#i dont care if i get weird stares those kids dont have taste in good literature

[raccoon3241]

Mmmm I absolutely ADORE break time at my school, it's my 20 minute ao3 reading time 🤤 atleast I'm not addicted to heroin or some other drug

[absolutepokemontrash]

You don't need to write this if you dont want too because it's up to you but this is something wholsome

WHAT IF L!MC M!M & BBY A!MC BECOME BABIES AND THERE EVEONES HAS TO CARE FOR THEM,

I apologize for having such horrible writing and grammer. I never payed attention in school, nor could I afford to pay attention 👉😎👉

Bro I feel you on the not paying attention in school thing. Fear not, dearest asker, ask for demon babies, and since I am a merciful writer, you shall receive.

Oh Shit, Half-Demon Babies are Running Amok Send Diapers and Help-

Mini summary for the casual reader, L!MC is Lucifer’s half demon child who got summoned into the Devildom to be one of the human exchange students, M!MC is Mammon’s half demon kid, and A!MC is Asmo’s. Let’s get to the fic!

Ah, what a relaxing day... Lucifer was sitting back in his desk chair, enjoying a nice glass of Demonus and listening to one of his favourite cursed vinyls. He had done a damn good job on his work earlier and Diavolo had insisted there was no more work to be done and he could have the weekend all to himself.

Of course, his brothers were still a factor that could have ruined his me-time... on any other weekend! Satan had just gotten a new encyclopedia to read, so he wouldn’t be causing any trouble, Beel and Belphie were going to take that Devildom food tour, Mammon and M!MC were planning on spending the entire weekend shopping, Asmo and A!MC were going up to the human world on Saturday and staying until Sunday, and Levi... He got a sudden burst of inspiration for his Animal Crossing Island and most likely wouldn’t be leaving his room for the next month. Lastly, L!MC wouldn’t be causing any problems, his child would probably spend their time with him rambling about musicals or anime they had seen, and Lucifer found their intense interest very adorable.

Ah... peace and quiet...

...

...why did Lucifer hear crying?

There, standing in the entrance hall of the House of Lamentation, was Solomon, holding three screaming babies.

What, and I cannot stress this enough, THE HELL?!

“Ah, Lucifer,” Solomon attempted to wave hello, but needing to continue to bounce one of the babies on his hip kind of hindered the gesture, not that Lucifer wanted a wave at that moment. “I’m sure you have questions.”

After everyone had gathered into the living room, Solomon explained how a spell gone awry had hit L!MC, M!MC, and A!MC with the effect of turning the three into the screaming infants that stood (or... awkwardly sprawled out) in front of them.

On the bright side, the spell only had a timespan of roughly two days, so they wouldn’t be stuck like that forever.

Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes (save for the babies, who were still either crying or incoherently babbling) as they processed that information. Lucifer, ever the flawless older brother and leader, stood up and clapped his hands together once.

“Alright then, everyone cancel your weekend plans, we need to deal with this.”

Lucifer’s dearest little brothers all whined in protest, Satan in particular. “They’re not our kids, why do Belphie, Beel, Levi, and I need to cancel our plans?!”

“Satan,” Lucifer said sternly. “You don’t remember this, but it took six people to take care of one of you. The kids may only be half demons but there are three of them. We need all hands on deck. Besides, if you all want someone to blame, blame Solomon.”

Everyone turned and levelled their practically murderous glared at the sorcerer, who suddenly pulled baby A!MC into his lap and began to rock them back and forth.

“I have never felt more unsafe.” Solomon laughed nervously. “But you wouldn’t kill me while I’m holding my not-child would you?”

Asmo stomped over and snatched A!MC away from Solomon. “I can’t believe you- ACK! A!MC! Stop drooling!”

A!MC had a long trail of drool coming out of their mouth which caused Asmo to shriek and hold A!MC at arms length away. “Stop that! That’s gross, A!MC, you know better.”

The adorable baby continued to babble and drool.

Mammon picked up M!MC, who almost immediately stopped crying upon seeing Mammon’s watch, they began making grab hands at it. “Ah, ya want the watch?”

M!MC squealed in delight as Mammon dangled the watch above them, Mammon was delighted that his little brat still had their expensive taste, even as a baby. “Hey, look at me! I’m doin’ pretty good! Suck it, Asmo!”

As Asmo and Mammon bickered, Lucifer took the time to look at L!MC, they pulled at Lucifer’s tie and hummed to themselves. They were mind numbingly cute despite the screeching they were doing earlier. The sight tugged at the cold spot where Lucifer’s heart should have been, he had missed this part of his child’s life... maybe just that weekend he’d get a chance to-

“Solomon where do you think you’re going?” Lucifer was pulled from his thoughts when he noticed the shifty bastard trying to make his escape. “You’re staying to help manage this nonsense.”

—————

A!MC may have been an absolute ray of sunshine normally, but as a baby, they definitely lived up to the term demon-spawn.

A!MC would scream, cry and pitch a fit if they didn’t get what they wanted immediately, not that they had any way of articulating what they wanted because they were a god damn baby! Asmo and Solomon were at the point where they were just holding stuff out to A!MC to see if it would make them stop crying.

“Come on butterfly, don’t you like this... antique perfume bottle?” Asmo asked, A!MC took one look at it, then burst into flames and started wailing again. “For the love of my father WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!”

Now there were two sobbing messes in the room, and one was on fire. Solomon quickly magically took care of A!MC’s little fire problem (the baby was fiiiiiiine, demon babies light themselves on fire all the time!), picked A!MC up, sat down on Asmo’s bed, and snapped his fingers. Tiny balls of light gently floated into the air around the three, Asmo looked up from his pity party upon hearing A!MC stop their crying.

“See, you still like my magic, even as a baby, right A!MC?” Solomon asked, A!MC looked around in silent wonder, trying to reach up and touch the lights.

“Oh Solomon, this almost makes me forgive you for screwing up my weekend plans...” Asmo sighed in relief, he sat next to Solomon and pulled A!MC into his lap. “Not very colourful though, is it? Let me fix that.”

Asmo smiled as his own magic added streaks of colour, it was like their very own private showing of the northern lights. A!MC had on one of those goofy baby smiles that can make even the grumpiest person smile back.

Solomon and Asmo shaped some of the lights into shapes and animals, Asmo let a pink butterfly land on A!MC’s nose, much to their adorable delight.

“And that one’s a bird, and that one’s a giraffe,”

“That’s an alpaca.”

“Sorry, an alpaca with a weirdly long neck, oh! And a sheep!” Asmo looked down at his lap where A!MC sat and tickled their sides. “Everyone likes sheep!”

He then quickly shaped a ball of light into a scorpion and made it scuttle into A!MC’s lap. “But I have to say, scorpions are the best.”

The fifth born sighed in contentment as their sweet little hellspawn continued to watch the magic show. Never in his life did Asmodeus ever think he’d be this happy holding a baby, usually babies were things he thought should be handled with hazmat suits, but not at that moment. His little butterfly truly did have him wrapped around their finger.

“Asmo, hey, Asmo,” Asmo looked over at Solomon, who had a glowing triangle over one of his eyes. “Would you like to join my secret society?”

“Solomon, you are ruining the moment.”

——————

“C’mon kiddo! Eat your damn food!” Mammon once again tried to shove the spoon into his kid’s mouth with the same result as the 50 previous attempts.

“YUCKY!” M!MC shouted and slapped the spoon away.

“Here,” Beel took the spoon from Mammon. “Maybe it’s yucky like they said.”

Beel ate what was on the spoon, then smiled brightly. “You can really taste the mango!”

“See bud..? Beel likes it.” Mammon gestured at Beel, who was eating the entire jar of baby food as Belphie watched in amusement. He was such an asset to the team. “Beel! They need to eat!”

“Fine, let me try.” Belphie grabbed another spoon, and waved it in M!MC’s face. “Here comes the airplane... whoosh... whoosh...”

M!MC didn’t budge, Belphie knitted his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine, be that way.”

Levi pushed open the door to the kitchen, and upon seeing the scene before him, immediately turned and tried to leave. “Nope! Food isn’t worth getting spit up all over me-”

Mammon lunged forward, grabbed the back of Levi’s jacket and practically yanked him into the kitchen, he slapped a spoon into his hand and smiled. “C’mon, do a favour for your super great big brother!”

The third born looked at M!MC, who defiantly stared back at him, the baby had the upper hand and the little brat knew it. Babies were so much cuter in anime...

Levi nervously stepped forward and held out the spoon like a weapon. “O-okay M-M-M!MC... you need to eat your food... pls... pls eat.”

M!MC said nothing, they only did what most babies did.

...

They spun their head 90 degrees until the back of their head was all Levi could see.

Everyone in the kitchen stood in complete silence, until Mammon jumped a foot in the air and started screaming bloody murder. “MY BABY!”

He dove forward and scooped M!MC up in his arms, the baby, obviously freaked out by the sudden loud noise, had begun to cry.

“It’s okay! It’s okay! Uh... uh...” Mammon looked around frantically. “Hush little baby don’t say a word... papas gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don’t sing, papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring... and if that diamond ring is brass, butitwon’tbebecauseyouroldmanwouldn’tgetcheatedlikethat-”

M!MC spun their head back to its correct position, but their crying sounds were now several octaves lower... It sounded like if someone put a baby in the Darth Vader mask but without the weird breathing sounds...

Mammon looked to Belphie. “I’m blankin’ on nursery rhymes! Ya hafta know some kid songs!”

Belphie, after being put on the spot, suddenly forgot every single nursery rhyme and lullaby any of his brothers had ever sung to him. Oh! A song popped into his head! He could sing that!

“Lizzie Borden took an axe, gave her mother forty whacks, when she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty one-”

“Not that one!” Mammon squeaked, holding M!MC closer to him. M!MC’s voice had returned to normal, the next problem is that they were only speaking in infernal. “Somethin’ else!”

“There was an old lady who swallowed a fly,” Beel began to sing. “I don’t know why she swallowed that fly... I forgot the rest of the song...”

“Dammit... Leviiiiii!” Mammon wheezed, desperately trying to calm the angrily growling M!MC. “Sing! Sing anything!”

“A-anything?” Only one song came to mind. “Uh um... With the doors of heaven and Hell barred, there is no other but the guard, Master of the Hellish Yard...”

Mammon lit up and nodded like Levi had just offered him a million Grimm. “Aw hell yeah! This song!”

He handed M!MC to Beel and began to dance and sing next to Levi, who had really gotten into the song as well!

“With those sins that you've committed, If you pay you'll be acquitted, and your crimes all permitted,” the two paused for dramatic effect before both belting out the best line in the song.

“ONLY ONES WITH CASH DO WELL, WELL AT LEAST IN HELL!”

As Levi and Mammon continued to sing, M!MC became so entranced by the dance, that they stopped their demonic babbling and just watched the second and third born dance and sing the English cover of an old vocaloid song. Belphie and Beel made brief confused eye contact to make sure the other twin was seeing the same thing.

The duo finished the song and took a bow, Beel lightly tapped M!MC’s chubby baby hands together to make it look like they were clapping. It was enough for Mammon and Levi.

“Thank you, thank you,” Mammon said. “We’ll be here forever, next show ain’t free.”

“We should sing The Tailor on Enbizaka next!”

“Levi! No! That song is like... seven minutes long!”

“Hey, morons,” Belphie stuck his thumb at M!MC. “They still haven’t eaten.”

Mammon’s triumphant expression dropped right to the floor. “Ah fuck...”

——————

“Satan, where’s L!MC-” Lucifer looked up at the ceiling of Satan’s room and his jaw dropped. “WHAT ARE THEY DOING UP THERE?!”

“I can’t get them down!” Satan hissed back.

L!MC. L!MC the BABY. They were on the ceiling. They were sitting upside down on the ceiling like it was an average Friday. Lucifer was too old for this shit...

“L!MC.” Lucifer held out his arms, L!MC squinted at him, that’s when Lucifer remembered L!MC was practically blind without their glasses. “L!MC, it’s your father, come here.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried calling them down like that?!” Satan spat as he quickly ran a hand through his hair.

Lucifer shot a glare at Satan, then Lucifer heard something that nearly made his (lack of) heart stop. Oh no- L!MC was yawning-

L!MC yawned and suddenly detached from the ceiling. Lucifer and Satan both dove forward to catch L!MC, which culminated in one of Satan’s piles of books falling down, but with L!MC safe and sound.

“Damn it.” Satan grumbled as Lucifer shifted to properly hold L!MC. “This is going to take forever to clean...”

“That was clean?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow as L!MC began to fuss slightly.

Satan growled and rolled his eyes. “Yes, it was clean thank you very much. I knew exactly where everything was.”

The cat that unofficially ruled the House of Lamentation pranced into Satan’s room like it didn’t have a care in the world, it began to bat at one of the loose papers that had been scattered around the floor. Detective Toe Beans, you’re an esteemed detective, and technically RAD’s mascot, stop that!

Satan scooped up the cat and began to put the books back in the pile, when Lucifer noticed a familiar, beat-up old book lying near the bottom of the pile.

“Ah, I remember this book,” Lucifer leaned down and picked it up, showing the cover to L!MC, who didn’t seem very interested and continued petting the fur part of Lucifer’s jacket. “It’s good for a bedtime story, right L!MC?”

Lucifer tucked the book under his arm and turned to leave when Satan practically shot upwards. “If you think you can just take that out of my room, you’re completely delusional.”

“Are you seriously going to whine about getting a bedtime story for L!MC?”

“CAT!” L!MC looked over Lucifer’s shoulder and reached for Detective Toe Beans. “CAT!”

“Yes L!MC, cat.” Lucifer whispered to them, then turned back to Satan. “And if I’m remembering correctly, I used to read this to you. Do you really want to deprive poor L!MC of bedtime stories from me?”

“Pff... deprive...” Satan rolled his eyes and huffed. “I’d be saving them. You were the only one who never did any voices for the characters, I was bored to sleep.”

Satan walked forward and swiped the book from Lucifer. “If anyone’s reading L!MC a bedtime story, it should be me. I’m twice the storyteller you’ll ever be.”

Lucifer scoffed. “Ridiculous. We’ll both read L!MC a story and they can tell us who did best when they get back to normal.”

“Fine by me.”

The three (four if you count Bean) were soon seated on the couch in Lucifer’s room. Lucifer took the first story.

Satan listened along and absentmindedly pet Bean, hearing a story he had heard over and over again had managed to bring back memories of a time where he had significantly less control over his wrath. Every night he’d demand a bedtime story or he’d throw a tantrum unlike anything the Devildom had ever seen.

The eldest was always there to swoop in and read Satan a story whenever the little ball of seething rage looked ready to kill the unfortunate brother who told him it was bedtime.

It had gotten to the point that Satan could recite most of the stories in the book completely by heart. He chuckled under his breath as he remembered the time he matter of factly told Lucifer that he’d be reading him the bedtime story that night and proceeded to pretend to read the story of The Hydra and the Pufferfish. He hadn’t actually learned to read, much to Lucifer’s dismay, Satan just memorized what to say and when to turn the pages.

Though, it was apparently impressive enough at the time to warrant a head pat from Lucifer.

The fourth born leaned closer to Lucifer to get a better look at the book’s illustrations. They were always slightly off and strange looking, much like the pictures in the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark book that L!MC had given Satan for his birthday.

Lucifer abruptly stopped reading.

“Why’d you stop?” Satan looked up at Lucifer, then over at L!MC. Aw... Satan didn’t even get a chance to read...

“Our audience has fallen asleep.” Lucifer stifled a yawn and prepared to close the book, Satan quickly shoved his hand on the page to stop him.

“You started reading,” Satan looked away and grumbled. “So at least finish the story...”

Lucifer smirked and opened the book back up. “If you insist, Satan.”

————————

Yayyyyy! Babies! I’m sure the three get back to normal by Monday... hopefully...

Here’s a link to the song Levi and Mammon are singing!

I hope you all enjoyed! As of the time I’m posting this, the next set of Lessons 1-5 Headcanons will be out tomorrow at 8:30 pm EST.

[milkacchan]

Request for anon: Class 1-A finding out the reader works at hooters or somewhere like hooters during their third year

Requests are open again!! Feel free to send something in :)

For those of you who dont know, hooters is a restaurant where the waitresses where short shorts and tank tops. ITS ENTIRELY CONSENSUAL AND HOOTERS IS KNOWN FOR PROTECTING AND TREATING THEIR EMPLOYEES WELL. Please don't come at me in the comments that I'm promoting sexualization of women especially when its THEIR choice. Thank you 😌

• They went to the restaurant as a joke

• I repeat, AS A JOKE

• Class 1-A decided to take off some tension, they'd take Kaminaris idea and just ridicule the place.

• It was supposed to be fun and you had said that the specific type of food they serve was your favorite style so they figured why not

• Not the restaurant

• Just the kind of food they served

• jus clarification

• you usually had superior food taste

• Unfortunately you would not be joining them as you were already busy

• With what? They didnt know. You didnt exactly give specifics

• What they weren't expecting was to see you, smiling at a table, in uniform, writing down an order in a little black book

• Those shorts were REALLY short.

• And that tank top was REALLY tight

• And you weren't expecting the entirety of your class to be starting at you when you turned around.

• Your face went red.

• Jirous grinning, so is Mina.

• Denki is short circuiting along with Sero

• Dekus just having a rough time

• Baby is torn between covering his eyes and staring

• "Is that why she upped her work out?"

• Kacchan flicks his eye. "You dumb bitch, no."

• And they're having a stroke when you end up being their waitress.

• You're quiet literally pushed over

"Why can't you take the table-" you groaned to your coworker

"Because I don't want twenty something kids,"

"But the tips-"

"They're broke I dont want them. Go on now,"

You groaned and carried over the menus.

"Hey guys, welcome, I'm (Y/N) and I'll be your server for today-"

• Kaminari snorts,

• Todoroki is confused

"We know who you are, (Y/N)"

"Shut the fuck up," you hissed. "I'm required to say this. My manager is looking."

• You smile again, going from fuming to bright. "Can I start you off with some drinks?"

• They're having a stroke

• they're all having strokes

• Shinsou didnt sign up for this

• But he's not complaining either 👀

• Shoji is SO glad he's wearing a mask rn bc he's definitely red

• Tokoyami is fighting the urge to cover you up, he himself is a little red too

• He was just worried you weren't okay with it

• You quietly reassure him later on that you're okay

• Bakugou is feeling a little weirded out seeing one of his closer friends in revealing clothing but also really he doesn't care

• Like he's seen you in less as the beach or a lake

• Or during a work out

• He's 100% wondering when you got the job

• And it makes sense now that you've ditched some hangouts

• how do you even have TIME to work

• Kiri thinks you look good

• The girls are AMAZED because you're pulling it off so fucking well and you look like a GODDESS

• The shyer boys are fr thinking about death

• It sounds so nice rn

•You agree

• You also want death

• Poor Sado, He's avoiding looking everywhere, especially you

• Kaminari is DEFINITELY getting smacked after this

• Dude

• Aoyama is THRIVING

• He can FEEL your ego from across the room

• Seros just fucking vibing

• So is Kaminari

• They think is AMAZING how different you act here

• All smiles and Thank yous and jokes

• That's NOT how you act at school

• Honestly they're pretty content watching you work

• Greet other people, laugh with the kids, overall they're impressed by the hospitality you show

• You're in a full face of makeup and you've got on dangly earrings and a star stud in your second piercing

• You even turn your attention to the TV to watch a few minutes with the sports patrons.

• Shouto wasn't too affected- I mean he just wanted food, he didn't really care who served it

• Though he did have to admit that you did look good

• Momo, Shouto, and Iida DEFINITELY leave big tips

• Like 40% of the bill tips

• Partly bc that's what they're used to doing bc of family

• But also you're their friend and you dealt with all of them

• Suck on that rude co-worker

• Speaking of Iida, he's 100% a mess

• He's blush and stuttering and he kinda wants to go home but at the same time he DOESNT

• I feel like he eventually sinks into it and goes with the flow

• Momo is lowkey gay for u I'm ngl

• So is Mina and Jirou

• Shhhhh it's a secret

• They don't want you to know

• The entirety of the class will keep an eye on you to make sure that nothing sketchy happens with any of your other tables

• They know you're 18

• And you can take care of yourself

• But they cant help but be worried

[virtual-luvr]

˗ˏˋMary, Midari, and Runa with an s/o who is a ghostˎˊ˗

Pronouns: gender neutral; they/them

Warnings: cussing. mentions of death, murder, suicide and a g>n-

Note: request by @massivewolfpandaknight thank you so much i love writing for kakegurui especially these girls!! Also marys is longer then all the other ones sorry😔 i tried to have more fun with this request too so i hope its still good :(

-----------

Mary Saotome

First off, you met because of Yumeko

She was dragging you all over the school and at one point it was pissing you off so much you just decided to work your ~ghostly~ magic and get out of her grip

As shes lecturing you on acting normal, you're just staring at her with a black expression

"I dont see the problem"

"The problem is that we dont want everyone knowing your DEAD" she says ending her sentence with a sinister smile

It lowkey creeped you out

So you let out a sigh and give her a, "fine but dont drag me around like you did at our old school"

You actually died at the old school you used to go but you didn't have to stick at the school, you could go where ever

There weren't any boundaries lets say

So when Yumeko moved schools she dragged you with her and here you were now, pretending like you were still alive and not dead at all~

While you both were in deep conversation Mary came barging in asking "who in the hell is this bitch"

Sighing at her rude attitude you flick her forehead, your cold finger almost giving her a brain freeze and she stood in shock for a second.

"Who do you think you are" she says crossing her arms

What were you supposed to say to that, "a ghost???"

You mimic her actions and words in a high pitch voice

Yeah your relationship didn't start on the right foot

But hey after that whole meeting, you and Mary spent quite a long time together

Even though you fought a few times since her ego was so massive at the start of your relationship

But after a while she started opening up to you more and being nicer

Even going as far to be more affectionate to you and Yumeko noticed fast

Seeing as you were, very, oblivious

And didn't think anybody wanted to date you because you're a ghost, you thought nothing over her new actions towards you

At one point Yumeko just grabs you, brings you into a room, and tells you the truth

"Mary likes you, are you stupid? Oblivious or something? Go get her"

And as soon as you were in the room, you were out

As you stumbled out the door, Yumeko walking out calmly after you, Mary finds you

She looks between you and Yumeko, rasing her brow

Before leaving Yumeko says "no, nothing happened" winking at Mary and running away

You're still lowkey shocked at what Yumeko said

If you were alive, you'd probobly be blushing right now

"Heyyy Mary"

"What was that all about?" She asks, her cheeks puffed up a tiny bit

"Oh, it was nothing we were just talking"

"Didn't seem like just talking.." She mutters under her breath but you caught it

"Are you jealous??" You snicker out, getting closer to Mary step by step

As you walk closer and closer you basically have her pinned to the wall, blushing she just looks away from you

You smirk and give her a cheek a peck

She looks back with a shocked look on her face before giving you a smirk too

"Idiot, you missed"

Y'all kiss after that-

Honestly, she really doesent care that you're, dead-

She really likes when you pat her head or scratch her scalp since your fingers are cold

Flicking her forehead actually became a habit too-

You also have scheduled gambles and she gets mad at you if you say no sometimes

Midari Ikishima

To be honest, at first you wanted nothing to do with Midari

But she just kept on talking to you and annoying you

And even though the memory is blurry and hazy somewhere in between begging you to gamble with her and her being by your side twenty four seven

You started to get less annoyed by her

In the midst of starting a friendship with that girl you told her you were actually

And when you saw that glint in her eyes you got w o r r i e d

She almost tried to commit not alive on the spot

You screamed

Your reflexes were good enough and you took the g>n out of her hands

You tried to push her away but she fell on top of you in the process

Knowing her you knew she was going to say something that will not do good for you

So you panic and accidently go through the floor

You can hear her hit the floor even through the thick floor, it made you laugh but you wont tell her that

When you go back into the room shes actually knocked out

Did she really hit the floor that hard-

Either way you grab her unconscious body and take care of her until shes back on her feet

For once in your (after) "life" you see Midari calm

It was a very weird sight

She made you gamble with her once too

Never again.

You somehow one and she got too excited waiting for whatever punishment was going to happen next, she was on top of you at one point

You've also caught her in...compromising positions and you've ran out of that situation as fast as you could

She dreams of the day she can actually get you alone without you running away

It happened once, and that was the day you guys actually got together

She cornered you and you forgot all about your ghostly abilities for once

She pushes up to you and puts her face right in front of your face

"Why do you panic so much"

..what in the hell-

Since she's only met with your silence and your eyes aren't even meeting hers she gets a little impatient

She bonks you on the head with her g>n, not very lightly may i add

And as you open your mouth to protest she takes this opportunity to kiss you. After all shes been crushing on you for so long, not like you noticed though

You thought she chased everyone around

Im not going to act like the kiss went too smoothly, your teeth crashed with hers before you pulled away to give her an actual kiss

You grab her chin and give her a proper kiss this time, her g>n making a soft thud when it fell on the ground but you didn't pay much mind to it

After that she tries to kiss you as much as possible, sometimes more then kissing even when there are people around

Shes like one of those kids you have to put the animal backpack leashes, yeah you always need to check up on her before she does a disaster

When you joke about it she doesn't take it as a joke

So next time you see her at school with a leash in her hands you run away immediately

Runa Yomozuki

You guys met when she caught you trying to watch a gambling fight and didn't recognize you as a student there.

You guys met eyes and you just sat there like, "...hi :D"

She immediately starts questioning you, lollipop still in her mouth and you could barely understand half of the words she was saying-

When she notices you don't even care and you're just staring at the candy in her mouth she sighs and grabs another lollipop from her pockets

She hears you softly mutter, "i haven't had these in ages", shes a little confused

You just look up innocently and say, "oh im dead", when she gives you a questioning gaze

You're surprised when she doesn't start doubting your words-

She just goes "oh, makes sense" and walks away

You just sit there like, ?????

Also you might not have any taste buds

But you're still addicted to those lollipops

Anyways after that you make it your goal to annoy her as much as possible

And you do

For a few months actually

She usually shuts you up with a lollipop sometimes you annoy her by making the lollipop pass right through you

At one point she takes on a different method to shut you up and kisses your cheek, you sat there for a second and malfunctioned

She giggles at your reaction and does it a lot more

Doesent matter how many times she does it, you never get used to it

Your relationship kind of just blossomed

You guys didn't even notice any of it until one day you were staring at each other and kissed and you both just went "okay well we're dating now"

Everyone else barely knew about you so when they see Rona and you just kissing they're so confused

Rona doesn't even explain and you don't bother too either

She finds it funny

She giggles a little when you give her kisses since your lips are just as cold as you are

She now has to get even more candy since you both are obsessed and you steal her candy from her too

You pay back in kisses though

She likes it that way😌

She also likes to join you in scaring the students of the school

You guys do it in various ways but there are some that you like more

For example, sometimes she starts talking to someone and youll randomly appear right behind her and somehow that scares some of the students to death

Another one of your favorites is hiding behind a corner together and just waiting for people nearby and then yelling in their faces

Usually she goes first and after the person has calmed down you chime in and yell in their face too

[1699 words; aug/10/2020]

[interstellarrambles]

I’ve never requested anything from anyone but I’m in desperate need for a billy x goth!reader. Idk just how he noticed her in school cuz she is the only goth person and always asks her out and they flirt but she always rejects him until one day she agrees. Idk if that makes sense but thank u :)

a/n: so I dont know how to feel about this, I might edit and come and change it because I'm not sure of the ending, but if you like it, let me know! I tried to make it sweet at the end but this is definitely out of character for Billy, but I'm soft for him so idc. @savvy7392 I really really really hope you like this im sorry it took ages

harsh, confident and undeniably cool: everyone at Hawkins High knew not to fuck with you - you'd forged your own path in previous years and showed no signs of slowing down any time soon. there was just something about you that made people want to simply observe from the sidelines. known for dark makeup, brash music and taking no one's bullshit, you were somewhat of a divisive figure: people either really hated you and tried to make your life misery (to not much avail) or desperately wanted to befriend you.

somehow, along the way you'd made friends with the likes of Robin and by association, Steve, but you were happy with your small group of friends and didn't really care all that much for your hometown and what (or who) it had to offer.

therefore, when a fresh faced californian boy toy entered Hawkins High, you couldn't deny there was a certain allure to his cool demeanour and newness. unluckily for you, Billy found his place with the current popular kids sucking up to him and soon the rumours about you began to surface again. whenever you caught his eyes within the first few days of his arrival, his gaze would be quickly diverted by Tina or Carol as they glared at you or threw insults. that's why you decided it really wasn't worth getting involved with Billy Hargrove, even if he did have an amazing taste in music.

but God did you misunderstand the lengths to which this boy would go for your attention.

the first few days, Billy would opt for a smile sent your way, enough to make you weak at the knees but not quite enough to make you wander over to him. group projects would be announced in class and when he tried to subtly join you, you'd amble to the opposite end of the room to be with a bunch of kids you didn't even know, just to avoid him. and Billy knew you did it on purpose since after sitting down with your respective groups, you caught his eye and simply winked at him.

almost dropping his pencil in surprise, he was genuinely unable to believe you had successfully ignored him in such a blatant way. smirking back at his gaping mouth and sparklingly amused eyes, you simply laughed it off, sparking a conversation up with the boy next to you as easily as you had rejected Billy. shaking his head in disbelief, he made a promise to himself he'd make you friends with him if it was the last thing he did.

another day, you arrived at school with a too-short black skirt on and Billy felt his heartrate quicken at simply catching one glimpse of you, his blood rushing just a little faster than usual. he would never have the guts to tell you, but he absolutely adored the way you dressed and how good it made you look.

unexpectedly, you treated him to an actual wave this morning, something that fuelled his pursuits. all day, he pestered you in class, forcing those who would usually take the seat next to you to move elsewhere so he could be closer to you. deep blue and bright with attraction, his eyes would drop down to your thighs and the way they looked so amazing in the skirt you were wearing. desperately, he wanted to say something about it to you, but he knew he'd trip over his words; already he had blushed intensely when you caught him staring, though at least he could tell you were enjoying his gaze.

rather annoyingly, you did like the attention, smiling to yourself when he would ignore other people so he could walk you to your next class even if he was rambling to himself the whole time. curls falling in his face and a cheesy grin playing on his cheeks were enough to make butterflies swarm your insides and you had a terrible time trying to hide it.

in reality, you really didn't want to be cruel since it appeared he didn't really have anyone that cared about him much past the muscles and cute eyes, but you also were not about to walk straight into a heartbreak with both eyes open. billy was definitely a bad influence, even to you, the resident goth of Hawkins High, and whether he meant it or not, you knew you would eventually get hurt.

the next time, he plagued your locker with letters and notes and waited next to it, a permanent grin locked onto his features.

a red shirt clung to his biceps, tan skin visible due to the multiple buttons left undone and a silver chain dangling and catching in the light. strong and slightly overpowering yet undeniably attractive, his unique smell of cologne and liquor and maybe a little something else invaded your private space, making you way too nervous to deal with him this late in the day.

weeks of notes and smiles and blue eyes meeting yours way too often had weakened your resolve and if it didn't disgust you so much you would be able to admit Billy was slowly turning your heart to mush. you couldn't listen to mötley crüe without thinking of him and every time you picked out an outfit, you wondered if he'd think you were beautiful or if he'd like the band on your shirt. his compliments and soft gestures like driving you home and giving you his jacket when it was raining (even if it didn't fit your look) had grown on you massively. now you would even go as far to say you enjoyed his company.

"heya baby girl," he drawled, the curl of his plump lips breathtaking in the worst ways, "fancy coming along with me for the evening?"

even though he exuded pure confidence, you didn't miss the way he resembled a kicked puppy when you smiled and responded, "I've got assignments pretty boy, no thanks," shovelling the letters into your bag and turning on your heel to walk home.

unfortunately, this wasn't quite good enough for Billy, hence why he followed quickly, his voice echoing after you, "what's with the ignoring me constantly y/n? you stand at parties and complain about the music and watch me all night and yet you walk away when I come up to you. I've seen you staring at me in class sometimes or at lunch when I'm not bothering you and whenever I catch your eye, you leave. you watch me all the time and yet every time I think you'll come over, you ignore me. if you don't like me, that's okay but I need to know now."

cheeks burning with embarrassment, your eyes dropped to the ground as he pulled you away into privacy. you didn't know what to say.

"billy..." you managed, still unable to meet his chaotic gaze as he stood only centimetres away, breathing hard while he awaited your response.

"what is it? just give me a reason." he almost pleaded, relaxing slightly when you gave him a smile and finally met his eyes.

"do you realise how badly your friends hate me? because I dress weird and I listen to music they don't and I've always been different and you hate that they don't like me. I can't spend five minutes with you in public before you get nervous, I'm sick of you hiding me away! you're fine with me unless there's someone around and I don't understand it and it is tearing me apart," your outburst pulled at him, making him feel terrible for calling you out prematurely.

"I like you Billy but I can't deal with that. I like my little life of listening to bad music with my friends and dreaming of getting away one day and hanging at the mall with Steve and Robin. I love sitting in your car and sharing those moments you don't let anyone else see. I do. but I wont let you pretend I don't exist."

shifting on your feet slightly, you realised how ridiculous the whole thing was and all you wanted was for billy to scoop you up in his arms and make the world better again. you wanted him to let you do his eyeliner and you wanted to feel his hands on your hips, his touch driving you wild. you wanted him to kiss you right now in the hallway and tell everyone else to screw off.

but life isn't a dream.

so you settled for Billy whispering his sorrys and offering you his hand, which was enough to nearly make you cry since he would never usually be so open in public. content, you followed him as he led you to his car, all the while promising he'd change things for you, only stopping to talk properly when you reached it.

"promise me something Billy?" after confirmation from him, you continued, leaning against the hood of his car, him stood only centimetres away "you'll never be ashamed of me?"

"never doll, there's nothing to be ashamed of," he leaned in, holding either side of your face ever so gently, and when the kiss finally broke, he whispered, "now how about a date?"

"okay pretty boy, you name it."

that was a good enough start.

[benhardyisdaddy]

must be a dream - part 1

MASTERLIST 

(this is my first ever 6U fic with billy so plz dont judge if its bad hahaha i hope u like it! ALSOOO i needed a last name for billy so i just used jones lolol okay byeeee) 

Word Count: 3,221

Description: what happens when you run into your “dead” boyfriend at the park?

“I love you.” 

Those three tiny words held so much meaning to you. Your boyfriend, Billy, made sure to constantly remind you of how much he loves… loved you. He always had a sweet, soft smile on his face when the words slipped from his lips. On this specific occasion, you were on your back with Billy’s bare chest pressed against yours. 

You’re both breathing heavily as your naked bodies are tangled together. Your hand was caressing his cheek as he moves his head to kiss your palm. You smile up at him as he stares into your eyes - his green orbs almost hypnotizing. He speaks those three words and you believe every ounce of it as your heart flutters. 

“I love you more.” you whisper back. 

He grins big and shakes his head. Suddenly, out of nowhere, his face falls as he fights back a wave of tears. He blinks them away, but not before you notice the change of expression. You knit your brows as you grab his face and make him look at you. 

“Hey,” you say softly. “What’s wrong?” 

Billy just forces a smile as he shakes his head. 

“I’m fine.” he says fast. 

He leans down and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. You wrap your arms around him as he leaves tiny, gentle kisses all over your shoulder. He’s so warm and comforting - you don’t want him to get up. As if reading your mind, he sits up and sadly smiles. 

“I have to go.” he whispers. 

You shake your head fast and wrap your arms around him even tighter. You look pathetically sad as you whine. 

“No! Not yet! Maybe you can reschedule for tomorrow?” you ask with puppy dog eyes. 

It takes everything in Billy to not fall to his knees and do exactly as you say. You were his kryptonite, his weakness. He had done anything and everything for you - except this. 

“Baby,” he whispers. “I have to go. They’re… They’re waiting for me.”

You frown even harder as you slowly rub your hand up and down his arm. 

“I don’t want you to go.” you say quietly. 

His heart breaks right then and there. I don’t want to go either, he wants to say, but he doesn’t. 

“I hate that this is your job.” you say, referring to his heists. 

Billy takes in a deep breath and closes his eyes.

“I’ll be...fine.” he says hesitantly. 

“Promise?” you ask as you hold up your pinky finger. 

This was yours and Billy’s way of trust. You don’t ever, ever break a pinky swear. He started this when you first started dating and it’s stuck ever since. Billy opens his eyes and his voice gets stuck in his throat as he stares at your pinky. He tenses his jaw and slowly reaches his hand out. 

If he makes a promise, he’d break it. If he doesn’t make the promise, you’d know something was wrong. He takes in a deep breath as his pinky wraps around yours. You break out into a huge grin and his heart skips a beat. Remember this smile, he reminds himself. 

“Alright, you promised. You can’t break it now.” 

Billy tries to smile as he nods. You lean up and kiss him once more. He gives you a quick peck to your cheek as he jumps up from bed and starts getting around. You’re lying there with the sheet wrapped around you as you watch him. He slips his shoes on and he’s finished. He turns around to slowly look at you. He looks you up and down and wants to back out of everything right now. You just sweetly smile and sit up. 

“You better not forget to kiss me bye.” you tease. 

Billy swallows hard as he walks over to you. You’re smiling like a little kid as he bends down and cups your face. He kisses you, but this kiss is different. It’s slow and sweet as he savors every last ounce of it. He wants to remember what your lips feel like, taste like. He wants to remember how soft your skin felt on his fingers. He wants to remember what your slight moans sound like as the kiss deepens. He just wants to remember… Needs to remember. Billy leans away as he rests his forehead against yours. You graze your finger against his bottom lip as he smiles. 

“I have to go.” he whispers. 

“I know.” you whisper back. “Please be careful.” 

All he can do is tense his jaw and force a sweet smile as he nods. He stands back up and turns around as he walks to the front door. You’re still watching him sadly as he grabs his backpack and swings it on his shoulder. He opens the front door and steps out. He turns around to look back at you. A tear trickles down his cheek, but you don’t notice it. 

“I love you.” he says loudly, thankful that his voice didn’t crack. 

You place your hand over your heart and smile. 

“I love you more.” 

Billy then places his hand over his heart as well and smiles. He gives you a slight wink as he slowly shuts the door behind him. Once it’s closed, he walks away and leans against the wall. His eyes are squeezed closed as tears finally pour out. He tries to catch his breath as his body trembles. He wants to run back into the room with you, but he can’t. 

“It’ll get easier.” 

Billy looks up fast and takes in a sharp breath as One is stood in the hallway with sunglasses on. His voice is flat as he looks down at his watch and then back up. 

“Listen, can we please have this life changing moment while we walk to the car?” 

Billy walks past him and gives him a death glare. One just smiles as he follows behind him. 

“This better be fucking worth it.” hisses Billy. 

One takes in a deep breath and pats him on the back. 

“Watch.” 

***

10 Hours Later 

Billy isn't home yet and you were beside yourself. You had called everyone you knew and were pacing around your apartment and shaking like crazy. This wasn’t like him. He always came home when he promised you he would. This wasn’t like him. 

You were currently on the phone with the police as they were trying to calm you down. They tried telling you that maybe he was just late. Maybe he got caught up with something and forgot to call. You tried to file a missing persons report, but they wouldn’t allow you. He hasn’t been gone long enough. You were about to freak out on the woman over the phone, but she interrupted with an almost slight gasp. 

“Ma’am?” she asks fast. “Ma’am, was your boyfriend’s last name Jones? Billy Jones?” 

You freeze and your whole body begins to go numb. Your throat is dry as you just nod. You realize she can’t see you as you close your eyes and whisper. 

“Yes.” 

Your voice was so tiny. The woman just sighs and you can tell she’s about to say something that you don’t want to hear. 

“Miss y/l/n,” she starts with a sad voice. “Ma’am, we have a deputy dispatched and on his way to your home. Can you please stay on the line with me until he gets there?” 

“Why are cops coming over? Where’s Billy?” you shout. “How did you find out his last name!? Where’s Billy!?” you scream as your face turns red. 

Suddenly, there’s a loud knock at you door as a man yells out that it’s the police. You keep the phone on your ear as you walk over and look through the peephole. You slowly open the door and watch as two male cops looks beyond sad and distressed. 

“Miss y/l/n?” he asks with a soft voice. “I am so terribly sorry-” 

The cop didn’t even get to finish his sentence when suddenly the phone you’re holding slips from your hand and hits the floor. Your face is in complete shock as their voices become mere background noise. A loud buzzing fills your head as you feel like you can’t breathe. You take a few steps back and shake your head no. 

Suddenly, the word dead is all you hear and you snap. You cover your mouth with your shaky hands and allow tears to pour down. You squeeze your eyes shut as your knees give away. They buckle under you as you fall to them. You hunch over and wrap your arms around yourself. 

“No, no, no!” you scream out. 

The officers hurry to you and fall to their knees as they try to help. 

“Please, no!” 

It hurt. Every inch of your body… Your heart. It all throbbed. It was like a nightmare had come true. Billy’s dead, Billy’s dead, Billy’s dead. That’s the only thought racing through your mind. What you would do for another day with him. What you would do to feel his touch one more time. What you would do to just have him be okay.

***

1 Year and 3 Months Later

“Those disguises are fucking awful.” says Billy. 

The group was on a mission that happened to be back in his hometown. Everywhere he looks it reminds him of you. He’s been in an awful mood ever since they landed here. More hot headed than usual. He’s been drinking more and hoping it will help him not to be constantly reminded of you every waking second. He regrets what he did. He regrets faking his death. He regrets seeing his funeral and having to watch you catch your breath as you cry. He regrets leaving you. He hates himself for it and he always will.

He is now currently walking through a large park that the two of you always went to with Seven next to him. Seven’s been the only one to help him with everything. He hasn’t been on the team long, but Billy’s already so close to him. 

“Why is it that I get a costume and you don’t?” asks Seven to Billy. 

He just laughs and shrugs. 

“Guess One wants to utilize my good looks.” he jokes. 

The speaker in their ears crackle on as One speaks. 

“Excuse me, ladies? Can we please stay on track and, ya know, find the bad guys?” 

They both roll their eyes as they continue walking around a large fountain that’s in the middle of the park. 

“I don’t see any sign of them.” says Two through the earpiece. 

“Maybe they’re in horrible costumes too.” Three says snarky. 

“Four, you see anything? Anything that might even look weird or suspicious?” asks One. 

Billy shakes his head as he scans around some more. There’s a playground just beside him as he looks through it. He doesn’t spot who he needs to see. 

“No, I don’t see any-”

He freezes. 

“Four, you still there?” asks Five. 

Seven looks over to him confused. 

“Four, what’s wrong?” 

His eyes follow his line of sight and he freezes as well. He sees you. You’re at the playground with two other women. The three of you are laughing as you watch tiny kids run around. There’s a stroller perched in front of you as you look down in front of it and smile widely. You’re making silly faces as you bend down and slowly pick up a small baby in your arms. 

Billy stops breathing. The baby was six months old and had Billy’s identical green eyes and blonde hair. He swears up and down that she could be his twin. You hold the sweet baby close to you and kiss the top of her head. She’s laughing at you as you stand up with her. 

“Four,” Seven says fast. “We need to go. I know what you’re thinking. We need to go.” 

Billy can’t move. He’s in a trance as he watches you walk around and kiss the babies chubby cheeks. You look so happy with her. You’re still so beautiful and he wants to so badly rush over and hug you. You were just right there. So close, yet so far away. 

“What’s going on?” asks Two. 

“Yeah. Can someone keep the rest of us informed?” asks One. 

“It’s…” Seven trails off. “It’s her.” 

That’s all he has to say and they automatically know. 

“Get him out of there!” yells One. “Now!” 

“Come one, Four. We have to go!” 

Billy just keeps his eyes on you as Seven grabs his wrist and tries to drag him away. Billy’s not fighting him, but he’s still frozen in place. Suddenly, you spot the movement from the corner of your eye as you turn with a smile still on your face. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the two men that are staring your way. 

At first, you’re a bit worried by it, but suddenly… Suddenly, your eyes land on Billy. Your smile falls as your eyes lock. You feel like you can’t breath as you just stare at him. You’re dreaming, you tell yourself. You’re just imagining it. That’s not really him. You blink a few times and open your eyes once more. He’s still standing there. You take a step forward and find yourself breathing hard. 

“Billy?” you whisper. 

“Four, we have to go!” harshly whispers Seven. 

“Four, I swear to god, if you get caught, I will kill you myself!” shouts One in the earpiece. 

“I have a baby…” whispers Billy. 

Everyone goes silent. 

“Shit.” One barely whispers. 

You find yourself slowly walking forward. Billy’s not disappearing, so that must be a good sign. Right? This wasn’t like the other times. You could have sworn you saw him on the other side of the street or right outside your apartment window. He was actually standing there. You shake your head as you get closer and eventually you’re stood right in front of him. You didn’t know what to say. Your throat was dry as tears pour down your face. Billy’s crying too as his eyes are locked with yours. You find yourself shaking your head and almost laughing. 

“You’re dead.” you whisper. 

It’s almost comical to you now. 

“I’ve actually lost my mind.” you laugh out. “You’re dead!” you say a bit louder, your face now serious. 

Billy says nothing as he just stares at you with sad eyes. 

“Am I dreaming?” you ask.

He slowly shakes his head no. You gasp and cover your mouth with your hand. Your baby has her head on your chest as she’s dozing off. Billy looks to her and can’t fight back a smile. 

“I don’t understand what’s happening.” you whisper. 

Just then, you begin taking steps backwards. You’re shaking your head as you stare at him and Seven cautiously. 

“I’m going crazy.” you whisper. “You’re not really here. I’m going crazy.” 

You turn around and go to walk away, but not before Billy reaches out and grabs your free hand. You gasp at his touch as you fly back around. Your eyes are wide as he stares down at your hand holding his. Your chin is quivering as your face scrunches up. You’ve missed his touch so much. You forgot how comforting and warm it is. You shake your head as you look up to him, tears pouring down. 

“It’s me.” he whispers. 

“Four, we have to go.” Seven says with a dark tone. 

Seven gives you a sympathetic look as he tugs on Billy’s arm. 

“Go home and stay there, okay!?” calls out Billy as he’s walking away backwards. “Just promise me you’ll go there and stay?!”

Just then, Billy holds up his pinky and you feel like you could faint. That’s when you know it really is him. You're sobbing now as you shakily hold up your pinky as well. Billy’s face falls into a huge grin as he stares at you until he’s gone. You still don’t understand what’s happening. Maybe you really were in a dream. You find yourself wiping your eye and hurrying back to the stroller. The mother’s you came with all look worried and confused by your teary eyed expression. 

You explain to them that you need to go home and say it’s a family emergency. They hug you goodbye as you speed walk back to the apartment just down the block. You get inside and close the door. You lock it fast and quietly lay your baby down for a nap. She looks so peaceful as you smile and kiss her forehead. She looks so much like Billy that it almost broke your heart. 

“Billy’s dead.” you whisper to yourself. “They saw him fall. He’s dead.” 

You wait at your apartment just like he had told you too. You lay down on your bed and close your eyes. If this was a dream, maybe you could finally wake up from it. Dreaming of Billy was the worst thing ever. The two of you would be together and laughing and the next thing you know, you’re waking up by yourself and with the feeling of utter loneliness. You would have rather fallen asleep and stayed asleep. 

At least you felt that way until Stella was born. You found out you were pregnant with Billy’s baby a month after he had died… Or at least you thought he did. It was the happiest yet saddest time of your life. You got to be a mother to a beautiful baby girl, but you were still losing Billy. Mixed emotions had become your constant state of mind. 

You’re still lying in bed and realize you must have dozed off. You sit up and look over to the crib where Stella was and realize she’s still asleep. You smile at her as you lay back down and stretch. Your mind goes to Billy as you feel yourself about to cry again. Maybe it had all been a dream. Or maybe you really were crazy. Whatever it was, that wasn’t really him. He’s not here. He’s dead-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK 

Your eyes go wide as you sit up fast in bed. Someone was at your door. You slowly stand to your feet and don’t move. You listen closely and slightly jump when there’s another knock. You’re almost trembling as you slowly tiptoe over to the door. You close your eyes and take in a deep breath before leaning forward and looking out the peephole. Something was covering it and blocking you from seeing out. Your heart was now racing as you were scared. You close your eyes and call out. 

“Who is it!?” 

There’s silence for a moment before someone speaks out.

“You kept the promise!” 

Your eyes go wide as you take in a sharp breath. It couldn’t be… You must still be dreaming. You quickly unlock the door and fling it open. In front of you is stood Billy with a small smile on his face. You can’t look away from him until five others begin standing behind him with awkward smiles on their faces too. You gulp as you look back to him and then it happens. What you thought would happen to you at the park finally did. 

Everything goes white and you pass out.

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[unsettledink]

Gotcha Chapter 6!

(Trying something new and posting the full text here as well as AO3? It feels too long, but I’ve posted longer things here before, Idk.)

Read on AO3

Peter: sorry im on my way!

Peter: iswear im just running late

Peter: i will be there supr fast!!

Peter: sorry!

Quentin stares down at his phone and somehow, manages not to sigh. It’s a full ten minutes past when they were supposed to meet, and he doesn’t even want to be here in the first place.

Quentin: Don’t worry, it’s fine.

Peter: im sosorry

Peter: my alarm got set for tomorroow instead of today

Peter: i dont even know how

Peter: adn i just woke up and i dont even sleep this late like ever

Peter: but i willl bet there soon i promise

Peter: sorry!

Quentin: Really, it’s fine! There’s no hurry.

Quentin: We’re not exactly on a schedule or anything.

Peter: its so rude tho

Peter: for once it wast me losingt rack of time!!

Peter: im still sorry!

Quentin had given himself a little extra time this morning, just to remind himself of all the many, many reasons he is doing this, in this particular way. Had spent that time summoning up every bit of patience he could find to get through this day, because he had a feeling he was going to need it.

It feels like he’s already used half of it.

And of course he won’t be able to comment on Peter’s lateness, not even as a joke.

Peter: im like hafway there already illl just have to chagne and then ill be there!

Peter: seriously i am so sorry

Normally he’d be all for hearing Peter apologize, but it keeps happening every other word, Quentin will lose his mind.

He’s already losing his mind.

Well, he’s not going to just stand here until Peter does show up. He glances around for somewhere to sit; there’s a coffee shop just across the street. Perfect. He’s going to need that.

Quentin: Hey, don’t rush!

Quentin: I’ll just grab a coffee okay?

Quentin: I’ll be over at Kaldi’s, it’s just across the street. Can’t miss it.

Quentin: You want anything?

Peter: you dont haveto!

There’s no stopping the sigh this time. God.

Quentin: Not what I asked, kiddo.

Peter: um

Peter: suure?

Peter: someting with carmel i dont care mych

Peter: ill be there realy soon tho!!

Quentin: Then we can just sit for a bit.

Quentin: You’ll probably need it if you just woke up.

It’s a little funny how… drastically downgraded Peter’s texting is when he’s apparently still half asleep. Or maybe it’s just that he’s in a hurry. Or—

Quentin nearly stops in the middle of the sidewalk. He— surely, Peter isn’t—

Quentin: Are you texting AND webswinging?

Peter: …maybe?

No wonder he goes through phones so fast.

Quentin: You’re going to drop your phone

Peter: hey! imst icky! i wont drop it!

Quentin: Then you’re going to fall from being distracted

Quentin: And I won’t feel sorry for you.

Peter: :(

Quentin: I’ll laugh

Peter: :( :( :(

Quentin: You brought this on yourself.

He spends the time until Peter gets there reviewing Lynn’s newest plans for the miniaturized drones; they actually aren’t too bad.

Of course, they’ve probably had them sitting, waiting, for months, what with how they’ve harped on and on about how this should be a priority.

It won’t do to let them get too full of themselves, so along with the praise he sends back plenty of potential revisions. Even brings up some entirely new bits for them to consider; should keep them busy for a bit.

“Hi!” Peter says, flinging himself down across from Quentin. He’s flushed and still out of breath, his hair sticking up. “I’m here! I’m so sorry!”

Quentin allows himself a slightly amused smile. “Hi,” he says. Pushes Peter’s drink—some sort of ridiculously sweet caramel flavored thing that’s barely coffee at all—across the table to him. “Sit. Drink. Relax a bit, okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, running a hand through his hair and only making things worse. “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry, though. I’m just… it’s really embarrassing to be that late when this was my idea in the first place and—”

“Peter,” Quentin says, cutting him off. “Breathe! It’s fine, I promise.”

For once, Peter listens, and takes a deep breath, holding it in for a moment. Lets it out and relaxes the smallest bit, and grabs his drink. “Oh,” he says. “This is good! Thanks; you were right about me needing it.”

Quentin watches while he unwinds; Peter’s latest idea regarding ‘things they could do together’ was to show Quentin around Queens, so today they’re wandering. Quentin’s thrilled.

It could be worse. Peter had been all set up to take him to the most popular, well known, touristy spots, and Quentin had barely been able to hide his dread at the thought. It’d taken a little work, but he’d manage to convince Peter that Quentin would much rather see Peter’s favorite places. Even if they were nothing fancy or exciting, or little hole in the wall type places, or silly.

Even if they bored Quentin to tears.

Not that he can let Peter see even a hint of that. There’s a special kind of… vulnerability in sharing the smallest things you like, something different than exposing the larger, more damaged pieces of yourself. Something oddly hopeful about showing someone the unexplainable, intimate things you like and waiting for them to enjoy those things as well. Or at the very least, not reject them, in a way that suggests they’re rejecting your tastes as well.

Not rejecting you.

He’s started to prove to Peter he can handle the bigger things, the superhero stuff and the feelings nearly suffocating Peter; time to show that he can be trusted with the little things too. That Peter can come to Quentin with anything at all. Anything. Everything.

“So,” Quentin says. “What’s first?”

He was right; it is pretty boring. Not… awful, surprisingly, but not Quentin’s sort of thing at all. Peter’s apparently decided to try and cover as many miles as he can in one day, dragging Quentin from one end of Queens to the other. And then back; Quentin’s going to take tomorrow off for sure. Peter just has so much energy.

Has so much enthusiasm, Quentin thinks, as they poke through a small used record store that isn’t nearly as hipster as he expected from Astoria. So, so much enthusiasm, for the smallest things. It just bursts out of him once he gets comfortable and isn’t second guessing every single word he says.

Once Quentin has seemed interested in the first few things Peter shows him. Peter’s nervous about it, trying to explain away any shortcomings before Quentin’s even gotten in the door. He’s just desperate for approval, for acceptance. For Quentin to like him.

It’s not that hard to, actually.

It’s never been that Quentin dislikes Peter. Sure, Peter’s causing him grief and can be incredibly annoying, and sure, about half of what he feels for Peter is pity, but those can exist alongside the fact that Quentin kind of likes Peter.

Has liked him, ever since he started compiling research on him, ever since he’d met Peter as Mysterio and shook his hand and watched him get so excited over the existence of multiverse. It’s harder not to like Peter, not even a bit. He’s ridiculously smart, and stupidly good-natured, and—

He throws himself into everything he does; goes full out, with his heart on his sleeve. It’s no wonder he gets anxious as hell, if his first impulse is to practically flaunt all his soft spots, open and eager and expecting the best. It’s going to go poorly more often than not.

Must have, judging by the way Peter pulls himself in and hides, overrides that instinctual reaction so quickly it’s just a flash, a glimpse Quentin keeps catching again and again. He’s been taught to second guess himself somewhere along the way, by someone—probably a lot of someones—who saw those tender spots and couldn’t help poking them, taking advantage of them.

Just like Quentin’s doing; Peter should be better about spotting that sort of thing by now.

It’s almost a shame to fix Peter just to tear him apart completely, to have to use him like this, but… well. In the end, Peter’s nothing but another obstacle scattered in Quentin’s path. There are far more important things to worry about than the fate of one kid.

Peter grins at him when Quentin admits that this dinky little secondhand bookstore in Jamaica was worth a stop, even if it’s just for the most comfortable couch Quentin has ever sat on. Smiles when he points out a mural he loves on the way to the next attraction and admits he’d actually webbed up someone who started to tag it.

Straight up laughs at Quentin’s face when Peter shows him the most supremely creepy things in some huge thrift store, full of weird antiques and vintage crap. God, it’s disturbing that the things Quentin had as a kid, even as a teen, are considered vintage now.

“Jesus, Peter,” Quentin says after he has to look at a one hundred percent haunted taxidermied squirrel. “Why would you make me see that? I’m going to have nightmares.”

“For that exact face,” Peter says. “Oh my god, you look like you think it’s going to bite you!”

“It might,” and it’s unfair that Peter just laughs harder. He glares at Peter, but it might be slightly put on.

He’s allowed to like Peter a little, Quentin decides, watching Peter nearly double over with giggles. It’ll make having to deal with him easier, if nothing else, and it’s not as though liking someone has ever stopped him from using them—even disposing of them—in the past. It sure won’t this time.

They wander some more, Peter chattering on and easily filling the silence as long as Quentin remembers to make the appropriate listening noises occasionally. Every now and then, Peter hesitates, a nervous stumble in his words, something throwing him off, and Quentin reengages fully. He can’t afford to let Peter get too caught up in his thoughts.

But a few questions—carefully designed to make Quentin seem far more interested than he is—are enough to get Peter going again, bouncing from place to place until Quentin suggests they could use something to eat.

“Oh my god, yes,” Peter says. “I’m starving and didn’t even realize it. Ooo, last time we were down here, Ned and I found this awesome truck that does crazy good Korean barbeque, you’d love it.”

“No,” Quentin says without thinking, the sweet tart burnt smell so strong he can nearly taste it, can feel it stinging when he draws in a breath.

He twitches, shrugging it off, and tries to walk back how sharp that had come out. “Uh, I’m not big on sweet sauces and meat?” he says. “Got another recommendation?”

Peter drags him to a place that has the weirdest chimichanga combinations—and normal ones too, thankfully—and once again, attempts to pay.

“You know,” Quentin says as he pokes Peter out of the way, immensely irritated that Peter is still pushing him on this. “I didn’t realize your memory was this bad.”

“Hey!” Peter says. “It’s not! What are you talking about?” like that doesn’t prove Quentin’s point exactly.

“I seem to remember a bet I won,” he says, “relating to this exact situation.”

Peter opens his mouth to protest, and then closes it. “Um,” he says.

“Yeah,” Quentin says,raising his eyebrows.

“Okay,” Peter says, “okay, you can’t blame me for trying!”

“Hmmm,” Quentin says, passing over one of the foam trays. “You’re forgiven. This time. Just don’t do it again.” It’s always a good idea to get Peter into the habit of following Quentin’s rules, of remembering not to challenge Quentin too much.

Of remembering that Quentin will forgive him anything, easily.

“Fine,” Peter says through a mouthful, so mature.

They eat on the way to the next stop on Peter’s little tour; Quentin had been hoping they were approaching the end, but when Peter looks at him and asks, so hesitantly, if Quentin is tired and wants to call it a day—

Well he can’t say no.

Quentin finds himself dragged on to little half hidden shops, with any signage and down stairs that Quentin has to ask how Peter could have found in the first place. To statues Peter likes, to places he feeds pigeons—why he’d want to, Quentin doesn’t know—places with great views of the Hudson.

And, over and over, once Quentin catches on and starts pushing it, places to eat. Because Peter’s metabolism is a thing of wonder.

It’s interesting watching Peter banter back and forth with an older man about his sandwich; Quentin had gotten the impression Peter was uneasy around strangers, all his awkwardness amping up. But the way Peter’s interacted with people today is much more relaxed, much easier. Peter has a sharp sense of humor that Quentin has only started to see, as Peter gets comfortable around him.

Why do all these strangers get it right off the bat?

He watches Peter dart over to help get a stroller over a curb and— they’re not strangers. Not really. It’s not just that everywhere they’ve gone is somewhere Peter has been again and again, to the point where he knows people.

This is Peter’s home ground. His comfort zone, and the people in it— they’re his people. And when he’s helping them, his nerves disappear. His awkwardness becomes a tool of its own, disarming, downplaying the threat Peter could so easily be.

This is what he wants to be when he’s Spider-Man; the guy on the street, helping in a hundred tiny ways.

That’s fine with Quentin. Perfectly fine; now how does he get Peter to stay there, with EDITH looming over his head?

He can practically hear that in William’s voice, ugh. He’s working on it.

They wind up in Kissena late in the afternoon, almost early evening, really. Peter steps off the path once they get into one of the more wooded areas, and there’s a grassy spot past a few bushes, with a truly massive tree near the center, smaller ones scattered around it. It’s well hidden.

“Alright,” Quentin says, as he has with every other place, “what's the story behind this? How’d you find it?”

“So, when I got bit, when everything changed?” Peter settles down at the base of the tree, cross legged. “One of the things that was like, a huge pain, was how all of my senses got crazy amplified. Everything was turned up to eleven, you know?”

Quentin sits across from Peter, stretching his legs out as he leans back. Ugh, grass; he’d better not end up with bug bites. “Okay,” he says. “Sounds like that was pretty overwhelming.”

Peter groans. “You have no idea! It was really hard for a while, because even once I started to get used to everything being too loud and too bright and too smelly and— things tasted weird and my clothes made me feel like my skin was crawling and it was—” He stops, tipping his head back against the tree and looking upward.

“It was a lot,” he says. “Eventually I sorta started being able to deal with all that sort of… feeling stuff? I mean, physical, sensory, not like feeling feelings.”

Coherent; Quentin does not roll eyes through sheer force of will.

“But I was still really struggling with the, um,” Peter frowns, tips his head back further until Quentin can’t really see his face. “The stuff in my head. Actually doing things, thinking about things or even focusing on one thing was all so hard. It was like…”

“It was like what?” Quentin asks, after a few moments have passed.

“Everything was a distraction,” Peter says, slowly. “That’s still not right, because normally, before, I’d get distracted thinking about something else I wanted to do, or I’d be daydreaming, or, um, just, good stuff? Stuff that I’d want to focus on, just not right that second.”

“This wasn’t like this.” Peter looks down and starts to fiddle with a bit of grass, pulling up blades one by one. “This was like so much noise inside my head, like every little detail about every single thing was right there, grabbing my attention. I’d be trying to do one thing and all that would be clamoring at me nonstop.”

He closes his eyes, scrunching his whole face up. “People talk about wanting super sense a lot,” he says, “but it sucked so much at first.”

“People generally don’t think through those kinds of wishes very much,” Quentin says. Honestly, for the most part people don’t think at all.

“I’m pretty much okay now,” Peter says. “I figured out how to filter things most of the time; when there’s a bunch of stuff at once I can get so caught up in trying to ignore it that I ignore everything, and then that’s it’s own problem.”

“I noticed,” Quentin says, dryly. “Makes you pretty jumpy.”

Peter huffs, almost a laugh. “Yeah,” he says, brushing the ripped up grass off his pants. “I’m still working on getting the kinds of focus right?”

Quentin leans further back on his hands, crossing his legs. “You said something about focusing on me that one time,” he says, and Peter goes faintly pink. “That the sort of thing you’re talking about?”

“Something like that,” Peter says. “If I have one thing I can focus on, almost completely, then I can make it into… uh, white noise, I guess? Or it makes everything else into white noise. If that makes any sense at all.”

Not one bit, but whatever. He can press that later. “Sure,” Quentin says, waving his hand. “I’m following.”

It’s actually something to consider— if Peter manages to function better in difficult situations by focusing on one specific thing, what happens when that thing is taken away? Is ripped away from him, in fact. Would there be a moment of disorientation they could take advantage of? Maybe they could set Peter up to focus on what they want; he’s already using Quentin as a focal point, apparently.

He’ll have to watch Peter, Quentin thinks. This fumbling little explanation leaves a lot to be desired, but he doesn’t have much faith Peter actually could explain it better even if he tried.

“That helps,” Peter’s saying, “but it’s still really exhausting after a while. Sometimes I want to just… stop. Just not feel it at all, not have to try not to feel it.”

He glances at Quentin, and Quentin nods. Peter looks oddly shy, so he’d better pay close attention to what he’s showing.

“I’ve found a couple of places like this, but this is probably my favorite,” Peter tells him. “I can come here and actually relax. If I stop trying to block things out, or stop focusing on one thing, it doesn’t matter.” He tips his head back again, looking up at the tree.

“It's quiet here, pretty much all the time,” Peter says; the light through the leaves is diffuse, dappled on his face. “Even the noises that I get are like, soft things. Leaves and wind and things walking on grass. People talking, yeah, but that’s more distant and almost like background noise. It’s still shadowy in here when it’s super bright out, and there aren’t any super gross strong smells either. Just dirt and water and uh, green stuff.”

He darts a glance down at Quentin without moving his head. “Don’t laugh at me!” he says, and it’s right on the edge of plaintive. “I don’t know what else to call it.”

“I’m not,” Quentin says. He understands; it’s not something a city kid would be around that often, would probably even notice without senses like Peter’s. “I wouldn’t. I know what you mean, Peter.”

“Okay,” Peter says. Looks back away from Quentin and then closes his eyes. “It’s nice. And when I have to go back to the real world, it’s not quite as hard to handle.”

Quentin watches him. Watches as he slowly, slowly unwinds. Peter doesn’t move, aside from his head tipping slightly to the side, and Quentin—

He’d thought, earlier, that it was interesting how much Peter loosened up around people he felt comfortable with, places he felt safe. He’d thought it was a large degree of relaxation—and it was—but it was nothing compared to this.

Nothing compared to the way the tension drains from him with each passing second, from every single bit of his body, until he looks calmer than Quentin has ever seen.

Happier.

If this is how he looks when truly relaxed, the level of stress Peter must carry with him every day, everywhere he goes—from the physical tension to the mental, the anxiety, the constant background level of effort that other people don’t have to think about—must be ridiculously high.

He doesn’t want to say anything, do anything, that would break the stillness that seems to have spread over the entire glade. Poor kid. He might be doing a great job at being a pain in Quentin’s ass, but he isn’t cut out for this superhero shit.

Everything Quentin sees just convinced him further that taking EDITH from Peter really is doing him a favor. He’d never intended for that to be true, but— it’s not a terrible byproduct.

Peter sighs eventually, a barely there breath of a thing, opening his eyes halfway. He looks dazed, almost half asleep.

At least, until he notices that Quentin is watching him, and then he flushes. Looks down, the moment dissipating. “Anyway,” Peter says. “It’s— it’s a nice place for me,” like he’s admitting something embarrassing.

“I can tell,” Quentin says, offering him a small smile. “You deal with a lot every day, don’t you.” He shifts against his tree, trying to get more comfortable without Peter noticing and getting all fussy about it.

“I guess,” Peter says.

He picks up a leaf, twirling it through his fingers absently. “It’s getting really frustrating,” he adds. “Because it’s been almost two years, right? So I should have a better handle on this! I shouldn’t still be getting tripped up by such little things. And—” he makes a face, shoulders starting to hunch again.

“So I have this… this sense? Uh, I call it a spidey sense— I know, it’s kind of stupid. It sort of warns me about things? Like someone poking me, or shouting that something bad is about to happen.”

“Mmm, you mentioned that once,” Quentin says. “Sort of like a limited precog?” Honestly, he’d dismissed it— not fully, it wouldn’t do to completely dismiss anything about Peter. But it hadn’t seemed like it did much for Peter in Europe.

And it hadn’t picked up anything about Quentin, so how good could it really be?

“Oh, huh,” Peter says. “I hadn’t really thought of it like that? Maybe, but it’s not very exact. Sometimes it’s super obvious, but others it takes me a while to figure out what’s wrong. And lately, especially, it’s been— it’s gone kinda nuts? I don’t feel like I can trust it anymore.”

“Like, like right now?” he adds. “Right now it’s just going off like something really big and bad is happening, but come on!” He throws his hands up, exaggerated. “We’re just sitting here talking! Nothing, literally nothing bad is happening. It’s freaking out for no reason.”

Fuck.

Maybe he really shouldn’t have dismissed it, Quentin thinks, trying to stay as relaxed as he was a moment ago. Maybe he really fucking shouldn’t have, because some part of Peter knows that Quentin’s not good news. Knows that Quentin is something dangerous, is a threat.

And apparently knows it very, very insistently. Oh, fuck, this is the last thing he needs. Why now? Why is Peter’s sense losing its shit now and not at any time in Europe? What has he done differently to set it off?

God, what if it had been going off then too? Could that be why Peter had backed off at the last second in the bar, EDITH almost in Quentin’s hand? Has Peter been feeling this the entire time?

It’s a good thing he doesn’t seem to be listening to it, but that could stop at any second. At any time, Peter could decide that maybe his stupid ‘spider sense’ isn’t wrong, and that would be— that would be bad. That would be so bad.

Quentin has got to figure out how to make sure Peter keeps dismissing what it’s telling him.

“It’s so annoying,” Peter’s saying. “I wish it would stop, would just shut up already. It’s like this constant thing lately, sort of fading in and out but almost always there, but not a single thing has happened!”

Oh, that’s really, really not great. Almost always? In and out? How long will it take before Peter starts to realize it’s linked to Quentin?

No. No, he can fix this. He can nip this in the bud, before Peter has even a hint of suspicion. Peter’s already trying to ignore it, already annoyed by it. Quentin can use that.

“Maybe it’s just confused?” Quentin brings one knee up and rests his elbow on it, letting his arm dangle oh so casually. “After all,” he adds, “I’m hardly a bad thing, am I?”

Peter smiles, all that irritation gone in a second. “No!” he says. “Of course not! You’re like, the least bad thing that’s happened in a while.”

Quentin grins back at him. Yeah, keep thinking that, kid. “Well that’s a relief!” he says. “How finely tuned is this thing anyway? Could something have… I don’t know, damaged it? Hmm, screwed up its baseline, maybe? How do you even recalibrate it?”

“I have no clue,” Peter says. “I mean, it’s not like I can’t really test it or fix it or whatever. It’s practically useless now.”

Perfect; he wants Peter distrusting this sense. Wants him not thinking about it at all, avoiding the topic entirely— ah.

If he can get Peter thinking his damaged sense has something to do with the fights he’s been in, these bigger battles, that would be ideal. Peter’s already trying hard not to think about those; tie this sense to them as well, and he’ll just have even more reason to avoid both

“Could something have overloaded it?” Quentin asks. “Just completely swamped it, and it hasn’t recovered yet? If it got used to there being danger nonstop, on all sides, maybe it can’t stand down.”

“…maybe?” Peter says. “But I don’t know what would have caused that, or even when. It doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

What.

Really, Quentin thinks, really? Peter can’t think of anything that would fit? Why wouldn’t he think of that? “Nothing?” he says, quietly.

Peter frowns. Takes a moment, and when he opens his mouth, Quentin is almost sure he’s made the connection; but Peter hesitates. Shrugs. “Not anything that’s like, major or a big deal or anything,” he says.

Does Peter— has he really managed to convince himself that all the fighting he’s done is nothing? Or at least, been trying to, because that hesitation says a lot.

He should have expected this, with the way Peter’s consistently downplayed himself so far. He really should have, but somehow it still annoys him. No wonder Peter isn’t willing to admit how scared and screwed up he is, if he thinks he’s completely overreacting to ‘no big deal’.

“Well,” Quentin says, and he’s watching Peter carefully. He doesn’t know quite how this will hit. “You were at war, on a battlefield. More than once, even. That can really mess you up in all kinds of ways.” Remember, Peter, he thinks. Remember that you were hurt, that there’s a good reason to be scared. To run.

“I— that—” Peter stares at him. “I wasn’t in a war,” he says. Dammit. Looks like downgrading it in his head is exactly what Peter’s been doing, and that is exactly the opposite of what Quentin wants.

“No? What would you call it?” Quentin asks, raising an eyebrow. He pushes himself more upright, uncrossing his legs. “It sounded a lot like war to me.”

Peter shakes his head, fingers crushing the leaf he’s been playing with. “It was just a fight,” he says, strained. “That’s all!”

A fight. Just a fight, like it was nothing more than a little spat, was nothing at all. Has someone been telling him this, reinforcing it? Fury, maybe, or even Tony before that?

He knows Fury wants Peter to think he can handle things, but has he also been trying to convince him that what he’s been through so far was small enough Peter should have been able to handle it? Should be able to handle the aftereffects? That he shouldn’t be upset about it, that he’s overreacting?

That’s not good; Quentin doesn’t need Peter doubting he can handle things. He needs Peter to be certain he can’t, and more, that it’s perfectly normal. Acceptable. Not something horribly selfish at all.

“Peter,” he says, “it wasn’t just a fight.”

“It was! It was just one— it wasn’t a war!”

“It wasn’t— Peter,” Quentin says, and sighs. “It was a lot more than that. You’ve been dragged from fight to fight to fight the past couple of years, without anyone helping you after; from what I hear, you really could have used some after that thing upstate.”

He huffs, too sharp to be a real laugh. “And that’s just what I know of,” he adds. “I’m not stupid enough to assume that’s everything.”

Peter sucks in a sharp breath, his hands fisted on his thighs. Blinks, and then looks at Quentin intently, his brow furrowed. “How do you even know about that? About— about other fights?”

“I spent some time talking with Fury,” Quentin says. “He wasn’t big on details, but I got enough that I can fill them in on my own. I’m willing to bet he doesn’t even know every fight you’ve been in, though I’m sure he’d like me to think so.”

He’d been talking with Janice, more like. God, she’d been such a find; seething about having had Tony himself be an ass to her, more than once, but willing to stay where she was to pass things on. She’d had access to so much confidential information, and every time SI and SHIELD decided to bury another thing, shift the blame and throw money at it until it all went away—for them, at least—she’d gotten a little more resentful.

It’s true that they might not have the finer details—it drives him nuts how sparse the info about whatever it was that crashed SI’s plane into the beach is—but he has enough to know that Peter’s been involved time and time again.

“Oh,” Peter says, looking down, losing some of his ire. “You probably didn’t hear much good, I bet. But— it doesn’t matter if it was more than one fight, cause they were all different. All like, spread out and about other stuff. It’s still not war.”

“What do you think war is, then?” Quentin asks, actually curious.

“I don’t, uh. War is… more?” Peter stumbles along, and he’s being incredibly stubborn about this. “More than that, than any of those. Worse. Way worse. You don’t— you weren’t there, you don’t know what it was really like. It wasn’t like that.”

“I think,” Quentin says dryly, “I have a pretty good idea of what war is.”

Peter looks absolutely horrified. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “God, I didn’t mean— I’m sorry, I didn’t think— I just, just meant that you were in a war. In a real, horrible, endless one and this…” He shudders. “These were just fights. It’s not the same, it’s not anywhere near as bad.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter says. Looks at Quentin and then drops his head into his hands, knees coming up as he curls in on himself. “Fuck, I’m so sorry Quentin, I didn’t mean…”

This is really not what he was going for. Shit, he shouldn’t have said it like that; Peter’s too sensitive for him to be even a little sharp.

Quentin sighs, very softly, though he’s sure Peter still catches it. Pushes himself up onto his feet and walks over to Peter, who doesn’t even look up. “I know you didn’t mean it like that,” Quentin says. “It’s okay, Peter.”

Peter just shakes his head a little; Quentin thinks of sighing again but—somehow—manages to restrain himself. He sits down next to Peter, his back against the tree.

“War doesn’t have to go for a long time to be real,” he says, not looking at Peter. “It doesn’t have to drag on and on for it to still be awful, for it to still affect you,” and Jesus, he’s had to hear shit along those lines so many times. Had to sit there and listen to people be told over and over that what happened to them is worth being fucked up over.

Even if it isn’t. There’s a lot of reasons he never opened his mouth at those meetings, and his disgust at everyone else was the biggest. What a waste of time.

Well. Maybe not. It did give him the material to work Peter over.

“It doesn’t have to be some huge, dramatic battle to qualify,” Quentin says. “It still counts. Pretending it doesn’t doesn’t get it out of your head.” Come on, he thinks, let it be bad, be a nightmare. Admit that there’s a good reason, a real reason, for you to be scared, and then you can back down without shame. Come on, Peter.

“It doesn’t feel like it should count,” Peter says, a bit muffled, head still in his hands. “It wasn’t— lots of people have dealt with so much worse. Something like this, it’s not— it’s not an excuse for, for…”

He doesn’t finish that thought, but Quentin doesn’t need him to. An excuse, hmm? He turns his head toward Peter, just a bit. “Why don’t you want to call it a war?”

Peter lifts his head, arms sliding down to cross across his chest. “Why does it matter to you what I call it?” he asks, and there’s a hint of sharpness in there. Maybe even anger. “Why do you even care if I admit— if I think it’s a war?”

Nice little slip there; isn’t that interesting. Peter does know it was more than a few little fights. He knows, he’s just trying as hard as he can to pretend otherwise. Trying to redirect, as usual, turning the question back on Quentin. Why does it matter, Peter wants to know, and there are so many answers Quentin could give.

It matters because you need to see yourself as badly damaged. Because you need to acknowledge that this is something huge and overwhelming and frightening. Because I need you to start accepting what I say as right, start accepting me as an authority. I need you to not question me.

So many reasons, and he can’t tell Peter any of them. Ugh.

He turns further toward Peter. “Because I think you’re doing yourself a disservice,” Quentin says, tightly, irritation rising up in him. “When you sit there and insist that it’s nothing more than a little fight, when you play it off like it’s nothing— you’re devaluing what you did, and that’s wrong.”

“Don’t act like what you went through, what you did, doesn’t count,” Quentin says, and Peter’s looking over at him, startled. “That it wasn’t brave as hell, and terrifying as hell too.”

Peter stares, his eyes very wide. “I— it’s not like I did more than anyone else there. Than, than anyone else would have.”

“It sounds like you did more than enough,” Quentin says. “And— it doesn’t matter, Peter. It still messes you up. War fucks everyone up. Maybe it didn’t go on long enough for it to really warp your thinking, your morals or empathy or capacity to even feel, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t damage you.”

Peter jerks, sitting up straighter. “I’m not damaged!”

For fuck’s sake.

Quentin has to dig deep for a bit more patience. “Sure you are. Hey, Peter— wait,” he says, watching as Peter shuts down all over again, hurt. “That’s not bad, kid. It’s not an insult. It’s just… you gotta admit that before you can get better.”

Or not, if Quentin gets his way; admitting it might lead to Peter actually getting over his fear and stepping up. But with Quentin around, guiding him along? Peter’s never going to take that admission as anything other than a personal failure.

As just another reason he can’t, and someone else should.

“I don’t know,” Peter mutters. “It doesn’t feel like it should count.”

Quentin watches him for a minute. Leans in, his shoulder bumping against Peter’s. “You’d agree that I’ve been in war, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And that I’m able to judge what is and isn’t war. Right?”

Peter can be smart, sometimes. He sees where this is going. Sighs. “Yeah,” he says.

“Will you—” Quentin pauses, waits until Peter is looking at him. “Can you trust me here, and believe that I mean it when I say what you went through was war?”

Peter blinks, his eyes dropping. He’s silent, and Quentin can feel the muscles of his arm moving as Peter fiddles with something out of sight. “I’ll think about it,” Peter says, which is not quite the response Quentin was hoping for. Still, it’s not another denial. Baby steps.

“I’ll— maybe,” Peter says. “I guess you would know, even if you weren’t there.”

“You should listen to me,” Quentin agrees, leaning a little harder against Peter. “I do know!”

You should listen to me, and only me, he thinks. We’ll get you there, kid.

Peter huffs softly, pushing back against Quentin’s shoulder. “Maybe,” but he’s smiling faintly.

Quentin smiles back; he can accept a maybe, for now.

He’ll get a yes soon enough.

[eremika-forever12]

Eremika Fanfic : Remember Me!?

Previous Chapter link- Chapter 3

Chapter: 4

Stirring a spoon in the bowl of stew....Mikasa glances at Eli from the corner of her eyes....from the kitchen.

Eli was being quite than his usual self....like he has that sadness and guilty expression on his face since he woke up from that bad dream of his...

It was night by now....Mikasa is making their dinner while Eli was just sitting in the dining space....staring at the book infront of him...

But Mikasa could clearly see through him....Eli was just lost in somewhere else but had no concentration in the book...

He was just 5 but he was a school going boy too....though he was in nurseries they did have some sort of studies and exams! Eli had a brilliant mind most probably it was because he was half Ackraman too....he is sharp and intelligent even the school authorities knew that....but due to the rumours of him being the child of the last holder of founding titan who almost crushed the whole world ....Eli is treated very differently! Mikasa knew that well but she doesnt care about the people around her....for her , Eli getting adequate knowledge from school matters the most.

Eli came out of his trance as soon as he heard Mikasa calling out his name....

Mikasa placing a bowl of soup infront him- Eli....You seem lost!

Eli stares at his mother shocked but then composes himself- Huh...What?

Mikasa raises her eye brows as she sat opposite him – Hmmm....you seem to be thinking about something else! Cause I dont see you studying for real!

Eli was confused about what to answer....it was true he wasnt actually studying....he was thinking about his dream and that stranger....but he cant let his mom know that!

Eli confidently as he argues back – Mommm....Can you stop overthinking ? Alright? I was....just feeling sleepy okay!

Eli tries to give a fake yawn and acts sleepy in his childish voice - aahhh....I am hungry! M..moomm...Lets get...done with the dinner!

Eli was about to take the empty small bowl and pour the soup into it when Mikasa holds his hand stopping him and says “ You....are Red! It means you are hiding something form me! What is it?”

Eli feels heat travelling through his round cheeks....he started to feel nervous & embarrass at same time.

He shrugs off her hand as he angrily says- Heyyyy Whats The Problem! Seriously? Why do you always suspect me of hiding something!

Mikasa rolls her eyes as she takes her seat- Always? Nope....you rarely hide something from me! Isnt it? Cause you are really bad at hiding anyways...so whatever it is you can tell me...I am your Mom after all!

Eli frowns at Mikasa and was just about to say something but she interrupts “ You can take your time....I am not forcing you Okay! “

Eli stares at his mom a bit stunned while Mikasa continues softly- You think I am just an annoying over protective stupid mother right? I am sorry about that....I just cant stop caring about you (pauses a bit as she stares directly into those green eyes) You are the only one I have now!

Eli could feel the sadness in his mother voice....he feels bad....as he realises he has somewhat made his mom upset! And he feels bad about it now...his mom is not annoying...yeah she kinda gets into his head at times but he loves her!

Eli with guilt ridden eyes and broken voice- Mom I didnt mean to hurt you by any way...

Mikasa looks at Eli a bit stunned as Eli says “ You know I Love You! Please dont say that you are annoying....”

Mikasa sighs seeing those eyes & the puppy face...

He resembles him so much....thinks Mikasa!

Mikasa smiles lightly- So you want to say something?

Eli lowers his eyes....he wasnt really sure about how his mother will react knowing he didnt go to school today rather ran off a bit far away without her ...he never really get the chance to roam around the city like other kids do. He is always stuck in his home, occasionally Mikasa just take him with her to market place...

Fearing his mother's reaction....Eli thinks maybe this isnt the right time....moreover if he actually tells about meeting with a stranger who kind of matches with the person he sees in his dream....his Mom gonna freak out a big time.

Seeing Eli being silent, Mikasa realised he was hesitating....but rather asking him again Mikasa calmly says “ Its Okay...You can tell me some other time! Let's have our dinner!”

Back of the mind, Mikasa was pretty much sure something was wrong....and she needs to find it out! If Eli doesnt tell her, she will find it out by herself!

***********

Walking across the corridor of school, Eli heads for his class...his head was lowered as his gaze was fixed to the ground.

He was completely in guilt mood for still hiding about bunking the school day before.

So today he swore to himself....he will never do that again...

Today he will concentrate only at his studies and wont care about what people tell him...or joke about him...

Eli enters the classroom as he gazes upwards and finds other kids staring at him awkwardly .... same weird looks at him....

His green eyes rolled in a dull way as he heads towards a seat...

He could hear whispers around but this time Eli decided to be unaffected!

Eli was about to take a seat in the 3rd bench when a boy ran to him and pushed him aside while occupying the seat at the same time...

Eli looked at him with a scowling face while that kid simply showed him tounge sticking out...

Eli decided to ignore him as he walked to the last bench and sat there alone with annoyance on his face....while that boy just smirked at him evilly...

Eli sighed, he just doesn't understand why these people are so problematic towards him...

He just shoves off the whole feeling of being hated at that moment before it could take over his mind....just when the teacher entered the class and everyone stood up to show respect including Eli....

*******

The Class got over as the bell rang...it was break time now...

Eli takes his back pack on his back as he starts walking out silently with a tiffin box in his hand. Just when he suddenly tripped off at door making him fall on the ground with thud as the tiffin box slipped of his hand and fell a bit far as it got opened with the sandwich falling out of it...

Eli was completely shocked by the incident as he just kept on laying flat on his chest staring at the falling sandwich on ground which his mother made for him....while the corridor echoed with laughter all around him...

Eli found someone with huge chubby legs standing infront of him as his green eyes travelled upwards to check who it was....

As soon as his eyes met with the huge chubby faced kid , Eli narrowed his eyes at him as the kid opened its big mouth “ Hellooooo....Titan Baby! Whats up ha? Didnt say Hi yet to me??”

Eli sighed heavily as he finally got off from the ground and stood on his feet....ignoring the huge kid infront of him Eli dusts of the dirt from his shirt as he passes by him with his head high....moves ahead to pick up the sandwich and tiffin box.

Watching Eli ignoring him like this surprises the kid, as he immediately kicks away the tiffin box bit far while picking up the sandwich himself.

Eli stares at him shocked as annoyance took over him immediately.

As he turns his hands into fists, Eli hears the kid telling him- Oi, What so hurry? We need to talk....

The huge kid shows the sandwich infront of Eli's face as he speaks sarcastically- Ooowwo Titan Baaby....Are You Hungry ? Want Some?

Eli glares at the kid furiously as he looks upwards at him, while his hands rolled into fists “ Put that sandwich back into my lunch box! “

The kid smirks evilly as he says “ Ah....Ordering me? You stupid little brat! You know what...this sandwich looks yummy and guess what! I want it for myself, you have any problem?”

Eli was completely fuming within himself as he tightens his fists trying to control his rage...while he says in his mind “ Calm down! I should just ignore him....and not react at all! Mom told me these jokers are not worth at all of any kind of reaction! Just calm down”

Eli softens his expression as he says with low but prominent voice “ Listen....kid! Stop these nonsense of yours....it only makes you look like a looser! Give my lunch box with that sandwich into it....I need to hurry okay! I dont have any free time to waste on you “

The kid evilly smiles as he immediately takes bite from sandwich and says while munching “ Yummm....This tastes good! So Titan Boy Your Mom Makes Really Good Stuffs...Ask Her To Make Some More For Me”

Eli was angry now but he needs to control it , without saying a word Eli walks toward his tiffin box and was about to pick it up when that kid stomped his foot over it leading a crack on the box....while Eli gasps in shock hearing the sound of crack...as he glared furiously at that huge kid.

The Kid in disgust “ You....Son Of Monster! ( eating rest of the sandwich) I dont think you need this box anymore as your food is finished and is in my stomach...all you need right now is run off your ass”

Eli green eyes shone brightly as he glared at the kid with rage....Eli's small hands were back to fist but he was trying hard to control his anger...

As the kid went on “ Honestly Why do you even come here? What fun do you get by being insulted everyday ha? Oh wait you actually deserve to get insulted! Thats your birth right “

Hearing this the other kids who were watching this drama for quite some time bursts out laughing....

Eli was damn done with this kid as he clenched his teeth and spoke with sharp dangerous voice “ Shut The Filthy Mouth Of Yours “

The huge kid stopped laughing as he stared at Eli shocked “ O wow! You have guts to talk too...do you even know....”

Eli screams loudly as he interrupts the boy “ SHUT UP DAMN IT “

The kid was shocked now to hear the intensity of Eli's voice....he kept on staring at Eli's rage filled eyes while rest looked at them completely horrified.

Eli while gritting his teeth “ Move your foot away from the box and hand over it to me.... & get lost from my sight! “

The kid was shocked for few moments and then suddenly he started laughing as he says “ Hahaha...What a fire! I mean seriously....no wonder my mom and dad keep on saying that you will be same just like your father when you grow up! A Titan....! “

Before the kid could say anything further....he felt a crushing punch on his chin which felt so hard on him that just made him fall on the ground.

Everyone around them was terrified as they watched Eli swiftly giving a punch on the chin of that chubby kid....

Eli couldn't hold himself back as he barked on the kid who was laying flat on the ground looked at him in shock as blood came out from his teeth “ KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! DONT WANNA HEAR ANOTHER WORD FROM YOU! AND DONT YOU DARE CALL ME A TITAN...I DONT KNOW WHAT IS IT! BUT ALL I KNOW I DONT LIKE THIS WORD AT ALL....UNDERSTOOD”

Saying this Eli kicked hard at one leg of the kid who winced in pain immediately!

Eli picked up his broken Tiffin box and put it in his bag while he could feel all the kids eyes on him in fear....he could simply care less about it...he was about to leave when he felt a punch on his face which made him fall the ground....in return everyone hooted all around in excitement.

Eli looked upward in anger as he found the chubby kid with blood in his mouth staring at him angrily “ Son of a bitch! Dont you have manners while talking to your seniors! How dare you raise your hand on me....I am gonna make you suspend from this school and throw you and your mom out of this town “

Before he could do anything....Eli all of sudden made a move and punched hard straight on the face of the kid....who immediately pushed with such a force and fell hard against a pillar leading him to immediate unconsciousness!

Everyone gasped in horror at the sight....while Eli who still didn't realise the consequences of his act until someone freaked out frighten “ Guys....Why! Why is he not getting up?”

Eli gasped in shock as he came out of his anger and stared at the fallen chubby cheek at far....who was completely motionless at the moment....

Eli was terrified suddenly....while everyone started gawking at him as few kids ran to call the teacher..

Eli walked towards the kid as he said nervously to the people “ He just got hurt badly I guess...nothing much “

He wasnt having any good vibes from this environment around as he spoke infront of the chubby kid who was still not in his senses “ Hey...Wa...Wake Up! Look...this...isnt time to joke! Get....up dude! Others are misunderstanding me! Hey...”

Suddenly Eli heard a kid coming back with someone while saying “ I dont know Sir....I think he is just unconscious or maybe....the way that titan boy punched him....I dont know maybe....he is in more serious condition “

Eli looked around in horror as he heard some saying what if he is dead....

Eli was completely terrified! He needs to go to his mother. As everyone got indulged in whispering Eli took the chance and immediately ran away from that place in opposite direction through the corridor...

*********

It was raining heavily all around....thunders strike in the sky....

A boy with a back pack over his head sitting on the ground behind a huge garbage bin while trying to hide as much as possible from the people around....

A huge thunder strikes as flash of light fell on his face while making him shiver in fear....his green eyes shone in the light of thunder....

Eli was shivering due to cold as well as fear of darkness & people finding him...

Eli in his broken voice “ Mom Save Me”

Suddenly he felt nervous and guilty as he remembered what just happened back in the school....

He didnt intend to hurt anyone so much that will lead to death....period he didnt even want to kill him or something! Was it his fault completely? Did he do wrong by loosing his self control again!

Infact he was pretty sure that bully boy wasnt dead but unconscious but then why wasnt he moving?

Eli started to weep now as he trembled while it started to rain more....

Suddenly Eli found a huge amount of people with torchlight coming in this way....

He gasped loudly and got up from there...

He could hear the voices more close now “ That BASTARD Child! He must be hiding here somewhere! This time we are gonna kill him , cut into pieces and throw him in fire! He is nothing but just like his father....A Murderer! Who knows...what if he also posses titan power!? And then we will kill his mother that bloody Ackraman!"

Eli blinked his eyes in horror “ Mom? No....I wont let them do anything to my mom...I need to get out from here before they catch me”

Eli quickly got up and started to move upwards slowly as the place where he was hiding was bit sloppy....the place was pretty old and much far from his house....most probably no one really lives in this place...Now...

He was hurriedly walking upwards while glancing backwards time to time wondering if they already spot him or not, suddenly he tripped over a pebble and slipped as he winced in pain while falling...

Eli was terrified as he puts hand on his mouth so that no sound comes out...

But he was already late....as he turns around and find those gang of people were now speeding up their pace towards him as one of them falls the light on his face & shouted “ HEY....THATS HIM....”

Eli was scared as he began to shake again in fear, he quickly got up and started running upwards but he couldn't increase his pace as he was slipping up now and then due to heavy raining and his feet fingers were kind of hurting now....

They were quite close to him...Eli was in panic as he was gasping trying to catch breath while running...

Suddenly he got a pull on his arm....before he could react someone pulled him aside swiftly behind the wall of a house...

It was dark inside...

Eli was highly shocked at the sudden action as he couldnt understand what just happened...those people were close, he could hear them...

But he was still in shock that who just pulled him in...he turned his head around and just when the lightening stroke again revealing the face infront of him....

Eli eyes widen as he was about to say something but before that his mouth was forced to shut by a strong hand as Eli started to fidget under the hold in fear while the graspy deep voice wishpers ”SSSSH....CALM DOWN”

Just then both of them could see bunch of silhouettes near by....as the voice says “ Dont say a word....they are hear...”

Eli was completely in shock stage at the moment and was frozen at the spot while his wide green eyes were on the man infront of him...

They could hear those men saying “ Where did he go? “ “ I Saw him I swear...I guess he escaped from here” “ Lets hurry”

They were there for few more minutes...and then left from there hurriedly....

As both of them could hear their foot steps and voice fading away....Eli finally finds the hand away from his mouth as he says in deep manly voice “ Gone! You can breath now....”

Realising he was actually holding his breath for a while now, Eli finally breaths as he starts coughing slightly to get air...

Just then as the reality strikes....Eli widens his eyes and stares at the person infront of him, while he says “ Ah....So We met again? What a coincidence!”

Just then the thunder strikes again and lightening falls on that long hair person....Eli could see the face more clearly....he was none other than that stranger and the person possibly who was in his dreams...

The difference was there were no bandage on his head nor even that cane in his hand like the last time, though his half of the hair was falling on one of his eyes completely...

Eli finally finds his voice as he says in child like voice while trembling a bit “ You....Again?”

Just then the reply comes “ Oh...You can speak....back then I thought you were mute or something “

P.S So How Was This Chapter? Hope you guys enjoyed. Do comment , like & share.

[calumcest]

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back) - chapter eight

[ao3]

this is the latest i’ve ever posted a chapter...but technically it still counts. as long as i havent slept its still monday and you dont know whether i live in california or not 

@tirednotflirting​ thank u for entertaining my insane little ideas and improving them this fic is truly nothing without you and @kaleidoscopeminds​ thank you for making my entire fucking week with that helpful little encouragement although i have to say its only monday so don’t get too gassed about that compliment. 

i said on ao3 that half of this was written to a specific song so here i’m going to reveal the other half was written to just be good to green by professor green which honestly? fucking slaps i can’t be lying to you on this fine monday evening/tuesday morning 

They have a few dates in the UK at the end of December, and Calum finds that his week or so away from his band has actually been a week too long. It almost made him forget the warmth that fizzles through his veins with the laughter that comes from Noel making contemptuous comments about Liam and Bonehead and Liam and Tony and Liam again, from Bonehead cheering loudly as Calum and the brothers groan and wince when they hear -and City have conceded yet another goal, this really is poor form- on the radio, from Liam slinging an arm around Calum in a bar in Glasgow and grinning madly at him, eyes lit up from the high of the show and the booze and the drugs, and shouting I fucking love you, Cal, over the sound of the shitty music. It makes Calum grin back, makes him press a sloppy kiss to Liam’s cheek, makes him giddy with the thoughts of how could I ever give this up? that rattle around what little of his mind the coke in his veins has left him. 

It’s good, though, because the week-and-a-half apart is all the breathing space they needed, so once they’ve all recovered from their frankly alarming post-New-Year’s hangovers, the first few weeks of January, which are precious weeks off, are spent cooped up in a rehearsal space, or down the pub, or lying on the floor of Noel’s flat, stoned out of his mind, or wrapped up in a bunch of sky-blue scarves screaming abuse at the away stand at Maine Road. 

Or, looking at houses in London. 

Calum had mentioned it to Liam in a carefully-casual way, biting the inside of his cheek to contain a smile as Liam’s bright blue eyes had lit up and he’d said, a little too enthusiastically, eeyar, y’know Kentish Town’s a right nice area? Bet you could find a place there, too.

“Have you got a place, then?” Calum had asked, and Liam had shaken his head. 

“Not yet,” he’d said. “Got some more viewings next week, though, if you fancy tagging along.” Calum had hummed, and nodded. 

“Might do,” he’d said. “What’re you looking at?” 

“Houses,” Liam had said immediately. “Big fuck-off houses. Mansions." Calum had snorted, and rolled his eyes. Typical. 

“Give us the number of your estate agent,” he’d said. “I’ll ring and see if they’ve got anything for me.” 

So Liam had called Noel and asked for the estate agent’s number, because he’d lost his address book again, and then Calum had rung the estate agent and told them vaguely what he was looking for - a place somewhere around Kentish Town, not too far from a pub if possible - asked to be put on the books, and been posted a few particulars. There had been a few places he’d been interested in, two houses and one flat, and with a little bit of wrangling he’d managed to get himself viewings on the same day that Liam had said he’d be going down, which is how they’ve ended up here.

They’ve seen both the houses that Calum had been considering, neither of which were quite right - one had a deceptively large garden, which Calum simply can’t be bothered to deal with, and the kitchen of the other one needed far too much work doing - and they’re in the second of Liam’s now, ambling around an airy, spacious living room. It’s a nice house, Calum thinks as he runs a finger over the mantelpiece above the fireplace, if a little big for his own taste. Liam, though, seems to be fucking loving it, craning his neck to look at the high ceilings and the sash windows, whatever the fuck those are. Calum had tuned out of whatever the fuck the estate agent’s droning on about approximately ten minutes ago, electing to simply wander around on the other side of the room, lost in his own thoughts. 

It’s going to be fucking weird, he thinks, living in London. Manchester’s home. It’s where he’s been for almost six years, where his life had gone from bland and mundane to the fucking rollercoaster it is now, where he'd settled in and grown into himself. It’s going to be fucking weird being away from it, not going to Maine Road on a Saturday afternoon or a Tuesday evening, not heading down to the pub round the corner from his house for a pint with Liam, not hopping on a bus to cross town to Noel’s flat. Somehow it feels even stranger than when he’d first found out he’d be going on tour, leaving Manchester and sleeping in a different city every night, because he’d still always known where his home was. Sydney hadn’t ever really felt like home, not in the way Manchester does, and it makes Calum’s skin prickle with a tiny bit of fear to think that he’s choosing to uproot himself again, choosing to displace himself entirely this time, on a strange leap of faith chasing his best friends down to London. 

Well, he thinks, glancing over at Liam again, and a warm wave of comfort washes over the prickling under his skin. At least he’ll have a little bit of home here with him. 

Almost like he knows he’s being watched, Liam turns on his heel and catches Calum’s eye.

“What d’you think?” he says, like they’re a couple, or something. Calum shrugs. He likes it well enough, but it’s not his money, is it?

“‘S your money,” he says. 

“Yeah, but what d’you think?” Calum shrugs again, casting his eyes back up at the huge bay windows opening out onto the street. He can imagine Liam here, sprawled out across a big sofa with ten empty bottles in front of him, TV blaring in the background, phone hanging off the hook. He’d probably have those NME covers of himself blown up and hung on the wall over there, maybe above the fireplace, might even get a vinyl of their album and stick that up on the wall behind the sofa- yeah, Calum can imagine Liam here. 

“I like it,” he says. “Think it suits you.” Liam beams at him. 

“Yeah?” he says, and turns back to the estate agent, who’s been hovering a little nervously in the doorway as Liam prodded around the brilliant white living room. “How much was this one, again?” 

“Five hundred and forty six thousand,” the estate agent says politely, and Liam nods thoughtfully, like that isn’t the most enormous sum of money Calum’s ever heard of. 

“D’you want to ring our accountant, maybe?” Calum says pointedly, and Liam shakes his head. 

“Seeing Noel tomorrow,” he says, and Calum hums. Fair enough. Noel’ll probably know the state of Liam’s finances better than their accountant, anyway. "Right, let's have a look at your little bedsit, then, eh?" Calum rolls his eyes, and shoots Liam a playful glare. 

"Get to fuck," he says, and Liam grins, following the estate agent out of the house. 

The flat Calum had liked the look of is literally around the corner from the house Liam’s keen on, and there’s a pub halfway between the two of them that Liam points out and stops outside of, peering in and asking the estate agent how much a pint costs there. 

“Two pound fifty?” he echoes in shock, when the estate agent informs him. “Who the fuck do they think they are?”

“You’re literally a fucking millionaire,” Calum reminds him, and Liam tears his gaze away from the window to glower at him. 

“It’s the fucking principle,” he says, but he slouches away from the pub, albeit not without throwing it one final glare. 

The flat’s on the ground floor of a huge house, one that looks like something Calum might expect Brett Anderson to live in, and he has half a mind to ask whether any other potential rival band members are living in the area before letting Liam loose in it, but decides he’s not going to play the role of Liam’s minder if he doesn’t have to. He, at least, isn’t bound to him by blood and double-helixes like some people, and he’s going to take full advantage of that. 

The estate agent’s saying something about excellent schools in the area as they walk in, and Calum just stares at her back, thinking do I fucking look like I’m about to have kids? I don’t even know how to boil an egg or change a lightbulb - or anything beyond playing bass and taking drugs, really. Liam doesn’t hold back his snort, and Calum throws him a glare over his shoulder but can’t hide the amused smile playing at his lips, which just encourages Liam, makes him say eeyar, Cal, could tuck your little kids Mary and Jane into bed right here, couldn't you? when they get into the smaller bedroom.

The flat’s not too big, but it’s definitely not small, either - two bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom and a toilet, and a kitchen, with a little patio at the back over the shared garden which, the estate agent assures him, is taken care of by the building managers. It’s exactly the right size, really - big enough that Calum feels like he’d have breathing space, even with the four noisy Mancunians that are inevitably going to be spreading themselves out across his new place like they’d been the ones to spend a few hundred thousand on it, but small enough that it wouldn’t feel empty, wouldn’t make him feel lonely if he were there on his own, and, more importantly, wouldn’t be a fucking ballache to clean. 

He looks down at the particulars he’d had the foresight to bring with him - or rather, that his mum had shoved in his hand before he’d left the house - and scans it for the price again. A hundred and ten thousand, alright. That’s still fucking extortionate, but after hearing the price of the place Liam’s thinking of it feels like a bargain, and he’s already got his mortgage in place thanks to the chivvying from his parents, so he turns to the estate agent when they get to the kitchen and says: “I’d like to make an offer at the asking price.” She brightens, and nods. 

“We have one more viewing on this property this afternoon, but I’ll get in touch with the seller as soon as I get back to the office and let him know,” she says, and Calum smiles politely at her, feeling incredibly out of his depth. Fucking hell, maybe he’s not ready for this. Maybe it’s too early to be living on his own; maybe he should have a transition period, move in with Liam, or something, rent something in Manchester. 

But, like he can sense it, Liam turns to him, and nods decisively. 

"This is your fucking place," he says, like it's obvious. "And I'll be right 'round the corner." 

So it's decided.

Buying a flat, it turns out, though, is a right fucking hassle.

It involves lawyers, which Calum hadn’t expected, and it involves a surveyor, which he’d never even heard of, and it involves his parents insisting on coming down to London to look at the property he’s chosen, like they can’t trust him to make an adult decision. 

(Well, Calum thinks, when Liam casually offers him a bump of coke in the pub the evening before they're due to go down to London. Maybe they’re right.) 

His mum thinks the kitchen is too small for entertaining, and Calum doesn’t have the heart to tell her that the kitchen probably won’t be used for anything other than storing alcohol for a good few years, and his dad thinks the shower could do with replacing, which Calum just nods at - he’s not sure how he’d go about doing that; call a plumber? A builder? He’ll figure something out - but they both nod, satisfied, when Calum’s finished the full tour and turns back to them expectantly. 

“How close did you say Liam would be, again?” his mum asks, too casually, and Calum can’t help but laugh as he leads them out. 

There’s no way it’ll all be done before they have to head back out on tour again, so Calum has to sign a bunch of documents authorising his parents to be informed about what stage of the buying process he's in, but the lawyer Noel had found for him assures him that everything will be done by the end of January when they’re back for a few days for the NME awards and Calum’s birthday. 

About a week and a half before the NME awards, Michael calls. 

“A little birdy tells me you’re buying a place in London,” is how he greets Calum when Calum picks up the phone after hearing the Calum, it’s Michael yelled up at him from the kitchen, and Calum can’t help but huff out a surprised laugh. 

“How the fuck d'you know that?” he says. 

“I’ve got my sources,” Michael says, and Calum can hear that he’s grinning. 

“You’re not spying on me, are you?” Calum says, a little suspiciously. 

"'Course not," Michael says breezily. "Can't speak for Damon, though. Y'know, this whole Blur-Oasis thing is really stepping up a notch with the NME awards around the corner." Calum can’t help but smile himself, grinning down at his lap. 

“Fuck off,” he says, and he feels comfortable saying it, and Michael laughs, and it all makes a strange warmth curl up and make a home for itself in the pit of his stomach. 

“Dave’s looking to move to Kentish Town,” Michael explains. “Went to an estate agent, who said it was surprising to see three members of Oasis and one member of Blur there in the space of a week.” 

“Those bastards,” Calum says evenly. “Thought we were paying for exclusive rights to their services. Pretty sure Liam would've made sure we had a verbal contract, or something; none of those Blur cunts allowed." Michael laughs again, and the sound goes straight to something deep in Calum, something that he reckons might be either his heart or soul but chooses to ignore because he can feel the threat of panic rising in his chest at the very thought of entertaining that idea. 

“What made you decide to move down, then?” Michael says, and Calum shrugs, even though Michael can’t see him. 

“Thought it was about time I moved out,” he says. “And- y’know. London’s sort of the place to be, if you’re in the music scene.” Michael hums. 

“Y’know Kentish Town’s right around the corner from Camden?” he says, a little too nonchalantly. “‘S where that fish and chip shop I took you to was.” Calum swallows. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says. He hesitates, and then adds, in an equally too-casual voice: “You’ll have to show me around the area.” 

“Might do,” Michael says lightly. “For a fee.” 

“I’m going to be skint after buying this place,” Calum tells him. "It'd be an act of charity." 

“Who said the fee was monetary?” Michael says, and Calum’s heart skips a beat. He clears his throat, and goes to say something, but can't. It doesn't matter, though, because Michael’s carrying on, a little hastily, like he’s picked up on Calum’s silence. “You could nick me a few of Noel’s songs. Damon’s really struggling for lyrics. Came into the rehearsal room yesterday after being stuck in traffic with a song that goes who maddest one on the M1?” He pauses, and then says: “It’s pretty good, though.” Calum can’t help but snort at that, heart beating a little too fast, even though Michael’s glossed over the awkward moment. Or maybe papered over it; Calum's never been great at telling the difference.

“I’m not looking to get murdered,” he says, and Michael sighs dramatically. “Plus, it’s not like Noel’s lyrics are any better.” 

“True,” Michael muses. “What’s that one about, fucking, Mr Soft?” Calum huffs out a laugh at that, leaning back on his bed. 

“Don’t remember a song about fucking Mr Soft,” he says, and Michael tuts, but Calum can hear the note of amusement in it. 

“Should’ve been that instead,” Michael says flippantly. “I reckon it would’ve been an improvement.” 

“Bit rich, coming from someone who’s got a song that half-consists of the word ‘parklife’,” Calum retorts, and Michael makes a noise of indignance. 

“That’s a fucking brilliant tune,” he says, and Calum can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Damon barely even sings on it,” Calum says. 

“Shouldn’t do, either, for what we had to pay Phil Daniels,” Michael remarks. “Damon’s obsessed with getting these fucking features on. D’you know we’ve got Ken Livingstone lined up for our next album?” Calum can’t help but laugh out loud at that, bright and surprised. 

“Ken Livingstone?” he echoes. “Like, Ken Livingstone?” 

“Yeah,” Michael says, and he sounds exasperated, but fond. “I don’t know what the fuck is going through Damon’s head most of the time, but it’s easier to just give him a pat on the head and go aww, Damon, that's a lovely idea, what a clever boy you are than to try and understand him. Don’t have the energy for that. And I’m still making money, aren’t I?” 

“If your house is anything to go by,” Calum says. 

“Hey,” Michael says, mock-serious. “Let’s not talk about my house. Nice flat you’re buying.” Calum has to concede there, with a grin. He’s got a point. 

“Does Damon call all the shots, then?” he asks, a little curious. He doesn’t actually know much about Blur’s dynamic - they’re nowhere near as transparent as Oasis are, and all he really knows is what he’s heard from Michael, which seems to be that they’re decent blokes and good friends, and what he’s picked up from the Oasis camp, which seems to be that they’re all Tories and that the jury’s still out on whether they’re the antichrist or whether that’s Liam. 

“What’s this, trying to infiltrate us?” Michael asks, but Calum can hear that he’s smiling. “He tries, but Graham won’t let him. We sort of step back and let their do their thing most of the time. Alex gets involved, sometimes, but I think Graham and Damon like the fighting.” Calum hums, not really sure what to say to that, besides sounds like Noel and Liam.

“You’d like Damon, I think,” Michael says, after a moment of silence. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Well, y’know. If your insane bandmates would let you.” 

“Yeah, well.” Calum shrugs, a little awkwardly, and casts his eyes back down at his lap, picking at his pyjama bottoms. Michael doesn’t say anything to that for a minute, just breathes down the phone line and lets the two of them simmer in a slightly-uncomfortable silence, and then he sighs. 

“I should go,” he says. Don’t, Calum wants to say, but he doesn’t have a good enough reason to keep Michael on the line. Michael pauses, like maybe he’d been waiting for Calum to ask him not to go, and then sighs again. “Alright, well. I’ll see you at the NME awards, I guess.” Calum’s stomach twists. Shit. He’d forgotten Blur were going to be there. 

“Yeah,” Calum says. “Yeah, we’ll be there. Don’t think you’ll be able to miss us, the number of awards we’ve been nominated for.” Michael laughs at that, and it’s soft, but it’s a little wistful. Maybe Calum should have asked him to stay. Maybe he didn’t need a good enough reason. Maybe just wanting him to would have been reason enough. It’s too late now, though, because Michael’s saying I don’t think anyone within a six mile radius of Liam can miss him, and Calum huffs out another laugh, but the smile accompanying it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“I’ll see you then,” he says, and then hesitates, and adds: “I mean-”

“I know,” Michael says quickly, and Calum’s grateful for it. “I promise not to even look in your direction all night.” Calum snorts. 

“What’re you going to do when we’re up on stage collecting all the awards we’ve beaten you to?" 

“Go to the loo,” Michael says immediately, and this time, the smile does reach Calum’s eyes. 

“You’ll be up and down like a fucking yo-yo,” Calum says. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure, given the number of awards we’re up for,” Michael says, and it’s smooth and cocky, confident without being arrogant, and it sends something electric charging through Calum, knocking the breath out of his lungs and making his vision blur a little around the edges for a moment. What the fuck is that? 

“Guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Calum manages to get out, proud of and relieved at how light and even his voice sounds. 

“Guess we will.” Michael’s voice is light and amused, but that searing edge of confidence is still there, and Calum has to swallow, mouth suddenly dry. “I’ll see you there.” 

“You will.” He hears Michael breathing for a moment longer, and then there’s a click, and he’s gone, leaving Calum sitting in bed, staring at the wall opposite him, mind finally kicking into gear and helpfully offering him an explanation for the way his heart’s racing in his chest and his breath coming out a little shorter and shallower than before. 

Arousal. 

 -------

 They have a show in Hollywood on the twenty-second, which means Noel ramps up rehearsals for the week before they go, probably mostly because he just loves to wield power over them all. Calum doesn’t really mind, though, enjoys the way that Liam and Noel snipe at each other, the way Bonehead grumbles about needing to re-tune his guitar again because he can’t be bothered to restring it, the way that they all roll their eyes at Tony when he fucks up the rhythm for Supersonic again in the first few bars. 

Well, actually, he’s not enjoying that so much. 

See, he knows Tony’s not the best drummer, the same way he knows that Noel’s far from the best guitarist and he’s not the best bassist. They’re all getting there, though - Calum can hear how much better he sounds than even half a year ago - except for Tony. Tony’s not got any better, doesn’t even seem to care enough to try, content to get by with what he’s got away with doing so far and then go down to the pub for a pint or two and ring his missus when he gets back to the hotel, but it’s not good enough anymore. It might have worked when they were fighting tooth and nail to get on a bill, but now, when they’re selling out bigger and bigger venues, when they’re on a six-album contract and they’re in the running to be the biggest fucking band in Britain, it’s not enough. 

The tension’s been mounting for a while, the exasperated looks Noel throws in Tony’s direction turning to scornful, to ugly, twisted lips and dark, furrowed brows, but so far, no one’s said anything. Liam might snipe at him a little more, might seek him out to get out his pent-up anger when Noel’s tired of fighting with him, and Noel might snap at him faster, might say Jesus, you’re fucking incompetent with absolutely no shred of fond exasperation, but no one’s said anything. It’s only a matter of time, though, Calum thinks, as he watches Tony falter on the beat again and Noel turn around, fingers stilling on the strings, shoot him a furious look and say d’you feel up to doing your fucking job today, or what? Should I do it myself? They’re going to have to address it at some point. 

Not now, though. Now, they’re flying to America again, and Calum’s trying to get Liam to go to sleep on the flight instead of demanding peanuts from the poor air hostesses every two minutes, and Noel’s turning around in his seat and saying stop kicking me, you dick to Bonehead, who just shrugs and kicks harder, and Tony’s pretending to nap across the aisle. Everything’s in its strange, fragile balance, and none of them want to be the first to upset it. 

The show in Hollywood goes well enough - which is measured by the fact that Noel only had ten minutes of criticisms to hand out, rather than the usual twenty - and then they’re flying back to the UK, drugged-up and exhausted from jumping back and forth across timezones, being ushered into a hotel in London and told you’ve got a day off, and the NME awards in the evening. That’s a human evening, Bonehead, not fucking midnight. Calum’s sharing with Liam that day - or is it night, he can’t fucking tell anymore - and they just fall right into bed and sleep for sixteen hours, only waking up at five in the afternoon when someone hammers on their door and shouts Noel says to wake you up, and to tell you that you’re lazy cunts. Liam rolls over, and blinks blearily at Calum. 

“Time’s it?” he mumbles, and Calum squints at the bright red numbers on the alarm clock balanced precariously on the edge of his bedside table. 

“Five,” he says. Liam groans, and rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. 

“Fucking Noel,” he says. “Don’t even have to leave for another hour. Prick just wants to torture me.” 

“Probably,” Calum agrees, because that sounds like Noel. Liam groans again, rubs at his eyes, and then pushes himself up on his elbows, looking back over at Calum. 

“Did we raid the minibar last night?” he asks, and Calum thinks for a moment, and then shakes his head. Liam smiles, satisfied, and swings his legs out of bed, stretching and yawning as he gets to his feet. 

“Perfect,” he says, heading straight for the little fridge under the desk. “Noel can pay for these, then.” Calum just rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning when Liam winks at him over his shoulder and tosses him a little bottle of vodka. 

They drink the entire minibar between them, and by the time they’re heading out for the car that’s waiting to pick them up, Calum’s laughing at everything Liam’s saying, skin pleasantly warm and tingling, which is just encouraging Liam to say stupider and stupider things and gesticulate more and more wildly. Usually, Noel would nip that right in the bud, but he’s a little pink-cheeked himself, just laughs along at Liam’s antics and the weird little stories he tells on the journey to the venue. 

It’s fucking packed when they get there, and Calum’s almost blinded when a few cameras go off in his face, and he barely has time to think brilliant, bet I look fucking great in those before someone’s tugging on his sleeve and pulling him up the steps and inside. He’s still blinking away the blue-green-purple behind his eyes as he stumbles into the room, gets ushered to a table with the rest of them, and twists around in his chair, trying to drink in the rest of the room. 

It’s fucking packed, and it’s full of people Calum recognises from festivals and from magazines and newspapers - Elastica, Radiohead, Suede, Pulp - but he’s only really looking for one band. He’s trying to do it as subtly as possible, though, knows he doesn’t have a lot of time to look before Noel notices and gets shirty about it, but can’t find them anywhere in the crowd of people as people get up and sit down and lean around their table to talk to someone at another table. He turns back to his own band, tuning into the conversation that’s going on about whether or not they’d actually been nominated for Best Single; he'll just look for Michael the next time the Gallaghers have gone to take whatever it is they're on tonight.

There’s drink on the table, and there’s drugs in Noel and Liam’s pockets, and by the time the ceremony’s begun they’re all looking very fucking merry and pleased with themselves. The brothers actually manage to behave themselves, though, sitting back quietly as the first award - Best LP - is introduced. 

Of fucking course, it’s Blur. 

They watch as Blur traipse to the stage to a round of polite applause, looking very relaxed and pleased with themselves, coming from somewhere against the wall to the far left of the Oasis table, and Calum feels his heart start to speed up as he spots Michael at the back of the group, saying something to Graham with a smile on his face that makes Graham laugh too as they follow in Damon, Dave and Alex’s wake. 

Damon leans into the microphone, saying something about thank you to the fans, blah blah blah, but Calum’s just staring at Michael, willing him to catch his eye. Michael’s scanning the crowd in a way that Calum could mistake for idle if he didn’t see the slight narrowing of his eyes, the slight downturn of his lips. He’s looking at the back, then at the left, then somewhere around the middle, and then finally his eyes fall on Calum’s table, and his lips curve upwards ever-so-slightly. 

And then, like Noel and Liam aren’t sat right fucking there, he winks. 

Calum knows what he’s saying. First award goes to me, eh? Fucking cocky little shit, he thinks, through the haze of alcohol, but it makes his next intake of breath a little sharper all the same. 

“Pricks,” Liam says derisively, reaching for another beer. Calum hums his agreement, but his eyes don’t leave Michael, who’s now trying to suppress a fully-fledged smile. Calum shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, and reaches for his own beer, just for something to put between himself and Michael. 

Damon finishes his speech, thank you to their management, blah blah blah, and then they’re heading back off the stage, and Michael breaks his eye contact with Calum easily, like it’s nothing, tossing another nonchalant comment that Calum can’t make out in Damon’s direction. It sort of stings, seeing how easily Michael can act like it's nothing, but it’s also an odd relief, because Calum’s all too aware of the two fuckers he’s sat between. 

He’s downed another beer by the time the next award’s being announced - Best Single - and it looks like they have indeed been nominated for it, because they win it. 

“Fucking get in,” Liam crows, getting to his feet, and Noel doesn’t even have it in him to do anything but cuff him upside the head fondly as they head for the stage. 

“None of you cunts deserve this,” he says, as they jog up the steps. “Least of all you.” He directs the last part at Tony, but unlike the first half of his sentence, it’s got an edge of venom to it, a bit of Noel’s cruel streak leaking through. Calum shoots Noel a sharp look as they head for the podium, because tonight is not the fucking night, and shakes his head. 

“Don’t be a cunt,” he says, and Noel just shrugs, turning away from him to accept their award and then stepping over to lean into the microphone. Liam’s there too, quick as a fucking flash, not willing to let Noel have any more than about forty percent of the limelight, and Calum just rolls his eyes and steps back, deciding to just let the fucking shitshow happen. He’s got other things to think about, anyway - Blur had come from his left when he’d been sat down, so they should be sat somewhere on what’s now his right, and he frowns as he scans the room, squinting into the bright stage lights as he tries to make out the all-too familiar shape of Michael sat at a table.

He actually spots Damon before he spots Michael, and he feels an odd stab of excited anticipation make his heart lurch as his eyes slide around the table, like he’s a fucking fifteen year old with a crush again. There’s Graham, Dave, some woman he doesn’t know, Alex- 

Luke.

Fucking hell. 

He’d completely forgotten, somehow, that Luke - and Ashton, who’s sat right next to him - were going to be here. It makes his stomach tighten, seeing the two of them again in this unfamiliar context, makes him blink like they’re going to fucking disappear if he tries hard enough. Luke’s hair is long, now, curly like it always used to be after they’d been swimming at Bondi Beach, and he’s broad as fuck, fills out the shirt he’s wearing in a way that would probably make Calum’s mouth water if it were anyone other than Luke. Ashton looks older, too, has his sleeves rolled up far enough to expose very muscled arms, hair dyed black and one slightly-curled strand falling into his eyes. He’s got his hands in front of him, clasped together and elbows on the table, and Luke’s leaning back in his seat, one arm around the back of Ashton’s chair, leaning into him a little. They look the same, and they look so different.

Calum doesn’t even realise Liam and Noel are done with their antics until Bonehead shoves at him with his shoulder and inclines his head with a frown, signalling get off the fucking stage, you prat. It only just occurs to his alcohol-addled mind to flick a quick glance over at Michael, who’s grinning up at him easily, even looking a little proud, and it makes Calum’s already-leaden stomach flip somehow, in a way that he thinks might be pleasant but isn’t entirely sure about. 

He follows the rest of his band off the stage in a daze, almost trips over his own feet at least four times on his way back to the table, drawing enough attention to himself that Liam throws him a frown as they sit down, concern for Calum cutting through all the drink and drugs in his veins. 

“What’s up with you?” he asks, managing to make it sound hostile somehow. Calum blinks at him. 

He can say it, can’t he? It’s not like they’ve got any shit with Luke and Ashton. Well, Noel probably will on principle, but anyone who isn’t the most vindictive person on the planet shouldn’t have. 

“I, uh,” he says, and clears his throat as he realises Noel’s tuned into the conversation too, even though he’s still facing the stage, sitting far too still as he listens to what Calum has to say. “I saw the Blur table. Michael’s brought two of my best mates from Sydney.” 

“Oh,” Liam says, sounding a little disappointed, like he’d been expecting something juicier than that. “D’you wanna go and say hi?” That gets Noel to turn around, to shoot Liam a furious glare. 

“Are you insane?” he demands. 

“What?” Liam says defensively. “They’re his mates.” 

“They’re with Michael.”

“So? They’re still Calum’s mates.” 

“They’re with Blur.” Liam scoffs. 

“Don’t be so fucking unreasonable,” he says, raising his voice a little to be heard over the applause as the next award is announced - Calum has no idea what it is, but Blur are receiving it again. Noel laughs incredulously, and his eyes are narrowed and cold, and Calum thinks for fuck’s sake, not again. 

“I’m being fucking unreasonable?” Noel says. 

“Yeah, you fucking are,” Liam says stubbornly. “What the fuck have they done? They’re not in Blur, are they?” 

“They’re-” Noel cuts himself off, throwing his hands up in the air, like the fact that Liam’s not on his side on this is beyond him. Liam throws him one last look, and then turns back to Calum. 

“D’you want to say hi?” he asks again, and Calum hesitates. He’s not really sure. 

“Jesus, why don’t you ask him if he wants to fuck Mike again too, while he’s at it?” Noel says scornfully, which makes Liam’s eyes flash with anger for a moment, and he rounds on Noel again. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he says. “Just fucking leave it.” 

“Leave it?” Noel echoes. “Leave-” 

“Stop it," Liam says, something uncharacteristically firm and serious to his tone. "You’re making yourself too obvious.” That makes Noel’s mouth snap shut, but his jaw muscles continue to work furiously as he glowers at Liam, something so irate in his expression that Calum can’t even read it. He doesn’t want to, anyway, not when he sees the defiant set of Liam’s jaw and realises they’re having one of those brotherly we know something you don’t know moments, sees the silent conversation occurring between the two of them and just waits it out, waits for one of them to snap. It’s Noel this time, folding his arms and sitting back in his chair, still glaring at Liam, but Liam seems to know what he means by that, because he throws Noel one final look that looks almost like those I’m disappointed in you looks that Noel so often sends Liam, and turns back to Calum again. 

“Let’s go over,” he says. 

“Not now,” Noel says sternly. Nothing to do with Blur, though; this is Noel’s business voice. “We’re in the middle of a fucking awards ceremony.” 

“So?” Liam says, with a carefree shrug. 

“No.” Liam looks like he wants to argue for a moment, but Noel holds his gaze, and eventually Liam sighs and slumps back in his seat. 

“Fine,” he says sullenly, but before Noel has time to say something cutting in response, everyone around them is jumping to their feet and cheering. 

“What?” Calum says to Bonehead, who throws him a funny look. 

“Best new band,” he says, and Calum’s heart clenches, but in a way that he definitely likes. 

Fucking hell, he thinks, as he gets to his feet and grins broadly at Noel, who grins back, the previous conversation completely forgotten. Well, that makes him two-for-two with Michael, doesn't it?

 -------

 Oasis end up winning three awards, eclipsed only by Blur, who take home five. Liam claims that they win four, though, because Alan wins the Godlike Genius award, and he’s basically Oasis, innit? Oh, fuck off, Noel, you’re not Oasis. If anything, right, I’m Oasis, ‘cause- and then Calum tunes out. 

Someone mentions something about an afterparty, because of course they do, and everyone agrees enthusiastically. They’re all getting to their feet when Liam turns to Calum with a look of surprise on his face, like he’s just remembered something. 

“Your mates,” he says, and Calum swallows. His mates. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Uh- yeah. I might-” he cuts himself off, but Liam gets it, and nods. 

“Want me to come over with you?” he says, and Calum hesitates. No, because I’m not sure I can handle the guilt of being around you and Michael at the same time is thrown up at him by his mind, but his heart says yes, please. I’m scared. I need you there. 

“Can you refrain from calling them all cunts for five minutes?” Calum says, because he can’t say please, and Liam grins, a sparkle in his eyes. 

“Guess we’ll find out,” he says cheerily, and skirts around the edge of the table, making a beeline for the table Blur are gathered around on the other side of the room, lingering and laughing at something Michael’s saying with big, grand hand gestures. He can feel Noel’s eyes on the two of them as he jogs to catch up with Liam, who strides like a fucking maniac despite the fact Calum’s got a good three or four inches on him, but he doesn’t say or do anything. That’s almost more dangerous, though, Calum thinks, because Noel never forgets, just files the information away to act upon later. He doesn’t have time to worry about it, though, because the speed with which Liam’s powering towards the table means they’re there before Calum’s really realised they’ve crossed the room, the band and the other assorted people that Calum doesn’t know blinking at them curiously. Well, blinking at Liam curiously, Calum thinks, stomach bottoming out. They all know about him and Michael talking again, don’t they? Do they know that Liam doesn’t know? Do Calum’s fucking rivals know how Calum’s betraying his own best friend? 

“Who’re you?” Liam says to Luke and Ashton, ever the fucking diplomat. “Cal says you’re his mates from Sydney.” The two of them blink at Liam, clearly not entirely sure what to make of him or the situation, until Ashton clears his throat. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says, and Calum’s next exhale comes out a little shaky at the sound of his voice. It’s so fucking familiar, has the same intonation and confidence it’s always had, and the same thick Australian accent that both he and Michael have lost along the way.  

“I’m Liam,” Liam says, completely oblivious to the entire group of people staring at him like he’s absolutely insane. Well, Calum supposes, he must be used to that. Pretty much everyone stares at Liam like he’s insane, most of the time. 

“Oh,” Ashton says, and shoots Michael a look, like he’s not sure what to do. “I mean. We know.” He hesitates, and then adds: “We really like your album.” Liam grins. 

“‘Course you do,” he says breezily. “It’s fucking brilliant.” 

“We’ll see you at the party, Mike, yeah?” Damon says, and throws Michael a pointed look. Michael just shrugs, and Damon looks at the rest of the table, who all kick themselves into gear and start slowly ambling away from the table as they shrug their coats on, mumbling to each other too quietly for Calum to hear. Damon’s the last to go, tossing Liam an easy smile, a glint in his eyes.

“Nice to see you again,” he says. 

“Fuck off,” Liam says, not even bothering to look away from Ashton, and Damon’s lips just twitch in an amused smile as he catches Michael’s eye, who rolls his eyes at him and shoos him away. He goes, though, turns on his heel and jogs to catch up with Graham, who’s been loitering a few tables away, seemingly waiting for him, and Liam leans forwards, rests his elbows on the vacant seat in front of him and puts his chin in his hands. 

“Who’re you, then?” he asks again. 

“I’m Ashton,” Ashton says. 

“I’m Luke,” Luke says, and his voice is deeper than Calum remembers. 

“Right,” Liam says, and then glances at Michael. “Are you gonna fuck off, or what?” 

“Me?” Michael says. “No, I’m alright.” Liam narrows his eyes at him, and Calum watches a flash of amusement cross Michael’s face before he schools his features into something convincingly solemn again. 

“Hey, Cal,” Ashton says, before Liam has the chance to tell Michael to get to fuck, or whatever, and Calum tears his gaze away from Michael to meet Ashton’s eyes. 

“Hi,” Calum says, throat suddenly dry. He clears his throat, and tries again. “How’re you?” Ashton blinks at him. 

“Good,” he says, “we’re good, yeah.” He glances at Luke, as if to anchor himself, and it makes Calum’s heart ache, makes memories of Luke doing the same to Ashton five, six, seven years ago bubble up in his mind. 

“Michael says you’re a teacher now,” Calum says, just for something to say, wanting to cry at the awkwardness of the atmosphere. It seems to be the right thing to say, though, because it makes Ashton’s lips hitch up in a smile, something warm reaching his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Ashton says. “Yeah, I teach RE.” Calum smiles at that, and he can’t help but glance over at Michael, thinking about their conversation a few weeks ago. Michael’s looking at him too, and their eyes lock for a split second, held together by a private memory, before Calum breaks it to look over at Ashton again. 

“Could’ve guessed that,” he says, and Ashton’s smile turns into a grin, something like relief tingeing it, like he hadn’t been quite sure how Calum was going to react to him. It emboldens Calum to add: “You and your fucking philosophy.” 

“Hey,” Ashton protests, but he’s still smiling. “Not all of us are cut out to be rockstars.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Michael says, and Calum remembers. 

“Oh, hey, d’you still play drums?” he asks, and Ashton wrinkles his nose. 

“‘Course he does,” Michael says. 

“Well, y’know-” Ashton starts cagily, but Michael interrupts him with a scoff.

“Oh, shut up,” he says in exasperation, rolling his eyes, but it’s utterly fond. “He’s the fucking man of the scene in Sydney.” 

“You’re in a band?” Trust Liam to be suddenly interested. 

“I- well, I’m in a few-” 

“You’re in a few?” Liam frowns, and pauses, before asking: “Are you really fucking good, or really fucking shite?” 

“Really fucking good,” Michael puts in, and Liam shoots him a glare. 

“Did I ask you?” He doesn’t bother waiting for a response, though, just rounds on Luke, and asks, blunt as fucking anything: “D’you talk?” Luke’s eyes widen, and he looks so much like that seventeen-year-old that Calum had left behind that it makes Calum’s head spin for a moment. 

“Don’t be a cunt,” Calum tells Liam sharply, who turns enough to throw Calum a look over his shoulder. 

“Just asking a fucking question,” he says, but it’s grumpy, which means he’s going to relent. 

“Michael says you’re a pilot,” Calum says, to try and ease the tension, and Luke’s eyes flit to him. 

“Yeah,” he says. 

“That’s pretty cool,” Calum says, and Luke hesitates, and then smiles. 

“Coming from you,” he says, and Calum grins back. 

“International rockstar’s a pretty good job,” he agrees, and Luke’s smile turns into a full-blown grin too. 

“Is that what you write down on visas?” he says, and Calum snorts. 

“I don’t, but this prick does,” he says, nodding at Liam, who just smiles inanely. 

“Not gonna lie to the authorities, am I?” he says, and Luke, Ashton and Michael all laugh, and it’s real. It’s not forced, it’s not polite, it’s real and amused and warm, and Calum thinks he might have ascended to another fucking plane of existence, seeing his two best friends from Sydney, his best friend now, and his- well, whatever the fuck Michael is, all getting on, if only for a moment. 

It hurts, though, because he thinks this is what it could be. This is what I could have, if Noel and Liam weren’t such fucking cunts. 

“Right, are you done?” Liam says, straightening up again. “We’ve got drugs to take.” Michael rolls his eyes, and Luke and Ashton look a little startled, and Calum thinks oh, fucking hell, but he sighs, and steps back. 

“We’re in the UK ‘til Saturday,” Ashton says. “We, uh. It’d be nice to see you. If you have time?” Calum blinks at him. Fucking hell, he doesn’t know his own schedule; he just jumps when Noel tells him to. 

“I, uh,” he says, but Liam speaks for him. 

“Could do Friday,” he says. “If you can come to Manchester.” Ashton glances at Luke, who shrugs. 

“I mean- yeah, sure,” he says, and Liam nods, satisfied. 

“Seven at the Vic on Burnage Road,” he says. 

“Is this an open invitation?” Michael asks mildly, and Liam glares at him. 

“Not to you,” he snaps, and puts his hands in his pockets. “Right, well. Nice to meet you. Me and Calum’ve got toilet lids to be getting to know. See you Friday.” Calum just blinks, not entirely sure what’s just happened, watching as Liam slopes away. 

“Uh,” he says intelligently. “Sorry about him.” 

“He’s…” Luke trails off, and Calum can’t help but huff out a laugh. 

“Yeah, he is,” he says, but he can’t hide the fondness and pride in his voice. “I- sorry, I really should- Noel’s-” 

“No, no, don’t worry,” Ashton says. “We’ll see you on Friday.” Luke’s still watching Liam, who’s now hovering in the door and throwing Calum an impatient glance, apprehension etched on his features.

“Will he be there?” he asks.

“I- uh. Seems like it.” Which is fucking insane. 

“Right.” Luke doesn’t sound too happy about that, but Ashton throws him a stern look, and he just sighs and then smiles at Calum. “See you on Friday, then.” 

“See you,” Calum echoes, and then throws Michael a glance. “I’ll-” 

“Yeah,” Michael says quickly, so Calum won’t have to say it. “Don’t worry. I know.” He smiles, and he means it, and Calum wants to cry. He doesn’t deserve Michael. 

He turns on his heel and jogs to the door, still trying to process what the fuck’s just happened. It must be written all over his face, because Liam frowns at him when he gets to the door, and then squares himself, looking a little hostile.

“What?” Liam says defensively,. “They’re your mates, aren’t they?” 

“Well, yeah, but-” 

“And they’re not in Blur.” Calum hesitates. 

“You don’t have to,” he says, and Liam shrugs. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says easily, pushing open the door to the venue. There are no photographers outside, now, just a few wannabe groupies hanging around and a couple of cars still waiting to ferry people from the venue to their hotels or the afterparty. It’s one of those that Liam opens the door to, clambers into without holding the door open, meaning it almost shuts on Calum as he follows, just about managing to get his leg in without the door slamming on it. “But they were important to you, weren’t they?” 

“Well- I mean, yeah, but-”

“That’s that, then.” He blinks steadfastly out of the window as Calum stares at him for a moment, drunk brain trying to understand what’s going on, what Liam's doing for him, and why he's doing it.

God, he thinks, as the familiar guilt settles deep in his veins again. He doesn’t deserve Michael, and he doesn’t deserve Liam, and neither of them deserve what Calum's doing to them.

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[ellana-ravenwood]

Salt, Tequila, Lemon - Jason Todd x Reader

Please read this intro, thank you very much :  

So. I posted this yesterday, but after a bug on the Tumblr app on my phone it got deleted. I’m super bummed out because it had over 200 notes and quite a few feedbacks that I never got to read because it was accidentally deleted...If the people that took the time to comment things on the story could take a bit more time to write a little comment again and give me their feedbacks, and also if the people that liked and reblog could do it once more...i’d appreciate the hell out of you <3.  So reposting it (thanks god I always have back ups of all my stories now). Written in twenty minutes during my break at work. Bam. Hope you’ll like it :

Also, since Tumblr’s new guidelines and enforcement of it, I DON’T really appear in searches anymore, so the only way for this story to be seen by others than those who follow me is to reblog it. So if you wanna, you can show your support for my writing by doing just that. Thanks very much. You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

_________________________________________________

Ok. So. Grandma’s remedy against heartbreak ? Oh, right. 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

Got it. Licking the back of your hand to make the salt stick to it, you pour yourself a massive shot of “To-Kill-Ya” in your coffee mug, not even caring about the fact that there is still some remnant of your cappuccino from last night in it. 

You focus on the sound the liquid makes as it fills your cup. Makes you think about something else. Good. Yup. This was totally gonna help right now. 

“Cheers”, you exclaim to yourself, your empty apartment echoing your voice. 

Salt. 

Wincing. Stingy. Salt on its own is gross. 

Tequila. 

More wincing. Oh my god, it burns. The coffee that was still at the bottom of the cup is an oddly nice touch. 

Lemon. 

The last of the Wincing. 

You spit the piece of lemon you just bit into in the trash and…miss. The yellow fruit falls with a little flat sound on the floor, and you honestly can’t bother to pick it up. Your apartment is a mess anyway, so you just stare at it angrily and pour yourself another drink. 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

You gulp the last of the citrus and shiver. Miss the trash again. 

Damn. This was good. 

Well, actually, it was disgusting. 

You didn’t like strong alcohol and what the Hell ?! Why did you leave a bit of coffee in your cup ? Now that the aftertaste was kicking in, it was actually really gross. If the tequila itself didn’t make you wanna throw up, the stale coffee taste nearly did. Oh, and the salt and lemon combination was as awful as ever. 

You really didn’t like salt, tequila, or lemon. 

But it was still good. 

Because thanks to all this immediate awfulness, you could slowly feel yourself drift into “haze land”, and forget about your worries. 

Forget that your boyfriend of two years just cheated on you with some random woman you worked with. Woman that, by the way, he met at the Christmas “end of the year” party from you work you invited him to…You gave him free champagne and mise-en-bouche and all your love, and he broke your heart. 

It wasn’t your thing, to drink your sorrow away. And it wasn’t your thing either to wallow because of a man…But you genuinely thought he was “the one” (oh what a mistake you would soon realize that was). 

He was always so nice, treating you like a princess. He complimented you daily, and never forgot an important date. He was affectionate, not to an annoying point. He was the perfectamount of affectionate. He was a gentleman and seemed to love you and yet, he betrayed you. 

If a man like him, that was nothing short but sweet and passionate with you, cheated on you, then did that mean you couldn’t trust anyone ? 

Because in your eyes right now, he was perfect. Albeit said eyes were slightly clouded by a a few tequila shots. 

You were downing a fourth drink starting to slowly sob when…

There’s very few things that can get you out of a drunk state in seconds. 

An extremely cold shower could do the trick, for instance. Brings you back to your senses a bit you know ? You wouldn’t magically be sober, but you’d get a clearer mind. Or someone giving you shocking news ! Or like, an event so incredible that your body just forgets how drunk it is for a minute. 

And this event, for you, came at the perfect time. 

Right when you were entering your “sad drunk” phase, which was between the “lol alcohol does NOTHING to me” phase where you downed most of your drinks, and the “dancing on the bar’s counter” phase (a few more drinks and you would have a one woman dance party in your living room, acting as if you were on a bar’s counter and that your name was suddenly “Britney”).

Right when you were about to wallow times a thousand, and cry, and yell “whyyyyyyy ?!” to the sky, arms in the air (drama queen). 

Years later, looking back on that particular event, you’ll start to realize that Destiny HAS to exist. Because come on, it was just too perfect a timing to be a simple coincidence. 

You were about to swallow up your fifth drink, launching yourself head first into the “sad phase” when an ear shattering noise rang all around your apartment. 

Broken glass. 

It was the sound of broken glass. Heightened to the max by your drunkness. You turned on your stool, and…there he was. 

It was a guy. That you were sure of because he had no boobs and too much pecs. And that guy…well that guy just flew right through your window, destroying it. How rude. 

There was glass everywhere. 

How much did a window cost ? Probably a fortune. 

You wondered briefly if you could just use aluminium foil and tape the shit up. There was nothing of value to steal in your apartment anyway, and if aluminium foil could keep meals warm, it definitely worked with a house too right ? 

You sobered up quite a bit, but you were also very drunk when this event happened, so your mind was still in that cloudy weird phase where your priorities were…interesting. 

You worried more about the broken window at first, than about that guy who just launched through it. 

A guy. 

Not just any guy. 

You saw that guy before. 

He was one of those night vigilante your crazy hometown was filled with…RED HOOD !! 

“Thick thighs”, is the first thing you thought right after you recognized him (priorities). 

The second thing you thought was that you needed another drink, and so you downed what was your fifth one, but with that crazy thing happening ended up being on the same level as if it was a second one. You were tipsy, but not “drunk” anymore. 

The third thing that came to your mind was…Is he still alive ? 

No cause, he was like, just laying there, on your living room’s floor, not moving. 

“…Outch.” 

Oh. He spoke. 

So he ain’t dead. Good, means you can have another drink then, you don’t need a clear mind to call an ambulance or something. 

Oddly enough, in your half-drunk half-sober state, this sounded completely reasonable. Nevermind if Red Hood had some internal bleeding or something. He talked. He was probably fine. 

A minute passed, and you just sat there, sipping up your tequila in between taking a pinch of salt and biting into a piece of lemon. 

Salt, tequila, lemon. Great remedy against heartbreaks. 

Wait, were you heartbroken ? Really ? You couldn’t really recall that fact now. But, yeah…it was the reason why you were drinking right ? Because right now, all you could think about was the fact that this Red hood guy had abs for days…

This unforeseen event sobered you up quite a bit, but the two shots you just took kinda brought you back to the same state than you were before.

Well. Not quite. You were drunk as hell again, but seemed to have avoided the “sad phase”. Instead, Red Hood bursting quite literally through your window took you to another road. 

The : “Cool, I got a drinking buddy phase”. Well, taking for granted he didn’t have any internal bleeding and wouldn’t die while biting into a lemon wedge. 

“Tough day ?” 

You ask him, as he slowly sits up and shakes his head, trying to regain his senses. He looks towards you and seem surprised (or at least you think he is, because he wears a mask so…kinda hard to tell). 

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

Jason definitely thought he was alone in this place, because no sane person would just sit there, not saying anything, as someone simply jumped through their window. Nope, most people would just freak out. Scream. 

He knows, because it’s not the first time he falls through a window during a night on duty. And every single time it happened, people freaked out. Screamed. Threw stuffs at him, or hid away begging for their life to be spared. 

And yet here you were, half a bottle of tequila in front of you, surrounded by lemon wedges you bit into, and table salt all over your hand, just staring at him curiously. And did you just say : “tough day” ?  

Well, Jason guessed the empty half of the bottle was why you were so chilled about it all. He sat up, and slowly got back to his feet. 

Usually, going through a window meant the end of the night for him. He’d go back to one of his secret stash, patch himself up and get some rest. Most of the time, he fell through windows because someone pushed him or threw him there…Though today, he just embarrassingly missed a step and fell by himself. 

Of course, no one would ever now he tripped while jumping from one building to another (you lived on the last floor) and went careening into your home (and life). Nope, the official story would be that he fought a fierce enemy and was thrown into that window. Finding fake villains name was easy, given how truly ridiculous some could be. 

Tim and Damian were still after the “Illusive Blue Man” that he totally made up that one time he walked into a poll and had a huge black eye that he couldn’t quite explain…Oh man, he had to stop telling such elaborate lies and just say “I fought with a few guys last night” without more explanation. 

But he couldn’t help it. And those kids believed everything he said, it was too tempting…But for now, this wasn’t the issue. Nope. 

He did a quick check of his body and knew he wasn’t really hurt (thanks “dad” for the amazing body armor ugh ?), so he was planning on leaving that poor girl’s house and send a mystery check in the mail to pay for the damage (money stolen from a certain Bruce Wayne of course, as if he would pay himself). 

Yup. He was just gonna stand up, and go on his way and…somehow, he found himself sitting on the stool opposite side of this mysterious girl, and now she was peppering salt on his hand ? 

“Salt”, she says, and she has a cute drunk voice. Jason almost forgets he just went through a window a few minutes ago. 

“Tequila”, she continues, downing her drink and pointing at the one she poured him. He doesn’t even care the she poured it in a cereal bowl that she didn’t even seem to have clean…He drunk worst things in worst recipient. He turns away to take off his mask and so that she can’t see his face, and “bottom’s up”. 

“Lemon !” she finishes, biting into the sour fruit and spitting it in the direction of the trashcan but missing completely. The lemon wedge goes to lost itself amongst his fallen brothers…

Jason bites into his own lemons, and spits it. Right into the garbage. 

There’s a slight pause, where she just stares at the trashcan, and then at Jason, back to the trashcan, and then turns to him again and simply says : 

“Wow.” 

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

So. This was surreal. 

Here you were. In your home. Taking tequila shots. With…Red Hood. 

One of Gotham’s night vigilante. The most violent one. But the dude seemed chilled. He was holding his liquor really well. 

And now you were talking about your broken heart, telling him the story as if he’d been your friend for years. And he was listening. Intently. And reacting to what you were saying. It had been a LONG time, since you had this kind of talk with anyone, and despite the fact you were drunk, you still noticed how nice it felt to have someone to talk to. Someone that genuinely listened. 

“And then he slept with her !” you say angrily. 

“Nooooooo !?!” 

“Yes, he did ! He slept with…with…what was her name…”

“Nicole. From accounting.” 

“Right, Nicole from accounting ! That bitch ! She always just…counts and shit ! And he slept with her ! Nicole from accounting ! Whom he met thanks to me, by the way ! At a partyyyy !! At my wooooork !!” 

“What an ass.” 

“Right ?! Oh but he had such a good ass though…Quite firm. But whenever he wore jeans, it was super flat.” 

“So, not such a good ass in the end then ?” 

“I guess not. You have a good ass. Popping right out in this outfit of yours.” 

Red Hood chuckles, and the sound of his laughter makes you forget that you just said something incredibly embarrassing. His voice is…nice. Deep. Manly. You like it. You wanna make him chuckle some more, so you say, hoping : 

“And it looks very firm. Not just quite firm.” 

It works. He snorts and it’s very cute. Oh wow. He can be sexy and cute. Full package. You smile a bit dreamily. 

For a second, he’s lost in that smile of yours, and there’s a silence installing itself in the room. A comfortable one. That you break : 

“Ok. So now, he’s not that perfect anymore ! He got no ass ! Penalty points ! I never notice how un-assed he was before…” 

Jason smiles and damn. He’s hot. 

Somewhere along the way, he stopped turning his face away from you whenever he took a shot, and just ended up taking his helmet off. He was probably hoping that you’d black out or something, so you wouldn’t remember his face (or he just didn’t care). 

In any case, you were pretty sure you never saw him before. His face kinda reminded you of an old memory. Of someone you saw somewhere long ago, when you were a kid…Which wasn’t really a big help right ? 

Right. You had no idea who he was. And in your drunken state, probably couldn’t piece anything together anyway. So even if you did know who he could be, you wouldn’t know in the end anyway…Makes perfect sense right ?

What you knew was : he’s hot. 

This white streak in his hair did something to you that you couldn’t explain. And that jawline ? You would love to get cut on that bitch.  It could actually cut a bitch, you were sure of it. Those blue eyes ? You’ve never seen someone with such blue eyes. And did you mention to yourself how muscular he was ? Because man you only saw guys like this in magazines ! 

But beyond his handsome features, he seemed like a nice guy. Like he was listening to you, a total stranger. And this realization suddenly raised your guard up. 

You also thought that your ex-cheating-boyfriend was a nice guy. And come to think of it, who the hell just barge in someone’s home like that, and actually stay to drink tequila shots ?! Wait but…in your guts…it’s not like with your ex. 

You don’t think he’s a nice guy. You know he is. 

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

There’s a visible shift in your mood, after this realization. So far, you talked to him about your broken heart freely, and he listened. 

Oddly enough, no words that came out of your (perfect) mouth bored him. Jason wasn’t sure wether it was the alcohol or not, but you captivated him. 

But in a split second, and without him knowing why, your features changed. You were now frowning. Like an unhappy little kid. It was kinda cute, but he didn’t like it because…why were you frowning ? 

He tries to lighten up the mood and says : 

“Well here you go. See, you didn’t loose the perfect guy, his ass was flat in jeans. Can’t work with that, can you ? I bet we can find other flaws. Make you realize he actually was a looser.”  

Your guard is up, but you can’t help but smile a bit, plus you were frowning just now because you realized you just knew you could trust that total stranger, and it was so weird…. 

Besides, no harm in indulging this, because you’re pretty sure it’ll make you feel better to try and see the bad side of your ex-boyfriend, not just his good ones. No one was perfect. And so, still a bit careful, you say : 

“Well…He never got any of my Tv shows or movie references.” 

“Well, here’s a point to take off of his “perfectness”. Doesn’t get pop culture references. Deal breaker.” 

“Yeah…Yeah you’re right. It is. He also used to hate when I made jokes. I like puns ya know ? Terrible ones. Well, he was always embarrassed whenever I made them in public.” 

“Ashamed of his girlfriend, doesn’t sound very gentlemanly, right ?” 

“Yeah. It doesn’t. Maybe he wasn’t such a perfect gentleman…He also used to not want to go out with me if I didn’t wear any make-up and was dressed just casually.” 

“What you mean, he never just went out with you ?” 

“We only went out on dates. I had to dress up. I could be casual home though…” 

“Well goodie, the man let you be yourself when you were home. Big deal. To be honest, sounds like a douchey move.” 

“That was kinda douchey…I never cared what he looked like.” 

And it’s true. For you, physical appearance wasn’t everything. And sure you thought your ex was hot and all, but only because you liked his personality too. You liked his jokes, you were never ashamed of anything he said. 

And right now, sure that stranger that bursted through your window was hot, but the reason you felt like you could tell him things was because he just made you comfortable by his mere aura. Because he gave you such a good vibe. 

You never were fully about appearances. It was always just a bonus for you…So it never occurred to you why your ex would only hang out in public with you if you were pampered. Like he used to hate when you just wore hoodies and no make-up, even if you didn’t need make-up to be beautiful. 

Comes to think of it, he was very much about appearances…Uh. Interesting. You never realized that before. 

You turn to Red Hood, and the look on your face says it all. You’re slowly realizing maybe you didn’t just lost “the one”. The vigilante says : 

“Ok, so : no ass, no humor apparently, doesn’t get pop culture references, and was kind of a jerk when it came to going out with you…” 

“He did tell me often that I was beautiful though. Including when I just woke up from a night out, and was awful looking.”

“Yeah, but he never went out with you looking like that. He shouldn’t feel ashamed of hanging out with you looking like that. Just like he shouldn’t feel embarrassed when you joke. He can be exasperated, like if you really make bad puns, sure. And he can think it’s unfunny…But embarrassed ? No.” 

“I guess…I never thought about it.” 

“Well let me tell you, as someone who does not know neither you nor him personally, he sounds like a bit of a jerk. Let’s not forget he cheated as well. Like, that’s not something good people do. Especially not with…Nicole from accounting.” 

“Nicole from accounting…Yeah. They’re together now though.” 

“So ? He should’ve broken up with you if he realized he liked her. That’s the right thing to do. Trust me on that, I put villains behind bars for a living, I know what’s right or wrong.” 

“I heard you kill criminals.” 

“Used to. I used to kill criminals, I had issues. I’ll tell you one day if you wanna. It’s a real tear jerker story. With clowns and crowbars. And I’m telling you that because I’m drunk, right now. Also, if we want to be specific, I don’t actually make a living out of putting villains behind bars. Like, I don’t get paid or anything…” 

Jason finds himself ranting about anything that comes to his mind, and though he hears himself claim it’s because of the alcohol he’s saying all this, he realizes maybe there’s something else making him want to talk. 

You. A total stranger he walked upon. Or rather, went-through-the-window upon.  Who didn’t freak out when he went through said window. And instead, invited him over to have tequila shots. 

Because, according to your grandmother, the best remedy to…basically any problems in life, was “salt, tequila, lemon”. 

“She was a wise woman.” 

He says, and you turn to him, clearly not understanding what he was talking about. 

“Who ?” 

“Your grandma. For saying that salt, tequila and lemon was a great remedy against heartbreaks and all.” 

“Oh. Yeah. I wouldn’t know, I never met her. She died before I was born.” 

“Well what she passed on to your parents is great.” 

“What ?”

“Well, that “salt, tequila and lemon” thing, I assume she said that to your mom or dad, and then they said that to you, and then it became your grandma’s advice. Right ?” 

“…Nah. It’s an excuse I made up. Whenever I need to justify something, I just say “like my grandma said, ain’t no shame in eating an entire tub of ice cream if you want to”, and then people are just like “oh yeah, cool”, because when you say the word “grandma”, then it gives a perspective to your words ya know ?” 

Jason had no idea what you were on about, but he loved it. You seemed to be very smart. And witty. And funny. The hell did that guy cheated on you for ? And why was he ashamed of going out in public with you when you weren’t dressed up ?! 

You currently wore “Hello Kitty” pyjamas, had absolutely no make up on, and your hair was a mess, and he thought you looked gorgeous.

“Why are you so nice ?” 

Your question takes him by surprise, and for a few seconds he doesn’t register it and just says : “ugh ?” 

“To me. Why are you so nice to me ? Is it the alcohol ? Does it make you nice ? Or are you just nice to every stranger ? Every girl you destroy the windows of ? Or are you like my ex ? You seem nice, but then you go off and cheat on your girl simply because you like another girl and you’re too cowardly to break up with your current girl ?” 

Jason hiccups slightly, and says : 

“No, I’m not nice to any girl I met. I’m actually usually kind of a jerk, too “brutally honest”. But you…I don’t know. You give me good feelings. Oh and here’s to add on his flaws list. “Coward”. Can’t even break up with a girl, has to wait to get caught red-handed and break her heart. Cooooward. Bad flaw. Kind of guy who runs in the face of danger, instead of standing by you.” 

It’s probably the fact that he said “you give me good feelings” that spurs this in you. That gives you a new clearer perspective on things. 

“My heart wasn’t broken.”

It’s a shock, to you. This realization. This sudden feeling jumping in your face. You…are not heartbroken. You’re mad. You’re frustrated. You feel betrayed. You feel a crazy burning anger towards your ex for toying around with you like that. For not having the balls to just break up, after spending two years together. 

He was suppose to know you. To be your friend. Things could have turned out better. He could have just come up to you, say the truth, and…You were pretty sure you’d still be friend. Because he really was a great guy. 

He really was all the good thing you though about him. He made a mistake, an unforgivable one in your book. But he was a great guy. 

He was just…not your great guy. Not anymore at least. 

And you realized, there, quite drunk, that…It was ok.  

Your heart wasn’t broken.  

Your heart wasn’t broken. 

Your pride was. Your trust was. But your heart ? …Maybe you weren’t completely in love with him. You were best friends, yes, but love ? Maybe it wasn’t love…

Your heart wasn’t broken. 

“My heart isn’t broken.” 

You tell Red hood, looking at him right in his wonderful ocean blue eyes. And he looks right back at you, and just nods. Just like that. And then he pours you one last tequila shot. 

Because like your grandma would say : “When you make great discovery about yourself…Salt, tequila, lemon”. 

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

It took you only a few hours with him to realize that you weren’t in love with your ex, and that was kinda scary. Because this realization didn’t come from nowhere. 

Nope. 

But when he said that your ex broke your heart, you felt obligated to tell him that no. No your heart wasn’t broken. You were sad and angry, yes, but not heartbroken. For you, in that moment, it was important for this total stranger to know you weren’t actually in love. 

Hell, you didn’t even know yourself you weren’t that in love before you talked to him. It just came as a sudden, yet utterly true revelation. 

Because, and this wasn’t the alcohol speaking…You felt incredibly attracted to that guy. To Red Hood. Not just because of the white streak in his hair, and the eyes, and smile, and voice, and abs, and thick thighs. That too, sure, but not only…Nope. 

Nope. Not because of this. 

But because he had a tough day (he said so himself, explaining to you how he went through the window…he was fighting a super-villain when he got flung through your window, tough tough time ahem), and yet he sat with a crazy lady that peppered salt on his hand and practically forced him to take a tequila shot…

Because you could see in his eyes, and felt in your guts that he didn’t have an easy life…and yet he took a break from whatever he was doing to just sit with you and listen to you. He didn’t even make sense, that you trusted those feelings so fiercely. And yet, you did. Because he listened to you. 

He saw you were struggling and he stayed. And though you felt you couldn’t trust anyone at that time…You oddly felt like he was ok. 

Like he wouldn’t be the kind of guy to cheat, or run in the face of danger, leaving you all alone to fight off demons. 

In a few short hours, you fell for this guy more than you ever fell for your ex. 

What did that say about you uh ? …That was pretty pathetic…

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

Jason didn’t think that you were pathetic at all. 

On the contrary. If he went to seat with you, and drink with you, is because he was instantly mesmerized by you. 

And though he didn’t know at first why, now he was sure of it. 

It’s because you didn’t freak out. And something told him it wasn’t only because you were a bit drunk (he fell in drunk people’s home before…none reacted like you). 

Nope. It was because you were special. He just knew it. Special in every way. Funny. Beautiful. Genuinely listening to him when he was speaking. 

He peppered his own problems within your story, as you told him. And you listened. Hell, even referenced a few things he said early on, way later, while you were crazy drunk. You listened. 

You gave a total stranger that seemed to have a tough day some salt. And tequila. And lemons. 

And then you cared. You asked him a thousand times if he was ok, and he basically had to take off his armor to prove it so (to your eyes’ greatest pleasure…mm mm mm those muscles). 

Captivated. He was captivated by you. It was strange, and though he knew it was because you were special, he still was unclear as to why his feelings were that strong. 

For someone he just met. And barely knew. And only knew while drunk. 

You were just…Special. 

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

It was surreal. The all thing. 

What started as a night where you planned on wallowing your pain and drinking…ended up changing your life. 

And no one could convince you that it wasn’t Fate. Because what were the odds that Red Hood would fall through YOUR window after tripping (yeah you didn’t buy that “fighting super-villains thing” at all) ?

What were the odds of his timing being so perfect, arriving just before you started to cry ? Because there was no doubt in your mind that if he had come a few seconds later, he wouldn’t have stayed. 

He would have found a crying mess, and maybe he would have tried to confort you but…You wouldn’t have answered. In your “sad phase”, you only cry and whine. He would have eventually left. And the wonderful talk you’d just have, would never have happened. 

But instead. He came right before your lips touch that fatal shot of tequila that would have brought you into the “sad phase”. And took your drunkness down a notch. Rerouted your evening. 

You weren’t wallowing anymore, you were ranting. 

Sharing your anger and frustration. 

And he helped you realize that your ex wasn’t that perfect…That maybe it was just not meant to be…After all, he cheated on you. 

Uh. What a shame. You didn’t even know his name…”Red Hood”…

You wished you knew his name. 

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

The morning lights were rising, and the bottle of tequila was long gone. 

There were still salt and lemons though. For some reason, you decided to buy the entire grocery store’s stock of lemons. 

Red Hood stood up, and said he had to go. 

He was nice about it. Said it was a pleasure to have spend the night with you. You both laughed about the innuendos that ensued. 

You were exactly on the same page. And he understood all your joke referencing to pop culture… 

But it was time for him to go. And he apparently had no intention of telling you his real name. He didn’t hint either at ever coming back to see you again. 

And there was that. Just a nice night, spend talking to a genuine friend that you’ll never see again. 

A genuine friend that you didn’t even know a few hours before. 

Maybe it was the alcohol speaking. Maybe not. 

And even if you ended up never seeing him again, this evening truly changed your life…At least, it saved you from a heartbreak. Made you realize it wasn’t that.

Though, now, as he climbs out of the window again (he couldn’t possibly use the front door), you feel like the actual heartbreak is starting. 

Grandma’s remedy against heartbreak ? Right. 

Salt, tequila, lemon…

But the tequila is all gone. 

“I’ll send someone to fix that window…Sorry again about that. …Bye.” are his last words, and then he’s out. 

And the tequila is all gone. 

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

… 

…

…

…

Days pass by in a blur. 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

Ugh. But you don’t want to this time. You don’t want to get drunk to forget. 

You don’t want to forget him. And you know it’s ridiculous to get that worked up over a guy you met one night and that will never come back. That you didn’t even know the name of. 

This entire night was weird anyway. 

Getting drunk with a dangerous night vigilante. Pouring your heart out to him, and him doing the same. The hell were you even thinking ? 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

That would be a good idea to do this right now, because man…your heart hurt. More than when you discovered your ex sleeping with Nicole. From accounting. But you can’t resolve yourself to drink. To forget. Nope. Instead you…

*Knock knock knock*. 

Uh ? You take a quick look at your clock in the kitchen.10 pm. Who the hell is coming at 10 pm ?! It can only be bad news. Especially in Gotham…You peep into the eyehole and…

WHAT ?! 

You open your door quickly, and… 

“Told you I’d send someone to fix your window.” 

It’s him. It’s Red hood. But in…civilian clothes. 

His ass doesn’t look flat in jeans. 

He’s holding a window wrapped in cardboard, and there’s a toolbox at his feet. 

“Yeah, you did…come in.” 

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

Jason Todd. 

That’s his name. And connections are fast to be made in your brain. Jason Todd. Bruce Wayne’s adopted son. That supposedly died…ten years ago. 

And is Red Hood now. Oh. It makes sense. Even his little “killing criminals” thing while Batman never killed. You easily put two and two together. 

Red Hood. Jason Todd. Bruce Wayne. 

Wow. Can’t believe you never guessed that before. Of course Bruce Wayne is Batman. He’s got the motive, the means, the excuses…It’s so obvious. And yet, you never realized. And no one else in Gotham ever realized. 

Jason Todd. 

Now you know his name. 

And he’s fixing your window. Nobody ever fixed windows for you before (even those who broke it).

Um. To add to the “perfect man” list : “Handy”. 

Jason Todd.  

He quickly works the window up, and then he turns to you. While he was working you talked, as if you knew each other for years. Joking around. Like old friends. Like old extremely good and close friends. 

It fits. It clicks. It’s natural. You and him, him and you. 

Barely knowing each others, and yet knowing each others the best. 

Jason. Todd. 

He turns to you now, and with a smirk, he says : 

“Ya know, my grandma always say that when something good happens to you, you need to celebrate. And I feel like this, right now, you and I, though I have no idea what we’re doing and where it’s going…Well it’s still something to celebrate. And she always says, my grandma, that to celebrate perfectly you need…” 

You smile. 

Yeah. You don’t know where this thing between you two is going, but you do know that you never met someone who so fully understood you. 

And in such a short span of time. And you know you’re not mistaking. It’s a feeling too strong to be a mistake. 

He came back to fix your window for god’s sake. And trusted you enough to tell you his actual name. Without a second thought. Which meant everything. Especially since from all the hint he let slip through last time you saw each others, about his father, well…let’s just say telling people his real name wasn’t really something he was used to. 

But it just works. It fits. It clicks. It’s not like with your ex, because you don’t think you know it does. It just does. The fact that you say those next few words in perfect sync finishes to convince you : 

(“…And she always says, my grandma, that to celebrate perfectly you need…”) 

“Salt, tequila, and lemons.” 

______________________________________________

I’m so mad the Tumblr app crashed and I deleted the original post...Y’all were great and reblogged the hell out of it ! Which is why it got so many notes in such a short span of times. And feedbacks. I haven’t had that many feedbacks on a story in a long time. So just one last time and I won’t bother you with that again : Please, if you enjoyed this story, don’t hesitate to reblog it and share it with others. People who don’t follow me can’t really find my stories anymore so...you’re a big help by spreading them. It’s always very encouraging. 

And if you got the time, feedbacks are always hella appreciated and always make my day a little brighter <3. 

[mssjynx]

Hi! I’ve been reading a bunch of your stuff lately and was wondering if i could request #24 (nsfw) with either Ohmcat, Ohmtoonz, Minicat, or Daithi de Wildcat

alpha / beta / omega au

daithi de wildcat drabble

24. You keep glaring at me and I have to confront you about it.

warning: nsfw

a/n; this is my first smut for ddw!!! i dont know how im writing them!! i dont know if this worked!!! be honest and let me know what you think :) 

hope you enjoy! i hope they were both in character

-

The party was shit. The alcohol wasn’t good and the food tasted bland. The smell of weed and cigarette smoke polluted every corner of the house and Tyler really did just want to go home. He was buzzed on shitty vodka, having thrown back a few shots with Marcel before the alpha had gotten caught up dancing with Scott. 

Now Tyler was sat on the couch with a beta whose name he didn’t remember practically sitting on him and chattering away in his ear. He could barely listen though she didn’t seem discouraged. He could guess she was high off her mind and, honestly, he was glad that at least she was enjoying the night. 

Bored, as he had been for the past hour, he cast his attention around the room, snorting to himself when he noticed a very drunk Brian swinging a very sober Brock around in a hazardous dance. When he flicked his attention over his shoulder, he met bright blue eyes with surprise, not expecting to find them staring right back at him. 

What only furthered Tyler’s confusion was the anger hiding in that glare. Daithi had his arms folded, eyes sharp and irritated as he glared Tyler down for a few more seconds before turning back to Anthony and Evan. The beta didn’t look back at Tyler, but the American could see he was still angry, foot tapping on the floorboards and fingers clenched in fists at his sides. 

What he had done to deserve such anger, he could only wonder, and he settled back into the couch. Ten minutes later, as the girl he sat with pulled him to his feet and tugged him towards the dancefloor, he noticed Daithi again, brows furrowed and a displeased frown twisting his mouth. He kept Tyler’s eyes for only a minute before turning away and Tyler couldn’t help his own irritation flaring. He hadn’t done anything to piss Daithi off, he didn’t deserve to be a target of the Irishman’s anger at all.

With a determination to fix this problem, the alpha placed a hand on the girl’s back and dipped to speak into her ear as he pointed to the dancefloor. Ryan looked extremely out of place where he swayed, not one for the centre of attention or drinking or dancing. “Go dance with him, I gotta sort something out,” he explained and was relieved when she clapped her hands with a giggle.

Placing a kiss on his cheek, she pranced off in the direction of the omega and Tyler laughed to himself as the nervous man got an armful of a pretty high beta. Lingering to watch for only a moment before he swung his head around, he met those icy eyes and this time, locked them down. 

“What’s got you lookin’ so pissed?” he demanded as he stalked up to the Irishman. It was mildly dissatisfying when he found that the both of them were pretty much the same height and there was no intimidation or reluctance in those bright eyes. 

Still, nothing infuriated him more than the way Daithi folded his arms over his chest and turned his head away. “Nuthin’,” he snapped, voice thick with his accent; a giveaway that the beta had had his own fair share of alcohol that night. 

“You’ve always been a shit liar,” he responded, falling back against the wall to stand beside his friend. “What’s wrong?” He wasn’t a sensitive guy, anyone who knew him knew that. 

“‘M fine,” he replied and Tyler rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, and I’m dating the Queen,” he snarked back, huffing a sigh and grimacing at the fresh scent of weed. “It smells like shit in here.” Daithi let out a hoarse laugh, nodding in agreement. Then, with the sudden need to pee, he pushed off the wall. “I’m going upstairs,” he declared and stepped over to the doorway. When he heard no movement behind him, he turned back and frowned at where Daithi still leaned against the wall. “You comin’?” 

Surprise rose those thick brows before he was pushing off the wall and following Tyler out into the hall and to the staircase. 

“Where’re we goin’?” Daithi slurred and Tyler snickered when he stumbled on the stairs. “Fock off,” was the quiet snap he received. 

“Need to piss,” Tyler explained. “Do you wanna stay down there?” He turned as he asked the question, meeting Daithi’s glance. At the short shake of his head, he smiled and felt a tickle of relief in his chest when the beta returned the grin. “Exactly.” 

They popped each door open, dawdling their way down the hall until they came across the nice clean bathroom. Daithi shuffled to the mirror, frowning at his reflection as Tyler turned to the toilet and flicked the lid up. In silence, they relieved themselves, switching places and rinsing their mouths out in the sink. 

“So what was ‘er name?” Daithi asked as they stepped into the bedroom beside the bathroom. Bland; Tyler assumed it was a guest room. 

Tyler flopped down onto the bed and sighed happily. “Who?” he asked, brain feeling fuzzy from the few drinks that were still coursing through his body. 

“T’e girl you were with,” he said, and Tyler turned to where his friend sat on the desk chair. He didn’t meet Tyler’s eyes and confusion flickered through the alpha’s thoughts. 

The girl. On the couch, stunk of weed, chattering in his ear. He snickered, reliving the image of Ryan awkwardly catching the girl as she tried to spin into his arms. “Don’t remember,” he admitted as he yawned. “She was probably too high to tell me.” 

All Daithi replied with was a short, “Hmph,” as he continued to spin around on the chair. 

Tyler flopped onto his side instead, watching his friend spin, kicking the carpet to push him around. “What, you think she was cute or somethin’? What’s got your panties in a twist?” he asked and Daithi only glanced at him for a moment before he was turning his attention to the ceiling. 

“No,” the Irishman declared. “She looked annoying.” 

“Oh?” Tyler muttered, frowning at both the Irishman and himself. What else could have pissed the Irishman off? In his drunken state, it really was too difficult for him to consider it and he gave away a huff of defeat. “Why’re you pissed then?” he asked straight up and frowned further when Daithi didn’t meet his eyes at all. 

“I told ye, I ain’t pissed,” the Irishman snapped, but the anger could be heard in his defensiveness and without the stench of weed around them, Tyler could scent the irritation. “I couldn’ care less about who ye take a fancy to,” he continued, stopping the chair and glaring at the wall. 

For a long few minutes, the two remained in their silence as Tyler turned those words over in his brain a few times. “I couldn’ care less about who ye take a fancy to.” Why did Daithi sound like he was lying through his teeth? But why would Daithi actually care about who Tyler took interest in if he wasn’t telling the truth?

It felt too silly to think about for the drunk alpha and a laugh bubbled out of his throat. “You jealous or some shit?” he laughed, cracking a grin as he met Daithi’s eyes. “You wanna come sit on my lap?” The words were teasing as he giggled but no smile pulled at the beta’s mouth. He gave the alpha a pointed glare before turning to face the blank computer screen on the desk behind him. 

Tyler’s grin fell. 

“I was kidding,” he said. “What, do you actually like me or some shit?” 

Perhaps being blunt wasn’t exactly the right route to take while handling this as Daithi’s shoulders tensed. “Fock off, I don’t,” he spat and Tyler couldn’t ignore the uptick of his heartbeat if he tried. 

He gaped at the back of the beta’s head, eyes wide and mouth agape. Daithi was actually jealous of that girl? He wanted to be the one cuddled up to Tyler, flirting and taunting? Did he want to kiss Tyler? Did Tyler want to kiss Daithi?

He couldn’t help flicking his tongue out to lick his lips at the thought, his stomach flipping in a weird way. The immediate “no way” didn’t come to mind like he thought it would and the drunk haze that occupied his mind made it seem far less of an internal crisis as it should have been. He simply pushed himself to sit upright and exhaled. 

“Daithi, c’mere,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. 

Slowly, the beta turned and glanced over his shoulder. He wore a suspicious look in his eye and didn’t turn the chair as he glared. “Why?” he demanded and Tyler snorted.

He lifted a hand and beckoned at the Irishman. “Come on, fuckhead. C’mere,” he repeated and smiled at the sigh that the beta released. He swivelled himself around and slowly wheeled himself to the bedside. 

“Whot?” he asked, brows still furrowed. 

Closer, it was easier to see the pink that flushed Daithi’s face, the guarded look in his eye. His eyes were less blurry and the nerves on Daithi’s face only made the beta look cuter (in a weird, unusual way). 

Without thinking into it, he let the weird urge that flipped his stomach and buzzed his nerves take over. He reached up, not too fast as to scare Daithi off, but quick enough that he was able to catch a hold of the beta’s shirt before he could back off. 

Letting the contact linger between them for a moment, just to make sure the beta wasn’t going to freak out on him, he then pulled Daithi forward, sitting up in preparation. 

“Nogla,” he scolded when the beta leant back slightly. “Get your ass-” 

With a grunt, the beta pushed off the chair and clambered onto the mattress, situating himself above the alpha’s lap. Close. A hand on Tyler’s shoulder. His own hand on Daithi’s thigh. He felt the world spin around them and all he needed was to catch the flash of uncertainty in those pretty blue eyes before he made a decision. 

He yanked at his shirt, yanking him close, and flinched when Daithi’s lips crushed against his. The dull pain of contact didn’t linger though as Tyler caught the Irishman’s jaw and fit their mouths together properly. 

And honestly, it was weird. Daithi’s lips were chapped, he was big and clumsy on Tyler’s lap and he seemed uncertain with every touch. But Tyler could feel the fire beneath the beta’s skin and the craving to break it free was overpowering. He pulled back, watching Daithi blink dazedly. 

“Daithi, kiss me,” he commanded. “Properly.” 

Then he pulled Daithi down to sit on him and sealed their mouths together once again. Two seconds. Slight adjustments. Daithi’s hands tightened on his shoulders and his mouth melted against Tyler’s in a way that had heat and excitement erupting in his lower belly. Their mouths moved together with a lack of experience, but from fleeting kisses Tyler had shared in the past with girls he’d met in clubs or out on dates, he knew well enough to lead Daithi on. 

With warm cheeks, he licked lightly at the beta’s top lip and couldn’t stop himself from moaning when Daithi arched his hips forward in response. Fuck, was all the alpha could think as the seam of Daithi’s lips parted and before Tyler could comprehend any of it, Daithi was sucking lightly on his tongue and sighing into his mouth. 

He arched his own hips up, only a subtle motion to grind his arousal up against Daithi’s, but the action only reminded him how many boundaries lay between them. His hands slid around to the underside of Daithi’s thighs, slipping up to his butt which he squeezed out of curiosity. 

The breathless moan Daithi pressed into his mouth was far too erotic and something primal took control of Tyler as he locked up. Holding Daithi against him, he rolled to the side and pressed the beta down into the mattress. Hips caught between Daithi’s legs, mouth still locked on the beta’s, he growled and nipped at the beta’s bottom lip. 

“Fuck,” Daithi breathed as they drew back for air, but Tyler didn’t wait for a critique, diving back in and licking into Daithi’s mouth. He braced himself on one arm, his other holding the beta’s thigh upright to give him more space between Daithi’s legs. Everything felt right when he rocked his hips down, grinding his arousal into the Irishman’s heat and gripping his thigh hard enough to bruise. 

When the beta could no longer breathe, he tipped his head back and Tyler didn’t chase his mouth despite how much he craved to. He let Daithi breathe and instead lost all of his focus to the expanse of pale skin revealed before him. Another grind of the hips, a breathless whine from Daithi; he dropped his head to the slope of the beta’s neck and locked his lips onto the skin. 

“Oh hell,” Daithi murmured, hand sliding up the back of Tyler’s neck to grasp his hair as the alpha began sucking hard, deliberate marks into the beta’s throat. His hips didn’t stop their grinding as he rocked his arousal against Daithi, dragging as many different sounds from the beta as he could. The pleasure surrounded them in a hazy, stinking up the room so much better than the weed downstairs. 

Tyler forgot all about the party. He forgot all about the girl. 

All he had space for in his mind was Daithi’s body beneath him and the heat that seemed to devour them. “Tyler, ye’re gonna leave a mark,” Daithi groaned as Tyler bit as skin he’d been teasing with his tongue. The alpha only grinned, sucking it between his teeth and lavishing it with his tongue. “Fock-” The beta’s gasping curses were the best encouragement Tyler could receive as he worked his way down Daithi’s throat. 

It wasn’t long before the need and the heat was getting to his head and he was bucking his hips down to meet Daithi’s grinds, putting torturously not-enough pressure on either of their arousals. 

The second thin fingers started grabbing at Tyler’s shirt, he pulled up off the beta and yanked his shirt up over his head. By the time he’d wrestled his belt off and shoved his jeans and boxers down his thighs, Daithi was on his back, jeans on the floor and shirt thrown behind him. His cock was swollen, bent up to rest against his stomach where it leaked precum. 

Tyler felt his mouth watering as the fresh scent of arousal and Daithi filled his nose. “Fuck, you smell amazing,” he couldn’t help but growl, taking Daithi in his hand and sliding his fingers over his length. 

He watched as Daithi’s eyelashes fluttered, eyes rolling back as he fell to the mattress. He didn’t seem strong enough to hold himself up as his thighs shook where they bent either side of Tyler’s hips. Pressing in to occupy that space again, Tyler was glad for his large hands as he slid his own cock alongside Nogla’s and took both of them in his hand. 

Immediately, Daithi was gasping, teeth burying in his bottom lip as he bucked up into the contact. “Yes, yeah, that’s good-” He choked on the words as Tyler flicked his wrist. The burn was a little much without lubrication and he hummed in thought for a moment. Without a care for modesty, he spat into his palm before smearing the little beads of precum leaking from their arousals down their cocks. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it’d do, he decided as he dipped down and caught Daithi’s bottom lip between his teeth. Settling over him, he flicked his wrist again and felt the beta’s pleasured sigh wash over his mouth. 

“Fuck,” he murmured, before slipping his tongue into Tyler’s mouth as the alpha jerked them both off. It was impossible to keep his hips still as the cold touch of his hand drove pleasure through the both of them. Daithi’s hips stuttered with every pump and Tyler could hardly stop the moans and growls that threatened his throat. 

He kissed Daithi deeply, rolling his hips and moving his hand hard and fast. His own climax was tense in his guts and he could feel the taut muscles of Daithi’s thighs growing tighter around his waist as the beta sought out his end also. 

“Fuck, Tyler- Don’t- Don’t stop,” the beta whimpered, mouth and body pliant as Tyler kissed him and ground against him. 

His only response was a somewhat animalistic growl as he thrust his hips forward and slid his thumb and finger along the very sensitive skin beneath the tip of their cocks. Daithi spilled first, bucked up and moaning into Tyler’s mouth as the alpha chased his own release and came onto the beta’s stomach. 

Every tense muscle in his body released and he made an effort to at least flop to the mattress beside Daithi instead of outright squashing him down into the mattress. But almost instantly, the beta was curling into him and pressing his red face into the alpha’s neck. 

Tyler couldn’t help his flustered blush as they both lay together panting. 

“Holy fock,” was all Daithi managed to say and when he managed to draw himself back and meet Tyler’s eyes, there was no mistaking the little glimmer of happiness and pleasure that hid there. Tyler only scoffed, reaching up for the beta’s bruised neck and pulling him forward into a kiss. 

It was softer; modest and sweet as they enjoyed the laziness of the moment and the bass of the music from the floor below. By the time they pulled away, Tyler was feeling light-headed and Daithi was grinning widely. 

“Wanna come home with me?” the alpha asked and Daithi’s grin was enough of an answer that he could ask for. 

And if in the cab home, Tyler had to kiss Daithi to keep him quiet while he worked his hand into the beta’s pants, then no one but he and Daithi needed to know about it. 

[marsupials-of-mars]

Visiting (pt 2)

Part 1 Part 3

@love-has-failed-me @impatentpending @friendlyfatherfigment @procrastinations-my-middle-name @despacitosanders @heyitsmeimjustkindahere @simplyskipper @ai-incarnate @aromanticandaromatic @vicdehart @readytobakebread

Roman sat on the edge of the mind palace stage, letting his legs hang down and looking out at the sea of empty seats. He often went there to think, but exactly what he was trying to think about he wasn’t entirely sure of. He sighed. He needed a friend to talk to.

He pulled out his phone. A string of stern and panicked texts greeted him from his lockscreen. He quickly turned it off and stuffed it back in his pocket. It was clear that Virgil was not going to be too open to earnestly discussing Roman’s feelings when it came to who they were about.

Roman thought a moment before conjuring a less angry Virgil next to him. He turned to his creation.

“Hey sunshine.”

“Hey sir sickening.” Virgil layed back on the stage, swinging his bare heels against the side. “What’s the sitch?”

“I’m confused.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“Its Deceit… I know he hasn’t been the greatest in the past, but what if hes not so bad? He seems so… encouraging. And I know he lies but hes obviously honest when he regards me so highly, isn’t he? And he mentions it a lot so…”

Virgil pushed himself upright. “Are you kidding? His title is DECEIT! He doesn’t give a shit about-”

Roman quickly froze the image. He stared at the now stone still Virgil. Maybe a little too realistic for what he wanted in the moment. He wiped that Virgil from existence and conjured another, much more positive Virgil.

“Hey handsome!” Virgil smiled sincerely.

“The most accurate name yet! Yknow, I like you!” Roman beamed in pride at his new and improved friend. Ideal.

“What’s bugging you?” He pushed his bangs out of his eyes and pulled off his hoodie. Much more approachable.

“Its Deceit…”

“Ooo a crush!” Virgil chuckled and crossed his legs.

“Yeah, I dont know what to say around him, I’m usually so articulate and confident!”

“Yeah, that’s weird. And you’re usually extremely brave and handsome too…”

Roman gasped and clutched his chest. “Aw, thank you!” He considered how much better the real Virgil would be if he’d been responsible for making him in the first place.

“…What if you tried practicing?”

“Practicing?”

“You’ve got this whole stage, you can conjure whatever, why not a practice Deceit?”

“Virgil I love that idea!”

“It was your idea! I’m imaginary!”

“Very true, I’m so smart!”

“You are!” Virgils voice was made slightly more robotic as he fell out of character. It was hard to conjure such opposite lines from a voice that Roman had never heard talk in such a way before. Roman swung his legs back onto the stage and stood, striding to the center and conjuring a Deceit. He took a deep breath.

“Deceit!”

“Roman.” He smirked. “You called?”

Roman’s breath caught in his throat. “I did! I… wanted to share with you…”

“You’re doing great!” Virgil flashed Roman a thumbs up.

“I, Prince Roman, wanted to share with you… my feelings! Those feelings specifically being in regards to…” He gripped his sash. Deceit smirked, raising a brow.

“Regards to…?”

Too real. This practice was far too real. He shut his eyes and quickly conjured a dragon. It swooped down, a rush of strong wind under its heavy leather wings, violently whipping their hair against their faces. Deceit yelped as he was snagged in a large, sturdy talon and taken upwards, circling the theater.

“FEIND! Release my prince or taste my sword!”

A low, rumbling voice echoed through the theater; “Never! You dare to disturb my meal! I will end your life!”

“You dare to disturb my prince, I’ll end yours!” He grabbed the hilt of his sword and drew it valiantly. “Have at thee!”

The dragon swooped, billowing fire, setting the curtains up in flame. Roman jumped, grabbing the base of its tail and gripping his blade between his teeth as he gripped scales and spines, climbing up the jagged back of the creature. It rolled its body in the air, thrashing as much as it could while maintaining its aerodynamics, vainly trying to shake off its valiant assailant. Roman continued to scale the beast, pressing his body flesh with its cold, scaly surface. He finally reached its shoulder and let out a battle cry as he dropped, grabbing its arm and vaulting himself against its chest, plunging his sword into it’s under-armored ribcage. The beast fell into an airborne death roll before careening into the ground, sending theater chairs flying, torn from their bolts. Roman ran across the belly of his vanquished foe to its feet, now loose enough to pry his prince from their clutches. Deceit looked up at Roman from his strong arms, dizzy and panting, but fully enamored.

“Roman… you saved my life! You truly are-”

“Incredible!” Roman blinked. The voice was Deceit, but not the one in his arms. He looked up and his eyes locked with another, much more real Deceit’s. He was seated in the back row, hidden in shadows, applauding boisterously. “What a show! Such a beautiful production!”

The dragon, Virgil, and fake Deceit all vanished simultaneously in a puff of golden dust. Within the same second the theater’s destruction was undone.

“Deceit!” Roman choked on his words. How much had he seen? “Thank…you.” he struggled to form a sentence so he saved his questions. Perhaps Deceit would answer some himself, as he had already risen to approach Roman.

Roman remained frozen in place, only growing redder as Deceit reached him, placed his hands on his shoulders, and grinned.

“I’m impressed. I hope you didn’t mind my stopping in, but what’s a show without an audience to appreciate the cast? And what a cast it was…”

Roman’s fears were confirmed. He’d recognized the prince in peril. He took a breath.

“Thanks! Thank you. Um…how did you know…?”

“Well I found Remus digging through my drawers with a jarring lack of a brother to accompany him. So I was understandably prompted to ask where you might have gone, out of concern. But clearly you had it all under control. That being said;” Deceit reached behind his back and presented roman with a velvet red rose. “I enjoyed the show.”

Roman took the offering, unable to save face. He beamed, face flushing a similar hue as the flower.

“Thank you! Really… I thought…”

“Hm?”

“I never would have thought you’d be this kind.”

“Well of course. Your knowledge of me is constrained to Virgils stories. And a few occasions in which I was forced to be a bit more brash to get a point across. Which I apologize for. Truly.”

Roman studied Deceit’s face but couldn’t detect any tells, though he wasn’t usually the best judge of what was or was not a tell. In any case, whether it was a lie or not, it left him perplexed.

“No need. Though last time we talked you seemed really adamant on making me feel awful about myself.” Roman realized after the words left his mouth how pathetic they sounded.

“Oh, no no no, was that how you took it? I was merely trying to be honest with my views of you, what you wanted, I was trying to help you. I’m not quite used to being brutally honest so I might have overdone the brutal part…”

“It’s…” Roman tried to decipher it all. Was it all a lie? Was everything a lie? He couldn’t tell, so he settled on what was best for his pride, that being that of course not, the object of his affections would never do such a thing. “It’s okay. I must have misunderstood the tone.” He smiled weakly.

“Look, we want the same thing. We know what Thomas needs. I admire you for that. If I didnt have you I’d go insane trying to get you all on board. You’re so much easier.”

Roman couldn’t tell whether or not he should take that as a compliment.

“Yeah…” he looked down at the flower in his hands. His heart fluttered as he noticed the thorns had been removed by hand. He cared. “Thank you.”

“Now, why dont we get you back up to the lights? We both know you dont really want to spend time with your brother, and I’m sure it’s been enough time to convince Patton that you did.”

Roman sputtered. “I- no, I said it was my choice to-”

Deceit chuckled. “Dont lie to me Roman. It’s best for the both of us. Down here, we’re judgement free. Remember that. And I hope you think to visit more often.”

Roman’s bravado finally found him.

“Maybe I will.” He pinned Deceit with his award winning lopsided smile, guaranteed to make any lady, lord, or nonbinary royalty swoon at the sight of. Deceit met it with a toothy grin, something Roman had never seen from him. Fangs. Long, clear fangs. Roman’s smile faltered a bit, not in fear but suprise. Deceit clearly delighted in his ability to throw anybody off their rhythm at a moments notice.

“You’re adorable your majesty.”

Roman choked and blushed. The sheer concentrations of flattery were like a punch to the gut.

“Thanks…” He squeaked it out. Deceit smirked and pressed his hands to Roman’s sides, gliding them down to his hips, pulling him closer.

“But honestly. I’m holding you to that. I get lonely down here… if you ever wanted to come keep me company…” He pushed up on his toes and leaned in, his fangs almost grazing Roman’s ear. “It would be our little secret~”

And that was when Roman checked out for good, his face burning and his vocabulary reduced to a series of unrelated syllables.

“Now run along, I’m sure you want to get home.” Deceit continued on as if he’d done nothing out of the ordinary.

Roman nodded, electing to keep his mouth shut for the fear of sounding like a nervous sims character. He bowed his head in farewell before quickly sinking out.

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Would You Be Mad? (SMUT)

anonymous said: Since requests are open can I request a smutty yet fluffy Bri please ? 💞

(a/n: srry for any typos im posting this RLLY quick before i go into work so pls dont roast me ok enjoy ur sinful sunday u nasties. also as always gif creds to @imladrs)

There were a lot of things in life you’d expected to hear from Brian May. Let me tune my guitar again, did you hear about this obscure blah blah scientific find, Roger’s an arse, why is Freddie being a tart, is there a meat-free option – you had heard them all. You expected them, and in turn, you received.

“If I kissed you, would you be mad at me?” was not one of those things. But now you had heard it, live and in the flesh, and you had no idea how to react.

You had chose to spend the night in, declining a night on the town with the boys, and Brian ended up missing you about an hour into drinking, so his tipsy giant self managed to show up on your doorstep, looking undeniably fit in a simple green polyester button up and black trousers. The buttons of the shirt were undone to the middle of his chest and was askew from his hour at the club, revealing hints of a gently tanned, slim torso, and his mid-waist trousers only accentuated his already long legs. He’d drank just enough to give his eyelids a bit of weight, and the way he looked at you with heavy hazel eyes and a toothy grin made your cheeks heat up.

God, keep it in your pants, you’d thought as you let him in. And maybe he’d been thinking the same. After all, you weren’t expecting company, so your lace and silk teddy/shorts combo was practically leaving little to be desired for. But neither of you had followed that rule tonight, and now you were here, Brian fucking May asking if you would be angry if he kissed you. As if.

It started out innocent enough. You’d invited him in, gotten him a glass of water and some snacks. He was grateful, and sat cross-legged on the end of your pull-out couch’s bed, snacking away. You returned to your laying position you’d been in before he’d arrived, on your side facing him, when he’d suddenly brought up your ex in the middle of polite conversation.

“How is Colin?” he asked, visibly sneering as he said his name and making you laugh as you toyed with the pages of your book, not really reading at this point. Brian was now laid down at a weird angle, his head resting against your stomach as he laid across the diagonal length of the bed so that his feet weren’t dangling off. Sitting your book to the side, you began to play with a piece of his hair and pursed your lips, trying to think of the last time you’d heard from Colin.

You knew Brian had always disliked him thoroughly, and this had led to Colin accusing Brian of trying to steal you from him, which had blown up into this whole big thing that ended in Colin leaving and Brian trying to avoid seeing you so he wouldn’t upset you. But it didn’t last. Brian was back within a few weeks, showing up at random times to spend the day with you. After all, you’d both clearly preferred each other’s company the most for a long time, and had been close friends for even longer. Even Roger was jealous of how much time Brian spent with you, but he never made a big deal about it with Brian. Instead, he made it a running joke, but that was okay with you, and you assumed it was okay with Brian (It was - he loved it).

“Haven’t got a clue, honestly,” you admitted, twirling a single curl around your finger before slowly stretching it out. “Haven’t seen him since he showed up on my doorstep drunk last month,” you teased playfully, giving his hair a gentle tug and smiling softly. “But I turned him away.”

Brian, unbeknownst to you, gasped softly and shifted his hips, turning a brilliant shade of red as you tugged on his hair. He was already drunk and horny, so everything about you in your silk teddy and shorts, right there for the taking, was turning him on. Now it was getting to the point where he needed to act on it before he had a mess to clean up in his trousers. They were restricting enough that he felt like he was going to burst out of his pants if he wasn’t careful, so he flipped over on his stomach, holding back a sharp inhale as his clothed cock rubbed up against the bed while he was getting comfortable.

After a shaky recovery breath, he spoke. “The difference between me and Colin showing up on your doorstep is that I’m a young, dashing, intelligent man here to have a good night in with you, and he’s just… well, Colin.” That got you giggling, and Brian grinned lopsidedly as he rested his head on both of his hands, crossing them and laying down on your thighs. His warm, twinkling eyes scanned your face as you laughed, soaking all of it in. “Besides, fuck him!”

“Why so?” you asked, a cheeky edge to your voice as you sat up a bit. You’d be lying if you said the sight of Brian down there wasn’t doing something for you, so upped the ante a bit against your common sense. “And I mean, I have, so there’s that.”

“Oh, you know what I meant,” Brian groaned, still grinning as he propped his arm up on your leg carefully, resting his head in his hand. “I bet he’s a lousy fuck either way. Probably doesn’t even know how to last longer than 30 seconds.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” you mused, mainly to yourself, and then you reached out again to toy with his hair. “I don’t even know if he was attracted to me very much. It seemed like I didn’t really do it for him unless I was a quick fuck. Must not have been his type or something.”

“You, not doing it for him?” Brian asked, his voice unashamedly incredulous. “The man must be blind, then. You’re way too pretty to just be a ‘quick fuck.’” Your cheeks flushed a bit as he continued to watch you, eyelids still heavy from the liquor in his system but his eyes alive and teeming with energy. “You’re beautiful, Colin’s a prick for not appreciating you as much as you deserve.”

“Brian, you’re just drunk and saying that to be nice. Stop being such a sweetheart,” you laughed softly.

He rolled his eyes and gave you an ‘are you kidding’ look before shaking his head. “I’m serious, Y/N, you’re gorgeous. You’re mental if you don’t think I’m telling the truth. Why won’t you believe me?”

“Ouch,” you laughed, rubbing the side of your face and smiling as Brian cocked his head to the side a bit, curious. “I’m mental? That pisses me right off, I’ll have to kick you out of here for that one.”

“Oh, no!” Brian pretended to be panicked, but it only lasted a moment before he started grinning dopily again. “I don’t want to make my lovely host angry, I take it back.” A wide grin spread across your face as you gently shoved his shoulder, and his unbalanced equilibrium made him fall backwards with a groan. And when he rolled over, you were immediately distracted by the bulge in the crotch area of his pants, your cheeks flushing even more than before.

Suddenly, the air was tense as Brian noticed where you were looking, but he didn’t seem ashamed when he met your gaze again. Instead, he sat up, hovering over you as he kept eye contact, his gears shifted completely. No longer was playful Brian up to bat. This was different, a Brian you’d never seen before. He was imposing, attentive, and sensuous as his hand came to rest on your side. There was still a sweet look in his eyes, but something else lingered there, something darker.

You tried to say something, anything, but no words would come to mind as you stared back at him for what seemed like way too long. His tongue darted out and quickly wetted his lips as he glanced at yours, and then you spoke, finally remembering that the two of you were actually in the middle of a conversation. “You take it back? What part?”

He ignored that, the corner of his lip tugging upward as he leaned in a bit closer, then stopped himself. “If I kissed you, would you be mad at me?” His voice was somewhat clear, drunkenly unafraid, and he watched your eyes for any hint of a reaction as you remained quiet, biting your lip.

Finally, you responded. “Can’t be kicking you out if you kiss me, can I?” Brian’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he chuckled, and his hand slid around you to rest on your lower back as he pressed his forehead against yours, your noses brushing up against one another’s before you closed the distance and pressed your lips to his.

He tasted like whiskey and beer, an intoxicating mix of the two still lingering on his lips as he kissed back, a languorous pace to it while he savored the feeling of your lips on his. You reached up to cup his jaw with one hand, and he almost leaned into your touch as he tilted his head slowly, deepening the kiss and pressing your body up against his. The taut front fabric of his trousers pressed up against your thigh, so you raised your thigh up a bit to rub it against his bulge.

A breathy moan escaped his lips, Brian pulling away for a moment to regain his thoughts before he kissed you again, rolling over on his back and pulling you on top of him. He wasn’t urgent about it, taking it slow and easy as he sat up a bit to make it easier for the both of you. His hand rubbing up and down your side, he spoke against your lips quietly, just for the two of you to hear, even if there was not a single soul around. “Hey, I meant it when I said you’re beautiful.”

You smiled against his lips, kissing his lower lip before gently taking ahold of it with your teeth and tugging a bit. He made a pleased noise in the back of his throat and moved his hand to rest under your teddy, his rough skin brushing up against the soft curve of your waist. “Tell me how beautiful I am,” you murmured, ducking your head under his chin and pressing an affectionate kiss there, then trailing your lips down his neck and pressing lazy kisses to it as you made your way down to just above where his shirt started coming together.

“God, Y/N,” he almost whispered, his eyes watching your every move as you looked up at him through your lashes, unbuttoning his shirt slowly, button by button. “You’re like a fucking dream to look at, love.”

That brought a sly smile to your lips, and you unbuttoned the last button on his shirt, pushing it open to expose his whole torso. You straddled his hips as you did so, running your hands up his lightly toned, slim chest. His ribs just poked out of his skin, and you pressed a kiss to his collarbone before moving back up to kiss him on the lips again. This time he was more eager, trapping you there with a firm hand resting on the nape of your neck. But you didn’t mind, and you moved your lips in sync with him as he rested his free hand on your hip. He finally pulled away to take a breath, and you took the opportunity to pull your teddy up and over your head, tossing it to the side.

Brian’s pupils dilated even more as he looked over your body, marveling quietly at you. You pushed off his shirt as he ogled, tossing it to the side as well and reaching down to toy with the button on his pants afterwards. His teeth found his lip, and he chewed on it as he tore his eyes away from your body to look back up at you, a smile gracing his lips when you raised an eyebrow at him. “Sorry, distracted,” he mumbled, pulling you back in for a quick kiss before starting to push down your sleep shorts. “You’re too stunning, you have an unfair advantage right now.”

You giggled at that, moving off of him carefully to push off your sleep shorts. Now you were completely naked in front of Brian, your friend, and you didn’t feel at all nervous. It was like he was meant to see you like this, and there were no expectations. His praise was probably fueling most of that, but it was nice to be appreciated like this. “You’re not bad yourself, so I see no advantage,” you teased quietly, kneeling between his legs and undoing the buttons of his trousers as you kept eye contact with him.

Carefully kicking his pants off once you’d unbuttoned them and pulled them down, Brian watched in drunken amazement as you hovered over him for a moment before pressing a kiss to his abdomen. You reached up with one hand to palm him through his boxers, and received a throaty groan in response. His hand brushed back through your hair, and he admired you with a lustful, yet doting look in his eyes.

“Oh, Jesus,” he breathed out as you moved down to brush your lips over the thin layer of fabric that separated you from his cock. His eyelids fluttered closed as you did so, his head falling back against the back of the couch a bit. It took all of his energy to lift his head again and look at you, his lips parted slightly as he took shallow, quick breaths. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Y/N.”

This time, you only grinned mischievously in response to his slurring compliments, moving to the side to pull down his boxers. His cock sprung free from its restraints readily, but Brian didn’t even give you a chance to admire him before he was on top of you again, his lips attaching to your shoulder. Brian pinned you down with his own body, his cock brushing up against your thigh as he reached down to rub your clit hard and slow, eliciting a quiet purr of pleasure from you and making him shiver at the noise.

“So, so beautiful,” he mumbled against your shoulder, trailing love bites along the skin framing it and searching up your neck before stopping at your jaw. “You’re an angel,” he whispered this time, his lips agonizingly close to your ear and making goosebumps rise on your arms as you felt his hot breath against your earlobe.

You moaned lowly as his fingers pushed into you, your cheeks splotchy with redness as you felt an overload of lust and fondness at the same time. Brian was making you feel like a princess, but at the same time, his fingers were working so expertly at your core that you were quickly unraveling in his hands. “Bri,” you murmured, and he pulled back to gaze down at you as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, a cocky smile playing at his lips. You weren’t sure how to phrase it, but a curl of his fingers inside of you and the thought came tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop it. “Make love to me?”

Something in his demeanor changed as he slowed down, then pulled his fingers out of you and instead slid them up your sex, slick from how wet he’d made you in such a short time. “Make love to you?” he clarified, not even seeming remotely put off by the idea. You nodded, biting your lip as you studied his face, trying to gauge his reaction. “Of course,” he finally replied, his voice full of tenderness as he slowly rubbed his fingers around your clit in circles and ducked down to engage you in a quick but deep, passionate kiss.

All of your nerve endings felt like they were in flames at this point, every point on your body hypersensitive. You felt his hand leave your core, his hips shifting as he moved to sit back on his heels, grabbing his wallet out of his jeans and retrieving a condom. You watched as he put it on, focused on doing it right, and you found yourself blushing lightly as he met your gaze once he’d rolled it on.

“You sure you want this?” he asked, genuinely wanting to make sure you were being honest as he went to kneel between your legs. You nodded, and he smiled goofily, his drunken eyes holding even more of a smile than his own lips as he leaned up to kiss your forehead. His forehead then resting against yours, he took your hips with one hand and pulled you a bit closer, wrapping his other hand around his length and lining himself up carefully. You watched this happen, then looked up into his eyes, which were unnervingly close to your own. He noticed this and looked up at you, meeting your gaze with an unreadable emotion flitting across his face as he slowly pushed into you, maintaining eye contact.

The pressure of him filling you was almost alien, as it had been a moment since you’d even fooled around with anyone besides Colin, on top of the fact that this was Brian, your close friend, someone you’d never really expected to have on top of you. Your arms wrapped around his torso as you inhaled sharply, your fingers digging into his back when he bottomed out in you, a soft gasp escaping his lips. After a moment, he pulled out halfway and began to thrust slowly, with a purpose. Each roll of his hips was careful, calculated, and oh-so-satisfying as he focused on taking it slow, his nose nuzzled up against your cheek and short, shaky breaths hitting your jaw with each thrust.

“Brian, you feel so good,” you moaned in appreciation, his hips pressing against yours with each thrust. He groaned something incoherent, one hand gripping the top of the couch above your head and supporting his weight as he found your hand with his free one, lacing his fingers into yours and squeezing your hand. That little gesture made your heart soar, and you arched your back slightly to press up against him, your bodies melded together as he pushed himself into you, deep and slow.

“Oh, Y/N, you’re fucking amazing,” he groaned out, gradually speeding up his thrusts as he buried his face in your neck, murmuring praises over and over. One of your hands found his hair, and you tangled your fingers in it as you let your head fall back against the back of the couch, in complete bliss because of Brian’s gentle way with you. When his lips brushed up against your sweet spot, you involuntarily curled up your fingers in his hair and tugged slightly, making him choke out a low groan as his hips stuttered for a moment. He couldn’t be in this position if he wanted to last any longer, so he pulled out of you, to your chagrin, but he quickly laid on his side and turned you on your side as well. You were facing away from him, and you gasped softly in surprise as he lifted your leg up and slowly slid his cock into you again, his lips pressed firmly against your shoulder.

Colin had never taken you like this. In fact, no one had ever taken you like this before, and you were on cloud 9 as he thrusted into you carefully, his hips pressing against your ass with every thrust and making you smile in pure bliss. So it only added to your pleasure when he reached around you to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. This was overload, and you couldn’t mask your excitement as you moaned out his name, which made him grunt in appreciation and let out a few noises of pleasure himself. He cursed under his breath as you rested your hand on his forearm, gripping it tightly to ground yourself as he made waves of ecstasy roll through you.

Brian was just as undone as you were, the feeling of your hand gripping on to him for dear life only sending him closer to the edge as he thrusted into you deeper and faster, his thrusts becoming sloppy and signaling to you that he couldn’t last much longer. “God, you’re perfect,” he breathed out, resting his forehead against your shoulder as his lips remained parted in a silent moan, his trembling breaths hitting your back and making you shiver. When he knew he couldn’t hold out any more, he had to slip his free hand under your head and force your jaw to the side so that you were looking up at him, his head hovering over yours as he buried his cock as deep inside of you as he could go. He smashed his lips against yours, muffling the loud moans tumbling out of him as he came, hitting his climax and shaking a bit as his high ran its course.

You pulled away from the heated kiss as he quieted down a bit, an almost pitiful moan escaping his lips at the loss of contact, but you were too close to the edge to notice much as his fingers continued to rub your clit quickly. He was intent on making you climax now, his fingers working wildly at your core as he pulled out, and you looked up into his eyes, your lips parting as you moaned his name, your climax hitting you all at once and sending you reeling. He watched you unravel beneath him, his name on your lips repeatedly as you rode out your high while keeping eye contact with him, and it was enough of a sight to make him groan lowly, even though he was far from being horny anymore.

As soon as you’d came down from your high, your eyelids fluttered closed and you sighed softly, nuzzling into his hand. “Holy shit, Brian,” you murmured, exhausted from what had just taken place and overwhelmed by how good he’d just made you feel.

“You okay?” he asked, running his thumb along your lower lip, and when you nodded, he smiled softly and climbed over you, ambling his way into the kitchen. He cleaned himself off and disposed of the condom properly, then came back with a rag so you could clean yourself up as he pulled his boxers on again. He handed you his shirt after you’d cleaned yourself up a bit, and you sat up to pull it on, buttoning it almost all the way up. Brian climbed back onto the bed with you, halfway sitting up next to you and watching you quietly.

After you’d gotten yourself at least somewhat covered up with his shirt, you looked over to him and smiled before laying down by his side, curling up against him and wrapping your arm around his torso. He ran his fingers back through your hair, taking a deep breath before resting his hand on your head.

“Good night, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice full of admiration as he watched your eyelids flutter closed again, your breathing slowing down considerably. You reached over and took his hand that was on the opposite side of him, intertwining your fingers together and resting them back on the bed as you hummed softly.

“Good night, drunkard that showed up on my doorstep,” you replied sleepily, Brian laughing and shaking his head as he settled down next to you, pulling a blanket over the both of you before drifting off to a peaceful, deep sleep.

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[13-timeslove]

Thirteen Time Ch1: The Docks

“I can’t believe he made pushed up my deadline again!” You groaned loudly into your Akita plushie. “I told him that this part of the manuscript needed more time considering I had to do more research! And what does he do?! Pushed up another fucking week!”

Your roommate Alice sighed as you continued to roll in your bed. She placed her hot milk onto the side table before sitting by the edge and patting your head. You only groaned once more before rolling into her lap. “My editor is an ass”

“You could always get a new one”

“...but he’s a good editor” you sigh dramatically.

“Then don’t complain sweetie”. Alice began to stroke your (h/c) hair as you laid in her lap, a small habit that has formed between your friendship. “Besides, it’s only one week difference. How bad can it be?”

“It’s awful when you have writer’s block”

“Oof”

You turned your head around, looking up at the black haired girl. “Why couldn’t I be smart like you? I wish I had your brain” She started laughing.

“Bitch you don’t want my position! Medical school is such a pain in the ass. You’re the lucky one with your brilliant creative mind, and nagged a job right out of college”

“Shut uppp. You’re better than me”

“No I’m not. And make me” she said while slapping a pillow to your face.

You squealed and rolled off her lap in an attempt to escape her attacks, sitting on the floor giggling to yourself. Alice followed suit and sat next to you, giving you the chance to rest your head against her shoulder. “This is why you’re my best friend”

“This is why I’m your only friend”

“Ouch!”

“Kidding”, you both laughed together. This is what your life with her was like, sarcastic jokes and compliments that neither of you would truly accept.

Alice was there for your since the beginning of college, from the time you accidentally spilled ink on her white pants because of sleep deprivation, to your graduation last year, and even to your heartbreaks. She was always there.

“Hey, Alice”

“Yeah?”

“What time is it?”

“Bout 5:30, why?”

You got up from the ground, and grabbed your blue jacket from the floor. “I’m going to take a quick walk, maybe seeing the sunset will clear my writer’s block”. Alice leaned over your desk to toss a small box over to you.

“Don’t forget these”. You caught them, knowing very well that they were your candy cigarettes. “Still don’t understand why you like that stuff?”

“Because they are yummy” you replied happily. She only scoffed, shaking her head sighing. “Don’t wait up. I’ll be back in half an hour”

“Be safe”

“Will do!”

You started to head out of your apartment complex, walking down the street. You pulled your iPod out of your pocket and continued to walk down the street. “High hopes” was blasting through your headphones, and you honestly didn’t care about the people staring at you head banging in the middle of the side walk. Hell, you even made eye contact with them and mouthed the lyrics hoping they would sing along somehow (some did fortunately).

Eventually, you felt the cold breeze of the shore biting at your open skin. You zipped up your jacket close. Pulling out the candy box, you took out a candy cigarette and placed it between your lips.

You found a spot close to the edge of the wooden rail and leaned against it. Chewing the end of the candy cigarette, you found that all stress in your body left. The sun was close to falling behind the waves, giving the sky a red and purple ombré (you couldn’t help but take a photo for instagram). This is nice, you thought.

....

....

“No, no girl. Leave her be”

You felt a nudge at the end of your leg, seeing a small dog bitting at your jeans. If you were a cartoon character, your head would’ve exploded at how cute this dog was.

“Hi baby!” You said in an overly high pitched voice. You knelt down to its level, letting the cutie jump in your lap and lick your hand.

A low chuckle echoed your ear, making you realize that there was still the owner on the other end of the leash. Whoops.

“Seems like she likes you” ooohhh he’s British.

“Heh, I’m glad” you tried to look up at him, but with the sun in your face you really couldn’t get a good look. You held your hand in front of your face, making an awkward smile. “Sorry I petted your dog without asking first. She’s just really cute”

You got up. “No no, I don’t mind. I’m just surprised. Frankie isn't really open to people on the streets. You’re the first”

“I have been chosen” you joked around. The sun started to set behind the sea, but when you tried to look back at the man in front, your eyes took longer to adjust. All you saw of him was his baseball cap.

“Do you mind if I have one?” You cocked your brow.

“I’m sorry?”

“A cigarette. Do you mind if I have one?” He was pointing at the white stick at your mouth, and you pulled it away realizing what he was referring to.

“Oh, um yeah you can. But they’re not cigarettes. They’re candy cigarettes”

“Those things exist?”

“Yeah actually” you laughed out. “But they’re made of sugar rather than tobacco. So sorry”

“No it’s fine. Um” he paused and started to rub his neck. A little embarrassed that he didn’t realize the damn thing wasn’t even glowing. “C-Could I have one still?”

“Sure” you smiled back. You opened the box again, giving the stranger a white sugar stick (author: why does that sound like a weird lingo for a drug...). He placed part of it in his mouth, chewing at the end.

“Oh god, its so plain”

“It’s unique taste” you laughed at him.

The two of you ended up leaning against the rail. Watching the waves crash over each other through the slightly dim sky. You didn’t like pure silence, so decided to try and make a conversation.

“Based on the accent, I assume you’re not from here? Or at the very least, new around here?”

You heard a chuckle escape his mouth, and honestly it was pretty soothing. “Yeah. I’m not from around here”

“Visiting or work, if you dont mind me asking?”

“Sorta for work. I um...I just finished a big project with my friends. We’re celebrating here, and have a um, contest coming up”

“Oh cool! What research did you guys do? Wait! Are you the guys who participated in the research regarding experimental drug for those who suffer from extreme GAD?”

Even though it was dark, you didn’t have to see his confused face as you threw all these questions at him. Well, that and the awkward laugh gave it away. “I’m sorry, but, wh-what?”

You brushed your hair behind your ear, embarrassed. “Sorry. I just realized that project can refer to multiple things, and my brain immediately went to medical research for some reason”

“Are you medical student by any chance?”

“Oh god no, that field is too advanced for me. I just like reading about medical discoveries”. He smiled at your response, a little astounded at how excited you got over it. “Sorry about that”

“It’s fine” he laughed, almost spitting out the candy cigarette. “Our project was actually a film we’ve been working on. It’s been a long process”

He looked off at the distance. His hat was shadowing his face, but if you focused, there were distinct bags under his eyes.

“It must have been exhausting”.

“Yeah it was” He smiled lightly. “There were a few bumps in the road, but...we all managed”

He pulled the candy cigarette from his mouth, looking at the chewed end. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t have a real cigarette that made him look depressed, but you knew that it was something else. Being the cheesy person you were, you pulled a penny from your pocket and placed it on the rail near him. “What’s this?” He asked.

“Penny for your thoughts? It, seems like those bumps were a bit more exhausting that the whole project”

“Am I that obvious?” He sighed when he grabbed the shiny cent.

“No. I’m just that good at reading people”. You leaned on the rail, twirling the candy between your teeth. “When people experienced hardships, they either need to talk about it, or push it away. What kind are you?”

“...with people I know...I push it away”. You leaned forward to look at him, the back of his head facing you.

“Well...luckily you don’t know me”

And for the first time throughout this whole conversation, this guy that you’ve been talking to for the past fifteen minutes, finally faced you. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, and you could see him.

He was handsome, no doubt about that. Young, but at the same time, has worn out features such as his eyes. He gave you a full on smile, averting his eyes to the side.

“What’s your name?”

“...(y/n). Whats yours?” You smirked.

“I am Nobody”

you laughed at him again. “Odysseus fan, who would’ve guessed”

“You wouldn’t” he smirked as well. You paused at the conversation, thinking about what he said earlier.

“You asked me my name so you would get to know me. And therefore, not tell me your hardships, didn’t you?”

“...god damn you really are good at reading people aren’t you?”

“Good is an understatement”

You felt your phone ring, and when you looked down, you saw that it was a text form Alice.

Girl get your butt home. I am about to call the cops to get you home safe.

“Boyfriend?” He asked you.

“No. Best friend. My cue to leave”. You squat down to pet Frankie before you left. “By girlie”. You got back up. “Nice talking to Nobody new”

“It’s a good name”

“Just don’t take it seriously”

“What do you mean?”

You started to walk off the boardwalk a little, but looked back at him one more time. “Nobody means someone who isnt worth something. But if you look at it as another way, Nobody always refers to somebody”

“...you’re an interesting character aren’t you (y/n)?” You smiled at him, before giving Nobody a quiet nod and walked off the boardwalk. Passing by more people as you left.

Nobody, that’s absolute BS.

“Hey, there you are! Gwil and I have been looking for you everywhere”

Their friend only looked down the boardwalk, and they waved his hand over his eyes. “Ben?”

“...Rami. I”

“You good dude?”

“I...I just met someone”

“And?” Gwil started. Ben pulled the candy cigarette out his mouth, staring at it.

“Guys, where can I get more candy cigarettes?”

[odderancyart]

so i literally had a dream that you wrote IBVS errorlust - i dont know how since lust isnt in IBVS, but im throwing that here as a suggestion anyways lmao if you ever wanna write it

So you’re dreaming of me, Galli? Kidding, obviously, but yes. I immediately fell in love with this have 2812 words of my BS. It’s midnight now when did that happen.

IBVS @onebizarrekai

The new school was interesting, to say the least. Hanging upside down in one of the climbing ropes, Lucian watched the other students in the gym. Ink – or Isaac, he supposed, but no one seemed to call him that – sat in the corner with his friend Chris, glaring at the ‘school king’, who was hanging out with his buddies by the weights. He sniggered at his own pun, reaching up to grab the rope and pull himself upright again. The world spun for a moment as he did.Too much blood in his head. And wasn’t that a weird concept too? What even was a school king, anyway?

A couple eyes were on him, which was expected. With his dark red hair, freckles, and green eyes, he knew he was attractive. And of course, being in the position he was, it was bound he’d get attention. He grinned down at those staring at him, tiny so far below, and let himself fall upside down again. He was just under the high ceiling. If he’d climb just a bit higher, he could easily touch it. When he glanced up, he saw that his turquoise tank top had slid down, revealing his tanned stomach. Well that explained why some of them looked so doe-eyed. Lucian chuckled, winking at one of the girls down there. His grin only grew as she blushed.

He’d heard that he’d already been given one of those nicknames ‘Error’ was so fond of giving out. Lust. He couldn’t say it wasn’t fitting, he’d always been a flirt. He’d had at least a dozen datemates of various stages of seriousness in his old school before they moved here. Not on the same time, of course, except that one time it had been polyamory and perfectly consensual. Being a flirt didn’t excuse being a jerk after all.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Error get up, and he raised an eyebrow as he waved for his… friends? Minions? To not follow him. He made his way over toward the doors, and that meant his way would go past Lucian. He regarded the other appreciatively. Error was good-looking, he had to give him that. With that dark hair and those brown eyes… well. One couldn’t blame a guy for trying, right?

Just as he came past, he heaved himself up and basically let go off the rope. Quick as a viper, he slid down. It burned through his sweatpants, but it was a familiar sensation. Just before he hit the floor, he grasped the rope again, stopping himself.

Only a meter away at the moment, Error twitched, swearing in surprise. He glared at Lucian, who just smiled. “What the fuck, dude?”

“Hello, Edward,” he said, extending his hand as he jumped down on the floor. He smiled his most charming smile. “Or Error, if you prefer that. I don’t believe we’ve met. You’re looking Sharp.” When Error just stared at him in bewilderment, he grinned. “That’s me. Lucian Sharp. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh. Yeah, you’re the one who’ve already tried to get half the school in bed, aren’t you?”

He blinked, smile turning loop-sided. “Well. Get them in bed is a bit of a stretch. I’m just being friendly! New city and all, I do need to make some friends.”

Error looked unimpressed, shoving him aside. “Well I’msure as hell not going to be one of them. Keep out of my way, Lust.”

Stumbling to the side, Lucian raised an eyebrow. He hummed as the other left and regarded him from behind. The corners of his mouth tugged upwards.

He always did like a challenge.

…

“Thank you darling.” Lust smiled brightly at the ice cream seller as he handed him a strawberry cone. “I love your hair!”

“Thank you,” the ice cream man replied, smiling as he pulled his fingers through his blue-dyed hair. “Oh, and that’s two dollars and fifty cents.”

Nodding, he reached into the pocket of his tight jeans, fishing out three coins and handing them to the seller. Then he turned around to his newest friend, Bianca, who was already licking at her ice cream. She reached out to brush off some dirt from his black tank top. It had a purple heart in the middle – his favourite motif. Over it, he wore a short jeans jacket, since it was a bit chilly today.

As she pulled her hand back, she subtly pointed behind him. “Hey Lucy, Look who’s in the park today.”

“Oh?” He turned around and she stepped up to join him. A delighted smile lit up his face. Oh my gosh. That was Error, by the fountain, with a kid. The kid was the palest person Lucian had ever seen, and he was pointing eagerly at something Lucian couldn’t see. But what he could see was that Error was listening attentively, nodding as the kid chattered on. “That’s so cute,” he squealed, clapping his hands together. He loved kids, and stars, seeing Error so gentle with one just made him even more attractive. He seized Bianca’s hand, pulling her toward the fountain. She laughed and obediently followed.

“Error! Hi!” he called, and Error twisted around. They pushed themselves through a crowd and he ignored the stranger who yelled “Nice ass!” at either him or Bianca in favour of waving.

Error’s eyes widened as he saw them. He threw himself on his feet, scowling. “What do you want, Lust?”

“Ed, who’s that?” the kid asked, eyes flickering between them. Curiosity shone in them as he looked at Lucian, and Lucian smiled wider, waving at him as well.

“Hello kiddo. We’re Edward’s classmates. And we just wanted to say hi!”

“Well now you’ve done that, go the fuck away,” Error growled.

Lucian pouted, crossing his arms. “Now that’s not very nice, sweetheart.”

“And I should care why?” Error grabbed the kid’s hand, turning his back to them. “C’mon Geno, we’ll go somewhere without annoyances.”

Soon he was gone. Bianca patted his shoulder. “Sorry, pal. Even if I’m not sure why you decided you like Edward Quinton of all people.”

He chuckled, grinning at her. “Oh I’m not giving up that easily. I am befriending him if it’s the last thing I do.”

“I admire your stubbornness.”                            

“You should,love.”

…

It was one of the cronies that finally made him snap.

Catcalls, he could take. It was what you got when you dressed like he did and flirted with anyone who seemed nice. Even certain kinds of touches he hadn’t asked for. Lucian was in no way uncomfortable with physical contact, in fact he craved it. But when he was just trying to get to class in time, as he was running late, and one of those huge jocks grabbed him and pressed him up against one of the lockers with one of those disgusting smiles on his face, he wasn’t going to stand for it. The metal lockers were cold against his back as he gritted his teeth, glaring at the enormous teen holding his arms in place. He could taste the other’s breath, and it was making him nauseous.

“Let. Me. Go,” he growled, clenching his fists until his nails dug into his palms. He stared straight into the jock’s blue eyes.

“Nah,” the jock said flippantly, grinning wider. “I don’t think I will, sweetheart.”

In that very moment, the bell rang for the second time. Class had begun. Oh fuck this. “Last warning. Let go off me. I’m late for class, you asshole.” He got a similar response.

“Fuck you,” he spat. Just as the jock opened his mouth to make some ‘clever’ comeback, he threw up with his knee, right into his crotch as hard as he could. The jock groaned and let go off him, bending over. Without a word, Lucian stepped around him, grabbing his arm and twisted it behind his back. The jock whimpered as he held it in an iron grip, threatening to dislocate the other’s shoulder. Smiling sweetly, he leaned over thejock’s shoulder. “Don’t you dare try something like that again, darling,” he whispered. “To anyone. I didn’t go to self-defence classes for seven years to be harassed in the school hallway. Understood?”

When they nodded, wide-eyed, he let go off them. He jerked his backpack off the ground, throwing it over one of his shoulders. “Now if you excuse me, I must go explain to Ms. Williams exactly why I’m late.”

Without gracing the jock with a gaze, he turned around and began his trek to the classroom. Just as he reached a corner, Error came around, stopping dead as he saw the jock still on the ground, nursing his aching arm. What a baby. Lucian had had far worse than that in gymnastics training. He smiled humourlessly at Error. “Tell your buddies to stay the fuck away from me, ‘kay, sweetheart? I really don’t like people who try to force themselves into others’ space.” He didn’t wait for an answer before he stepped past the other. “Thank you, love. Really appreciate it.”

He could still feel Error’s stare in his back as he slipped into the right classroom.

…

The wind was frisk as he ran home. His bag bounced on his back and his skirt flapped around his legs as his feet thumped against the pavement. He hadn’t even stayed to say goodbye to Bianca and his other new friends, had been straight out of school as soon as the clock rang the last time. His fingers clenched around the shoulder strap and his gritted his teethas his street came into view. He stopped in his tracks, raising his arm to wipe away the tears he’d finally let slip when he left school. Then he picked up wet wipes from his bag to wipe off his face. He took a deep breath. He couldn’t let his brother worry.

It was his old school all over again. There was no way he was going to detention for defending himself again. He’d hire a lawyer if he must. Fuck, he should’ve learnt by now that schools never did anything about their ‘stars’. Lucian bit down on his lip to force himself to stop crying. Stupid. That was what he was, for thinking it would be different after they moved away. He’d always been too optimistic.

Exhaling, he stepped around the last corner into his street. The rose hedge stood tall, making it impossible to see inside the garden until he reached the metal gate. There, he froze with one hand on it. He blinked to make sure he was seeing right. “Error?” exclaimed, voice full of disbelief.

The school king looked up from his phone where he stood, leaned against a porch pillar. He smirked as he saw Lucien’s shock. “Lust,” he greeted, nodding.

After a moment, Lucien gathered himself and opened the gate, so he could come inside. God was he glad he’d cleaned himself up now. “What are you doing here, love?”

“I’m impressed,” Error admitted, “with how you dealt with Jesper. He’s an asshole, but a strong one.”

Smiling faintly, Lucien dropped his bag on the porch, sticking his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Thanks. My parents made me and my brother go to self-defence when I started developing my own style. Not everyone’s so understanding of a pansexual, flirty guy who likes to wear ‘women’s’ clothes sometimes.” Extra emphasis on ‘women’s’. It was 2018, people. Why was there even such a thing anymore? Clothes were clothes.

“Well, you’re good.” He stuck his hand into his pocket, fishing up a paper that he threw to Lucian. He caught it mid-air, unfolding it in befuddlement. “A written statement from Jesper about how nothing of what happened was your fault. I live only two blocks away, so I thought I might as well deliver it myself. Give it to the principal, and you’ll be out of detention in no time.”

And indeed. As he read the paper, that was exactly what it was. Jesper, as he apparently was called, took on all guilt and declared Lucian’s actions self-defence. He stared at the paper, reading it over thrice before he turned up to look at Error, mouth agape. “But- Why?”

Error shrugged. “Hey I’m an asshole, but in difference to what you may think, I’m not a supporter of sexual harassment. Anyway, I better get home. See you.”

Before Lucian could get out a word, he was gone. Warmth blossomed in his chest as he stared after him. His eyes flickered back down to the paper, and he smiled brightly. Tears welled up in his eyes again, this time from joy.

Perhaps things would be different after all.

…

After that, he started to hang out around Error more insistently. Jesper avoided him, and so did a couple else of the ‘cronies’, as he’d overheard Ink call them when speaking to Chris. Or Cross. Honestly, he wasn’t sure who he should call by their nicknames and who wanted him to use their names. He’d have to ask Chris someday.

And at some point, Error had come to accept his company, as well as Bianca’s, since she was his new bestie and often came with him to annoy Error.

At this point, he couldn’t deny either that he had fallen in love with the school king. Not that he often denied his crushes or love-interests to himself anyway. But somehow, this did feel a little more serious than it usually did. He leaned on the fence outside of the soccer field, watching Error play with some of his friends. Lucian sighed happily as Error took the ball, dribbling it over the field. He’d actually been offered to play with them, but he’d never been much of a ball-person. Give him a pole or some ropes and he could do anything, but balls… No, not his thing.

He cheered loudly as Error kicked the ball, straight past the goalie, clapping his hands. Error dragged his hands through his hair, grinning at him, and his heart flipped. Oh the Lord have mercy on him. Except not really, he absolutely loved the fuzzy feeling in his chest when he saw Error smile at him.

Eventually, their game ended, and they all flocked around him to pick up their water bottles and some of them pulled of their shirts. Lucian was more than willing to admit most of them were incredibly handsome, but it was really only one of them who he hoped would follow suit. Unfortunately, he didn’t. Ah well.

“You were great, darling,” he sang, draping himself over Error’s shoulders, unbothered by how sweaty he was. “I’ve never cared for ball sports but it’s really fun to watch you play!”

Some of the jocks gave them amused gazes, but no one commented. Whether they simply didn’t much care or were too intimidated by Error, Lucian wasn’t sure. But he was willing to accept anything that meant Error wasn’t going to reject his affections. Even if they were just platonic at this stage.

“I know,” Error replied, obviously smug. Lucian chuckled, resisting the urge to kiss his cheek. Perhaps that’d be going a bit too far, and he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

The other players soon dispelled, going into the changing rooms. Error escaped him to do the same, but in the spur of the moment, Lucian grabbed his hand. Turning around, confusion on his face, Error opened his mouth to speak. But before he could, Lucian pressed a hand over his mouth.

“I- I need to tell you something,” he said, his heart pounding in his chest. God what was he doing this was very much the plan he didn’t even know if Error liked guys, he might be straight for fuck’s sake- Before his brain could ramble away with him and make him panic, he took a deep breath as the other raised his eyebrows, letting him speak. “I- I like you. Romantically. I completely understand if you don’t feel the same and I’m sorry if I made this awkward but I just wanted to tell you but-”

A hand seized his wrist, pulling his hands away from Error’s mouth. He shut up, snapping his mouth closed. Error’s eyes glittered with amusement and that was good right? Meant he didn’t hate him now, at least. He yelped as Error suddenly pulled and he stumbled forward. Another hand caught his cheek, and his lips met Error’s. Lucian melted. He leaned in against the other, throwing his free arm over the other’s shoulder. Butterflies filled his stomach.

When they parted, he was breathless, and he was certain his cheeks were flushed red. A smile lit up his face. “So… Does that mean…?”

Error returned his smile. “Yeah I like you too, you idiot.”

[thiefcat-niao]

Ending the Session (Chapter 2)

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!   Characters/Ships: Gemshipping (Thief King Bakura/Ryou Bakura); Ryou Bakura, Thief King Bakura, Atem, Yugi Mutuo, Zorc Necrophades Rating: T Length: Chapter 2 / 3; 2400 words

Summary:

Into Ryou’s lonely apartment comes a spirit, an ancient power that speaks and manifests through the Ouija board kept beneath the bed. It calls itself Tou, and claims to be human. Ryou believes.

Read on AO3  Previous Chapter – Next Chapter (Coming Soon~)

Chapter Two: A King of Thieves 

For nearly a week, Ryou spoke to the spirit daily—sometimes twice daily. Yugi commented that Ryou seemed happier, when they met for coffee. Ryou shrugged off the comment, mumbling some half-truth about doing well in his classes. In reality, his homework hadn't been getting done with quite the level of diligence he usually held himself to.

Ryou hadn't learned much about how the spirit, Tou, had lived, but it didn't much matter. He had learned, in his estimation, many far more important things. Tou was pragmatic, for instance, and jaded, but had an unexpectedly lively sense of humor. At first Ryou had struggled to detect the spirit's jokes, through the toneless board. But he'd also grown far more attuned to the feel of Tou's presence, in his apartment, and fancied that he could sense Tou's general emotional state.

It worried Ryou that the spirit would grow suddenly tense, at times; would flicker with what appeared to be anxiety, or at least agitation, and usually request and end to the session. While Tou always offered fatigue as the explanation—and sometimes it was; Ryou could feel the weight of the spirit's exhaustion—those times were different. Ryou wondered what could cause a spirit like Tou to feel that way, and decided he had no basis with which to even form a hypothesis.

"i know whats keeping me here..." Tou had said, "and its not a thing you can help me deal with..." Ryou wished that that weren't true, but accepted it nevertheless, and so didn't pry.

Ryou stood, one evening, at the stove, preparing diner. The apartment was quiet. He was looking forward to speaking to Tou, later, but for the moment was quite enraptured in his cooking. The sizzling strips of meat made a pleasant crackling, and Ryou hummed along with the sound. They filled the apartment, too, with a heady aroma of meat and herbs, and Ryou bent in over the stove to assess whether or not he needed to add more of any particular seasoning before checking his rice on the rear burner.

The pepper grinder, on the far side of the counter, struck the ground with a jarring crash, and Ryou jumped. He looked around; heard nothing, save for the sizzling of beef in the pan. He glanced down at the pepper, rolling pensively across the floor.

"Tou...?"

The pepper grinder picked up speed suddenly—bumped into Ryou's foot. He smiled.

"Give me a second, okay?" Turning back to the stove, he lowered the heat; checked his rice again, and then scampered from the room. When he returned, he had the Ouija board tucked under his arm. He placed it beside the bloodied cutting board on his counter and opened it.

"Hello, Tou!"

"your dinner smells maddeningly good...” was the immediate reply, and Ryou chuckled.

"Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

"its important...” The pointer moved rapidly, a challenge to read, even for someone as practiced as Ryou. "youre a really good cook...”

"I didn't realize you could smell."

"i can hear and see and smell... i just cant touch or taste... no body yknow..."

"Fair enough."

"i want some of your dinner so badly i could die..."

"I wish you could join me," Ryou said, honestly.

There was a pause, and Ryou tilted his head; waited patiently. He could tell that the spirit hadn't left.

"thanks for talking to me...”

"Of course!" Ryou said, surprised. "I'm happy you want to talk to me, too!"

"its not so common for humans to contact us... not so common for them to be so open either... usually they get freaked out the first time they manage to make contact and then never do it again and usually theyre these stupid kids drunk or just real jerks not the likable type at all...

It was a long, rambling message, and Ryou waited for the pointer to still. Then he said, "I've used the board a lot. I've gotten responses, before, but never a spirit who's come back more than once or twice, let alone actually initiated the contact. It's really nice!"

Again, there was a pause, and when the pointer moved it did so rather slowly. "how do you know im not a bad spirit...”

"I don't, I guess, not for sure. But I don't think you are."

"when i told you i was called tou that was a bit of a lie... half a lie...”

"Oh?" Ryou tilted his head; waited for the spirit to continue.

"i was called touzokuo... king of thieves...”

"Oh. That's a cool title."

"cool you say cool...” The pointer moved so fast it almost jarred Ryou's hand free, and he jumped. "hahahahahaha... youre weird you know that... king of thieves is what they call a bad guy... i was a bad guy when i was alive...”

"That doesn't mean you're a bad spirit, now that you're not alive," Ryou said patiently, and the pointer fell still. There was the faint smell of something beginning to burn.

"youre a kind person to say that... but you should be careful... i had quite a reputation as not only a thief... but a killer..."

"I don't sense any blood-lust from you now, though," Ryou said, and the spirit was silent. "You aren't a bad spirit. I may not have any way to know, but I'm sure of it."

The pointer stayed still, for another moment, and then moved toward "goodbye." Ryou hurried to ask another question before it got there.

"What was your favorite food, when you were alive?!" he blurted—the first thing that came to his mind. To his relief, the pointer stilled.

"roast pig..." was the slow response, after a beat. Ryou smiled, relieved.

"Really? I'm more of a dessert person, myself, but savory foods can be really good. Especially when you're hungry."

"aha... thats very true..."

"Were you hungry, a lot? Is that why you became a thief?"

"dont try to make excuses for what i just told you..."

"I'm not," Ryou huffed, a bit indignant. "I just want to know you better. I want to understand you."

"i was hungry..." the thief said, after a moment. "i was angry too... i wanted to get back at the whole world..."

Ryou considered that, then said, "I wish you could join me, for supper."

"your foods starting to burn... you should get that... itd be tragic to ruin it..."

Ryou nodded, but as he went to leave the board, some near-physical force held his hand to the pointer.

"r-y-o-u" the spirit spelled out, with a force that surprised the human boy. "end the session... never leave without saying goodbye... youve used the board enough to know that..."

Ryou hesitated, then nodded. "Sorry. You're right, of course... Goodbye, Tou."

And the pointer, in response, moved to, "goodbye".

... ... ...

Ryou stifled a yawn; popped a piece for chocolate into his mouth, and took a swallow of coffee. The apartment felt unusually empty—devoid, in a rare moment, of spirits. And, though he knew he should sleep, Ryou had to take the opportunity to do research while he had the apartment to himself. So there he sat, at his desk, the light of the computer screen tinting his white hair light blue.

"King of Thieves... Thief King... Touzokuo..."

So far, he hadn't found any historical figures matching those titles, but they were sufficiently vague enough to render standard search engines all but useless.

It was three in the morning; Ryou took another sip of his coffee.

'Didn't he say... wait, that garbled message...'

Scrabbling through some papers beneath his bed, Ryou found the notebook he'd had during his first conversation with the spirit that called itself Touzokuo. He returned to his desk, then looked at the word that hadn't made any sense, at the time; the word he'd assumed to be some sort of spiritual typo: nedjem.

Ryou ate another piece of candy; it had a pressed brown sugar center inside of milk chocolate, and he let it melt in his mouth, feeling the graininess as he rubbed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He typed "nedjem" into the computer, and hit enter.

At first, nothing interesting showed up—the search engine tried to autocorrect his query to needed. So he tried "meaning of word nedjem," and hit enter once again.

A... carob pod...?

Ryou's eyes widened slightly as he stared, surprised, at the hieroglyph that had appeared on his screen. He clicked on the first result, and read aloud, "Ancient Egyptian hieroglyph signifying 'sweet,' represented visually by a carob pod and thought to be said as 'nedjem.' One instance documents a doubling of the symbol, presumably read 'nedjemnedjem,' to indicate a pleasing concubine."

Ryou took a deep breath; tasted the sugar thick on his tongue, and took a drink of coffee to wash it down.

Ancient... Egypt...

It made sense, the more he thought about it. Though he'd passed off the spirit's reference to Anubis, Anubis being a fairly well-known symbol of death even in modern times, it made a lot more sense if he considered it as an influence of the spirit's original culture.

So what did I ask? Why "nedjem"?

He had asked what the spirit was called—Tou. He'd asked what the spirit was—h-u-m-a-n. He'd asked if the spirit had made contact with the living before—once or twice.

Ryou ate a marshmallowy piece of candy that got stuck in his teeth, and momentarily distracted himself getting it out with his tongue.

Then, it struck him.

"youre odd... different from others ive talked to..."

"Really? How so?"

"n-e-d-j-e-m"

Ryou's hands flew to his face, and he tried not to read into the odd answer, now that he knew what the long-extinct word meant. After a few more fruitless internet searches, he'd worked himself into enough of a frenzy that the mere thought of sleep was impossible. And, the internet having failed him, he reached for his cell phone and knocked his pencil holder off his desk in the attempt.

... ... ...

"Hnn..." Yugi Mutou raised his head as his cheerful ringtone cut through the silence. He dragged himself to the side of the bed, ignoring the bleary, angry muttering of the man sleeping beside him, and observed the time on the glowing screen—3:47—and the name. "Unh... Ryou-kun...? What is it...?"

"Yugi-kun! Ah, I'm so sorry, did I wake you?"

"Ryou-kun, it's almost four in the morning..." Yugi stifled a yawn; listened to his friend squeak and shuffle frantically on the other end of the line.

"I-I'm so sorry! I-I forgot, for a second... haha! I can call back tomorrow, if—"

"Ryou, I'm awake. What's up?" Yugi settled in, arms folded beneath his chin and atop his pillow.

"Ahh—! O-Okay, then... well... has Atem ever mentioned a legendary Thief King, from Ancient Egypt?"

"Thief King?" Yugi echoed, and was startled when his bed-partner bolted suddenly upright. "Atem! What's—?!"

"Who's on the phone, Yugi?"

"Great Ra..." Yugi breathed, and Ryou made a questioning sound. "Hey, Atem just woke up... Do you want to talk to him?"

"Oh Yugi, that would be wonderful! Are you sure he wouldn't mind?"

"Give me the phone, Yugi," Atem commanded, though his eyes were shadowed with sleep and his hair was sticking out to the side, as opposed to his usual vertical spikes.

"He wouldn't mind at all," Yugi told Ryou, and then held out the phone to his boyfriend.

"Oh! Atem! Sorry to bother, at this hour, I just... got all caught up, and—"

"Out with it, Bakura," Atem commanded, and Ryou squeaked. "What's this about the Thief King?"

"I just... well, you're an Egyptologist, after all, and that's where you're from, anyway, so I figured if anyone would know anything about—"

"Where did you hear about the Thief King, though?" Atem demanded, and Ryou swallowed audibly.

"So there is something..."

"Bakura, tell me where you heard that title," Atem said, his voice low and almost threatening. Yugi pulled worriedly at the sleeve of his nightshirt.

"I just... I mean... a friend. A friend mentioned him." Ryou's voice was shaking.

"Don't lie to me, Ryou Bakura."

"Atem, don't scare him," Yugi implored. "You know how he is..."

"O-Okay..." Ryou began hesitantly. "Y-You know how I like to play around with Ouija boards, occasionally...?"

Atem scrambled up; stumbled from the bed, much to Yugi's increased distress, and cursed as he tripped over a discarded piece of clothing. "You didn't. Tell me you're not going to say what I think you're about to say, Bakura. Tell me you don't have the spirit of the Thief King in your apartment."

"Well, not at this exact moment, but—"

"Great Ra!" Atem fumbled with his coat; threw it on over his nightclothes as Yugi began to follow him from the bed. "Okay, Bakura, I need you to leave that apartment immediately, do you understand? I'm coming to get you."

"Wait, what?!" Ryou spluttered, and Yugi called out his boyfriend's name in confusion. Atem ignored them both.

"This—this is why Ouija boards have a bad reputation, Ryou," Atem continued, hopping into his shoes. "You've gone and summoned something bad, now, something very bad, and—"

"Tou wouldn't hurt me!" Ryou objected suddenly, and Atem cursed.

"Listen to me, Ryou—the so-called Thief King is a demon-god. You know I was a pharaoh in a previous life, don't you? I lived during the same time as the Thief King."

"You knew him?!"

"I killed him, Bakura, when he tried to kill me! After he—!" Atem cut himself off; muttered a curse. "He isn't human—he's a demon, as I said, a demon called Zorc, who took on human form to kill the pharaoh—to kill me, and those I loved."

"That doesn't make any sense!" Ryou objected.

"He's deceiving you! He's the best damned liar I've ever met in any lifetime, believe me, and now he's lying to you! I'm coming over, okay? You stay on the phone with me now, and—Bastet!" Atem cursed.

Yugi—a few steps behind him, on the way to the door—yelped. "What?!"

"Little asshole hung up on me!" Atem fumed; handed Yugi his phone. "Try to call him. We're going to his apartment."

"Atem, is he... really in danger...?"

"Not unless he's done something really stupid like opened a portal..." Atem muttered, flinging the door open and flying down the apartment stairs, Yugi on his heals. "Gods... let him be safe... I can't lose another friend... not to that bastard Thief King... not in this lifetime..."