense up at a particularly loud creak from the table, a quiet chuckle against the shell of my ear. “Stop doin that.”

“I can’t help that this table sounds like it’s on it’s last legs, Adam.” I answered, nipping at his bottom lip. 

“Trust me, darlin. I’m not gonna let you hit the ground.” Adam muttered as his lips locked on my upper lip, sucking. He started to slam into me all over again, erratically, faster and so much harder. When he scooted me even closer to the table’s edge, I caught myself making a surprisingly minimal effort  not to tense up.

To do as he asked and trust him not to drop me. It surprised me that trusting him was a lot easier than I thought. He chuckled as he held me up, a leg over each arm, continuing to plow into me with erratic hip snaps met by my own erratic thrusts in response. My breath kept catching in my throat and every single time I thought I’d be able to breathe again, he’d manage to bottom out, his cock striking against my spot a time or two and sending me even closer to an orgasm so intense that I ached to let go.

“I’m so close.” he growled against my ear while staring into my eyes. I clung to him desperately, rocking my hips greedily against the deep drives in and out that his cock made, my stomach tensing a little more with each second closer I got to my orgasm finally shattering me. “Fuck this feels so good.. Ahh.” I moaned out as my head fell back and Adam sat me halfway onto the table’s edge again, tilting my hips and letting my wrap my legs back around his waist, his hands pumping my body up and down on his cock, his fingertips leaving red marks against my skin as they dug in harder. His cock bottomed out and I felt myself starting to shake, my body tensing as I fought to keep from getting off.

“Let go. C’mon, darlin.” Adam grunted lazily against my mouth as he went in for another kiss, his breathy groan swallowed by my mouth when I returned the kiss and wrapped my arms around his neck, fingers going to his hair, tugging at it lightly. He didn’t need to repeat himself, with another deep drive into my dripping cunt, my orgasm was shattering through, leaving me breathless and clinging to him, my teeth grazing against his collarbone as I rested my head against his shoulder and continued to fuck through my orgasm while pulling myself together….

[prairiedust]

Curious is a Color

“It went zip when it moved, and pop when it stopped, and whir when it stood still! I never knew just what it was and I guess I never will!” -- The Marvelous Toy Tom Paxton

Well, one mystery was definitively solved in Last Holiday.

Spoilers for 15x15 Last Holiday ahead so I’m actually putting this behind a cut...

DEAN Who needs a monster radar anyway? Or whatever that telescope thing is.

MRS BUTTERS It’s an… interdimensional geoscope?

SAM It-- it’s a... what?

DEAN (interrupting Mrs Butters) Yeah, I looked through it, but didn’t see anything.

MRS BUTTERS Oh, oh that’s not good.

After Mrs. Butters powered up the bunker, the telescope alcove was bathed in a green light that immediately begged investigation. However. That took a while to get to. It took until the end of the episode to get to.

And we now know that this is no longer a telescope pointed to nowhere. It’s a fancy spyglass, but it no longer has anything to show anyone.... It is, unfortunately, too late to see anything. The other worlds have been “deleted,” as Sam put it. Chuck’s drafts folder has only one file left. 

See, what’s interesting to me is that the telescope is a metaphor for curiosity. I’m sure when the bunker was only operating in standby, Sam and or Dean looked in it, at least once? But maybe not-- maybe they didn’t bother because it was inside, and if one assumes that it’s merely a telescope, then you’d also surmise that all you would see is the blurry brick wall. The fact that it didn’t work because the bunker was on standby is neither here nor there-- what matters is that it’s been a much specced fixture of the bunker for years. 

And once the bunker was powered up with Mrs. Butter’s magic, it worked… but it was too late. Dean did, in fact, go look into the eyepiece, but just as he expected, he saw nothing. Not because it doesn’t work, but because anything he could have seen no longer exists. The extreme lack of knowledge about the bunker has always bothered me, and was lampshaded in Last Call when Sergei told Castiel that the key to Death’s library was there somewhere. BUT, but but but, Dean went and looked in the telescope thing in Last Holiday.

That’s how meta works. When something pings the mental radar, so to speak, there is value in looking into it, just in case there’s something to be seen.

For instance, I’m a geek for allusions, no surprise. So when Mrs. Butters said that the smoothie she made for Jack was “a little yarrow root and some ground jawbone for texture,” I flipped. I tell you, I went full folk medicine nerd. 

Yarrow is good for stemming blood loss, and midwives used to use it in childbirth to prevent hemorrhaging. Good connection to Jack, whose mother died giving birth to him, right? But I wanted to know more, so did a quick webdive. The root of the yarrow plant is known as a remedy for a toothache-- likely the mechanism is astringent, and would keep blood away from the nerves, but also, teeth have roots so in a holistic way, teeth get the roots. It gets better, though-- the yarrow plants are part of genus Achillea, yes as in that Achilles, he of the Achilles’ heel cliche that Dean “didn’t get” earlier in the season-- but so named not because of a connection with Achilles himself, but because Achilles was taught by Chiron-- his centaur mentor-- that yarrow was useful for bleeding, and he then taught his soldiers to use it thusly. 

Speaking Biblically-- although, when do we ever actually do that with Spn?-- the reason that the powdered jawbone sent me is because Samson, gifted mighty powers by the lord, took up a jawbone of a donkey and killed a thousand Philistines with it. Samson lived during a time when God was actually delivering victories to the Philistines as punishment to the Israelites, and Samson was born after an angel appeared to Samson’s parents (interestingly, we don’t know which angel, because it said to Samson’s father “Why do you ask my name? It is beyond understanding”) and said that Samson was to hold a special covenant with God from the moment he was born. Samson had superhuman strength, and was going to be The One who would lead the Israelites to victory over the Philistines. However, Samson had, if you will, an Achilles heel-- he would lose his preternatural strength if his hair was cut, which indeed came to pass when he was betrayed by Delilah, who had his head shaved while he was sleeping, and gave him over to his enemies. There is so much more I could write about Samson and his story’s applicability to where Jack is headed. But there’s the entire internet out there for anyone who doesn’t know how his story ends.

Thirdly, remember Supernatural’s internal mythos (based on Christian apocrypha iirc) and you’ll recall that the First Blade-- the blade that Cain used to kill Abel, and that could, in tandem with the Mark of Cain, in theory kill any being -- was made from a donkey’s jawbone, and as is pointed out here. The first murder. A brother by his own brother. For reals, that is probably where, like @mittensmorgul, most viewers went as per the replies on this post, which is awesome-- that’s where we’re supposed to look, at Brother Trouble being the thing that could undo everything everyone is working for. 

And as @drsilverfish points out in that same thread, we get an echo of a Jack story-- the man-eating giant at the top of the beanstalk would “grind [Jack’s] bones to make bread,” which in a subversion of that tale is another aspect of this concoction that brings Jack low. 

Something can be said about a spell being more than the sum of its parts. But taken literally-- Mrs. Butters put those two ingredients together and Jack turned into a metaphor-- he was “weak as a puppy.” He’s defenseless because of the double-reference to “superheroes with hidden weaknesses.” He’s basically powered down by the power of allusions. Toothache, jawbone, mythical references-- he was powerless against literature and also at a purely symbolic level, language.

And what do we know about language so far in this show?

That writers lie, and their lies are powerful.

Is that stupid herb-and-bonemeal smoothie not the most densely stacked reference in the entirety of this show’s run??????? That’s so cool it gets the rest of my question mark quota for the week.

So we’re at the point, I believe, where the writers are showing us that they’ve shone a bright green light on things we’re supposed to be curious about, things that maybe we’re supposed to be discussing. On the one hand, Mrs. Butters is literally me. Correct nomenclature is important, lol. On the other, you can take the interdimensional geoscope to mean whatever you want, now that it’s original purpose is gone. It’s now pure symbol. 

We should be very, very curious about everything that’s on the page-- and even in chapters past-- from this point on, and questioning whether or not we’re taking anyone’s words literally.

[firemblem-fics]

Running With the Wolves [2]

<< | >>

-> Pairing: Yuri x Fem!Reader

-> Gang!Au | Modern!Au | Enemies to Lovers

-> Word Count: 2.4k

-> Warnings: Blood, Violence, Cursing, Angst, Crack

-> Summary: You were just a normal college student, trying to find her way in a new place. You didn’t mean to get caught up in the wrong crowd. You just wanted coffee, but now you’re running with the wolves.

-> A/N: okok i know this is a lot shorter than the last chapter BUT y’all already heard my struggle with it so i’m actually kind of happy with this and liked where it ended. i’m sorry it’s boring, i think this was just a chapter where i do some introductions and go further into characters and a teeny bit more into the world of the gangs idk more info in later chapters because reader will NOT suddenly get a huge info dump of shit - also i hope you all like my two oc’s in here!

if you’d like to be put on the taglist, send me an ask or a message!

“Run.”

In that second, Yuri began firing shots at your pursuers again. Hapi gave her gun to Balthus, who began using both his and her pistols to keep them back as well. She turned and grabbed your arm- the same one that was bleeding before recoiling.

“Who hurt you?”

“Yuri dragging me around.”

Hapi scoffed and reached for the other arm, leading you out the back door and into a small white car. She cranked the engine and backed out before you could even get buckled, narrowly missing a larger black van parked beside it. You held onto the door frame, your fingers turning white as Hapi whipped the car down a smaller, empty street.

“Why are you driving like a fucking lunatic?”

“They could easily follow us! Look behind, do you see anything?”

You turned as well as you could as Hapi made another sharp turn. “No, there’s nothing behind us.”

She slowed the car just a little bit. “Keep checking. We don’t need someone knowing where we’re going.”

You stayed turned in your seat, heart jumping out of anxiety every time you saw a random car or person pass by. “My home is the other way.”

“Wh- Oh, honey, no. They think you’re a part of us, you can’t go home.”

“What? Why not? I could just explain to them what I was doing- they’ll understand-“

“No, they won’t.” The redhead leaned her head back against the seat and bit back a sigh before mumbling to herself. “We weren’t even involved in their little spats with the other places. Why the hell would Edelgard come after us?”

You checked back one more time. “Didn't she say something about how ‘she’s the boss now’? Whatever it’s about, it’s because she’s apparently in charge or whatever. I- I just want to go home.” Your nose burned as tears filled your eyes, but you willed them to not fall. Hapi would definitely be the kind to make fun of you.

You thought back to the others- Yuri, Balthus, and Constance. Ellie had said that they were just some random college kids, making money to get by. Obviously they were more than that.

“What about the others? We just left them there.”

“They’ll be fine. They’ve had their fair share of fights. We’ll meet them back at the house.”

You could only nod and try to soothe your shaking body. Your arm still burned from the wound, but you didn’t want to look at it. Knowing the severity of it would only make it hurt worse.

Eventually, Hapi pulled into a normal looking house. It seemed inconspicuous, with a fraternity sign hanging out front to complete the “normal college kids live here” look. You shuddered. Things are not as they seem with these people, and their house for sure isn’t a normal one as well. Hapi got out of the car and scouted around it, searching the entire car before once again muttering to herself.

“... Can’t believe I forgot to look for a tracker-“

“Look who’s finally home! Hapis and- who’s this?”

Suddenly a loud, annoying voice shouted from the front door of the house. You looked up to see a new man, slowly putting down his waving hand as he saw you. From the top of the brick stairs, he looked quite tall, but as you continued to ascend, the shorter and shorter he became until he was scarcely a few inches taller than you.

“Hiram, this is Y/N. She was, uh, put in an unfortunate circumstance and had to come with us.”

His white eyebrows furrowed and he looked at Hapi confusedly before nodding. “Uh, yeah, okay. Come on in, then. Rhys is out getting takeout. What’s the circumstance?”

“Edelgard attacked the café.”

Hiram was still confused, but it was cut short as the same black van you saw earlier pulled into the open garage. Hapi motioned for the two of you to come inside, saying that Yuri would explain everything.

The house was more normal than you expected. The living room walls were painted a light blue with a couch surrounding the fireplace and a TV on top of it. The colors of that room contrasted greatly against the honey yellow walls of the kitchen, where everyone had gathered and sat at the table. You squeezed yourself between Hapi and Constance, the only other girls there.

“We should wait for Rhys-“

“There's no time.” Yuri scoffed at Hiram and leaned back on his chair. “Somehow, Edelgard took power from her father and is now the leader of the Black Eagles. I’ve yet to figure out what her plans are- attacking us, out of everyone possible- but I’m sure they aren’t good.”

You sighed and leaned against your arm, but stopped. You really, really needed medical attention for your arm. You also really, really needed to go home. You stood up.

“Okay, well, have fun with that. I’m out.”

Yuri laughed. “No, you’re not. Sit down.”

You whipped around to face him, your cheeks burning in anger. “I am! I’m going to leave this house, go to a hospital, fix my arm, and go home. I have no business here.”

You moved to leave again, but a pair of pale arms wrapped around you. One arm gripped your waist tightly as the other flicked out a knife, holding it against your neck. You tried to struggle, but the person- a tall man- tightened his hold even further. Yuri rolled his eyes.

“Easy with her, Rhys. You started having business here the minute you decided to open your stupid little mouth. Hasn’t anyone ever taught you to shut up? To think rationally in the face of danger? Did you even realize the danger you were in, or are you really just that dense?” He sneered, walking towards you. “You, Princess, have gotten yourself into a Hell of a lot of trouble. You’re right, you shouldn’t be here, but now it’s time to reap what you sow.”

You grimaced at Yuri’s close proximity and spat at him, making him stumble back and wipe his face in disgust. This caused Rhys to lift your chin with the knife, pressing down enough to leave a small cut. A trail of blood dripped down to your collarbone.

“I suggest you learn to keep your mouth shut.” Hiram laughed almost maniacally from the table. “Rhysie’s silent but deadly. Don’t mess with us.”

Said man finally let you go, pushing you back to your seat, which you took with a huff. Constance handed you a tissue from the small pocketbook she carried and you thanked her, smiling wearily.

Hapi, who had stayed silent the entire time, coughed awkwardly. “So, what’s our next move?”

Yuri shrugged. “We’re no longer neutral, obviously. But we don’t know if the Golden Deer or the Blue Lions are on our side either. Edelgard had to have had a plan when she attacked us.”

The six others sat in thought for a minute while you, on the other hand, had never been more confused. “Wait, what’s even going on? Why do restaurants kill each other?”

Hiram giggled and plucked the bloody tissue out of your hand, beginning to mess with it and look at the new stains. “You’re tellin’ me that you really thought this was just some dumb restaurant rivalry? Hah! Sweetheart, we’re gangs. Y’know. Drugs. Illegal trades. Turf wars. The usual.”

You tried to put more pieces together. “So, Edelgard’s gang is the bad guys?”

“Exactly-“

“We’re not good. None of the gangs are. Our sins are irredeemable- we’re not the good guys. Edelgard’s people aren’t the bad guys. We don’t know what’s going on right now.” Hapi cut off Hiram.

Said man snorted and ran a hand through his ponytail. “Hey, Rhys, say fuck for me.”

Rhys’s freckled skin flushed a bright red and he avoided the eye contact of everyone around. “...I can’t.” He mumbled.

“See? Rhysie’s good.”

Hapi closed her eyes and suppressed a sigh again, and you wondered what was up with her and sighing. “The next move is to wait. Maybe do a little digging in their computers and communication, but that’s Hiram’s job.”

“We’ve got to figure out something for the rat to do.She can’t just sit here and be in the way.” Yuri mused. “Housekeeping, perhaps?”

“I am not a rat!” You hissed, “You are!”

The purple haired boy only smirked. “Whatever you say, Princess. Go upstairs to the first room on the left. There’s a big stack of manila folders with profiles on the desk. Bring them back down here.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up from your seat, practically stomping your way to the wooden stairs. Opening the first door on the left, you found the folders Yuri was talking about. You reached for them, but hesitated and looked out of the window beside the desk.

It would be so easy to leave, you thought, but jumping from this height would definitely lead to a broken bone.

You committed this room to memory and grabbed the folders, taking your time down the stairs to plan an escape route if needed. You were going home, whether they liked it or not, you decided. You were close to the bottom of the steps when a paper slid out from one of the folders. It was a profile with a rather familiar looking face on it.

Yuri Leclarc, It read, Age 24. Affiliation: Ashen Wolves. Family: Father (unknown), Mother (missing).

You heard footsteps walk through the living room and you quickly snatched up the paper, stuffing it in a folder before you finished reading it all. Hiram became visible, one hand carrying a large laptop and the other, a basket of cables and other equipment. He didn’t say anything to you. Instead, he barely spared you a glance as he walked back into the kitchen. You followed.

“Here.” You huffed and slammed down the folders. Hiram was busy plugging up different cords and routers to the computer, still completely ignoring your presence.

Yuri nodded and stood, sifting through the papers before landing on one labeled “Black Eagles”. He pushed the other folders to the side and opened that one. He laid out 8 profiles, all of people around your age. You could’ve sworn you’d seen some of them around campus, but you nearly vomited as your eyes caught one certain profile.

Ferdinand von Aegir.

“It’s up and running!” Hiram’s voice knocked you out of your stupor. “A piece of art, truly!”

Constance snorted. “A piece of shit, actually.”

Hiram ignored her comment and grinned, placing his hands on his hips proudly. “I call it the Computer of Chaos. COC for short.”

The silence in the kitchen was practically screaming.

Yuri looked up from the profiles. “The what?”

“The Cock, Yuri-bird. Didn't you hear him correctly?” Balthus nearly choked trying to hold in his laugh.

“Exactly! And it works for everyone here, you just have to say your name and it’ll unlock for you.” Hiram motioned for someone to give it a try.

Yuri still looked at the computer quizzically, but walked towards it nonetheless. He leaned down and said, “Yuri Leclarc.”

“Access Denied.”

“What?” Hapi questioned, pulling the computer toward herself. “Hapi.”

“Access Denied.”

“Ohhh, that’s right.” Hiram’s grin turned mischievous. “It only answers to the nicknames I gave you all.”

If looks could kill, Yuri would have committed a murder. He sighed heavily and violently moved the computer back to him. “Yuris.”

“Permission Granted.”

“Go die.” He growled at Hiram, who only laughed.

“What nicknames?” You had to ask, but regretted it once Hiram’s smile was directed at you.

“I add an -is to the end of everyone’s names! Yuris, Hapis, Constis, Balis, but I call Rhys ‘Rhysie’, he doesn’t tell me not to~”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t fucking talk, that’s why.”

“Can I have a nickname?” If you were going to be stuck here, you may as well make friends.

“Hmm,” Hiram pondered, “No.”

“Wh-“

So much for making friends.

Yuri interrupted the awkward moment by slamming his hand down on COC, making Hiram gasp in protest. “Fucking- Hiram, try to find something- anything- to find out Edelgard’s intentions. We had a neutrality pact, she shouldn’t have broken it.”

Your head was starting to hurt from the events today. Rubbing your temples, you stood up, making everyone look at you.

“Listen, I’m tired. I’m stressed. Is there like, anywhere I can sleep? I can’t do much more.”

Constance nodded. “I’ll take you up to the spare room!”

She led you up the stairs and past the room you had gone into earlier. Opening the door to one of the bedrooms, she gestured for you to enter.

“I’ll have to lock you in, but I’m sure you won’t mind. You’ll be sleeping, after all!” Constance smiled, “Goodnight!”

You waved back at her and waited for the click of the lock before turning on the lamp and peeling your sleeve away from your arm. You grimaced- blood had dried and caked around the wound, which was still slightly bleeding. You needed medical attention, but you didn’t blame the Wolves for not thinking about it.

They certainly were stressed- being previously neutral and suddenly attacked. They’ve got enemies now and you suspected that was something they haven’t had in quite a while. And then there was you, the epitome of ‘wrong place, wrong time’. Who would’ve thought that you’d end up accidentally in the middle of a gang war when you moved here? Certainly not you.

Guilt tugged at your stomach. These people were different from you. You didn’t belong here and you needed to get out of their hair. Yuri made it obvious that you stuck out like a sore thumb, unaware of what to do like they did.

You glanced at the window in the bedroom and stood up, making your way towards it. You could easily unlock it and risk an ankle injury. You’d already hurt your arm, it would be fine.

Your two choices were to try to survive a mob that wanted to kill you all, or get a foot injury while escaping and get back to your normal life.

Unlocking the latch on the window, and sitting on the edge, you had already made your decision. You jumped down and ignored a loud crack that resounded in your ankle, slipping into the depths of night.

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taglist: @fairyblue-alchemist @emperor-pizza @flavoredmilktea @sadies-stories-n-things @mifuyuyu @blviddyd @laurexlance @atomicchocolatecookie @mapesandoval @local-goth-lilz

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[johannstutt413]

(requested by mathmaticalknight)

“Hmph.” Angelina gave the Doctor a sidelong glance as they sat in his office. He’d asked her to be his assistant a while back, and she was sure something would have come out of it by now, but nope! It’s like he actually brought her in to do work! And I mean, sure, she was pretty good at paperwork - working as a courier helped with that - but still...It didn’t help he seemed biologically incapable of taking a hint. Who knew their HR lead was so dense?

Speaking of dense…“Doctor! Let’s go shopping!”

“Can’t. Working.” He glanced at his assistant, who was totally typing up a report right now and not just randomly pressing keys into a word processor. “Hey, Angie, you want to go shopping with her?”

“Eh? Um, sure, I gue-” Before she could even finish the word, the Nian had pulled her out of her seat and was dragging her to the shuttles.

The Vulpo began to float, essentially turning her into a balloon bobbing behind her captor to avoid scuffing her shoes as much. “Do we need to be going this fast?”

“You only have one life, kid. Why waste it walking from place to place?” In short order, they made it to the shuttle depot, and Angelina returned to earth. “What did he call you again? Angie?”

“That’s right, Miss Nian.”

She waved her off. “No ‘miss’ necessary. What kind of shopping do you like doing? I’m not too picky about where we go, as long as it’s not up here.”

“A music store, I guess.” The Vulpo shrugged. “You know, normally, the Doctor’s the one who goes with you on these trips, so I dunno what the plan is...Why didn’t he come today?”

“Who knows? You like him, right?” She hopped behind the wheel as a slightly stunned Angelina took the passenger’s seat.

A bit of blustering later, and she replied, “H-how did you-”

“It’s so written on your face, it’s not even funny,” Nian replied, smirking. “You’re like a starstruck puppy. Adorable.”

“I...Was it that obvious?”

The Nian chuckled. “I said it was, didn’t I? He doesn’t know?”

“Apparently not.” She pouted as her driver parked them within walking distance. “He should, though! I’ve given him all the hints.”

“And you haven’t told him directly?”

Angelina wasn’t quite floating, but she was definitely starting to hover. “Well, n-no, but-”

“So tell him, then.” Nian started walking towards the music shop. “If you really like him that much, why keep waiting around?”

“...I guess I could do that.” She sighed, but her mood was immediately boosted as they entered the shop and were hit with a wave of sound.

The Nian shuddered. “So loud. Angie, is that-”

“I love this band!” Whatever her companion was trying to tell her was entirely unimportant right now, as her near-favorite song was on, and it was time to jam. “What were you saying?”

“It’s nothing.” No, it had been something, but it didn’t matter. The Vulpo was literally walking on air, dancing around the store as she enjoyed the ambient music and argued with herself about whether she should buy a guitar or not for the umpteenth time. It was the polar opposite of the norm for these shopping trips, where Nian was putting in all the energy and the Doctor sponged it up...and it was so cute when Angie found a record she’d apparently been looking for and squealed.

Wait, was it happening again?

“Alright, I’m good~” Angelina found the Nian near the front, shopping bag in hand. “Somewhere you want to go next?”

“I had a few ideas. There’s a couple places that sell some stuff that might help get the point across to our oblivious friend.”

The Vulpo blinked. “You’re going to help me?”

“We’re here to shop, so I might as well get something.” She smiled. “Besides, I want to see how you look in it myself.”

“Oh, so we’re buying clothes, then?” Angie had thought of that, but in the end, she didn’t think it would help that much. Still, Nian seemed to know what she was talking about, and it was always fun shopping for new clothes to wear, so maybe it was worth a shot after all.

Their first stop gave her some doubts almost immediately, as a Rebbah with extensive facial piercings gave a feral smile upon their arrival. “Well, look what the Aslan dragged in. How’s it going, Nian?”

“Ah, you know how it is.” She gestured towards the Vulpo. “I’m actually buying something today, but for her, not me.”

“Really? Interesting. What can we do for you, little lady?”

It should be noted the shop clerk is a solid few inches shorter than Angie. “Um, well I’m looking for something that’ll get this guy in my office to notice me-”

“Say no more.” The Rebbah stepped out from behind her counter and ushered the pair deeper into the cavalcade of leather and cloth that was the apparel on offer. “Follow me. Do you know your sizes in Yen measurements?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She waved her hand. “Please, call me Becky. Let’s have those before I walk past too many more racks.”

For the next hour, Nian and Becky turned Angelina into a canvas to paint with belts, straps, studs, and occasionally actual fabric, eventually setting on a outfit that could probably double as light armor for someone with the Vulpo’s natural dexterity in a pinch. After a moment to get over the shock of seeing herself in something like this, there was no doubt in her mind that it was actually pretty badass, and since the Nian was the one buying anyway, there wasn’t any harm in taking it home with her. Things became a little more interesting when the Rebbah said she should probably wear it for the rest of the day to break it in, but if that was the professional recommendation, who was she to judge?

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” Angelina admitted as they left the store, “but I like it a lot more than I thought I would. You said you’ve never bought anything from there before, but Becky seemed to know you pretty well.”

“Usually the Doctor and I just browse and talk with the friendlier clerks. Becky gets a decent amount of business, but not a lot of conversation. How hungry are you?”

She shrugged. “I could eat right about now. It’s nearly time for lunch.”

“Then I know just the place.” Nian immediately turned down an alleyway. “How are you with spicy food?”

“Um, I like a little heat, but once it starts to hurt, that’s where I stop. Although there is this one brand of, like, pepper-flavored soda I can’t stop drinking.” The Vulpo glanced around, a little nervous about their current location.

The Nian stopped seemingly in the middle of everything and knocked four times on a seemingly random brick; a few seconds later, stone and steel began scraping against each other and themselves as a doorway-shaped part of the wall sunk into the sidewalk beneath them. “Well, this place has options if you’re not feeling adventurous.”

“Not feeling adventurous? What do you call this, then?” She traced along her current outfit with her free hand; the other had her normal clothes in a shopping bag. “Bring it on! I can take it!”

“Heheh. That outfit really boosted your confidence, didn’t it?” Nian had hoped it might. Angie was a nice girl, but just like everything in life, a little kick made her better.

Angelina smirked. “I guess it does. We going or not?”

“Alright, alright, keep your shirt on.” Not that she hadn’t seen it all already. “Oh, and there’s this chili pepper drink you have to try while you’re here.”

“Drink as in alcohol?...I guess a little wouldn’t hurt.”

A few hours later, Nian walked into the Doctor’s office with a leather-decorated Vulpo-balloon in her off hand. “We’re back! How was work?”

“Finished.” He looked up at his assistant, who waved from the ceiling. “Went to the Underbelly?”

“Yep! Did you miss me? I know I missed you~” The Nian let go of her, and Angelina floated over to her favoritest person ever to land in his lap.

As usual, this didn’t phase him. “New clothes?”

“Do you like them?” She leaned towards his face. “We got them for you~”

“I do.” And without a moment’s hesitation, he kissed her.

...Nian blinked, sure of what she’d seen but unsure if it’d been real. “Did you know this whole time and wanted to wait for her to make a move?”

“Yes.” That was the last word the Doctor said for a while, as Angelina didn’t need much more encouragement than that.

“Gotcha.” She stood there for a little bit before nodding to herself and leaving the office. ‘A job well done, I’d say...I wonder who else’s life can I change before dinner?’

[renaerys]

PPG One-Shot: Under the Stars (Brick/Blossom)

Written for the inaugural challenge prompt on PPG Challenge Hub on AO3 for the prompt “things you said under the stars,” hosted by @kiebs, @carriedreamerx, and me. Also functions as a Part 3 to the Shooketh, Not Stirred series. You can read Part 1 and Part 2 here on Tumblr or on my AO3. 

Summary: In which Blossom decides she is definitely girlfriend material, and so does everybody else.

***We are welcoming more submissions for this prompt for the month of July! If you want to participate, please check out the PPG Challenge Hub collection on AO3.***

xxx

Nothing short of witchcraft could have held Buttercup’s 1997 Ford F-Series pickup truck together as it ambled over rocky switchbacks and through dense, Redwood forest to the Vista Lakes campgrounds for the Townsville High Junior and Senior classes’ biannual end-of-semester party. Blossom kept a stranglehold on the passenger door and hissed her displeasure over every dip that lurched the old truck too close to the edge of the road. The drop to the bottom of the mountain was a good thousand feet, a death knell for the Normies riding along with them.

Mitch and Harry, however, did not seem to mind as much.

“Oh shit!” Mitch whooped when Buttercup went over a particularly deep crag in the road and rocked the whole truck.

“Buttercup, please slow down,” Blossom pleaded.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Mitch said through the sliding window that opened up onto the truck bed, where he and Harry rode with the sleeping bags, food, and extra blankets.

Harry laughed. “We’re cool Blossom, don’t worry.”

“Yeah Blossom, don’t worry,” Buttercup drawled. “Besides, it’s not like a fall from this height would kill us.”

“I’m sure Mitch and Harry feel super reassured to hear you say that,” Blossom said snidely.

“Super duper!” Mitch said. He flashed the rearview mirror a sign of the horns and winked.

Blossom forced herself to ignore his goading and kept her eyes firmly on the road ahead just in case. “I should never have agreed to this.”

“Well, tough shit, Leader Girl. You could’ve gotten a ride with Bubbles earlier if you’d left your Winter Break homework until the last day like everybody else, but noooooooo.”

“Not everybody waits until the last minute to get the homework done, for your information.”

“They totally do.”

“They totally don’t.”

“Do.”

“Don’t—ugh, no, I’m not arguing like this with you.”

Buttercup smirked like she’d won the argument (she definitely did not). “Whatever. We’re basically here and no one’s fallen to their death yet, so you can chill.”

The road emptied out onto a clearing overlooking the side of the mountain. Three deep, blue lakes sat still and tranquil, each surrounded by clusters of gnarled Redwoods and camp sites. A lot of people were already here considering the late hour, and a few campfires blazed bright along the shorelines. The gloaming crept over the horizon, casting the valley below in shadow and the skies in dusky, bleeding streaks of red like spilled wine. High above, blues deepened to blacks, but it was still early for stars.

Buttercup parked off the main campsite and the boys began unloading the truck bed. When they struggled with a cooler crammed full of ice, Blossom lifted it effortlessly and floated it over to join others that had already been packed with cheap beer and grill meat.

“Eyyyy there she is!” Boomer opened his arms and pulled Blossom into his letter jacket for a big hug. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

Blossom returned his hug with a smile. “Me too.”

“I told you she would,” said Bubbles, and she nudged Butch who was busy putting away a plate piled high with four hamburgers. He took one look at Blossom and grinned.

“Hey, Highness,” Butch drawled.

Blossom shot him a withering look. “Hi, Butch.” Ever since she’d beaten him in a not-so-friendly spar while Buttercup was out of commission, he’d mellowed out and taken to nicknaming and weirdly friendly ribbing.

“Comin’ down from that pretty throne to hang with the cool kids, huh?”

He stuffed an entire burger in his mouth, while Blossom threw up a little in hers.

“Shut up, Butch. You sound like a creepy old man.” Buttercup arrived carrying two twenty-four packs of beer that she dropped in Butch’s lap. He caught them with a grunt, and Bubbles caught his plate of uneaten burgers.

“Bitch, you love every glistening inch of this.” Butch stood up shouldering the enormous beer crates like they weighed nothing, because they did.

“I love cold beer, so move your glistening ass.” Buttercup snatched one of his uneaten burgers and stuffed it in her mouth.

Somehow, Buttercup got Butch up and helping, and when Mitch and Harry joined them, it was short work to unload everything from Buttercup’s truck. Blossom rolled out her sleeping bag on the grass amidst all the others, but no one would be sleeping tonight. It was merely a courtesy for the too high or the too passed out.

Around the campsite, Juniors and Seniors lounged with beers and blunts, enjoying their last night together before Winter Break. Among them, Wes had his arm around Kim as he flipped hot dogs on a standing grill and chatted up Mike and Robin. Blossom watched them a moment, debating whether to interrupt the conversation to say hi.

Bubbles slipped her arm around Blossom’s waist and squeezed affectionately. “You look a little lost.”

“No, just hanging out, you know.” She returned the half embrace, and they stood there a moment enjoying the cool night air.

“Hey, Blossom! You wanna sit with us?” Harry called. He and a few others had set up some lawn chairs by the shore and were passing beers.

Bubbles giggled. “You know he likes you,” she said.

“What—He does?!” Blossom sputtered.

“For sure. And, you know, since you’re totally not with anybody else, you could have some fun talking to him.”

“You mean, flirt with him.”

Bubbles was as innocent as a lamb. “I mean, be nice to him. That could be fun, right?”

Blossom had nothing to say to that. She was not, in fact, “with” anybody else. And she had every right to talk to whomever of her friends she wanted, so technically Bubbles had a point, but…

Blossom searched the faces gathered. In the encroaching darkness, it was getting harder to pick out profiles and bright colors to see who was here and who hadn’t yet arrived. “I don’t know.”

But Bubbles was already dragging her over to Harry’s circle and waving back to him. Seated in between Harry on one side and Kim on the other, Blossom was handed a burger and a beer and encouraged to participate in the conversation.

“My folks’re taking me to our cabin in Tahoe to go skiing over the break,” Harry was saying.

“That sounds fun,” Blossom said.

He shrugged. “Yeah, sure, if you count me eating snow every five feet when I can’t stop falling.”

“Come on, I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

“Oh, yeah? I bet it’d be a cake walk for you, Miss Snow Queen.” Harry grinned, and the corners of his dark eyes crinkled cutely.

“Just because I have ice powers doesn’t make me a Winter sports maven. I’ve never skied in my life.”

“Psh, can’t be that hard, right? You start at the top of the mountain, and you end up at the bottom.”

Blossom bit back a smile. “I mean, I think it’s a little more involved than that.”

Harry laughed and leaned over the armrest closer to her. “Well, consider us both noobs. Anyway, most of the time’s spent hanging out at the cabin drinking hot chocolate anyway, right? Best part.”

Blossom tugged on her long, red ponytail as Harry continued to smile at her. She imagined the scene: a cozy ski lodge surrounded by snow, and a smiling boy content to ignore the blunt their friends were passing just to talk to her some more. She would like that. It would be easy, simple, and soft. Normal.

“Um, you know, I was thinking of inviting a few friends for a weekend. Just, like, a small group, and uh, well, I was wondering…” Harry stumbled in the dark looking for the question he meant to ask.

She could say yes, and she could have fun. With him, with any nice boy, it could be fun. How silly that just a few months ago, she had let herself believe she wasn’t the desirable type just because some mean girls said so. It all seemed so absurd now, and yet Blossom could not bring herself to give Harry the easy, simple, soft “yes” he wanted.

“Oh hey! You can have my seat, I’m grabbing more food,” said Kim on Blossom’s other side.

“Thanks.”

Like a hand to the stove, that voice hit her with a searing demand to be acknowledged. Old habits perhaps, or new ones. He wasn’t one to be ignored, not by her at least. Not these days.

“Brick,” Blossom said, half a question, half a sigh. She pulled back from Harry to look at him properly.

He’d taken Kim’s vacated seat directly next to her and nursed a solo cup of beer. Like her, he was dressed for the December chill in long sleeves, and his trademark red cap sat backwards over his short hair, as always. Red eyes held hers in a look that lingered.

“Blossom.” He spoke her name like a secret.

He was late. Why was he late? It wasn’t like him. She hadn’t seen him since third period yesterday. Was it only yesterday, or years ago?

“Hey, Brick,” Harry said, leaning over so he could see around Blossom. “Butch said you might not make it tonight.”

Blossom worried her lip between her teeth, and Brick took a long sip of beer as he slowly averted his gaze to Harry on her other side. “Here I am.”

“Uh, yeah, so Blossom,” Harry said. “About Tahoe…”

xxx

Blossom tugged on her ponytail as she turned back to Harry. Brick watched her twist her anxious fingers through her hair and narrowed his eyes.

“Hm? Oh, right,” she said.

“Yeah, so like I was saying, my parents’ cabin has a few extra bedrooms, so we could make a whole weekend out of it. Skiing, hot chocolate, the works. It’d be cool if you came. What do you say?”

“You throwing a rager?” Brick interrupted.

Harry leaned forward to see Brick again like he’d forgotten he was sitting there at all. “Nah man, just a couple friends for a weekend trip.”

“Cool. Who’s going?”

“Uh, I mean, I don’t have a list or anything. Sorta just came up with it now, so…”

“So you still have space. Count me in,” Brick said.

Blossom and Harry both looked at him like he’d suggested they all go jump in the lake.

“You want to go skiing in Tahoe?” Blossom asked.

Brick shrugged. “Sure, if it means a weekend away from my idiot brothers. Thanks for the invite, Harry.”

Harry gaped, and Blossom ceased pulling at her ponytail to stare at Brick.

“I mean,” Harry said, and nodded super obviously towards Blossom while she wasn’t looking.

“How many others could we invite?” Blossom asked. “If it’s okay with your parents, I mean.”

Harry looked at Blossom, and then he looked at Brick, who sipped his beer like the oblivious, teenaged simpleton he one hundred percent was not. Giving up, Harry sighed and rubbed a hand over his buzz cut. “There’s room for two more if you’re both going to be there.”

Blossom lit up. “How about Wes and Kim? Or Pablo and Hanout?”

Harry sat back in his chair and nursed his beer. “Yeah, fine, whatever you want.”

She was smiling now.

“Wes and Kim,” Brick said. “Pablo snores like a motherfucker.”

“That’s true,” Harry said forlornly.

“Well, either way,” Blossom said, clearly torn between telling them both off and the desire to finalize plans.

Brick got up. “Let us know what weekend. I’m free whenever.”

Pleasantly yet unsurprisingly, Blossom got up too. “Me too. Thanks Harry, this’ll be fun.” She smiled genuinely at him, and he returned it.

“Yeah, the best,” Harry said dejectedly.

Blossom followed Brick as he led her away from the main campsite along the shoreline in the direction of the drop-off.

“Okay, what was that?” she asked when they were away from the roar of the music and the campfires.

“What was what?” Brick asked. It was dark now, and the farther they wandered from the center of the party, the harder it was to see the shoreline as his eyes adjusted.

“You invited yourself to Harry’s. Are you even that close?”

He paused and looked at her. “Are you?”

Blossom clutched the ends of her jacket as she blinked up at him. “We’re friends,” she hedged. “He’s a nice guy.”

Brick smirked. “Uh-huh. Real nice.”

“What does that mean?”

“You tell me. Am I intruding?”

Blossom studied him through the gloom. She was close enough that he could smell her perfume, silken and subtle. “No,” she said at length. “There’s nothing to intrude on.”

He watched her walk along ahead of him, her long ponytail a bloody lash under the cover of night. He chucked his beer and went after her.

“This way,” he said, breaking from the shore and heading into the trees.

“Where are we going?” Blossom drew close. “It’s so dark tonight.”

“I think it’s a new moon. Here.” Brick found her hand so they wouldn’t get separated in the pitch black of the canopy.

Blossom’s hand was cool in his, and she slipped the other one around his arm as he walked deeper into the forest. The walk wasn’t far, and soon the trees thinned as they emerged onto the shore of the lake nearest to the precipice overlooking the valley below. Brick had set up his sleeping bag in the grass far away from the rabble where he could have the best view undisturbed.

“Wow.” Blossom approached the black waters, so still they reflected the night sky back flawlessly. Flurries of stars as far as the eye could see scattered above and below like snowflakes frozen in flight. The Milky Way ripped through the firmament, bleeding more stars clustered so closely together they glimmered ice-bright. “I feel like I just stepped into another world.”

Brick jammed his hands in his jeans pockets and drew up next to her. “Consequence of being away from all the city lights for a change.”

“Mm.”

They lapsed into silence for a bit as they watched the nightscape unfold above and upon the water. Brick’s eyes fully adjusted to the lambent starlight, but it was a cold light, and he wore only a thin, red hoodie to stave off the chill. Blossom noticed him shuffle beside her.

“Do you want my jacket?” she teased.

“Ha ha,” Brick groused. But it was fucking cold out here, now that she mentioned it. He had always been particularly sensitive to it in a way she wasn’t. “My sleeping bag should do the trick.”

They retreated to his makeshift camp, where Brick shimmied into his sleeping bag and Blossom sat on the mat next to him, perfectly at ease in the cold. She leaned back on her hands to admire the stars, content like she could watch them all night. Their gossamer light draped her like a veil, softening her edges and igniting her colors. Brick had the sudden urge to touch her, to prove she was no pearlescent dream, that the cold cornering him now was hers and not just the darkness.

“Why were you late tonight?” she asked out of the blue.

Brick lay back on the mat and looked up at the jeweled sky. “Finished the homework.”

Her laugh was as soft as the starlight, and she grinned at him over her shoulder. “Me too.”

Obviously. He wouldn’t put it past her. It didn’t matter, only, he didn’t want to have one more thing to worry about over the break while also spending way more time than usual around his brothers with nothing to keep their focus for eight hours of the day. But the knowledge seemed to please her, which was just as well.

“I told you I was coming tonight,” he said.

And yet, Boomer had blown up his phone texting him all evening wondering where the hell he was, why wasn’t he here yet, and didn’t he realize people were waiting for him? The last text was one he received when he’d touched down at the edge of the campsite and it was already dark: a candid picture of Blossom talking with Harry by a campfire, and she looked happy. Brick had not responded to it or to any of the other annoying texts. Kim had been more than happy to give him her chair the minute she saw him approaching.

“Here you are,” Blossom said, hushed and half-lidded.

Here we are.

Brick curled an arm under his head. “View’s better from down here.”

She worried her lip—did she even realize she did that? That he noticed?—but ultimately lay down next to him on the mat. “Oh, wow…”

The starscape shimmered far and above, and Brick began to pick out patterns in the cosmos. “There, Cassiopeia.” He pointed to a cluster of stars.

“You know your constellations?” she asked.

“A few.”

He could practically feel the aura of challenge she exuded like a pheromone.

“All right. Perseus,” she said.

Brick pointed to a long line of stars near Cassiopeia. “Right next to Andromeda.”

“That was a freebie to test the waters.”

Brick chuckled. “Sure.”

“Okay Star Lord, show me Gemini.”

Brick swept his hand south and west of Perseus to a pair of star lines facing each other. “A couple of gossipy bitches.”

She shoved him playfully, and he caught her with his free arm, pulling her close. “You’re terrible.”

“I’m right. Next?”

“Let’s see… How about Leo?”

With one arm anchoring her to his side, Brick traced the patterns she called out with the other. Dead heroes and their monsters rose from glittering graves with every sweep of his fingers and kept them company in the dark.

She tugged at his sleeve as he searched for the elusive Pyxis constellation. “Hey, we should probably get back to the party.”

Brick let his hand drop. “Why?”

“Because we’ll be missed, obviously.”

He chuckled. “I bet someone’s missing you.”

Blossom rolled onto her side to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing.”

He’d taken her to breakfast. It wasn’t a date; he hadn’t technically asked, and she only came because she was hungry and didn’t want to go home yet. It was the first time he’d ever seen her cry—no, sob because of what some dumb girls said to her at a party. Just the normal high school bullshit, and she’d fallen apart. Breakfast was the fucking least he could do after the ignominy of seeing her like that. It just turned out that it wasn’t the last.

Too many breakfasts and long hours spent prepping for finals turned into expectation, expectation turned into anticipation, and anticipation became the new normal. They weren’t together no matter what rumors Bubbles and Robin started and stopped. They weren’t not together either, considering they usually were, in fact, together. It had only been a few months since she’d handed Butch his balls wrapped up in a pretty pink bow and left Brick speechless to behold her, a few months since he’d found her insecure and vulnerable on that rooftop and called her beautiful because she was, holy fuck she was, and so much more.

Blossom was old wounds that should have healed long ago, that he should never have opened again, but she was still so new and he didn’t know, he didn’t know.

She slipped her hand over the cover of his sleeping bag and curled her fingers in his shirt. “Brick,” she said in a voice full of galaxies and longing.

He’d always liked the sound of his own name, after all.

When he kissed her, she tasted like starlight, cold fire. He pulled her closer, kissed her deeper, a step into the unknown, but the unknown was where she was and she was everything. Her breath hitched and she opened for him, just like that day on the rooftop, but he didn’t look away this time and she kissed him back like it had been her idea all along. Chemical X crackled on their flushed skin as he rolled onto his back and brought her with him, her weight on his chest a warmth and a fantasy.

Blossom’s long bangs fanned his cheeks as she hovered above him and he held on to her. He dreamed she might fall back into the sea of stars and he would dive in after her should he let her go. He didn’t let her go.

“I don’t actually want to go to Tahoe,” Brick said.

She laughed, light as a moonbeam. “Neither do I.”

He threaded his fingers through her hair, pulled her down again. “Good.”

She smiled into the kiss and wrapped her arms around him.

xxx

No one took much notice when Blossom and Brick popped up at the campsite after a protracted absence. No one except Bubbles, who passed Butch her perfectly roasted marshmallow, which he wolfed down right off the stick without waiting for it to cool. She discreetly got out her phone and snapped a few pictures of Blossom leading Brick by the hand to a couple empty chairs near Wes and Kim. When Brick leaned back in his chair and put his arm around the back of Blossom’s so she could lean into him, Bubbles had to work very hard not to squeal.

Clearly, Boomer sending Brick that picture of Harry chatting up Blossom had had the intended outcome.

She fired off twenty pictures to Robin.

[Bubbles: Yearbook?? 👀]

Robin, who was on the other side of the large campfire with Buttercup, Julie, Mitch, and the Floyjoydson twins, spat out her beer when she saw the pictures.

Bubbles snickered to herself.

“What’re you so happy about?” Butch said halfway through a game of Chubby Bunny.

Bubbles poked his mallow-stuffed cheek and winked. “It’s a secret.”

He rolled his eyes and stuffed another marshmallow in his mouth. “Laaaaame.”

Bubbles stole another glance at Blossom and Brick. She was laughing at something Kim had said, and he turned to whisper something to her. Bubbles bit her lip to hide her smile.

“But not for long,” she sang to herself.

Boomer came up behind Blossom and Brick and threw his arms around them both, laughing and pulling them close. Brick didn’t even try to push him off.

Not for long at all.

xxx

Thanks for reading! If you enjoy my writing and are looking for more PPG/RRB content from me, please check out my ongoing multi-chapter over on AO3 called Beyond This Morning. 😊

[miss-tc-nova]

Dense as a Brick Wall - Terra x Fem!Reader

First off YEEEESSSSSSS! I NEED MORE DARK ROAD ASAP! Second, Terra is actually one of my favorite characters of the series so I was excited for this request! I admit I struggled a bit but I hope you like it and I’m sorry it took me so long. 

~~~~~

               I can officially say today has started off wild, but I mean my version of wild—these keyblade wielders apparently find travelling to different worlds pretty normal. First thing in the morning, the trio of Aqua, Ven, and Terra all show up on my doorstep and insist I hang out with them for the day. When I finally relent, that’s when they break the news that we’re going off-world.

               So one insane trip later, we end up in this bright, sunshine world of Destiny Islands. It’s gorgeous with its tropical atmosphere and sparkling beach and it’s a shame I didn’t bring my bathing suit. The trio then takes me to the larger island where I meet way more people than I was prepared for. They all seem friendly enough and accept me pretty quickly; also we’re apparently not the only group to travel from another world.

               That’s when the inhabitants—Riku, Sora, Kairi, and Namine—announce an activity they’d come up with for the visitors: a photo scavenger hunt. The groups pair up quickly, leaving the four of us from the Land of Departure.

               “So how do you guys wanna split up?” Terra asks.

               “Oh, I know,” Aqua hums, wandering towards Namine. Once she returns, she presents four pieces of paper in her grasp. “Whoever draws the two with colored ends are partners. You first,” she says, offering the handful to me.

               Tugging on a strip, I find it colored red on the bottom. “Oh. Cool.”

               She turns to the man beside me. “Alright. Terra.”

               He picks a strip and my insides run with ice; they expect me to go on a scavenger hunt, alone, with the only person I’ve ever fallen so hard for.

               I don’t even know where to begin with Terra. He’s the biggest sweetheart and I’d have to be wearing fire-retardant pants if I said I never admired those muscles. I know he gets a lot of flak, but the guy can actually be pretty smart when it comes to strategy and situational awareness, though his social skills could use a little work. So, while I can say this about his physical build, it also unfortunately applies to his empathic understanding: he’s as dense as a brick wall.

               I’ve done everything just short of saying, “hey, you know what? I have an enormous crush on you.” Well, that and kiss him. I once even held his hand when we were wandering through town, but I think he mistook it for me trying not to get lost in the crowds. For the love of all that is good in existence, I cannot get him to take a hint! That and my dumb ass is too nervous to straight up confess.

               “Hey, are you okay with that?”

               Snapping back to the present, I look up at those beautiful blue eyes. Blood rushes into my ears, but I smile anyway. “Yeah. This’ll be a piece of cake.”

               He smiles back and I feel my self-awareness melt just a little, until I realize I might get lost staring if I don’t look away.

               We’re given a list of things to photograph and a deadline to meet back up on the small island and the teams start to go their separate ways. Only a few steps into our adventure, I look back at Aqua and Ven and my heart stops. A smirk sits upon her lips and pinched between her fingers are the remaining two strips of paper: they were all colored on the end. My brain begins screaming bloody murder.

               “Woah, hey!” A large hand beneath my arm pulls me to the side just in time to miss walking into one of those mail collection boxes. Face burning, I glance up at my concerned sort-of-hero. “Are you sure you’re okay? If you’re not feeling well, we can go home.”

               For the love of the gods, I cannot tell him what Aqua did, but she’s absolutely going to get it later—regardless of whether or not she can destroy me in a heartbeat. “No no! I’m fine. I just got distracted.”

               Dark brows furrow, still concerned. “Would rather be partners with someone else?”

               “NO!” Okay, I probably didn’t need to respond quite that quickly…or yell. A laugh escapes me in an attempt to regain my composure. “No, it’s okay. I promise. This is going to be fun.”

               A big grin crosses his lips and we set off, ignoring the fact this is a set up—or maybe not; who knows.

               There are two lists on the paper Kairi had given me: one of object and one of activities. Things such as the beach, something red, and a statue are on the list of objects, but on the other are things such as walking barefoot in the sand, going down the slide in the park, and shaking a stranger’s hand. The thing about the second list is that there has to be photo evidence of each person to get the points. Trailing through the sand and asking a random guy to shake hands with each of us is easy enough and we’ve been having a lot of fun, but poor Terra kind of got stuck in the slide and we lost a couple hours—but I got the evidence at least.

               “You sure you’re okay?” I ask for like the tenth time, stupidly fluttering eyelashes at him.

               My partner laughs sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He’s such a good sport but oblivious as always. “I’m just relieved we didn’t break it.”

               “Yeah…I was kinda worried we were gonna have to call the fire department or something—or worse, our friends.”

               “I really don’t need another story Aqua’s not gonna let me live down,” he sighs. “What else is on the list?”

               Pulling the paper from my pocket, I scan over what’s not marked. “Well, there’s not much more we can do before time’s up…so I guess we head back and hope we see a dog, a sign that starts with the letter V, and a rubber duck—where the hell did they think we were gonna see a rubber duck?”

               “Does that count?” Out points his finger to the ocean where a giant, inflatable duck peacefully floats along.

               “I don’t think it’s made of rubber, but I’m gonna say yes,” I say, using Terra’s GummiPhone to snap a picture of the ridiculous sight.

               So off we go towards the smaller island on one of the rental row boats. For a while, we chat and amble about the beach—and I drop more ridiculous hints—until Terra asks, “Hey, wasn’t there something on the list about food?”

               “Um. Try a food neither of us has eaten.”

               “I don’t know about you, but I have no idea what that is.” From a crooked tree hangs a bright, yellow fruit.

               I laugh, following him towards the stairs leading up to the islet. “You wanna just start eating random fruit?”

               “Why not?”

               The young man scales along the curved tree until he successfully gets his hand on the star-shaped fruit and returns to sit next to me on the tree. The fruit is broken into two and I get a piece. It’s sweet, almost like a candy and super watery.

               “I may be regretting my choice,” Terra murmurs around a mouthful.

               “What? This is amazing.” I almost drool in my protest.

               “Too sweet.”

               “Ah, I forget you don’t like sweets.”

               Eyeing up his questionable prize, he ventures another bite.

               “You two are here ear—” Looking back reveals the Islanders. Both girls gasp and the guys just gape.

               “Hey guys,” I greet. “What’s up?” I take another bite.

               Riku is the first to break. “You two have no idea what that is, do you?” A glance is shared with no answer. “That’s a paopu.”

               When the only response is staring, Kairi hastily explains, “If two people share one, their destinies become intertwined!”

               “So says the legend,” adds Namine.

               Terra’s mouthful comes flying back out while I opt to choke on mine. While I’m busy hacking away, the rest of our friends arrive.

               “What’s going on here?” Aqua asks as Sora is patting my back.

               “According to these two, trying new foods means sharing destinies,” Riku explains, gesturing to the dropped leftovers.

               Ven is very poorly containing his laugh. “You guys ate a paopu fruit?”

               “We didn’t know what it was,” Terra retorts. It makes me feel somewhat better that his face is probably just as red as mine.

               “I told you about those,” Aqua retorts. “Remember? I based our wayfinders off them.”

               I eventually breathe fine again and everyone hangs out to share their pictures and just hang out. Xion and Roxas got the most points and win the game while Terra and I get the most teasing for the paopu and the slide. Still, the symbolic meaning of the fruit plagues my thoughts—it’s a nice thought to have Terra as part of my destiny. I’d probably squeal if it weren’t for my new friends sitting around. In my revelations, I can’t help beaming down at the pictures of my partner.

               It’s just as we’re all getting ready to head home that Aqua sighs, “It’s a shame that, even after I went through all the trouble to make sure they were partners and neither of them confessed they liked each other.”

               A second passes, and then another, but finally, Terra’s eyes widen as he realizes what I’ve known from the beginning. “You rigged the teams?!”

               Ven snarks, “She wasn’t exactly subtle.”

               My brain carefully scrutinizes the frantic behavior of the young man. “Wh—Bu—How—Why would you do that?!”

               “Didn’t you hear me? So you could tell her how you feel,” she states bluntly.

               Arms flail and, had anyone been within close proximity, who knows what kind of damage he’d deal. “How could you do that?! I’ve been dying all day trying to figure out how to tell her!”

               The analyzing brain blips. Wait…

               “It wasn’t really that much of a secret,” his blonde friend mutters, the flustered not hearing him.

               “All so you could get a few laughs picking on me?! And I still don’t even know how to tell her how much I like her!”

               A jolt ripples through me and my jaw falls open.

               “First of all,” Aqua starts. “I didn’t do it to pick on you. Second, it was Ven’s idea.”

               The accused adds, “He’s been driving me nuts over it.”

               “And third, I’m pretty sure you just confessed.” A finger points to me.

               His olive skin goes visibly pale, outrage dropping to instant horror. Those shocked eyes lock onto me; clearly he’d forgotten in his outburst that I was even here to begin with.

               With a strange sense of outward confidence, I close the gap between us. My heart is beating deafeningly in my ears as I approach but he doesn’t move even a little, watching me in stunned silence. Fists take hold of his shirt, pulling him down to my level as I stand on tiptoe.

               Raging in my gut are the butterflies that have been teasing me all day. I may be on fire right now, but there’s an ocean just over there—it’s fine. And sure, my partner is in a stupor but that doesn’t make my elation any less real. There are no words for how much I needed this.

               Leaning back, there’s a lingering taste of that paopu we’d split earlier. I can’t help the resulting smile though Terra looks absolutely bewildered.

               “I’ve been dying to do that for months,” I tell him.

               “Perhaps my efforts weren’t in vain after all,” giggles Aqua. She gets a raspberry from me.  

               Terra, with an incredibly ludicrous question, grabs my attention again. “Did you just kiss me?”

               My eyes widen before I start laughing. “You really are as dense as a brick wall.”

               The shock leaves his face, replaced with a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

               “She’s been flirting with you hardcore for as long as I can remember,” Ven tells him. “Everyone but you picked up on that.”

               “R-Really?” This time, he goes a little red.

               Slipping a hand into his, I reply, “Really.”

               The free hand meets his face. “Ugh, geeze I’m so dumb.”

               “That’s okay. You’re still cute.”

               “You’re not supposed to agree with me, you know.”

               “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

               Then Aqua gets in another jab. “I think that’s a little unfair, Ven. It’s not like she picked up on his flirting either.”

               “Wait, what?!” Eye shoot up to Terra who gives me a smile that I’d die for.

               “Guess it’s not just me, huh.”

~~~~~

Nova’s Kingdom Hearts Masterlist

[n6or]

don’t leave me | raihan nsfw

Rating: Explicit 

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply 

Category: F/M 

Fandom: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions 

Relationships: Kibana | Raihan/ReaderDande 

Additional Tags: Self-Insert, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Drunk Sex

Words: 4456

READ HERE ON AO3!

It was a blur, really. A messy night of open-mouthed kisses and desperate touches between two hopeless singles. His mouth had found the soft skin of your neck, sucking, biting, bruising the beautiful canvas with his own work of art. Your back had arched up off his bed, thighs trembling as strong hands caressed your supple curves. Even drunk he had you wrapped around his finger, flushing furiously as his hot breath fanned against your ear. You knew it was a mistake—knew that it was just a drunken fling, but the way he held you, the way he whispered those sweet nothings as if it were only the two of you left in the world… it made your heart flutter.

And that’s why, when the first rays of light disrupted your sleep, you knew you had to leave. The light that filtered through the thin curtain made your head throb- made you want to groan and grumble in annoyance, but that would stir Raihan.

Raihan.

Ah.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and blinked.

Morning blurs were the worst...

From your right came a quiet grumble, the Dragon Tamer clearly disturbed by your efforts of reaching over to grab your glasses from the bedside table. You bit your lip once his very strong (and very naked) arm tightened around your waist.

The way the sun poured through from your left, highlighting his beautiful, brown complexion… It made your heart flutter. It reminded you of why you had to leave. And that’s why you did. With no note, no goodbye, and no apology, you left.

Raihan was your best friend--he had always been your best friend. Ever since you were children you had been inseparable; wherever one was, the other wouldn’t be too far. You both followed very strict rules. Very strict rules imposed by a certain dragon gym leader. You were best friends and that was it. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, of accidentally breaking your heart and having you leave him forever.

“I mean, it’s not like you even like me, so it’s not too much to ask, yeah?”

The way he smiled that day almost knocked the wind from your lungs. How could he be so dense? You weren’t sure if you wanted to yell or cry or both. So instead, you smiled and gave him a sharp nudge of the elbow to his ribcage.

“Of course I don’t like you, idiot.”

You rushed down the brick pathway of Hammerlocke, praying that you could just make it back home without too much disturbance. Thankfully, it seemed as if your author was kind and you returned home to have a brisk shower. You grimace at the constellation of reds and purple that litter your chest, neck, thighs, shit!

“Good job, Dragon tamer,” you growl before drying yourself off and changing into your uniform.

There’s a shaky sigh as you pull on your lab coat, noticing the way the red blemishes (along with the very prominent bite marks) are still visible above your collar. Tapping your foot repeatedly, you let out another heavy huff, removing your glasses for a moment.

“Stupid idiot,” you mumble again, voice quiet, shaky. You rub your temples, fingers trembling slightly. “You ruin everything. Every single damn time!” Whether your words were directed at Raihan or yourself, you don’t quite know… but the burn in your chest doesn’t ease up at all.

The memories of last night ache your head as you stroll into the research facility, scarf around your neck, eyes fixated on the floor as you make your way to your desk.

“Heya~ Well don’t you just look beautiful~” Sonia is laughing as she approaches your desk, twirling some of her ginger hair. “I didn’t think you’d really get that drunk! You almost outdrank me!”

You grimace at the thought, adjusting your glasses.

“Y-Yeah… It was pretty wild, I guess.”

“Hm… and you disappeared sometime after Raihan left, too!” Sonia is pouting and you can feel the anxiety swelling in the pit of your throat. “Did you both get home oka-”

“Delivery!”

Thanking the heavens above, you shout suddenly, “I’ll get it!” Before leaving your desk. You sign for the package and ignore the chuckling comments made about your scarf in the summer heat. You just smile and bid them a safe journey before closing the doors.

Staring down at the box in your hands, you worry your lower lip, teeth anxiously raking at the soft skin. You could avoid talking about it, but you couldn’t avoid the way you felt about it. Your stomach was shallow and your chest felt . . . weird. You couldn’t describe it. But knowing that the friendship between you and Raihan had been destroyed in one night… It felt like a cold cavity.

The scarf helped.

           It helped more than that delivery man knew.

It’s lunchtime when you first check your phone. You were anxious, terrified of seeing a message from Raihan, but there was nothing. You stared at the screen in disbelief for a few short moments.

“You expecting a call?” Sonia suddenly asks, leaning over your shoulder and peaking at your phone screen.

“S-Sonia!” You yelp, clutching your phone to your phone and looking up at the ginger.

“What? It was just a simple question, y’know~ if you need to go make a call to a certain someone I totally get it!” She fixes your scarf with a small smile before offering a rather sympathetic smile. “But I hope you’re okay… You seem really…” She trails off and drags a chair over to sit beside you, sighing. “You seem out of it. Like, normally I wouldn’t press this kind of thing, because I know it makes you nervous, but it’s affecting your work and…”

“I’m fine.” You manage out, interrupting her second trailing sentence. She searches your eyes, a gentle hand now resting on your knee. Then she nods.

“Alrighty then!” Sonia gives you a firm rub to the shoulder before leaving some documents.

When she leaves, you sigh, leaning back into your chair. There’s a faint wince from the dull ache in your hips, head hanging over the back of the chair.

This was going to suck.

                       Bad.

The day is long and drawn out and by the end of it you’re certain you’re going to pass out. You can’t quite pinpoint when you actually fell asleep last night, but it must’ve been late considering the daze that seems to be clouding your head. Reaching for a Poke-ball from your bag, you falter for a moment. You notice one rotom phone in amongst your keys, but then you find a second… and it’s Raihan’s.

“C’mon!” Raihan laughs into your ear. Your cheeks are burning by this stage. Hell, with the way his hands hold your hips and his lips caress the shell of your ear, you’re certain that the heat you’re exuding could cook any curry. “Let’s dance, babe! It’s one night~ C’mon! Put my phone in your bag and let’s dance~”

The memory hits you like a truck -- so hard that you’ve had to crouch. A poke ball rolls out of your opened bag and out pops a familiar little Leafeon. She hums softly, curiously, waddling over to nuzzle against your thigh.

“Lea? Leafeon?” She purrs, her two little paws resting on your knee as she leans up and nudges her nose against the backs of your hands. Your fingers part and you meet her caramel eyes, earning and excited squeak from the eeveelution. She presses her nose to your cheek, and you sigh shakily.

You have to pull it together.

And that’s exactly why you did the only thing that you knew you could do in this situation; you called Leon.

“Heya! How’s it going, mate?” Leon’s voice is somewhat strained as he speaks, words hurried.

“Uh, hey Lee. I wanted to--” You can hear muffled voices in the background as you talk. You frown. “Ask you a favour… Could I drop something off to you?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah! Sure mate, sure! Uh--Hop, just--Sorry, Y/N, I’ve got a situation here, haha.”

“Oh… I could call back if you…”

“No! Wait, Y/N, wait!” It’s Raihan’s voice. You blink, swallowing thickly.

“I-I have to go. Can you tell Raihan that Sonia will have his phone? Thanks.”

You hang up.

Leafeon purrs sadly, her head pressing to the shaking of your palm. She licks it gently before nudging at your leg.

You had to take the phone to Sonia.

All you wanted to do was disappear.

And that’s what you did.

Without explanation, you shoved Raihan’s phone into Sonia’s hands and took off to the Wild Area.

“You’ll--You’ll regret this,” you whisper, breathless. “Raihan.. Ha…”

“I could never regret making love to you,” he countered quietly, larger hands holding your thighs, your legs over his shoulders as he kissed up to your throbbing warmth. “Never, Y/N.”

His mouth is hot against you, tongue lapping up the sopping wetness of your nether regions. The way he curls his tongue inside of you would have, on normal circumstances, remindws you that this isn’t his first rodeo, and, on normal circumstances, that would have you refusing any sort of affection let alone sex… but with the aid of a little alcohol, you didn’t care. You wanted to hold Raihan, to let him touch you, to use you, to love you… even if it was only for one night.

You wanted to love him, even if it was a drunken mistake on his behalf.

Pushing back the vines of your secret little area, you sigh shakily. Along the way you had released Bewear from her friend ball; she had let you rest on her back, taking you back to the little place most of your Pokemon knew you loved. You give her a warm squeeze before dropping back down to your feet.

It’s a clearing decorated with beautiful wild flowers, shrubs, lit by nothing by the moon and the little lights that litter the night sky. Your hands are shaky as you pitch your tent, Beware and Leafeon both try their best to help you, sensing that something is off. Once the tent is done, you smile your thanks, give them one final embrace, and return the pair back to their respective Poke-balls. You tuck both away into your satchel and sigh. Tonight, you decide to go to bed without dinner, and without checking your phone. And instead, you grab your dragon jacket -- the one matching to Raihan’s -- and curl into it.

You don’t recall how long the cries racked your body for, but somewhere along the way your silent sobs ceased, and exhaustion won.

You were gone for almost a week. On the first absence from work Sonia had called you, on the third day with no word it was Leon who called you, and on the seventh day…

Well, when you woke up, it wasn’t morning, nor were you alone. Considering your world was blurred from the lack of glasses, all you could see was the outline of a giant, black shadow moving outside your tent. Your eyes widened when you heard the twig snap. Battling was not your speciality. You see, you never wanted to be champion, that was always Raihan’s dream. You were happy to live a contented life amongst your Pokémon and work for Sonia as her assistant until Hop was old enough to train…

So, to put it simply, you were completely

and utterly

fucked

right now--

especially if that thing intended on fighting you.

You reach for your glasses first, grabbing your ladle second. Like hell you’d put your Pokémon in danger. You’re shaking profusely as you quietly raise to your feet, eyes burning, stinging, wet. As you approach the entrance of your tent, you hear a hushed profanity leave the beast outside. You pause instantly, brows knitting together.

“Fuckin’ sticks,” comes the growl.

That’s when you launch yourself out of the tent, aiming high with your ladle and throwing it at the offender.

“O-Oi! Y/N, Y/N! It’s me! It’s--” Raihan’s standing there, hands raised defensively, eyes flicking between you and the murder weapon. He blinks incredulously. “Is that-- …Is that a ladle?”

“Yes it’s a ladle. Mind your business. More importantly, why are you here at goodness knows what time, you moron?! You’re--that’s so inconsiderate of you! I seriously thought I was going to die, you stupid, big, dragon, moro--” Your words are cut off when two strong arms envelope you into the tightest, warmest hug you have ever received.

“I know.. I know. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Your arms lay limp by your sides, eyes staring up at the full moon. Ah. It’s beginning to blur for you now.

“Stop it,” you whisper, voice feeble. “I don’t want this. I don’t want you doing this…”

“I have to apologise, Y/N.”

He clutches you tighter, his face buried in the warmth of your hair.

“No you don’t. If you apologise, then you will end up apologising for what happened--for being drunk. You’ll say it was a mistake and you never wan--”

Again, your words are cut off, but this time it’s by a warm pair of lips occupying your own. Your eyes are wide, tears glistening in the light of the moon.

Your hands come to his chest and you push him back.

“S-Stop that,” You wipe your mouth on the back of your hands, looking away. “Go away, Raihan. You’re-- You’re making things worse.”

Raihan grabs your wrists so gently… they’re almost completely different to the ones you felt the other night.

“Do you really want me to go away, Y/N…?” His voice is quieter than usual -- all his usual confidence seemingly extinguished. You feel the way his lips press tenderly against each of your fingers. It makes thinking hard.

“You’re…” By now you’re looking down, embarrassed, flustered… “You’re the one who made the rules… It was never me. I never wanted them but you’re too stupid to realise that I’ve been-” You cut yourself off from pouring out anymore unnecessary information. Your eyes are wet again. Snatching your hands away from the dragon gym leader, you turn your back to him and move away. “This is your fault and here I am, trying to fix your mess again…” You rub at the back of your neck, sighing shakily. You take your glasses off and rub at your eyes profusely, angrily, shoulders trembling.

“Y/N…” Raihan’s voice is so small as he moves to stand behind you. “It was shit what I did-”

“It was.”

“And I’m shit-”

“You are.” You sniff and there’s silence.

“But please don’t send me away, Y/N. I know I made those stupid rules. I was scared. I know that sounds stupid, but we were so young, and I was already so into you…” You can feel his fingertips gingerly reaching to touch you but pulling back just before he can complete the contact. “That night wasn’t a mistake at all. You’re not a mistake, Y/N. I’m pissed off that I took advantage of you while you were drunk… While we were both drunk… and for that—man… you’ll never get how sorry I am.” The crack in his voice makes you flinch.

Hesitantly, your fingers meet, yours curling around his, faces still downcast. You hear the breath of relief, followed by the forehead dropping onto your shoulder. His free arm wraps slowly, cautiously, around your waist, drawing you back into him. His face is wet in the crook of your neck and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying again.

Instead, you turn around in his arms and bury yourself into his chest, his arms caging you between them and the warmth of his body. Your hands move up the outlines of his tensing shoulder muscles, fingers curling into the back of his shirt.

“I thought the promises would stop me losing you,” he murmured. “But instead they just fucked things up even more, huh?” His hand goes to the back of your hair, fingers entangling in the back of your feathery strands of hair.

The embrace you share under the moon lasts forever. Your body slots perfectly against Raihan’s larger frame. You feel so exhausted, yet so content, so secure, you never knew this state was possible.

“Y/N,” Raihan whispers quietly, fingers threading through your hair. You look up and his hands move to cradle your flushed cheeks, thumbs smoothing over the dampened, burning skin. His eyes search yours, his brows knitted, silently asking and searching for your answer.

When your lashes flutter shut and you tilt your head up, he leans down slowly, taking his time to press your lips together; to relish in suppleness, in the way they fit together perfectly, his slightly thicker than yours, but as gentle as ever. The kiss is slow and patient, easing your anxious heart and near on leaving you breathless. You were never good at the whole kissing thing, never knowing where to put your hands, when to breathe—do you breathe while kissing?

Embarrassed, you pull away, turning your face in an attempt of hiding the way the moon highlights your burning cheeks.

“What’s wrong? Did I go too fast?” You shake your head, leaning into his palm.

“I… don’t know how to do that kinda stuff, y’know? The other night… You and I, well…”

Raihan’s expression was unreadable for a moment before he slowly took your hand in his, staring down into your eyes.

“I can teach you if you want,” he whispers softly, squeezing your hand. “I know I don’t deserve it… but I don’t want to be just the best friend, Y/N. If you don’t want me, I’ll respect that, and I’ll walk away right now… but if you’ll have me then I guess I’m asking…”

“S-Stop being so… Sh-Sheesh… You’re so not that cocky little brat of a gym leader I know…” You peek up at him over your glasses and offer a sheepish grin. His eyes blink wide, almost like an excited puppy, and he tackles you into a bone-crushing hug.

You’re about to protest when suddenly his lips are on yours, and just like the other night, you’re melting into the warmth of the Dragon Tamer. Skilled hands find your hips and slowly guide you back into the tent. There’s a small ting, a low groan, and a muffled laugh when you step into the shelter. Raihan breaks the kiss to rub his injured head, laughing along with you.

Taking your hands, Raihan leads you back to the cot, slowly reclining you back onto the softer surface. He hovers above you, leaning on his arm, one knee between your thigh whilst the other rests against you. He searches your eyes for any sign of hesitation or reluctance but finds none. It’s then that he leans down and recaptures your lips once more, observing the way your eyes flutter shut and your cheeks instantly warm. With his right hand, he caresses your thigh, squeezing it, and earning a quiet gasp from you.

Raihan takes the opportunity to slowly lick into your mouth, his tongue sliding over and around yours, eliciting wet, obscene noises that make your face burn even hotter. He figures you must be nervous with the way you cling to him, your arms laced around his shoulders tightly, lips shyly parted. Though it’s when he sucks on your tongue that you find yourself whining.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against your swelling lips. When your eyes open, you noticed how his are glazed over with a look you’ve never seen before – his eyes half lidded and seemingly…lustful. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N. Can I take photos? Just for us, y’know?”

“H-Haa?! But--? It—Dammit, Raihan. If those photos leak—if even one soul sees—I will end yo—”

You’re cut off with another cheeky kiss, the younger boy laughing into your mouth. He pulls back and smiles at you once more before setting up his Rotom.

“Like hell I’d let anybody else see you like this, babe,” The Rotom flies into the air as Raihan shoots you an almost animalistic smirk. “You’re mine now, Princess. And only I’m gonna be usin’ those photos.”

Raihan finds himself kissing up your bare thighs after having slowly dragged your underwear off and away, desperate to have his head between your thighs again. You gasp when you feel his two fingers pry your lips apart, his tongue taking its time to roll over and around your clit. Your back arches up off the bed at the contact, thighs trembling either side of his head. Your hands scramble to find his hair, breath quickening as his tongue flicks and his lips suck at the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Ra—Rai.. Shit—Ha, Raihan..” His name seems to be the only thing (other than profanities) that you seem to know. You buck your hips desperately into the other’s mouth, tugging on his hair and earning another low groan from the man.

“Now, now,” he mumbles against your heat, looking up at you from between your thighs. His gaze is lazy, seductive. He’s smirking at you, tongue slowly sliding along your clit, barely touching the wetness. “Be a good girl.” He instructs firmly, pushing your hips down.

You writhe beneath his strong hold as his mouth continues to abuse your sensitive regions, completely unrelenting in the way he sucks at your clit, teeth occasionally nibbling at the bud.  It’s then that you feel a familiar pressure building within your abdomen, curling like a coil that’s about to snap at any given moment. You try to warn Raihan, you do. You tug at his hair, choking out incoherent sobs of his name, trying to pull him off… but of course Raihan doesn’t give in. In fact, he pries his forefinger between your sodden, velvety walls and presses upwards, stroking along the upper roof of your sex.

That’s the final straw. It’s all too much to think about: his tongue, his teeth, his finger—

Before too long you’re coming with a loud cry, back arching up off the bed as he continues to thrust his finger inside of you, tongue mercilessly lapping at your throbbing clit. Your body convulses and shakes atop the cot, fingers tugging harshly at Raihan’s now matted black hair. You continue to cry his name as he licks you out, even replacing his finger with his tongue, groaning as he licks you clean.

You feebly push at his head, whimpering and twitching in the afterglow of your orgasm.

“Too… Too much—sensitive… No more, Rai.” He looks up at you from between your thighs, expression rather adorable. You pant through a smile, allowing a small laugh to pass. “How can you look so cute after doing something so lewd…?”

“Lewd? I don’t think making love is lewd!” He inches up your body, kissing over old marks that barely present themselves. “I’d do anything you asked me, babe.” You smile as he kisses you once again, but soon frown.

“But you haven’t…”

“It’s okay. I’m not really prepared, anyway. I don’t have any condoms.”

You nod slowly. You trace your fingers over his naked chest before looking back up to meet the gaze of the Dragon Tamer.

“Can I touch you?”

He blinks a few moments, seeming as If he has short circuited, but quickly nods. “Y-Yeah, yeah. Babe, that would be—shit, that’d be really good… D’you want me to show you?” At your nod, he takes your hand. “Do you have any oil around here? It’ll make it easier.”

You ponder over the question for a moment before reaching over into your bag and fishing out a small container of rose oil.

“Alright, sick. I’m gonna pour some in your hand, yeah? It’ll make it easier for you.” You nod, watching as he pours said oil into the palm of your hand. He observes your expression as he slowly shimmies himself out of his boxer shorts, snickering when your eyes widen. He kisses your forehead for a few lingering moments before taking your hand in his and guiding your hand to the base of his thick shaft. Raihan’s thick lashes fall shut once your soft hand touches his proud cock. He can’t stop the involuntary twitch of his hips.

You blink in disbelief, watching the way his face contorts as your hands slowly move along his pulsating cock. It’s quite hot, you note—the temperature of his… it makes you blush. Seeing him so pliant under your touch like this… it gives you a surge of courage – of boldness. You lean up and press soft kisses to the younger’s neck, following the twisting motion of his hand.

“Shit, Y/N,” he breathes, shakily. He thrusts into your hand when you near his tip. You notice the faint tremble of his hips. Your hand hesitantly moves to the other’s tip, squeezing the sensitive head, experimentally touching him. “F-Fucking—shit, Y/N. Keep that up and I’ll cum, babe.”

That’s the plan, dummy.

You snicker to yourself as his hand guides you up and down the entirety of his cock, twisting and squeezing in different positions, each stroke edging Raihan closer and closer to the edge.

“Y/N—Don’t stop. Fuck, please. ‘M gonna cum, baby. Fuck—just like that—” Raihan becomes increasingly vocal as your thumb swirls across the leaking slit of his dick, your free hand pumping the lubricated shaft of the other. “Y/N, fuck—coming!”

And with that final shout, creamy cum coils from the violently red slit of Raihan’s cock. He grits his teeth, body stiffening for a brief moment before he fucks your hand, head falling back as he rides the euphoria.

“You look cute like this,” Comes your sudden murmur, watching his hips buck into your hand before he slowly guides your hand to his own. He laces your fingers and smiles tiredly.

“You think?” he whispers, leaning down to nudge his nose against your temple. “Guess we’ll have to do it more often so you can see that cute expression of mine, huh~?”

Your face flushes ten times over at the comment, curling into his chest and hiding away (despite the uncomfortable stickiness now between you both). He chuckles loudly at your reaction, fingers tracing along your back as he kisses your head.

“So… this means we’re a couple now, yeah?” he asks after a few moments of silence. You’re slow in answering, but when you do, you look with a tired grin and nod. “Good. Because now I’m definitely never letting you go, babe.”