#i feel like i mostly ignored the general prompt and just drew whatever i wanted lol

[ryuucae]

Forest venture

[kpopfanfictrash]

Lupine (M)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Word Count: 4,650

Rating: 18+

AU: Werewolf

Dialogue Prompt: "How about you stop whispering nasty things into your girlfriend’s ear and concentrate." (I’m sorry idk how this got so long or uh, came to include smut)

↳ part of my AU drabble game

Most werewolves know what they are from the moment they’re born.

Most are born knowing their purpose, their place and the existence of the supernatural world. You were not born in this manner though and so; you were born at a disadvantage. Werewolves are a pack species, meaning they exist within a strict social hierarchy. The Alpha is their leader, with other levels distributed to fill various positions of authority. Beta is next, the second-in-command. Omega is last; beings who exist on the outskirts, barely belonging to the pack.

You cannot say for certain which your mother was, since you never knew her, but you assume she was an Omega. For any other level, it would have been too difficult to become pregnant, leave the pack and father a child with a mortal before returning. Or – if she was not an Omega before said events, she must have been after.

At the start of your life, you did not realize you were different. Werewolf children are not much different from others. Perhaps you ran a few temperature degrees hotter, perhaps you were rougher and more restless but most of that could be chalked up to hormones.

The moment you could not explain though, was the first time you turned. The full moon after a woman’s first bloodflow is the triggering point for female werewolves. Archaic, but there it is. For males, you hear it is different. A less predictable combination of genetics and other, but for females, it is always the bloodflow. This took place when you were seventeen. You were a late bloomer, even for mortal children.

The night before the full moon, your father tried to warn you. Before returning to her pack, your mother explained to him as much as she could, the result being that, the morning after your bloodflow, your father sat you down and attempted to explain about being a werewolf.

Your first instinct was to laugh. When he remained silent though, staring at you with the a sober expression, you straightened and called him insane. He was not.

That night of the full moon, you stood in the garden, feeling more than a little bit foolish. It was chilly. You remember rubbing your bare arms to keep warm, wondering what would happen to you and when. Wondering if perhaps this was an elaborate ruse directed by the whims of your father.

As soon as the moon hit the treetops though, you realized it was not a joke. A steady prickling came over your skin, a certain tingling as your blood ran fast in your veins and then – it is hard to describe. There was pain. Your blood thrummed against your bones, twisting inside as you became something else. When you awoke the next morning, dirty on the front lawn, you felt as if you had reborn.

The next years were a blur, struggling to adjust to a new life that you led. Always, you felt you were on the outside. Mortals could not understand, since you no longer fully belonged to their world. The supernatural, too, did not embrace you either. You had grown up on the outside and therefore, could not relate.

You supposed that particular relationship went both ways, though. It is not as if you actively sought out the company of wolves. There were a few places your father knew of where you might find those like yourself. A dive bar near Freeway 87. A slightly dilapidated gym near the Interstate. None of which you frequented, of course. You never knew what you would say upon your arrival.

Every now and again, you caught a whiff of another wolf in the woods. Each time that you did, you ran in the opposite direction. You were just fine on your own, you told yourself, almost believing the fact that this was not a lie.

As time passed, you settled into your new life. Lupine, Wyoming was a small town, but you felt this was for the best. As a werewolf, living in a city was out of the question. Imagine what would happen if the full moon struck and you ran through the streets of Manhattan. Likely, it would be a one-time occurrence.

Living in the wild was safer and so, you accepted a job at the local bookstore upon graduating community college. Your life was a simple one, but you never wanted for anything. Until him, that is.

The night of your twenty-second birthday was spent in the usual way. Each year, you went out to dinner with your dad, opened the present he did a terrible job at hiding and faked surprise before blowing out your candles. Each year, your father drove you home to the small house you rented on the edge of the lake, facing the woods. Each year, you enjoyed a glass of red wine on your porch and waited for the moon to rise high enough to turn.

No longer did it hurt to do so. In fact, you were able to turn at will but usually did not, remaining in human form whenever possible. You still existed in a half-space, back then. A world you considered mostly mortal, with a few supernatural elements. The full moon was the one exception. The one night of each month you could not ignore the call of the wild and allowed yourself to roam free.

Your birthday was the other time of year you allowed.

Darting through lush undergrowth, you inhaled the forest and reveled in your increased sensations. The first time, it was difficult to adjust because wolves had much stronger senses than humans. Scents could be detected from nearly two miles away – sounds, for over six. The slightest rustling in the bushes would trigger predator instincts. Always a hunter, even when you were not.

In the wild, the world smelled sharpest after it rained. Lifting your head, you breathed in and felt something twitch at your nose. To your right, you scented another wolf, perhaps a mile away. Instead of following, you turned left and plunged into the forest. Alphas tended to mark their presence, a fact you found handy since it enabled you to avoid them. Rarely, did you run into them or the pack, able to scent them well before you saw them.

Trotting upwards, you alternated between long and short bursts of running. This was, in your opinion, one of the best parts of wolf form. C. S. Lewis once wrote, “If one could run without getting tired, I don’t think one would want to do anything else.” There was a reckless sort of release which came from chasing nature – chasing life – through those woods, and the natural predator within you reveled in the joy.

Boundless energy, incredible strength and an entire world calling you home. These were the advantages of being a wolf. You still retained the better parts of humanity, but they were muddied; as though the world around you was seen through a thick sheet of glass. You had a general idea of who you were and what you wanted but there was a wilder tinge to your thoughts and your instincts.

Your avoidance of the other wolf drew you far from the path. Slowing to a walk, you examined unfamiliar surroundings. The mountains were beautiful this high up, rarely traversed by hikers due to difficulty of access. Indeed, you were so consumed by the visual, you did not notice his presence until the wind shifted.

Had you come from another direction, or not been so distracted, perhaps you would have noticed him earlier. As it was, you halted in your tracks when you smelled him, body tense at the unfamiliar situation. He was too close for you to avoid him at that point. He must have scented you coming, as well and, for the life of you, you could not determine why he decided not to run.

Stepping out of the forest and into the clearing, you saw him. He was in wolf form, facing you silently on an outcropping of rock. Both his shoulders were lowered, as though prepared for attack; lips pulled back from his teeth and revealing a snarl. His gaze was black as the night but the moment he saw you, he changed.

He seemed surprised. Gold entered his gaze – tentative, but it grew until his entire iris was surrounded by a solid gold ring. You stared, never having seen anything like it before. His eyes were almost honey, as though he had been dipped in the sun and laid out to dry. His eyes were not the only thing that you noticed, though. You could not help but admire his size.

Werewolves were already larger than the average grey wolf, but he was bigger than any you had ever seen. You stood slightly over three feet at the shoulder – he must have been upwards of four. Again, you found it hard to decipher the difference between human and wolf-like emotions. For you, sexual concerns did not truly exist as a wolf.

Despite this, there was something which drew you to him. Something magnetic, pulling you into the clearing. The other wolf sniffed, and whatever he scented made him relax his posture. Trotting down from the ledge, he came to a stop before your astonished gaze.

The world seemed to slow, as you realized there was no turning back.

This was before you knew the concept of mating. Your father had not explained the meaning – perhaps he did not know of it himself, or perhaps he wished the phenomenon would never befall you. Mating is a heavy emotion, and one not easily understood. All you knew then, was that the earth tilted under your feet and rewound around him.

There were many things about Jungkook which should have been a warning – even as a wolf. He was gigantic, a size which might have clued you in on his lineage. He had this aura of power exuded whenever he walked. He was also in the possession of the most intoxicating aroma you’d ever encountered. It drove you a bit wild, which explained what you did next.

You ran with him. 

All night, the two of you ran through the wildness of the glade, the dappled shade of the forest, along the banks of the river. You held a fascination for each other, sharing in the most innocent exploration and freedom there was. Never before, had you felt lonely but when you ran with Jungkook, you realized you might be lonely after.

He opened a chasm deep inside you – he filled it as well, but you were aware that when he left, you would still feel the hole. He unleashed a dam of possibility and now that you’d whet your tongue, you could not possibly deny yourself that tantalizing future.

When the night ended and you awoke on your lawn, clothes laid out beside you, you tremblingly pulled them on and turned to stare at the wood. He was not there. Meeting him felt like a dream. Running with him, spending the night together under the stars felt like a dream.

In your human form, you wandered into the woods. A couple hundred paces, you found your scent from last night – and his, entwined. It meant he was real.

And still, you did not know what it meant.

It was one week later he came for you. As a wolf, Jungkook was intimidating but as a human, he was breathtaking. The moment you opened your door, you recognized him. It was not that he looked the same, but how your body reacted in his presence. The hair on your arms rose, gut twisting with something unnamed as you drank in the sight of him.

He was dressed casually, in blue jeans and a t-shirt, but there was something to the way he held himself which bespoke of more. 

Still, it was his smile which stood out to you. A shy, almost sweet gesture and it was directed at you. “Hi,” he breathed. “I’m Jungkook.”

“Y/N,” you said. It was difficult not to smile, yourself. “It’s nice to meet you.”

His eyes brightened, revealing that same ring of gold.

From that moment on, Jungkook was the perfect gentleman. He took you on dates, courted you in the most formal way you had ever known. The second time he arrived, he brought flowers. Lilies from the mountain; your favorite, although he could not have known. The third time he came, he picked you up in a worn-down, blue Silverado and took you to his apartment where he made you dinner.

He refused to kiss you, which drove you insane. Now that you were in human form, you could dissect your feelings – not that you found them any less confusing. The little research you were able to do provided inconclusive results. As far as you could tell, werewolves were not casual daters by nature. They mated, usually for life. The bond was irreversible, deeper than what could be considered rational and it was the only way to describe how you felt about Jungkook.

Despite this, you allowed him to court you. He was lovely, polite and by the end of the fifth date, you wanted to rip your hair out. Either that; or rip his clothes off. Either one was preferable.

The distance he gave seemed purposeful, but not because he was uninterested. That much was obvious each time you made eye contact. Each time you came near, he stiffened, holding his breath until you pulled away. You affected him, you could see that but still, he held himself back

“You’re new to all this,” he murmured in response, when you asked. By then, you had explained to him about your upbringing, your lack of a mother and your life without a pack. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“Jungkook.” Exhaling, you turned to face him on the couch. His lips were so close to your own, hovering dangerously near. “I admit it, I’m scared.”

His pupils contracted. That was exactly what he did not want to do to you.

“I am terrified,” you insisted, sliding your hands to either side of his face. “That doesn’t make me want this any less. That doesn’t make me want you any less.”

“Y/N.” Jungkook closed his eyes, as though collecting himself. His eyelashes fluttered when his jaw tensed. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Yes, I do. I’m asking for you. All of you.”

His eyes snapped open; gaze hungry. “But I don’t just want you,” Jungkook explained, hoarse. His hands lifted to curl into your hair. “I need you. Do you understand what a mate is, Y/N?”

“I – I think so. A relationship. Love. It’s –”

“A soulmate,” he finished quietly. Jungkook’s gaze was searching, intense. “It is the person we wolves are destined to be with. It is a beginning, the end and once you mate, that’s it. You will never want another – not in the same way. My mate would be my equal in the pack, would share in everything I have and in everything that I am. I would do anything to make them happy, even sacrifice myself.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed but each word from his lips only further strengthened your will. Hearing your feelings put into words, understanding that he, too felt the strength of this bond in between you – not just felt it, but wanted it – was the moment you decided. You were scared, yes, but you wanted him more.

“Kiss me,” you whispered.

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “I – what?”

“Kiss me,” you repeated, leaning forward.

At the first brush of his lips, an inferno ignited. Heat blazed through your veins, rendering you molten as you sunk into his kiss. Knees pushed hurriedly between thighs, hands grasping at clothing as you realized with certainty the weight of Jungkook’s declaration.

You were his. He was yours.

Over and over, during the next several days, you reiterated this fact to each other through teeth and words. Again and again, he filled you and again, you ached blindly for his touch. There was this insatiable, indescribable need you had for each other. Although you were not in heat, you may as well have been. Nothing in your prior life had prepared you for this.

With previous partners, you enjoyed sex but with Jungkook, you reveled in it. Each brush of his fingers made you come alive, toes curling into the mattress as your back arched from the bed. When you saw his cock for the first time, the sight stopped you in your tracks. Gazing at him wonderingly, you knelt on the bed to breathlessly wonder out loud how he would fit.

Jungkook groaned, leaning his head to the wall. “You’ll fit,” he promised, helping you into position above him. “You’re my mate.” With a noise like a purr, he nuzzled into your neck. “You were made for me.”

“For you, maybe,” you whispered, still doubtful. “I don’t know about your giant, supernatural cock, though.”

At this, he smirked, grabbing his length to slowly stroke up and down. You watched in fascination, admiring how his hand barely met around its circumference. His length was thick, veined and pretty, just like his hands. Without the help of your mouth, he stood ramrod straight from his waist, cum leaking needily from the rosy tip.

Staring, you moved your hips and imagined him sinking inside you. Jungkook’s hands stilled you, grasping your waist. “Now,” he begged, lowering his head and taking your breast in his mouth.

His tongue flicked and you gasped, arching while he suckled sensitive skin. Nipple hardening, you ached for more as his hand slid between your legs. Jungkook stroked over you purposefully, exploring the most intimate parts of your body. 

He moaned about how wet you were, raising his head. “Is this all for me?” he murmured, slipping a finger inside.

Nodding, your mouth fell open at the delicious stretch of his fingers. “Yes,” you panted, rocking your hips back and forth. “Everything is for you, Jungkook.”

He growled; the noise torn from his chest as he withdrew his hand. Lapping at his fingers, Jungkook tasted your arousal and watched you with darkened eyes. “I want you,” you whimpered, wrapping your hand around his length to align with your center.

He chuckled, smacking your ass and maneuvering your body himself. “I wanted to savor this moment more,” he murmured, rubbing the tip of his cock against your pussy. “Wanted to have you begging for longer, but I don’t think I can wait. I need to be inside you, my love. My life. My mate,” he exhaled, lowering you onto him.

You gasped at the stretch, at how relentlessly big he was. Each inch of his cock was pain and pleasure combined; an unyielding sensation you could not control. Gripping his shoulders, you dug your nails into his skin as your head buried itself in his chest. Relaxing into him, you let Jungkook help you along.

“That’s it,” he whispered, feeling you slide down another inch. “Just like that. You’re such a good girl, Y/N. Made for my cock, yeah?” Jungkook stroked your hair, rolling his hips the tiniest bit to make you moan. “Just a bit farther.”

His other hand lowered between your legs, rubbing your clit and helping you down. He was so massive; you were not sure what you had left to give. Your legs shook, trembling from the weight of him inside but still, you wanted him deeper. You wanted everything he had and so, you determined you would have him and pushed yourself even lower.

Jungkook gasped, head throw back as your hips fit to his. Whimpering, you clutched at his arms and clenched tightly around him. “Oh, god,” you moaned, full to the brim. His cock pulsed, making you restless, for now that you had him, you wanted to move.

“So good,” Jungkook murmured, fingers entangled in your hair. “Not everyone could have done that, mm? Such a pretty little pussy you have, split by my cock. I could stay inside you forever, love.”

With a whimper, you met his gaze. “Then do that,” you demanded. “I want all of you. Now.”

With a ferocious smile, Jungkook pulled your hips off him to slowly thrust upwards. Your back arched, held in mid-air while he re-entered your body. Grabbing for his chest, you slammed yourself down and rose up again. If you thought having him inside you was pleasurable, it was nothing compared to what came next. With the pain of him stretching you gone, all that remained was intolerable pleasure.

He was made for you. Made to love you, to worship your body – as you were made to worship his. Over the next week, you proved this repeatedly to yourselves and cemented the bond. Each time you rested, you nestled into the crook of his arms and traded your secrets for his.

Night secrets, starry-eyed stories which only children of the moon would enjoy. Each time you were famished, you fed and each time you were tired, you slept but mostly, you drank your fill of each other. At the end of the week, you were mated. You were one, so hopelessly entangled it was difficult to tell where you ended, and he began.

This was when he told you who he was.

Jeon Jungkook, Alpha of the powerful Lupine pack. You were furious when he told you. The entire time you were courting you knew he was part of a pack, but you assumed he was a low-ranking member. An Omega, like your mother. To discover Jungkook was an Alpha was a slap to the face, especially since it brought about a whole new web of dangers.

Alphas typically mated within the pack. The hierarchical structure only mattered so long as everyone respected it. If Jungkook broke their rules, it would only be a matter of time before others broke them as well. You had no idea how his pack would react to their Alpha mating with an outsider.

They reacted poorly, as it turned out. More than a few rejected your presence until Jungkook snapped at them all and laid down the law as their leader. You were begrudgingly accepted but still, you were not blind to the things said about you behind closed doors.

A half-breed werewolf of questionable heritage mated to the most powerful Alpha in recent memory – of course, you were disliked. The Lupine pack was old, the oldest in the mountain range, as Namjoon informed you on your first day.

Namjoon was one of Jungkook’s three Betas. He served as a strategic advisor, mostly on matters of politics. He was the one who suggested your training. There were wolves in the pack who disliked you because you lacked the formalities and knowledge they deemed necessary to survive. If you made a show of trying to learn their ways, it would go a long way.

You agreed to his request, since it seemed the least you could do to make things easier on Jungkook.

Jimin, another Beta, seconded the plan. He was the emotional compass of the pack; Jungkook leaned on him heavily for moral guidance and support. Jimin was deeply beloved by the other werewolves and so, he was invaluable in his approval. Luckily, Jimin took a liking to you immediately.

Hoseok, the final Beta, was the one you most worried about meeting. As it turned out, you need not have. Hoseok oversaw discipline and justice. He pushed back the hardest on your mating bond, but this was only because it was his job. In truth, Hoseok was equally capable of setting a good mood, as a serious one. Once the matter of your mating had been decided, he welcomed you into the pack with open arms.

The rest accepted you when their Alpha deemed it so. Still, you agreed with Namjoon to train because you knew it was the right thing to do. As Namjoon so astutely pointed out, even if there were no more threats to yourself from inside the pack, there was still those from the outside.

As the mate of the most powerful Alpha in the land, you had become a target. You needed to prepare for the worst.

Sweat sliding down the back of your neck, you dig your knuckles into the dirt to brace yourself. Glancing up from the ground, you find Jungkook staring, lips curled into a smile.

“Again,” he demands.

When he runs, there is barely enough time to brace your feet in the soft earth below. Jungkook slams into your shoulder, nearly knocking you off-balance. The werewolf fighting style is unique – a raw combination of martial arts and animalistic strength.

Jungkook pushes you backwards, arms attempting to encircle your waist, but you are already out of his grasp, slipped from under his elbow. Bringing your forearm down on his spine, you hear him grunt in displeasure. Jungkook recovers fast, hooking an arm under your knees to bring you down in the dirt.

Immediately, you roll. A second later, his hand strikes the earth where your waist had been. Flipping yourself on your feet, you pause in a crouch. Namjoon taught you to use an opponent’s size and weight against him. Although Jungkook is stronger, you are faster and have better endurance. If you can keep him moving long enough, you can tire him out and slip through the cracks.

Flashing a smile, Jungkook charges again. At the last second, he pivots faster than expected and ends up on the opposite side. You strike, but he blocks, gripping your arm to spin you into his chest. His right arm slides under your chin, holding you to him in a chokehold.

“Good job, darling,” he murmurs, hot in your ear.

You inhale, fighting the pressure of his arm against your esophagus. Jungkook holds you still, making it difficult to move as you search for a way out.

With a chuckle, Jungkook presses himself closer. “Are you sure you want out?” he murmurs, quiet enough that only you hear. His arm around your throat slides forard, until his thumb and his forefinger are positioned on either side of your larynx. “This reminds me of a position we found ourselves in a few nights ago, actually.”

Your breathing quickens, heat pooling between your thighs. “Jungkook,” you whisper, attempting to keep the moan from your voice. “We’re supposed to be fighting.”

When he shifts his weight, you feel his cock stir against your ass. “I can’t help what you do to me,” he whispers, husky. Absently, his thumb strokes your throat. “You’re so sexy when you fight – what am I supposed to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hoseok drawls, forcing your heads to snap up. He sits perched on a rock directly before you, the chosen mediator for your practice session. Right now, his eyes are narrowed and expression sour. “How about you stop whispering nasty things in your girlfriend’s ear and concentrate?”

Jungkook’s grip on you slackens. “Shit,” he mutters. “I forgot he was here.”

“I heard that,” Hoseok comments, bored. He squints at the sun. “How about we try that again?”

Before Jungkook can speak, you use the momentary distraction to grasp his forearm in both hands and bend. Jungkook yelps, thrown off-balance as you thrust your weight backwards and pin him to the ground. Rolling free, you press your knee to his chest as Jungkook blinks up at you, amazed.

“There,” you grin. “If you want, we can try that move in bed tonight, too.”

Jungkook’s gaze darkens, near-bronze in the sun. “That’s a promise.”

↳ part of my AU drabble game

[magpiemorality]

Seeking: Family, Foster Twins 4

First contact; a conversation with Roman

Warnings: referenced child abuse, neglect, implied separation anxiety.

First | Previous | AO3

***

"Dinner's ready!" Patton called up the stairs, heading back into the kitchen to wash his hands.

Remus came clattering down the stairs, first, bouncing into the kitchen with the same boundless energy as ever. He grinned sheepishly at Patton and grabbed his plate to load up with the spaghetti on offer. "You eat like a bottomless pit, kid! There's more for seconds if you want it," Patton laughed, laying a light hand on Remus's shoulder briefly and kindly ignoring the way he'd flinched a little at the first comment. "Where's that brother of yours then?"

"Oh, he's just finishing… something," Remus tried to cover, but he couldn't think of anything in time and just weakly smiled instead, darting off to the dinner table. Patton glanced up at the ceiling and twisted his mouth, wondering when the right time would be to talk to Roman properly. He'd left the boy mostly alone for the last few days, letting the muttered snipes and his general prickliness go. It was only day what, four? There was still time, and often time was exactly what these kids needed most.

Still, best to make sure he ate in the meantime though. "Roman?" Patton called up the stairs. No reply, until he went all the way up and knocked gently on the door to Roman's chosen room, directly opposite Remus's. "Hey kid, there's food downstairs. You gotta make sure you eat, okay? Come on down now."

He heard movement from inside and then Roman yanked the door open, glaring at him. "I don't have to do shit, actually," he snapped. Patton raised an eyebrow. It wasn't the ideal time to do this, but it was the one Roman had chosen and that was the most important thing. "Stop treating me like you're our dad, okay?!"

Patton took a deep breath and looked back calmly. It had been so long since he'd had to deal with this, but despite their harmonious last few years Thomas had had a tough start as well. "First I want to make sure you've eaten. You can be mad at me as much as you like but you need to have some dinner anyway, okay? I might not be your dad but you are still a kid and you need feeding. That one is non-negotiable, I'm afraid."

They looked at each other before Roman caved, stomping downstairs and clattering around the kitchen. Patton followed, making sure to give off nothing but calm and smiles. Remus could easily sense his brother's tension and his laughter was a little manic, eyes flitting between the other two at the table.

"So what are you looking forwards to for getting back to school?" Patton asked about halfway through the meal. "Do either of you do any extracurriculars?"

"I like woodshop! And I- well I mean Roman does performance club and varsity sports, and he's really good too. He'll get a scholarship for sure, hopefully anyway, but-"

"I'm not doing varsity anymore," Roman announced.

They both looked at him, and he looked at his pasta. "But you love sports! You're the baseball shortstop!" Remus cried, looking… more devastated than he should under the circumstances.

"Yeah well not anymore. And no one can make me."

Patton stayed quiet, waiting until they were finished with their food before asking Remus if he'd be able to take Patton's washing up slot for the evening in return for Patton doing his hoovering the next day. With a quick glance between the other two Remus nodded, hurrying out with their bowls.

"Roman. Would you like to talk here, in the living room or in your bedroom?" Patton asked.

"Living room."

"Okay. Do you want a glass of water before we go in or do you want to get started right away?"

"… Right away."

Patton nodded, heading in to the living room and sitting on the floor where he preferred to be. Roman took the couch, drawing his legs up and holding onto his shins as he waited quietly. "Hey, this is nothing to be scared of, okay?" Patton said gently. "You have the right to be angry, and tell me about it, but I would also like to be listened to, okay? Why don't you go first? What are you finding most difficult about being here?"

"I don't- it's not difficult. It's fine, you're fine. Can I just go to my room?"

"Okay, why don't we try this another way. Can I come sit up there with you?"

Roman nodded, and Patton moved, putting a little distance between them for Roman's comfort. "I'm gonna ask some questions as prompts, and I'd like you to try your best to answer them as honestly as you can. Don't worry if the answer is 'I don't know'. I'm not going to use anything against you and I'm not gonna get made either, okay kiddo?" Roman nodded again, picking at his socks nervously.

"Do you feel uncomfortable in my home?"

"No," Roman whispered. A good start.

"Do you want to leave?" Patton checked, because a no to the first didn't mean a no to that.

Roman hesitated, but the noises of plates being loaded into the dishwasher in the kitchen drew his eyes, and he shook his head.

Okay, that was a foundation they could build from. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better here?"

The boy looked at him with a frown, the confusion clear in his eyes. "I mean," Patton added. "Are there any behaviours that you want to talk about, or boundaries to set? Words to avoid, that kind of thing."

"Uh, no. No that's okay."

They sat in silence for a few moments as Roman started processing how… not bad things were.

"One last question for you then, because this is something we try and get sorted for all the kids that come through the system; do you feel ready to come along with me to meet Dr. Picani for an introductory session tomorrow?"

The way Roman reacted was incredibly interesting and Patton made a note to mention it to Emile when he next saw him, whether or not that ended up being the following day. The boy looked at his feet and barked out a laugh, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn't open them again, and when Patton quietly warned him he was going to touch him and laid a hand on his back Roman just didn't move.

He came back after maybe a minute, just blinking his eyes open as though nothing had happened and shrugging once, conveniently knocking Patton's hand off with the motion. "Sure. Maybe he can fix all... this." Roman waved at himself vaguely.

Now wasn't the moment to try and break down that misconception, and Emile was the professional there, but Patton's heart ached to feel the waves of negativity coming off the boy, enough to drown him in sorrow. 

"Can I give you a hug before I talk a bit, Roman?" He asked softly, but Roman shook his head emphatically. Okay then. "I'm going to act like what you call 'your dad' because that is what my job is here, kiddo. I am going to look after you and take care of you and make sure you're fed and happy because that is what you basically deserve and what you fundamentally require to stay alive. I can't change that, all I ask is that you try to see that as stuff that I'm not doing to be your parent, but to be the adult who is responsible for you.

If there's anything that gets too much then I would love for you to tell me, and of course I hope you'll both want to stay for as long as you're under eighteen, but I know things might change and if you feel that they have then it's your right to tell me without me getting mad.

And if you want get more from me then you only have to ask and we can discuss that." He ran his fingers through his hair. "In fact that's maybe the main thing I wanted to let you know; you can always ask to talk about it. No matter what it is I'll listen, and then we can deal with whatever it might be together."

Roman was looking at him, a good sign, and Patton finished off before he lost the teenager's focus again. "In the meantime, I'd like to try having us be polite to each other, and I want to give you a heads up that, if that's how things turn out- I might not be the same with you as with Remus. You're both taking things at different paces, but that doesn't mean that can't change, either. I'm sure you know he's a bit more of a hugger than you," he teased gently. "But just because we're not there yet doesn't mean I care for you any less. You're just as important as each other, to me."

Outside the door there was a faint creak that Patton knew meant a pair of feet were trying not to move on the other side, an ear straining to hear through the door. He would have a similar discussion with Remus as soon as possible, but for now he just concentrated on the twin beside him. "I'm going to offer a hug again. Would you like one?"

Roman hesitated, but shook his head for a second time, glancing at Patton out of the corner of his eyes, while the adult made sure to just serenely smile. "Okay. Thanks for talking about this with me. I'll call Dr. Picani now about an appointment tomorrow. If you two can agree on a movie we can get out some of the froyo again, alright?"

He watched the boy hurry away, sitting back on the couch for a moment and just breathing. He needed to be calm to call Emile or the therapist would know straight away, and that was a conversation he wanted to have in person.

These boys weren't going to be easy, but he may have underestimated how difficult 'not easy' was going to be. Good thing he had patience and a hell of a stubborn streak, as well as a fantastic team for backup.

Lord knew they'd need it in the coming months.

--

Next

[mwolf0epsilon]

Hey look I love your au and I was wondering if you could do Sammy x Susie or Sammy x Jack up to you and maybe see him get along with Wally and another guestion can you please make Sammy’s different personalities please thanks 😊

I'll be honest, this ask was the equivalent of mental whiplash and it made me blank out for half a day.

I'm assuming you were either requesting art or a written prompt, so I went with the latter due to currently being on a commissions only basis for art requests.

I took the liberty to assume this was for SillyTunes AU, where relationships are currently strained, so it's mostly just Sammy and Jack having a heart to heart about past-relationships and repressed feelings.

---

It's not that Sammy resented his father for giving him not the best of upbringings. He couldn't entirely hate the man who paid for his education and who told him to do good by himself if he ever wanted to be better than the city abercrombies that ran about thinking they were better than southern joes like them. He was grateful, even, that his father had tried to raise him clever instead of letting his mind rot like the other kids back in their home town (the ones that threw rocks at birds, blew up rats with smuggled fireworks, and who broke property to entertain themselves because their parents couldn't be bothered to teach them any better).

What he did resent was the ideals he'd rubbed off on him. The bigoted views, the generational shortcomings of the Lawrence men that had been passed down like tradition. Views that had gotten Sammy black eyes, split lips, and busted noses. Worse yet, he resented how confused they made him.

Samuel Lawrence Sr. had been the kind of man to sneer at people he thought unsavory. Called them by their skin color like they were disease riddled animals, things Sammy slipped up on even after promising to be better. But where his father simply glared and commented offhandedly what he thought of others who did not share his skin tone, nothing could compare to his hatred of homosexuals. If anything, Samuel Sr. took glee from spitting out the most soul crushing things he could muster to anyone who looked at the same sex "funny". He aimed to hurt the "freaks" that went against the Bible.

How ironic that his own son was a closeted bisexual.

"You know, if anything I thought you'd be focused on the whole 'holy shit I'm a talking sheep' thing, not your repressed feelings for Norman..."

Bless Jack Fain for being who he was. Sammy had gotten along well with the slightly older man from the moment they met. A rarity if you really knew Sammy. He wasn't a people person and often had to be encouraged by his little sister to play nice. But Jack? Jack just eases him into being more open, more honest. He was a safe person to be vulnerable around, and one he could entrust with his little secret.

Mostly because Jack had his own secret: The fact that he was a gay man married to his best friend, a lesbian who'd orchestrated quite the grifter act so that both of them could be married and happy. Sammy had never personally met the woman, but he was grateful she'd managed to make it safe for his friend to be able to be spiritually married with the man of his dreams.

"That's not even the issue right now and you know it..." He sighed, covering his face (muzzle) with his gloved hands as he lay in the hammock he'd claimed for himself. The furthest one in the corner of the 'communal room'.

"Well, there's also the awkwardness with Susie..." Jack carefully tuned his fiddle as he talked, not once needing to look at Sammy to read him like an open book. "Between one and the other, you're pretty strung up on this whole mess."

"Jack, Susie and I ended on really bad terms, and falling back into friendly banter and hugs is physically painful when we both remember what happened." He looked at the shorter and rounder cartoon sheep. Jack was looking at him now, frowning slightly.

"And Norman?" The other asked calmly.

"Hates me because I apparently killed him while I was all whacky from drinking Satan's blood in inky form." Sammy stated dryly. "Cultist shit aside, Norman's married and has kids... Or uh, was married. None of us know who's out there waiting for us..."

"Norman's married life is none of my business but I'm pretty sure he was on the same boat as you. I've seen him eat up both broads and blokes with his good eye like you eye up a chocolate cake..." Jack pointed out, raising his gloved hand when Sammy went to cut him off. "I'm not saying he'd cheat on his wife, I'm just saying the man isn't as straight as you think... Now on the subject of you killing him... Err... Yeah that's rough, but not your fault."

"Because I can walk over to him now and say 'hey sorry for ripping out your heart with an axe, I wasn't myself'?" Sammy huffed and curled up into a tight wooly ball. This was hopeless. Between pining over Susie and Norman, and feeling guilty over all the shit Joey Drew and his damn magical Ink had put them through?

He felt like a fuck-up. A very confused fuck up that couldn't even figure out who he wanted in his life. And, to make it worse, in came someone he really didn't want to talk with...

"Hey guys, whatcha up to?" 'Wally' walked in with a wolfish smile and a chipper tone in his voice.

"Hey Wally." Jack greeted him back, while Sammy ignored the imposter. He didn't trust this guy as far as he could throw him, and it still annoyed him that the others ignored his very valid concerns. He was miserable enough as is. "Just resting... Sammy wasn't feeling well."

"It's all them inkwells he's been draining. It don't hurt us no more but it can't be good for ya to booze it up like that." The cartoon wolf chuckled as he went to his own hammock to retrieve something. "My ma used to say visiting the gin mill when you was down was only gonna put ya in an evil mood."

"You don't have a ma..." Sammy grumbled under his breath, getting a sharp look from the wolf.

"What was that?"

"Baa. I said baa. Laugh it up twit..." He lied as he gave up on getting comfortable. Might as well get up and move on with his life. Do something productive while he was in a funk.

"Don't pay him mind Wally, you know Sammy's not the nicest when he's joed and yearning." Jack laughed, getting an annoyed glare from the taller cartoon sheep.

"Jack!"

"Yearning for what exactly?" 'Wally' blinked in confusion. "Another drink? A slice of that delicious all the way from the cafe? Uh... Miss Campbell?"

Sammy took off his bell and chucked it at the wolf. It bounced off his snout harmlessly before it vanished and reappeared around the music director's neck. Damned thing! The wolf grinned.

"Awww you're still dizzy with the dame! That's real cute Sammy!"

"I'm not having this discussion with you!"

"Half a discussion you mean." Jack snorted.

"Silence Judas!" Sammy stamped his foot (hoof) and snorted loudly, electing to ignore the visible cloudy puffs that exited his nostrils. Toon logic was mind-boggling and the particle effects a bit annoying with how much they made it easy to read his moods.

"If it's about how screwy things got, why don't ya sit down and talk about it? Miss Campbell is a sweet dame, she'll listen." Wally suggested. "Think she might need t'talk it out anyways... She's pretty down about it too ya know."

This caught Sammy by surprise.

"What do you mean?" He couldn't help ask out of curiosity.

"Heard her venting to Norman. Was none of my business but hard not to eavesdrop when them walls ain't up to code or whatever Thomas goes on about with regulations and stuff..." The wolf shrugged. "Anywhos, she felt bad that she blew up on you when Joey gave her the slip. She didn't know Drew literally only told you and left ya to tell her she was fired..."

"I... How does she know that...?"

"Norman. Turns out Joey used to ramble to himself in his office when he thought he was on his lonesome... He was gonna try warn ya both that Joey was being shifty, but by then t'was too late and the damage was done. He felt awful that he wasn't too fast, but then again he wasn't really s'pose to know that anyway. I wonder if Joey would'a known he was watching him if ya both didn't blow up at each other like ya did over the whole replacement thing..."

Norman had told Susie that Joey had screwed things up between them on purpose? The guy had avoided him since going through Thomas and Henry's version of the machine! Why would he go though the hassle?

"See? That counts for something Sam." Jack smiled. "If he hated you he wouldn't be defending your honor."

"Norman Polk, hating on Sammy Lawrence? You guys crack me up! Guy don't have no mean bone in his body... He's all bark and little to no bite unless you deserve a beating!" Wally laughed.

"None of us have bones anymore idiot... But..." Sammy sighed. "Thanks... For the advice. And the information."

"..." The wolf sat down. "Well I'll be. I must be dead, cuzz there ain't no way Sammy just thanked little old me."

The bell was thrown once more and Sammy stamped off as the fake Wally cackled. Jack merely shook his head and muttered something along the lines of young love.

"You're only five years older than me!"

"That's five years worth more experience than you Sam!"

"Fuck off Jack!"

[writinginstardust]

An Unexpected Christmas

Pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz x reader

Prompt(s):  my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and i’m so sorry

Warnings: pretty sure there’s some swearing

A/N: Thanks to @writingbychelle for requesting this prompt! As you can tell by the word count, I had a lot of fun with this one and got very carried away.

Word Count: 3484

*

The White House Christmas party could either be the most entertaining or dullest event of the year and it was in full swing right now. Fortunately this year it was erring on the side of entertaining, mostly due to the increased presence of people my own age. The White House trio in particular. They were respectable - you had to be - but by god were they good at livening up a bunch of boring politicians. The ones that needed a little livening anyway. Some, I knew, could do it on their own.

Alex, June, and Nora. I envied them sometimes. They always had each other and they positively shone in the spotlight, unlike me. I tended to slide into the background alone and for the most part I didn’t mind. I’d been dragged to these things for half my life, one or both of my parents having held high offices since Obama was first elected, and for most of those years there’d been no one my own age I’d really managed to make friends with. I’d always been alone at parties and desperately tried to hide from anyone who wanted to engage in any sort of political discussion or ask about my future. Which was just about everyone. 

I knew my parents ambitions for me, everyone did. And they all would have assumed whether my parents had said a thing or not. But that was never what I wanted. It came as quite a shock when word got out that I was going to Georgetown to study art with a minor in creative writing. It’s funny. Maybe if I’d followed in my parents’ footsteps I’d actually be friends with Alex and not alone at this party.

It’s not as though I never spoke to any of them, we saw each other constantly at state functions where there generally weren’t many other young people to talk to since we were usually the only ones living in DC, but I knew I wasn’t exactly their first port of call for entertainment. They had each other and I had a 10 year old coping mechanism. And that was fine. It was all very fine. I was used to it. I just kind of wished things were different.

“(Y/N)!” June’s voice drew my attention and she beckoned me over to where she was talking to Nora and Alex. 

“Hey,” I offered them all a smile when I reached them, noticing that June and Nora both looked way too pleased and Alex ever so slightly uncomfortable. Huh, that was odd.

“Enjoying the party?”

“It’s one of the better ones I’ve been to. Half the interns are already drunk as are the Attorney General and Defence Secretary and I heard someone mention karaoke so hopefully it will be spectacular.”

“Karaoke?” Nora asked in surprise.

“Yep. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I have a lot of questions.”

“And I have a lot I could tell you.”

“Not right now though.” June interrupted. Alex, surprisingly, hadn’t said anything yet. That was weird. 

“You’re right. Ask her then,” Nora prompted. I looked back at June expectantly.

“Mom heard that you’re not going away with your parents for Christmas?”

“Unfortunately not. They get to enjoy the Bahamas and I’m stuck slaving over an assignment.” Normally I wouldn’t mind but my art professor had been in a rather cruel mood and set the class a 10,000 word paper and a large scale practical project right before Christmas break. All because someone laughed when he tripped on the way into class.

“Well, she wants to invite you to spend Christmas with us instead so you’re not all on your own. Unless you already made other plans, that is.”

“No...I, uh, had nothing planned.” Surprised at the invitation, the words were out of my mouth before I could really consider their consequences.

“So you’ll come? Mom is pretty insistent so if you’re saying no, I’m making you tell her yourself.” Well, looked like I was spending Christmas at the White House then. It’s difficult to say no to a president, especially when that president is Ellen Claremont.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Brilliant!” June was positively gleeful. “I’ll go tell mom.” She spun on her heel and took off to the other side of the room, Nora trailing behind her. That left me alone with Alex who was still uncharacteristically quiet.

“Are you alright?” I asked when the silence started getting awkward. “You haven’t said a word.”

“I am so so sorry.”

“Why?”

“Why on Earth did you say yes?” He asked rather than answering my question. “You must have realised what that was.” 

And I had. It was a very obvious and deliberate attempt at a set-up. Just about everyone apparently thought that we’d be great for each other and I knew everyone badgered Alex about it all the time. Maybe that’s one of the reasons we’d never really managed to become proper friends. I didn’t have it so bad. I was an only child and most of the people I really cared to talk to knew very little about this part of my life. There was the odd comment from my parents but they knew by now that I wouldn’t just go along with what they planned or thought best for me. I’d overheard enough to know Alex wasn’t so lucky.

“They caught me off-guard. It’s not ideal, I know, but it’s better than the Christmas I was in for otherwise.”

“Sorry. I didn’t think about that. It’s going to be unbelievably awkward you know?”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“How can it not be?”

“Just try to ignore it all.” I sighed. “Look, I know it will still be a bit awkward no matter what we do-”

“A bit? Do you realise how relentless my family are?”

“I know. But maybe we should just actually talk. Get to know each other a bit. It might make it more bearable.”

“Or less.”

“Alex, like it or not, we’re stuck in this situation now, we might as well make the best of it. Maybe this will give us a chance to actually become friends.”

“Friends, huh?”

“Yeah. I mean, if everyone thinks we should get together then there must be something compatible about us. We could try and be friends rather than having whatever this is.”

He knew what ‘this’ I was referring to. Whatever was between us. Neither of us really knew what it was or what to call it. We weren’t friends. It wasn’t some weird sexual tension. We were more than mere acquaintances too. A couple of young people in the same position who talked and occasionally got drunk together but had no significant attachment to each other (well…) was about the closest description. Whatever ‘this’ was, I didn’t want it.

“Okay. Let’s see how this goes.”

*

It went pretty well in the end. 

I woke early on Christmas morning, hours before I needed to think about leaving for the White House, I always did. Trying to sleep again would be futile so I rolled out of bed and went to make myself pancakes, shooting off a quick message to Alex to check the time and what I should wear on the way. It was a valid question. Some people dressed up, some didn’t leave their pyjamas, I didn’t want to be over or underdressed. I put the kettle on and felt my phone buzz in my pocket. It was Alex. I had a text from him timestamped at 3am and it was 7am now. Did he sleep at all?

It was still weird - getting texts from Alex. He’d taken my suggestion of friends to heart and had been texting me about all sorts at all hours of the day and night for the past week. It was odd, but nice. And I - and by extension, everyone - was right. We had a lot in common. 

I checked his text.

Alexander the not-so-great: I’m already up so come by whenever. Dinner at 1 though so before then.

Me: Okay. Making pancakes now, see you in a couple of hours?

Alexander the not-so-great: ...If I come over, can I have pancakes?

Me: Sure.

I froze. Had I seriously just invited him over for breakfast? I read the text again. Yes. Yes, I had. Okay. This wasn’t weird at all. Too late to do anything about it now though. 

10 minutes later I heard a car pulling up outside. That would be him.

“Merry Christmas!” I smiled as I opened the door for him, trying to look as if I wasn’t freaking out a bit at this turn of events.

“Hey,” he smiled back and I swear that smile didn’t used to do the things it was doing to me now.

“Come in, food is nearly ready.” I stepped back so he and one of his security team could come inside. I couldn’t help feeling bad for the woman that was stuck coming out here with him so early in the morning.

Breakfast turned out not to be as awkward as I’d anticipated, in fact it was quite nice. I hadn’t actually seen Alex since the Christmas party last week but thankfully we were getting on as well in person as we had been over text. Better, even.

“Okay, I need to go take a shower,” I said when we’d finished washing up our plates. “Wi-Fi password is on the router in the living room through there if you want it. Just make yourself at home while I get ready.” We wandered out into the hall and I started up the stairs before pausing and adding. “Guest bathroom is at the end of the hall upstairs and the door next to it is the guest room, you can use anything you need in there. There’s towels and stuff if you need a shower or anything.”

“Is this your way of telling me I stink?” He asked with a teasing smile.

“No worse than usual.” I grinned back and finished climbing the stairs, Alex’s laughter following me until my bedroom door shut between us.

I tried to get ready quickly, feeling as though I was keeping him waiting somehow even though he’d said there was no rush. I managed to shower in record time but that was all I got done quickly. Everything seemed to have gone missing, my hairbrush, moisturiser, toothbrush - which I could have sworn I left charging on my desk, and half my clothes. Maybe I should have tidied my room a bit over the past few weeks, but to be fair, I had a lot of work to do and keeping my things tidy wasn’t much of a priority.

Kicking a pile of clothes to the side, I freed my underwear draw and managed to find a clean set to wear. That was something at least. I looked in my wardrobe, at what was the only selection of clothes I knew for sure were clean, and tried to find an outfit in there somewhere. There was a cute dress or two, but I still wasn’t sure if that was too formal, and a few paint covered t-shirts, some jeans, all my party clothes, and a few shirts. I could probably find something that would work but I needed to check with Alex first. I tried texting him but he didn’t answer. Of course the one time I needed a reply, he was ignoring his phone.

With a huff, I threw on my bathrobe and went downstairs to find him. He wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen and his security was still here so he hadn’t left. I asked her if she knew where he was and she told me he’d gone to the bathroom. Thanking her, I padded back upstairs to intercept him on his way out. That turned out to be a mistake. 

The bathroom door opened and Alex stepped out. Apparently he’d taken me up on my offer of the shower and I was having a hard time deciding if I was happy about that or not. On the one hand, the sight of him still slightly damp with water dripping from his hair and a towel slung low on his hips was fucking glorious. On the other, the sight of him like that was probably going to kill me.

I could feel my cheeks burning as I tried and failed to keep my eyes on his face and not his annoyingly toned abs but I could tell he noticed as he smirked at me. Asshole.

“Can I do something for you?” Yeah. He could take the fucking towel off. I swallowed those words that got alarmingly close to spilling out of my mouth.

“Yeah. I wanted to ask what I should wear. I’m a bit low on options but I don’t want to be overdressed or anything.”

“What have you got?” And I definitely shouldn’t have, especially not now, but I gestured for him to come into my room and take a look.

“Sorry about the mess. It’s not usually like this,” I apologised when I saw how taken aback he looked. I pointed at my open wardrobe. “That’s the only stuff I know for sure is clean.” He considered for a moment before pulling out one of the slightly more casual party dresses along with a cardigan.

“This should be fine. Don’t bother with heels or anything though, just put some sneakers with it.”

“Thanks.” I took the clothes from him and shooed him away. “Go away now. I can’t get dressed with you in here.”

“You sure?” He winked and I smacked his arm, rolling my eyes.

“If I’d have known this was what being your friend entailed, I never would have suggested it.”

“That hurts.”

“You’ll live. Now go get dressed.”

“Sure you want me to?” He winked at me again and in all honesty, I wasn’t sure but I needed him to if I was going to stay sane.

“Oh my god, just go.” He grinned at me one last time before I shut the door on him and let out a deep breath. Alex Claremont-Diaz was going to be the absolute death of me.

*

We got to the White House just before nine and the rest of the family were up and waiting in the living room. And that was something interesting to walk into. Never in my life did I think I’d see President Ellen Claremont half asleep on the floor in her pyjamas. There were some very meaningful looks aimed our way when we walked in together and I could tell we were both regretting turning up at the same time. It was too late to do anything about it though.

“So that’s where you disappeared off to this morning,” June said with a smirk.

“Well I had to do something while I waited for you all to wake up.” There were raised eyebrows at that and Alex froze for a moment as he realised how that might have sounded. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

No one bothered to respond to that and just shifted to make space on the floor by the tree for us, failing to repress their smirks when they basically forced us to sit together. Alex really hadn’t been exaggerating about how bad his family was with this.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that everyone had got me gifts to, and good ones. They apparently knew me better than I’d thought. Thankfully I’d managed to find something for everyone too, though I doubted my gifts were quite as good. But it’s the thought that counts after all.

Soon after the presents were done everyone headed back to their rooms to get dressed, once again leaving Alex and I alone. I didn’t miss the wink June threw our way as she left and pointedly shut the door behind her. I kind of wanted to die.

“I am definitely starting to understand why you seemed so horrified by this idea,” I groaned when the door clicked shut.

“I did warn you.”

“Yeah, after I’d already agreed.”

“You could have just said there was a change of plan.”

“You try telling your mother that.”

“...Okay, you have a point.” I sighed and laid down on the rug. 

“It could be worse. At least they’re not saying anything embarrassing yet.”

“Give them time.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“With good reason. I hope you’re ready for this.” And, like a fool, I thought I was.

Christmas lunch passed agonisingly slowly with meaningful glances thrown both my way and Alex’s from Zahra and every member of the family. The food was great though and it was still enjoyable when I was able to ignore the looks and immerse myself in the conversation but even that didn’t last long. Leo just had to ask about both our love lives. Alex managed to field most of the questions and more than once I saw him shoot his family murderous looks which made them drop it for a few minutes. I appreciated the attempts.

Drinking and ridiculous games followed for the rest of the day and I lost track of time, enjoying everyone’s company even if they were still giving us looks and comments. I found myself minding less and less the longer I was there though. It sure wouldn’t be the worst thing to get together with Alex and honestly the idea was becoming very appealing. 

11pm rolled around. Eyes started drooping, conversations died down, and murmurs about heading to bed started up. I was half asleep myself, leaning on Alex’s shoulder and not really caring anymore what anyone might think, and dreading the prospect of getting up and making my way home. I’d gotten a lift with Alex from my house and I was regretting it now. Either I’d have to trouble someone for a lift home or walk. Neither option seemed great but I’d have to pick soon. The longer I stayed there, the harder it was getting to move.

Ellen and Leo stood and announced they were heading to bed and I decided that probably meant I should leave too, no matter how much I didn’t want to. I shifted and started to get up but Ellen stopped me.

“(Y/N), honey, it’s late, you can stay here tonight.” There was only the faintest smirk on her face now so I knew the offer was more out of care than the family’s attempt to set Alex and I up.

“Oh, uh, thanks.” She smiled and left, Leo following with Zahra close behind. I hesitated for another few moments. I probably shouldn’t stay but the option was incredibly tempting.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Alex said quietly. I looked over at him and he was smiling slightly, the look on his face softer than any I’d ever seen before. “But I’d like you to.” There was something strangely vulnerable in his voice and I found myself agreeing to stay without thinking.

“Okay.” He grinned and stood up, much more himself now.

“I’ll show you to a guest room.” We both pretended not to notice the smirks on both Oscar and June’s faces as we left. I didn’t have the energy left for conversation so we walked through the residence in comfortable silence until we finally arrived at a door that looked just like every other. 

“Well, goodnight I guess.” Alex finally spoke again. “I hope today wasn’t too awful.”

“It was actually really nice.” I smiled sleepily at him.

“Even with all...that?” He gestured vaguely to indicate his family.

“It wasn’t so bad.” I mean, it totally was but being with Alex had been worth it.

“I’m glad. It was nice having you here.” I tried to ignore the way my heart swooped at that but it was difficult in my tired state. “I’m just along the hall in the east bedroom if you need anything and I basically never sleep so don’t worry about disturbing me.”

“Thanks Alex. And thanks for today.”

“You’re welcome. Goodnight.” And then, quite unexpectedly - though maybe if I’d been paying more attention it would have been less of a surprise, he leaned in and kissed me. Just lightly, his lips soft and warm against my own for a few brief moments before he pulled away with a soft smile. “Sleep well, (Y/N).”

He turned and headed to bed himself, leaving me standing dumbly in the hall, surprise rooting me to the spot. After a few seconds spent staring after him I finally shook myself out of it, turning the doorknob and slipping inside the guest room. My whole body felt warm and molten and I collapsed on the bed, mind swirling with thoughts of Alex. Today hadn’t been what I expected but it was better than I dreamed. Maybe being set up wasn’t so bad after all.

*

Tag Lists: (send an ask if you want to be added!)

Everything: @wonderfilledness @writingbychelle @ad-astraaaa @moderngenius94

[poiwritesnstuff]

The One Where Richie Patronizes A Bar

Inspired by this post by @coldplaysongsonrepeat.

Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier was finding it harder and harder to frequent bars since he started being actually recognized. Comedy clubs were places of work, and it was generally considered bad practice to vomit where he ate. Clubs were an overpriced headache full of drugs he was too old to keep up with. Sports bars were usually full of the kinds of guys who would want to get chummy and laugh about stupid broads and masturbation jokes, which was masturbatory in and of itself. It was like... mastur-ception. Incept-urbation.

Maybe there was a reason he didn’t write his own material.

So it was with this reasoning that Richie ended up in a dive bar almost forty minutes from his house, nursing a glass of something alcoholic in the corner of a building that a clown car would call cramped. The lighting was dim with burnt out lightbulbs, the bar made of actual wood, and the stool just unbalanced enough for him to nearly fall off twice. In a word, perfection.

It was so dingy and forgotten that Richie hadn’t noticed the faded pride stickers and graffiti until the bartender struck up a conversation with the charming opener of “Should have figured a guy with a name like Trashmouth Tozier would be gay.”

Richie blinked up at her. “Yeah? What tipped you off, my incredible sense of style or the giant bear railing me as we speak?”

“Are you serious? Right in front of my salad?” She asked, her eyes wide with mock shock as she lit a cigarette. Richie laughed

“I think I might love you,” Richie said. “Forget dick, I’m all about you now, baby.”

“Too bad, since mine is bigger than yours,” she said. 

She offered him the cigarette. Richie didn’t normally smoke, but there was something comforting about the act of smoking with this stranger. They continued on like this, throwing nonsense back and forth until Richie was stumbling out of the bar and into an uber she had called for him at 2AM.

Richie woke up every day for a week and when his sexuality wasn’t plastered on the front page of TMZ, he went back. The same redhead was tending bar and smiled when he came in.

“The prodigal son returns! I thought you might have died last week.”

“That was just the warm up, baby. You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

--

Four months later, Richie had been coming to this place at least once a week and nobody bothered him except to wrinkle their nose at his shirt. He couldn’t tell if he liked it or hated it, but he couldn’t stay away, so he continued sitting in his corner where nobody could bother him.

On one such night. when he was full of whiskey and contemplation and the clock struck 1, he looked up at his redheaded bartender. “Bess.”

“You know I hate that nickname,” she said lightly, collecting her tip from the last customer to depart.

“Besserly!” he insisted.

“Stop calling me th--” She turned around and saw him sitting with his cheek on the cool surface of the bar. “Richard, that’s disgusting, get your head off the bar.”

“It’s fine.”

Liz filled a glass with water and put it in front of him, and Richie lifted his head just enough to slurp water from the glass.

“Richie, I’m gonna close up early so I have to kick you out soon, okay?”

“No!” He jolted up, panicked. Liz paused in her movements to look at him. “Not just-- I have to say a thing.”

“Okay,” Liz said cautiously. She stopped wiping the bar and watched Richie carefully. “What is it?”

“Okay. I’m... It’s a thing. I just am saying the thing. To you. Because you’re my bartender. Isn’t it funny how people will just say so much shit to their bartenders? Like, I know it’s easy to get a bartender confused with a therapist, you give both of them money to give you shit that makes you feel better and maybe makes you cry a lot-- oh, hey, you’re smiling! I knew I was funny, deep down.”

“You were gonna tell me something, Richie,” Liz prompted, idly wiping down the counter around him. “You don’t have to deflect if you don’t want to say it.”

“No, I just need to do it, you know? I just need to... get it out. Admit it. And then the world will keep turning and I can move on with my life. So, Besserly. Good old Queen Bess. Queen Lizzy-Lizabeth. Lizzy.” He drew in a deep breath, took her hand, and looked her right in the eyes. “Liz, I... I am... Uh. I’m, uh... The-- The thing is that I have to, uh, say that I’m... I’m just really.... I’m...”

His heart clenched so hard that his eyes watered. He wondered if he might be dying. Could be preferable to whatever was about to happen.

“Liz, I’m...” He let go of her hand and dropped his head to the bar, his voice muffled by the bar. “A dick. I’m a dick. Just figured I’d say it. First step is admitting you’re a problem and all.”

Liz patted his head and continued to clean, and Richie’s stomach sunk as he thought that she may have understood him after all.

--

It took a record seven months for someone in the bar to finally approach him.

Richie had to do a double take, and then a triple take when the boy sat down. He had clear, light skin and giant brown eyes, his hair combed down into the dorkiest haircut he had ever seen. His heart hurt at the sight.

“You okay, Richie?” The boy asked, his cheeks round and flushed.

“Uh.” Richie cleared his throat and tried again. He couldn’t work past the whisper of a memory that was begging to be unlocked. “That is... um.”

“You’re Richie Tozier, right? The comedian?” The man tilted his head, and the brief vision Richie was having disappeared. Still, this man was young in a way that made Richie feel every second of his thirty-eight years. He tried to shake off the feeling, but it slid like water through the cracks in his armor and settled into the marrow of his bones. He was suddenly too tired and not drunk enough.

“Debatable, but yes.” Richie smiled halfheartedly. “Richie Tozier, here to entertain.”

“It was just a question, dude,” the young man said, brow furrowed. 

Richie laughed suddenly and finished off his drink, then smiled politely as Liz refilled it. “Sorry, that was weird. You just... You remind me of someone. This boy from my hometown...”

Richie trailed off, studying the man, ignoring the painful clench in his stomach as he returned the gaze with a little heat in his enormous eyes, large and expressive and the stuff of his particularly curious nightmares.

“Yeah?” The man prompted. “Where is he now?”

“Well, I don’t... Don’t really know. Honestly, I don’t remember much of my childhood. It’s mostly, like, blurred pictures and shit.” He laughed. “Well, that sounds fucking stupid. Never mind.”

“It’s not stupid, Richie,” the man said, emphatic.

“Yeah?”

“No, it’s, like, fascinating. I mean, maybe it’s a good thing you don’t remember him.”

“Yeah, see, the thing about that is,” Richie said, sitting up straighter on his wobbly stool, “is that at least people who remember the shit they do, they get to know they don’t want it. The thing about forgetting is that you’ve lost a piece of the puzzle. You don’t get to decide you didn’t want it. Even if it’s super fucked up, you don’t get fucking trigger warnings or whatever. Just blankness. Like whiteout on your brain.”

“Yeah, well, knowing isn’t so much better. I broke up with my boyfriend three weeks ago and I wish I could pile up all his shit and set it on fire. I blocked him on everything and like, deleted all of his pictures on my stuff, but I can’t delete them up here.” The man tapped his temple. “Kind of wish I could. He was such an asshole.” A beat, and then-- “Maybe yours was, too.”

“Yeah, I wish. Having trauma would be great material for my stand-up, I wish I could remember it. Maybe my therapist will tell me after another ten thousand dollars.” He let out a rueful laugh, caught sight of the guy grinning at his joke, and laughed more genuinely.

“So you think this person was your friend?” The man asked. “Someone important?”

“Probably not if I can’t remember him,” Richie said with a shrug. “Must have just been some random dude I hung out with before I moved for college.”

The man gave Richie a searching look that Richie missed, and then put his hand over Richie’s. Richie ought to have reacted; he did not.

“Well, listen, maybe... if you want, we could finish our drinks and get out of here. I live close by.” He paused and lowered his voice to whisper into Richie’s ear. “I could be this guy for you, if you want.”

Richie should have been turned on by this twenty-something virile specimen with puppy-dog eyes and luscious lips breathing at his ear, but all he could feel was panic. He jerked back, though not fast enough to be unkind, and smiled as wide as he could.

“I mean, hey, who could turn down a proposition like that? Damn, you’re good at this, wow, but I kind of gotta get back home, can’t get back too late or else the missus is gonna have my ass for waking up the kids and it’ll really piss off my friend if he wakes up to me fuckin’ his mom so uh yeah sorry I’m just gonna”

He almost sprinted out of the bar, leaving his tab and an astonished, rejected man behind.

Richie leapt out of the uber the moment it got to his mansion and he sprinted inside to the bathroom. Richie conjured up the impossible image of this young man looking at him with want, his features changing just enough to push Richie over the edge with a forgotten name on his lips. 

In the aftermath, Richie panted in the dark, leaning on the counter for support as his legs threatened to give way. He finally lifted his head to look at himself and saw, for a moment, two glowing yellow eyes peering back at him.

[rahabs]

Give It No Name

“You,” Spain whispered at last, lifting his gaze to meet Austria’s head on.  “Cariño, you fool, he loves you.”

Is the “shows up ten years late with Starbucks” meme still valid?  Because that’s me right now, one M.Phil degree and two months of law school later.  Surprise?  I literally cannot believe it’s been a year and a half and I’m vaguely ashamed but also scared, because time flies when your life is being upended and you’re moving countries and provinces and cities several times.

This is an unofficial, non-canon sequel to my previous Spain/Austria fic A Seat for the Guest Unknown, mostly because I was running with a concept that I myself don’t really headcanon.  To extrapolate further: I generally headcanon Austria as knowing full well that Prussia’s in love with him, but then I thought what if he didn’t, and as a result this fic idea wouldn’t leave me alone and kept shaming me until I finally finished it.  Hopefully it’s worth the dry spell, and if you want to see more, let me know (or send me prompts, I love those).

READ IT ON: ( AO3 ) OR ( FF.NET )

OR UNDER THE CUT.

He was aware, in an absent sort of way, that most people assumed that living with Prussia brought about all kinds of noise and disruptions.  The disruptions part might have been true, Austria supposed, but the fact of the matter was that save for the times when he was riled up, or drinking with Germany, Prussia was a relatively quiet man with a neat streak a mile wide, and so in the wake of his abrupt exit, the house lapsed into a confused silence that was only broken when Austria sighed and went to retrieve his book.

“Cariño,” Spain murmured, and when Austria felt a light touch to his shoulder he pressed his mouth into a thin line.   Truthfully, he did not wish to think about what Prussia had just inadvertently revealed, not in the least because something seemed… off about the revelation.  All the time in the world, and—

The light touch became a more insistent hold, and Austria turned to meet Spain’s unwavering gaze with a small frown.  There was something lurking there, just under the surface, and when Spain cast a dark look to where Prussia had stood only minutes prior Austria raised an eyebrow, letting out a low, considering hum.  He did not always pretend to understand the dynamic Spain had with France and Prussia, nor the dynamic Prussia had with France and Spain—a strange thing that had been born of warfare and necessity and deep, aching hurts that had spelled the inevitable destruction of Austria’s own empire.  He merely acknowledged it, and then pushed it as far from his mind as he dared in the interest of preserving an uneasy peace wherein he and France ignored each other as completely as they dared.

Still, perhaps he should have been paying closer attention if he had somehow managed to miss this.

Spain gave a light pull—a suggestion, never a command—and Austria followed without comment.  There was no need to play games, not when he knew the discussion that was coming, and so the instant the door to Austria’s bedchamber closed he glided ahead of Spain, placing his book on a nearby dresser, keeping his back turned towards the man he had once called husband.

“I did not know,” Austria said, his tone stiff, and when Spain clicked his tongue in inquiry Austria only exhaled, the sound rough and forced.  He thought that would be the end of it, but he was proven wrong when he heard a shift from behind him, followed by the weight of a pair of familiar arms that circled him from behind.

“Didn’t know what?” Spain asked, breathing the words against Austria’s temple, and despite himself Austria relaxed into the hold.  If they had not been so much older, so much more worn down, perhaps he could have pretended they stood in a different time, when the whole world had been theirs for the taking and the mere mention of their combined might had sent old enemies scurrying to non-traditional allies with their tails tucked tight.  Sometimes though, in quiet times like this, when it was just the two of them and their combined knowledge of one another, it was like no time had passed at all.  He had been able to tell Spain most everything, once, and had been trusted in turn, so after a beat Austria finally turned in Spain’s arms, resting his hands against the other’s chest, not even bothering to conceal the small, almost bitter smile as said, “that he was in love with you.”

For a moment Spain didn’t react, allowing Austria to pick absently at the buttons that made up his former husband’s new casual wear, but whatever Austria had been thinking Spain would do, he had not expected the man to throw his head back and laugh, the sound bright and achingly familiar, if only because he’d heard it so often long ago when trying to bumble his way through the new Spanish court ceremonials he had been so loathe to adopt.

“This is no laughing matter—” Austria started, but he was cut off when Spain’s hands found his hips and lifted him into the air, his protest morphing into a startled yelp when Spain spun him around the room, still laughing, only to put him back on the ground and promptly bury his face against Austria’s neck, his body still trembling with the force of his mirth.  Instinctively, Austria lifted his arms and slid his hands into Spain’s hair, fingers snagging on familiar curls.  He only gradually became aware that Spain was actually speaking, the words muffled by both Austria’s skin and the chuckles that he still could not contain, and it wasn’t until he actually caught some of Spain’s words that he pushed him away, gripping tightly at the man’s shoulders with a scowl on his face.

“Oh, mi tesoro,” Spain laughed, tears still in his eyes, but there was something else in his expression, something that was both achingly fond but also impossibly dark.  “All these years and you still do not know.”

“I would if you would stop laughing and tell me,” Austria snapped back, but he didn’t protest when Spain drew him in again, his arms lifting once more as Spain’s own arms curled around his waist.

“Don’t be cross,” Spain murmured, nipping once at Austria’s jawline.  Austria sighed.

“I am not cross.”

“You are,” Spain replied gleefully.  “You always were when you felt as though things were alluding you.  I remember those first nights in Bologna—”

“Yes, well,” Austria cut in, a faint flush rising to his cheeks that he could not blame on the warmth emanating from the nearby fireplace, but underneath the words was the unspoken understanding: you know me.  You always did.

“He’s not in love with me,” Spain said at last after a few comfortable moments of silence, but the darkness in his eyes was still there when he drew back, echoed in his voice, and while Austria knew the source of Spain’s anger was not himself, it made him wary to see it grow so.  He remembered a time when such a look would have spelt death and destruction for whoever was unfortunate enough to stand in Spain’s path, in their path, in the glory days when their kingdoms had been won and their marriage strong, but this was not the golden past, and Prussia, the irritating fool, was Spain’s… friend, he supposed.

“Then what?” Austria asked, and he was unprepared for the way Spain’s arms tightened around him, or for the way his expression suddenly lost all pretence of play and became one of unwavering intensity, the quirk at the corner of Spain’s mouth no longer teasing but wry and bitter.   For the first time in years Austria could see the weight of centuries past on Spain’s shoulders, the fractures in the soul that had once gleamed so brightly Europe had cowered in its wake, and it made him want to reach out—as he had once been trusted to do—not to smooth over the cracks but almost slip into them himself, the unwavering, cold, stable silver to Spain’s brilliant effervescent gold.

“Spain,” Austria murmured, feeling Spain’s grip tighten further on his hips.  Perhaps it would bruise, but Austria found he did not care, instead pressing forward until his chest aligned with Spain’s; until they could do naught but breathe in each other’s air, exist in each other’s space.

“You,” Spain whispered at last, lifting his eyes to meet Austria’s head on.  “Cariño, you fool, he loves you.”

It was a revelation Austria had not expected, and perhaps, once he was alone, it was one he would explore further.  The idea that Prussia felt, or could feel, anything for him other than the hatred and disdain he’d made so clear over the centuries was something so alien that Austria would have accused Spain of lying had he not known, with the benefit of years spent together, that Spain had no reason to lie to him; no reason to want to deliberately hurt him.  Not now.

“I always wondered,” Spain muttered.  “All these years, he always wanted, and I—"

Austria interrupted him by pressing a brief kiss to the corner of Spain’s mouth, watching in satisfaction as the sharp look in the other’s eyes faded slightly, becoming the warm moss green he was accustomed to.  Then, slowly, he lifted his hands to cup Spain’s face, his thumbs brushing over Spain’s cheekbones as he pressed their foreheads together, letting his eyes slide shut as he hummed lowly, the sound vibrating in his chest.

“Even if he is,” Austria said at last, keeping his voice deliberately soft, “how could I be anything other than Caesar’s?”

If the brutality of Spain’s answering kiss was anything to go by, it had been the right answer.  There would be time to explore Prussia’s feelings later, but for now, he let himself get swept up in the embrace of long ago, and as he felt his lower back connect with the dresser, as he felt Spain’s teeth desperate at his throat, he allowed himself to let go, to feel, and, perhaps, to forget.

The time would come to address the matter.  For now, he would surrender himself to the cinders of what had once been, and the satisfaction of Caesar's touch.

[cloudshapedpatch]

Well, I’m 3 days behind but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to participate in Marichat May. Here is the start of a continuous fic, following the prompts on the Marichat May 2020 calendar. Thanks @marichatmay ~!

The Unusual Connection We Share

Day 1 - Witch AU

Chapter 1/31 - The Witchy Debate

💚 💚 💚 💚

“Obviously you’ve got your head screwed on wrong. Chat Noir is a walking disaster.”

Marinette looked up from her sketchbook, turning her full attention on Chloe. The offending party had flicked the artificial hair of her blue wig, one of the pigtails swinging slightly.

Mlle. Bustier had ended class early and stepped out of the room, leaving the children to do as they please. Not a good idea when they were already hyped up on sugary treats and anxiety for that night. For it was Halloween, and the excitement of the annual All Hallow’s Eve party at the Grand Paris Hotel was enough to rustle everyone’s nerves.

“He is not a disaster! He may not be as important as Ladybug, but he’s not incompetent.” Came Alya’s snarky response.

Marinette dreaded conversations like these. She knew they were inevitable, but she never would know how people could be so ignorant.

“Ladybug would be much better off without him.”

“As if! He’s a great helper.”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

Finally Nino came in and pulled his girlfriend back a few paces, successfully stopping the two girls from continuing. Unfortunately, due to Alya’s slick bodysuit, Nino was unable to get a good grip on her. Alya lunged forward and criticized Chloe’s Ladybug costume, saying she looked like a frog in her wig.

“And what are you supposed to be? Superhero wannabe? You don’t need a costume for that.”

“I’m Majestia.” Alya said plainly, crossing her arms.

Marinette could only slam her head into her desk. It was so infuriating. She wanted to tell everyone off, inform them of the black cat and ladybug’s unique connection. But she couldn’t, not unless she wanted her identity revealed.

Her only solace was that Adrien looked just as uncomfortable as she was, though it was a double-edged sword. If she could help it, Adrien would never feel sub-par.

Speaking of which, when she looked up to steal a glance at him, she found him already staring at her.

“Marinette, are you okay?”

My, how gorgeous his eyes were! They were so concerned for her, and so sweet! They looked almost glossy, but maybe that was the light. Marinette noted how they looked even more green with the black hooded cloak he wore. Black was definitely his color.

It took her a few seconds to realize that she hadn’t responded.

“Oh! Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” She gave her best smile and hoped it was enough.

“Marinette, back me up,” Alya interrupted their moment (if you could even call it that), “Chloe won’t listen to reason.”

“Well, your reasoning is ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.”

Marinette sighed and scooted out from her chair, careful not to step on her long black dress. “What now?” She muttered, mostly to Alya, as she descended the stairs.

“Tell Chloe that Chat Noir is necessary.”

“Um, he is necessary?” She sheepishly told Chloe.

“Like I’d believe that. Ladybug could do so much better. Like moi.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, wanting to go sit down again. Everyone was watching the argument go down, and she was wishing she had stayed out of it. Chloe kept on talking, much to everyone’s chagrin.

“Honestly, if I have to see that stupid cat boy on TV again, I’m gonna hurl.”

Don’t say anything. She just wants attention.

“Paris would be better off without him. She should just take his miraculous and find someone better.”

Her opinion is just one of many. Deep breath.

“Even a homeless bozo would be better than him.”

Marinette snapped like a rubber band pulled too tight. Grabbing Chloe’s shoulders, Marinette stared her down. Everyone was mortified at her sudden outburst. Marinette was never one for violence, but everyone had a limit. And apparently, the small bluenette drew the line for a certain black clad hero.

“Chat Noir is just as important as Ladybug. Just because he can’t de-evilize an akuma doesn’t mean he doesn’t have value. He is a person just like you or I, with feelings and complex life experiences.”

Chloe could only stare in shock as Marinette continued.

“Ladybug needs him. He’s there for her when she’s down, he encourages her. Ladybug gets insecure just like the rest of us. Chat Noir is always there to be her shoulder to lean on when she doubts herself, and he is the greatest thing that ever happened to this city!”

You could have heard a pin drop as the tension in the air weighed on everyone’s shoulders. Taking in a shocked breath, Marinette released her hold on Chloe and took a few steps back.

The silence lasted only a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity. Had she comprised her identity? Had she lost her friends’ trust once again? Her mind ran wild until Alix laughed.

“Come on Marinette, be real. Ladybug doesn’t get insecure; she’s a hero. And a perfect one at that.”

Everyone nodded and murmured in agreement.

Cheeks red and heart racing, Marinette walked up the few steps and sat at her desk. She could feel eyes on her as she deflated. Her pointy witch’s hat fell off as she laid her head on her desk once again, bringing her cloaked arms to shield herself from the world and from Alya and Chloe continuing their argument.

Unbeknownst to her, Adrien was fighting back tears. His heart was getting shredded to pieces not only by Chloe, but by the rest of his classmates as well. They all seemed to think that Chat was more of a bother than a help to Ladybug.

Except Marinette. She had stood up for him, taken the embarrassment of having a different opinion. But the kind words she spoke about his alter-ego weren't the only thing that caught his attention. Her comments about Ladybug stood out to him like a sore thumb. Nobody else seemed to realize that Ladybug doubted herself. Apparently, Marinette did her research.

Well, she did confess her love for Chat Noir at one time and claimed to have followed him around. Perhaps she was just more observant than everyone gave her credit for.

No matter how she knew these things, he was grateful that she said them aloud. More grateful than anyone would know.

* * * *

“Marinette, can you watch the register for a moment? I need to take this phone call.”

“Sure mama, no problem.”

Marinette had just walked in the door when her mother answered the call. Marinette straightened her witch’s hat and plopped her backpack behind the counter. It was not uncommon for Marinette to finish her homework in-between helping customers. Today was sure to be busier than usual, for people would need treats for their parties. Occasionally a small child and their parents would come in to trick-or-treat, preferring the daylight hours so their young child would get to bed on time. Though celebrating Halloween was still quite new (and mostly an English thing), the traditions were picking up popularity.

After a few hours, Alya came by (still in her Majestia costume) to pick Marinette up for the party. She bade her parents goodbye, then left with Alya.

The girls talked of random things to pass the time as they walked to the hotel. Mostly the evening was quite uneventful. No akuma attacks disrupted the party, the snacks were good and Nino played the newest songs at the disk-jockey table.

Things were quite normal for a Bourgeois party. Well, until it was time to go home.

Alya had gotten a ride home from Nino, leaving Marinette to walk home alone. The hotel wasn’t too far from home, and she could always use her Ladybug speed to zip home.

After looking around, the coast was clear. Just before ducking into the alley to transform, a voice called out from the street.

“What are you doing alone out here, little lady? Don’t you know it’s not safe to be out alone after dark?”

Marinette yelped in surprise. So much for being alone. “Huh?”

A quiet thud reached her ears as Chat Noir jumped down from atop a lamppost.

“I thought you were smarter than this, Marinette. Why are you alone, anyway?”

Marinette crossed her arms over her chest. “I was just walking home. Not that it’s any of your business, anyhow.”

“But it is! It’s my job to protect damsels in distress.”

“Then go find one. The only distress around here is caused by you.” Marinette smirked at him, though she wasn’t sure whether she was annoyed or amused.

“Meowch, little lady has some claws.”

Marinette just rolled her eyes and started walking down the road. Unfortunately, Chat just bounded up next to her.

“Anyway, I wanted to thank you. For your kind words.”

This caused her to stop walking. The surprise was evident on her face. “I don’t recall speaking to you earlier.”

“Not to me, you spoke about me.”

Finally, the recollection of the school debate came to the front of her mind. Groaning, she threw her face into her hands.

“You heard that?”

“Oh course; I hear everything. Perks of being a superhero.”

Marinette knew for a fact that was not how the Miraculous worked, but of course Chat couldn’t know that. She was so caught up in keeping her own identity a secret, she did not think about how he may have heard.

“Well don’t let it go to your head. I was just defending you.”

She looked over to find him flexing and being a general show-off. “Don’t worry too much about it. Your words will forever be in my heart.”

A snort escaped her lips before she could stop it. “Sure, whatever.” She started walking again, only for Chat to run in front of her, successfully cutting her off.

“Let me take you home. To return the favor.”

“I got it, thanks though.”

“You’re going to turn down a ride with your favorite hero?”

“Who said you were my favorite?”

“You did, at one time. Did you change your mind and fail to tell me?”

His face turned down into a little pout. Damn, he looked just like a kitten, and unfortunately Marinette was a sucker for the big, sparkly eyes.

After a long sigh, she gave in. “You better not drop me.”

Marinette would not admit it, but feeling the wind whipping around her dress was exhilarating. It was truly different than swinging around Paris with her own yo-yo. And something about not being in control made her shiver in fear and delight. She wondered idly if she had ever swung around the city with Civilian Chat in her arms (she had, after the battle of Style Queen, but she was blissfully unaware of this occurrence).

Almost as quickly as Chat had scooped her up, he was setting her down by the side entrance of her home.

“Well, until we meet again, little lady.”

Expecting his signature two-finger salute, she was surprised when his hand came to his chest and he bowed, using his other hand to grab her own and give it a chaste kiss.

Even after he left, she could still feel the warmth across her knuckles, keeping her frozen in place. It took a few calls from Tikki and a poke on her nose to snap Marinette out of her shocked daze.

That dumb cat.

[avelera]

*emerges from their grace* a chubby Newt that stress eats???? Also hi it's been a while :v

aaaah, babe it’s been too long!! Thank you for the prompt!

This one’s gonna combine a few Anon prompts too including: 

Chubby Newt never manages to lose his lovehandles even in the middle of the war, his eating habits aren’t always the best and there’s always junk food wrappers in his room but he’s always comfortable and soft and friend-shaped.

&Newton’s one of those kids that stacked on the puppy fat as a teenager but assumed he’d grow more and even out but he just… didn’t? Like, he’s taller than he was which is nice but he’s also still got chipmunk cheeks and a few stretch marks on his thighs and for all his talk of being a “rock star” he can actually be quite sensitive about these things, especially when it comes to being intimate with someone (he’s had a few bad experiences). But he’s still got a rockin bod! 

And mostly:

sickfic type thing with (a lil chubby) newt who ate too much and hermann taking care of him—

On the Risks (and Benefits) of Stress Eating

Also available on Ao3

Words: 2,682 (I knooow)

Ship:Newt/Hermann

Timeline: Shatterdome era

Man I just remembered I was thinking of tying my SFW Shatterdome era prompt combo one into the tattoo prompt but then sickfic took over. OH WELL. I’ll get to that one soon cuz it’s amazing.

This ficlet is proooobably gonna lead into my NSFW prompt combo, just FYI ;3

—-

“Newton, maybe you should slow down?”

Newt grunted in acknowledgement of Hermann’s point, whatever it was, and went back to summarily ignoring it. The LiDAR mapping of the latest Kaiju attack had just come in and he needed to square them with the video as well since there was almost zero chance he’d get any live samples from this one. He’d have to make do without. He crunched on another potato chip without tasting it and when the bag was empty tossed it on the ground with the pile of others. His brain hummed, streamlined and focused from taking his medication twice today and if he stayed focused he could ride this wave to getting a week’s worth of work done in an evening. And if he could manage just a few, oh, thousand more nights like that then maybe they’d have a shot at winning this war.

“…Newton, that’s your fifth bag of junk food, this is getting obscene. At least let me fetch you a meal from the cafeteria before it closes? Perhaps something with a vitamin buried in it somewhere?”

“No thanks,” Newt muttered. Could the guy not see he was busy? Cafeteria food meant knife and fork which meant freeing up his hands which meant breaking his concentration and he was on a roll. Achieving this level of focus was a once in a blue moon thing for him, usually he needed to bounce between three projects to finish any and sure, that meant three projects got done in the time it took most people to do one, but he wasn’t going to stop now when hyperfixation was helping him out for once. Just to make the point he blindly reached over and grabbed another bag of snacks, tearing it open with his teeth and burying his hand inside to stuff his mouth full before returning his hands to the keyboard.

“… Newton, I…”

Newt snarled and spun in his chair. “What is it, Hermann? Can’t you see I’m working, or at least I’m trying to if you wouldn’t interrupt every five minutes?!”

Hermann recoiled, his hand snatching back from where it had presumably hovered at Newt’s shoulder. He drew himself up, expression growing pinched and severe. His suit jacket was tossed over one arm and he gripped his cane hard in the other hand. “It’s been three hours since I last interrupted you and before that it was another two. I only interrupted this time to tell you I’m retiring for the evening, so do remember to switch the lights off this time,” he said stiffly.

Newt blinked then his eyes drifted to the clock blinking military time on the wall. 2300 hours. Oh. His vision swam now that it broke from the screen and he realized he didn’t feel so great. Like, not great at all, maaaybe more than a little nauseous.

Then he spotted the pile of junk food bags and wrappers in a halo around his chair. His lap was encrusted with crumbs and his keyboard wasn’t much better. He prided himself in his total lack of squeamishness but this was…kinda more than a little disgusting.

About as disgusting as he felt right now.

Hermann’s wide lips thinned to a line. “I did try to warn you.”

Newt groaned and flopped back in his chair, which was a big mistake because the accidental stretch sent a pang through his belly and he doubled over, heaving shallow breaths and trying to swallow back the nausea.

“And don’t throw up on my shoes, if you would be so kind.”

“No promises,” Newt wheezed. Hermann took a careful step back out of the “blast radius.” Newt swallowed a few more times, fumbled for water bottle on his desk and took a swig. His medication left him dry-mouthed so he always had one handy. After a tense moment, the wave of nausea passed which only reminded him of the other gross part of his hyperfixation bouts.

Stress eating. His whole body felt bloated and gross and his stomach distended to just this side of pain. The buttons on his shirt were tight and if Hermann would just take off already so he could unbutton his pants and breathe he’d feel much better. His stupid, tight pants were only a fashion statement when he wasn’t spilling out of them like an over-ambitious muffin in front of the guy he’d been hopelessly dreaming about boning since he were twenty-fucking-three, and right now he couldn’t imagine feeling any less sexy. Newt buried his face in his hands with a groan.

“You can go. Don’t worry, I’ll get the damn lights,” Newt muttered into his hands, then scraped them back through his hair as he sat up. Hermann was still standing there looking, if anything, kinda… worried.

“Are you certain you don’t need help returning to your quarters?” Hermann said. “I know how it can be with your… your mind the way it is, and it does you no favors when you lose track of your surroundings, and worse, your own wellbeing like this.”

“You say “lose track” like it was something I had control over,” Newt said dryly.

“My apologies, I know it’s not as simple as that, I merely meant…”

Newt waved him off. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Thanks for trying earlier, sorry I was a dick about it.”

“Well, I won’t contradict you on that point.”

Newt snorted. On any other night it would be way too embarrassing to let Hermann walk him back, people might get ideas. They might get the exact idea that Newt was really hoping someone would get, and that someone was Hermann, when Newt went through waves of getting handsy with the guy when the crush got too bad and then scrambling away again when another fight flared. Usually because Hermann had a stupid opinion about Newt’s research, or Newt had an opinion about Hermann’s stupid research. It was just how they were, and fighting was almost as good as fucking when it came to breaking up the very one-sided sexual tension.

Ugh, sexual tension. No fucking chance of breaking that tonight. Maybe it was for the best.

“Actually, y’know what? I think I could use that hand,” Newt winced.

He wasn’t sure if he should expect another exasperated retort or jibe for that one, but Hermann said nothing, only offered his arm to Newt the way he’d done countless times in return.

Hermann must have deemed this episode to be on the no-insults side of the line that existed between them, where dwelled the topics Never To Be Discussed, mostly stuff they had no control over. Newt never brought up the leg unless it was logistically necessary and Hermann never brought up Newt’s weird brain except for similar reasons (one time Newt heard that Hermann tripped a J-tech with his cane for calling Newt that spastic freak in the dungeon but try as he might Newt couldn’t get anyone to verify that crowning moment of awesome). Their insults always stayed in the realm of the other’s stupid research, or stupid clothes, or stupid hair/tattoos, stuff that they had control over (and god if only Hermann would take control of that wardrobe). For whatever reason, Newt stuffing himself with junk food on a work binge counted as “stuff they couldn’t control” and for that he was endlessly grateful.

The floor swayed beneath Newt’s feet and he had to swallow back another wave of nausea as he stood. He leaned on Hermann’s arm more than he’d really meant to when he’d accepted, he didn’t want to hurt the guy, but while their progress was slow out the lab (Newt got the lights on the way) and down the hall to their rooms. Hermann hesitated outside Newt’s door.

“Would you like me to come in…?” Hermann said hesitantly.

God, yes, Newt thought, not that he could ever say it.

“God, yes.”

Crap.

“… and see you settled?” Hermann finished.

Double-crap. Just play it cool, Newtster.

“Sure, I feel like total shit. Maybe you could rub my tummy or something?” he winked.

That wasn’t cool at all.

Newt grimaced. It’s not like he cared what Hermann-stick-up-his-arse-Gottlieb thought about him (ok he did care, a lot, way too much) but even his not caring was more about hoping that attitude came across in a reckless, devil-may-care, sexy bad boy kind of way. Not because he was too nauseous and bloated to give a shit that he was covered in crumbs instead of engine oil or alien guts, and just generally gross.

Instead of waiting for Hermann’s inevitable exasperated huff and retort about Newt’s talking nonsense, he opted for spinning the industrial-grade lock on his door and going inside. He stumbled through the doorway and only then turned to see Hermann still standing there, his cheeks lit up like Christmas.

“Is it something I said?” Newt hazarded.

Hermann shook himself. “Your… stomach, is it really hurting that much? All jests aside, Newton, the medical bay is closed but I’d be happy to help however I may. Your health is a serious matter.”

Newt’s eyes narrowed. Since when was Hermann helpful about anything? “You want to rub my stomach?”

Hermann’s face turned crimson and for once it was definitely not with anger.

“I…” Hermann said in a strangled tone.

“Look, I’m gonna get ready for bed,” Newt said and jabbed his thumb back over his shoulder at his rumpled pile of comforters. Godzilla sheets poked out at the corners, it wasn’t exactly a love nest. “You can do whatever you want.”

Newt turned and back to unbutton his shirt. The iron door clanged shut behind him and he sighed, exhaling to allow his gut to hang over his pants and sighing with deeper pleasure when his fingers reached the top button of his pants. He’d have to file that blush away for later, because for now if he was going to take another stab at seducing the human personification of a sweater-vest (why did he crush on that guy so hard, why?) it would have to wait until he felt human again at all.

There was a polite cough from behind him.

Newt shrieked and whipped around, his hands flying to cover himself since the pants had slid halfway down his thighs. Hermann stared, his fist covered his mouth until he slowly lowered it. “I… you said whatever I… I’d feel better if I knew you were…” Hermann cleared his throat. “I’ll just see myself out, then.”

“Wait,” Newt blurted. Seriously, Hermann was still here? Newt had said he could do whatever he wanted and he’d stayed? “Was that offer serious?”

Hermann turned back and the blush was there again, heating up to his ears. “I… I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t,” he said stiffly.

“I, well… sure? Hell, why not? It’s not like I was going to get any sleep without it,” Newt said. Right, they were just pals here. Pals who were mostly rivals, pals who definitely didn’t have crackling sexual tension filling the room like a Tesla coil gone haywire. That was only in Newt’s head. He tentatively finished unbuttoning his shirt and tossed it over the back of his desk chair before bending to shuck his trousers. “Thanks, man, I guess that means I owe you.”

“What are you doing?” Hermann squawked.

“Getting ready for bed?” Newt said with a raised eyebrow. “Dude, you stayed, sorry if that means you get the whole package because I am not wearing anything except boxers to bed.” He paused, and it couldn’t get much worse anyway so he added with a wink, “And even that’s a concession.”

He snickered under his breath as Hermann sputtered but then, the guy had volunteered and there was something going on with that blush that had the wheels in Newt’s brain turning. It’s not like he could do anything more to sabotage his future chances with Hermann anyway, so might as well not worry about it. He flopped down on the bed, then winced and curled in on himself as the pangs returned with a vengeance. Yeah, it hadn’t been a total joke about the not being able to sleep. The first time he’d had a night like this was when he started undergrad as a teen and back then he’d averaged at least one night like this a month.

“Here, just let me,” Hermann huffed as he sat down beside Newt on the bed. He was still wearing the shirt and sweater-vest, which made Newt feel a little underdressed for the occasion until he reminded himself that Hermann was overdressed which instantly made him feel better. Hermann’s fingers were cold but it was nice, kinda soothing as they began to massage slow circles around his belly. His soft, protruding belly with its gaping Kaiju maw and airbrushed flame abs that definitely weren’t fooling anyone at this point.

It was only a few minutes before the pain began to ease and even with a double dose of meds, Newt found relaxation taking the place of the manic energy that had powered him through the night and probably would have gotten him to the morning just in time for a spectacular crash if he’d kept riding it.

“Dude, you’re really good at this,” Newt murmured and let his eyes slide shut.

“I…ermm, I’ve watched some videos on the matter,” Hermann coughed.

Newt’s brow furrowed and he cracked an eye open. The blush was back. Interesting. Hypothesis time. “Sorry I’m so gross right now,” he said. “I know this is more up-close-and-personal you wanted to get with me, especially with the whole swollen tummy and over-eating thing.” Hermann’s blush spread. “It’s not like I plan it or anything, I just lose track of time. It’s been like this for ages, I was never a skinny kid or anything, but the freshmen fifteen hit pretty hard especially when my dads weren’t around to keep healthy food out and, uh, I grew out of a few wardrobes…”

Hermann gave a muffled squeak and his fingers dug a little too hard into Newt’s stomach so that he winced. “That’s… interesting,” Hermann said faintly. “Hrm. That is… you should be more careful in the future. I’d be happy to keep you well stocked in food of some nutritional value if it will spare you another night like this.”

“You’d feed me? That’s sweet of you, Herms,” Newt said. Jackpot. Hermann looked like he was going to start sweating if he blushed any harder, he might have already. “I’d eat from your fingers if it meant not feeling this cruddy again any time soon.”

Hermann released a deep, slow breath that shivered at the end. “D-Don’t be absurd.”

“I’m not.”

Hermann jerked to stare down at him and Newt looked back up frankly. Forget gross, he was starting to think he’d stumbled upon being quite the opposite.

He yawned hugely. “…But not tonight. I’m wiped and I need to let a little of this to go down before I think of eating anything more,” he said and patted his stomach, rubbing it once for good measure. Hermann’s eyes widened. Yup. “You can stay here if you want.”

“Why would I stay here when my quarters are next door?” Hermann said and sounded like he was trying to be offended but the words came out breathless.

Newt shrugged. “Why not? I don’t mind,” he said and curled over on his side and shut his eyes. “It’s up to you.”

He didn’t open them, just waited to hear the heavy iron door open and shut.

It didn’t.

—

[wildcardwriting]

Daemon’s Fate #5

[Katekyo Hitman Reborn]

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Daemon’s Fate on AO3

Summary: When Tsuna wasn’t born with a daemon, it drew attention. He was bullied so much that Nana was forced to take drastic measures. Yet, after Tsuna saves two animals (an abandoned baby phoenix, and a starved lion cub) they start following him around and people (including Reborn and the mafia) start making new assumptions… Poor them. Drabbles and some chapters.

XXxxxxXX

Part 5: Back Tracking

XXxxxxXX

The rest of the conversation was much tamer in comparison, but Reborn was far from pleased. Dino wasn't paying much attention anymore, going from shock to fear and back again. Normally Reborn would have snapped him out of it, but considering the situation was as mind-blowing as it was he let Dino have a few minutes. He needed to figure a few things out. The file he was given on his new student was falling to pieces the longer he was in Tsuna's presence. Now, normally he would have blamed this on poor skills and perhaps low-quality information people, but if Tsuna's hyper intuition was anywhere as good as the ninth's this was less about the people Iemitsu had put on his son's guard and more on the fact that Tsuna's latent skills were better than a civilian and better than a low-ranking mafia minion.

Reborn resisted the incredibly strong urge to sigh. He needed to gain back control of the situation, and reassess his training plans.

"Snap out of your shock, Dame-Dino," Reborn said using a bullet to help illustrate his words."A boss is supposed to be above it all."

"But, but Tsuna is trusting me with his daemons! How am I supposed to react to that? " He said looking seconds away from having a nervous breakdown. "I just met him and already he—"

Tsuna reaches across the table, to serve Dino some more tea, looking like the entire conversation had nothing to do with him. It made Reborn want to shoot at him, but he resisted the urge considering how close his student's daemons were and how likely they were to bite him if he did anything to Tsuna while they were away from him. This whole meeting was a huge mess, and while normally he thrived in creating chaos his student was apparently better at deflecting it off him than he first appeared.

"Your tea is going to get cold, Dino-san," Tsuna prompted when no one said anything after a few minutes. He took another cookie from the bowl in the middle of the table and bit into it casually as he leveled a rather serious look at the people sitting across from him. "But something is on your mind?" He asks turning not to Dino like it first seemed but to Reborn himself.

Reborn frowns. "You said good instincts. Elaborate." He presses but both of his students, past and present can hear the unsaid command.

Tsuna tilts his head and turns to his daemons. His mouth opens but there no sound—he's likely commanding his daemons. But he still doesn't immediately answer Reborn and its annoying.

There are few people who would even dare ignore him, but he knows better than to lash out at his student and frowns instead. To his left, he sees Tsubird nuzzled Dino one more time before flying off to land on Tsuna's shoulder. It was a show of support Reborn couldn't overlook, especially because Natsu followed less than a minute later. Both tensed and regarded Reborn like he was an enemy as they took their places across the table directly in front of Reborn. Any warmth that had been there only minutes before was gone replaced with distrust and anger, and yet Tsuna just sits there sipping his tea.

The disharmony between the two aspects of Tsuna is mind-bending, but instead of focusing on the one aspect that he still can't understand, he turns to his current student waiting for answers.

"I just do." He said reaching out to both of his daemons, patting them casually. Likely trying to comfort them, though why he was trying to comfort his daemons rather than the other way was curious. Daemons were a person's true nature, and most everything they did was a reflection of the person's soul that spawned them. Tsuna was acting like they were separate beings from him, distinct with all their own mannerisms and feelings. It was an odd reaction. Perhaps it was a cultural difference? It was hard to tell.

Reborn wasn't friendly enough with anyone from the Japanese Yakuza to get a general read on what was socially common in Japan, and considering even Iemitsu as his best source hadn't been to Japan in years, he was lacking information on what was commonly accepted and what wasn't socially. Parts of Tsuna's attitude could be a result of his native upbringing but there was so much he didn't know about his student that it was difficult to see what was nature and what was problematic. In Italy, a reaction like that meant therapy. In Japan, it could be common. He was left to guess. Until he managed to get Tsuna to trust him, he wouldn't know for sure.

And then Nana called them down to dinner, and the moment was lost.

XXxxxxXX

"So did you managed to get along?" Nana asks them as they enter the kitchen and start taking their seats at the table.

Tsuna smiles again, mysteriously. Reborn starts to wonder if perhaps that's Tsuna's default expression, perhaps like Fon hiding his emotions behind a smile instead of a sleeve.

"Dino-nii was very kind," He tells her, taking the plates from her hands and starting to serve everyone. Neither Reborn or Dino miss the change of honorific but let it pass. If upstairs was any indication Tsuna only said what he wanted, regardless of what anyone demanded.

Setting the plates out, Tsuna moved around the table adding food here and there, seemingly at random. Apparently, this was something of a routine because Nana takes a seat at the far right of the table and doesn't argue with him.

"Natsu and Tsubird really like Dino-nii," Tsuna tells her as he pours some more espresso into Reborn's tiny cup.

Nana brights up so much at the statement, Reborn can nearly see the flowers that spring to life. Her own daemon is apparently just as proud because it hops off her shoulder and starts rubbing up against Tsuna's cheek, lovingly.

"Oh, that is so wonderful Tsu-kun!" She smiles and then turns to Dino. She pauses for a second, surprised before smiling again. Reborn figures she noticed the rather odd patch of green on Dino's shoulder.

"Your daemon is so cute, Dino-kun." She says changing tracks from whatever she had been going to say.

Dino blinks himself, having entirely forgotten the presence of his own daemon in the aftermath of Tsuna's. He turns to his right shoulder. "This is Enzo, he's a Sicilian pond turtle." He says beaming and looks back to Enzo petting him.

"A good daemon," Tsuna says, finally taking his own seat. He starts to separate some food into some smaller plates, presumably to feed his own daemons.  "I think it matches you."

Dino and Romario blink at the odd comment. Of course, the daemon matches Dino, its Dino's daemon. It wouldn't make sense otherwise if it didn't match him.

Reborn, on the other hand, frowns. That was a rather odd comment for his student to make.

What exactly is he trying to say?

Tsuna pauses in his motions and looking at the trio he must have seen something in their expressions because he starts to elaborate. "I'm not sure how much you know about the Daemonic Theory and Symbolism...? "

He waits for the trio to reply.

Romario shakes his head, and Reborn stays nothing.

Daemonic Theory and symbolism was a complicated, delicate, and exhaustive science that was used to explain the differences in character traits among Daemons and how it linked to personality, but it was an esoteric field that not many people went into to, mostly because it required a level of memorization that was left to dedicated scholars. Reborn himself only had a passing awareness of the science, knowing only very general things about Daemons and how it related to families. It helped his awareness and his study of people for work but not much more. His time was limited and it was probably the same with both Romario and Dino.

"Not much, I admit,"  Dino tells Tsuna, interrupting Reborn's thoughts. Dino rubs his head rather sheepishly, unknowingly answering for the group.

Tsuna nods but doesn't look surprised. "Turtles are known for their determination, endurance, and longevity. A person with a turtle daemon is a survivor, often as a result of overcoming a great challenge. A person with a turtle daemon is stability and protection for those around them." He pushes the small plates of food to his daemons and looks up to met Dino's eyes. "I think it's a good match, don't you think?"

"I think so too," Nana added in. "After all, he's your new brother, right?"

Tsuna nods and both of the Sawada's dig into the food, like Tsuna, did nothing special.

While across the table Dino is bright red. Next, to him, Romario is still in shock. Neither having seen that piece of information coming or the fact Tsuna himself would know about his particular daemon. Did his instincts forewarn him or did he know it naturally? Dino couldn't even begin to guess, but Reborn might. Glancing to his right, Reborn looks especially intrigued, and Dino tries not to shiver at the thought.

An interested Reborn was never a good thing.

He himself has only had that look directed at him two times, and both times were painful, to say the least. For Tsuna to have that same look directed at him, is scary. He wonders how exactly his new little brother will take Reborn's interest.

Reborn smirks and placing his cup of espresso on the table reaches for his chopsticks. He looks ready to eat, but his eyes are Tsuna.

He'd like to test this new found knowledge of Tsuna's.

"What about chameleons? Or Monkeys? Perhaps a centipede?" He says rapid firing questions.

Dino turns to Reborn in surprise.

In that particular combination, there's no way he isn't asking about the other Arcobaleno. Especially, because while he might not know which daemon and human combination pair Reborn is getting at with the monkey question, Dino knows centipede Daemons are incredibly rare. Lal Mich is the only mafioso that he knows high up enough in the mafia for Reborn to know and interact with so it's probably not much of a stretch to guess that Reborn likely means the Storm Arcobaleno as the daemon monkey pair, as the other possible one.

Tsuna slowly blinks at the questions, but answers regardless. "Centipede daemons are born of great difficulty, they face problems often in romance or socially. They are tough, sneaky, and constantly on the move. To have a centipede daemon as a partner is to be hardworking, stubborn and reach for greater heights. They are hard to know but the greatest supports... and monkeys." He hums for a second. "That's a little more difficult."

"Really? In what way?" Reborn said looking curious.

Tsuna looks to him meeting his stare dead on. "Monkey daemons are characterized by their relationships. Do you want general, or something more specific? "

"Acquaintances.. would probably be most accurate." Reborn hedges, looking pensive.

Tsuna figures that's probably normal in the mafia were relationships and bonds of trust are hard to come by. Criminality, let alone social criminality really isn't something he knows a lot of, even considering his recent studies under Reborn. For all he knows the relationship is complicated, Tsuna doesn't know, but thinking about what he knows about Reborn and what Monkey partners and their ties to life he can make a guess.

"Monkey daemons are known to be playful, they signify safety, bravery, and emotional intelligence. Among friends and family, they bond deeply but have difficulty seeing the situation from another angle. They are sensible and resourceful. Monkey daemon pairs are a source of profound wisdom if they allow themselves to move on from the past, and don't think too hard on the future." Tsuna says reaching for his tea.

He tries not to think too much on how he sounds. He had no idea that when he started learning about Daemonic Theory and Symbolism that he was signing himself up to be interrogated. Dino is looking at him like he's some sort of bomb waiting to go off, and Reborn looks incredibly evil. He knew not many people actually studied Daemonic Theory and Symbolism but this was starting to get a little ridiculous. He would have thought people in the mafia would be studying it if only to get some advantage out of being able to read other people. Yet, for some reason, Reborn seems surprised...? It a weird sensation to finally be able to read his tutor after nearly five weeks of trying and failing to get rid of the little murderer baby, but Tsuna can't really find it in himself to be too charitable considering the mess Reborn is causing him.

"And chameleon?" Reborn says inching slightly closer to his student as if to listen better.

"What about them?" Tsuna frowns and takes a large bite out of his food. What he knows about chameleons is his own business. If Reborn wants to know about his own daemon, he can go look it up. Tsuna isn't his minion.

Reborn pouts...? Or frowns?

It hard to say on such a small face, but Tsuna could care less.

"I thought you knew all about Daemonic Theory and Symbolism, Dame-Tsuna," Reborn says inching ever so close to sounding mocking.

The chopsticks break in Tsuna's hands. While on his sides his daemons start growling. Even Nana herself doesn't seem happy with how the conversation is progressing, as she frowning disapprovingly. Dino and Romario pausing in their motions, the tension starting to build. It like the two have forgotten about everyone else in the room but considering who Tsuna is picking a fight with Dino can't help but be a little awed. He'd never had the courage to talk back to Reborn as a student and yet somehow in the last few hours he's seen his little brother do that multiple times over and over again and yet nothing happened. At all.

If anyone else had tried to pull that kind of thing with Reborn in the mafia, they'd be sporting a few bullet holes, but Dino guesses that trying that same tactic on the heir of the Vongola Family is a different matter entirely. After all, his own family had some backup heirs if Dino couldn't take up the mantle. The Vongola doesn't really have that option anymore. Tsuna is all they got, and if Reborn is too rough with him, there was going to be problems. But still, the amount of pure courage Tsuna is packing is pretty impressive.

"I didn't say I knew everything," Tsuna says not even looking at Reborn anymore.

"Oh, I thought you knew...?"

"Whether I do or don't is none of your business—"

"Considering I'm your home tutor—"

"Means nothing." Tsuna hisses. His eyes are burning fury. He pushes his plate to the side and getting to his feet he lets his daemons perch on his shoulders. "You are nothing to me. I don't trust you. Ietmisu does, and maybe your boss does, but not me." He pushes his chair in, and places his plate in the sink leaves the kitchen. He almost runs up the stairs to his room, closing the door with a quick but sharp sound.

Apparently, Reborn underscored how bad his relationship with Tsuna was in his call.

Dino sighed.

Great.

XXxxxxXX

So this chapter was mainly to work through some issue plaguing Dino, Reborn and Tsuna.

Tsuna still doesn't trust Reborn at all and he has good reason to. Being near Reborn is causing him so much grief.

Reborn is still an arrogant little jerk who thinks throwing random variables at Tsuna is enough to changes things, but he's wrong. At its doing is showing him how much Tsuna and his pets hate him. Yes, Reborn is starting to notice that Tsuna is a little odd, but the extent of it is still beyond him right now, but he's starting to understand that maybe, maybe his methods aren't working.

Dino is pretty much caught in the crossfire between Tsuna and Reborn. Reborn didn't really tell him anything about his new student. He's confused and pretty much in awe of Tsuna right now.

Also, Reborn and Dino don't really know that Tsuna told Nana about the mafia, or what Tsubird's real species is. They just guess he was some random red bird.

Extra Info: Romario's daemon was pretty much ignored, but it's a Convolvulus Hawkmoth.

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[silverlozhka-nah-blog]

talk about that moment igor knew he had to kill stas in order to stop him. what was that moment like? was it a difficult decision given their history or was it easier to accept because of what he's done? talk about your bby @ us thanks

I’m going to start off by saying,    wow how dare you,   but also thank you,  I love you, I can always count on you.

and the second thing,  I’m leading with is that the show didn’t really give us much to go on with it, but judging from the first episode, they were relatively close. igor of course ends up proposing to his sister, lera so that kinda gave me the sense that they’d known each other for a long time.  they said since school but i’m thinking igor never went to university because the law degree he does have was bought by his father, vladimir.   so I’m going right here and saying they’ve known each other for probably 20 years.

I want to say it was shortly after his mother died because igor was no longer home-schooled after that,  his father mostly just sent him to school and hired people to take care of him-----  he’s a very absent father and when he’s there it’s not exactly the best relationship verbally or physically,  he usually just threw money at igor,  just basically used his money to  ‘ parent ‘  him.  it definitely unironically led igor down that self-destructive path he was on, while he did have a choice, he chose a bad one.  I also don’t think though that he let it escalate too far,  in which it was probably him being the voice of reason for stas unless that day he was feel particularly destructive.  but stas was definitely the wilder of the two of them,  I’m thinking they also had a reputation of being the two guys in school you don’t mess with:    aka the popular rich kids. it was very, and is very much as the richest people have the most say in things,  and while igor himself wasn’t rich,  nor stas or lera,  they were the children of oligarchs,   both stas and igor set to inherit whatever their parents riches were.

anyways unbeknowst to igor, stas had his own issues with drugs, that started in the equivalent to high school. he didn’t know about it until recently just before his father forced igor onto the police force.  of course it started off with small things,  weed mostly because that’s about as far as igor had gone.  there was a night where igor did in fact get caught up in it. it was a night in high school, where stas took igor to   ‘ a party ‘  while igor is fine with drinking and weed and naked girls,  the whole stronger drug perspective was not on his idea of fun.  he ended up giving into peer pressure and snorting cocaine,  the reaction he had to it wasn’t exactly positive.  he didn’t like the way it made him feel or think, so drugs had never really been something that igor wanted to dive into.   stas, of course had other ideas.  igor could put up with it to a degree,   he loved stas and he loved lera but the pair of them were not good for his health in any shape or form.

igors belief had always been that weak drugs lead to strong drugs, to stronger drugs like heroin that can consume your life,  it’s why he drew the line for himself at weed---  knew that if anything wild happened,  it wouldn’t be because he was trying desperately to get a fix.  there was also a part of him that cared slightly about his fathers reputation,  about his own reputation. it’s seen in season one episode one,  stats pulling out pills right in the middle of the club and igor trying to shut it down,  he fails at it because he knows it’s pointless to try and stop him.    LATER ON IN THE EPISODE HOWEVER,   igor gets set up by the police in a heroin and drug den,  witnessed someone overdosed on the couch.    it doesn’t take long to shape igor up and its something he envisioned happening to stas if he didn’t stop.

once igor is on the police force he makes stas promise to stop the drugs:     a little perspective,    stas is not a good friend.  the night where stas pulled drugs out in the middle of the club, stas ended up getting pulled over by the police, the very same ones that igor ends up forced into working with them.   in some effort to help,  igor tries to bribe them because honestly it’s all he’s known his entire life by his father,   have a problem, need something fixed,  throw money at it. it doesn’t work and igor ends up attacking them because well he was drunk and the urge he had to get his friend out of trouble was stronger than his voice of reason.   lera contacts him after, mostly at igors prompting and she gets back to him because she’s marrying him.  stas made no move to contact igor back and just completely acted like igor didn’t exist.  which   eh   /:       [ I didn’t like stas from the moment I saw him,   I’m like he’s a douchebag and I already know this is going to end so poorly ]

anyways, farther into the episode  after igor makes stas promise not to do drugs anymore because of that set up scare to try and get igor kicked off the force.  igor storms off and leaves lera and stas at the club.   the next day,  igr goes with zhenia, danila and vika to a crime scene where a nine year old girl was killed in a hit and run.  and what does igor find at the crime scene but a piece of stas’s license plate.   he goes straight to stas and confronts him about what he did after the club and told him not to do anymore drugs.  they go to his car and there is blood on it,    ie this gifset.   igor is furious. lera is stupid because she insists they get the car cleaned and detailed and try to cover it up and igor just,  the dead look he gives her is whew.   he tells her he’s never seen her before until now and wow it hits home.  he technically wasn’t  ‘ in love ‘ with her but there was a part of him that did love her, and to have her only want to protect her brother and not care about the girl who lost her life was yet another eye-opener for him.   so he ignores that and tells stas he has two hours to turn himself in or he’ll do it himself.

and i think it’s a big development compared to before, and how just a few hours seeing the death of the little girl just triggered something in him.  igor ends up turning stas in because he doesn’t do it himself.  lera calls of the engagement by throwing the rings at igor.  after that he lost contact from them for a while.  lera just hated that he became a policeman.   and stas fell deeper into the drugs. he got really bad and when i say i mean he went through kidnapping someone and blackmailing his own sister for money just to get a fix.  they found him but it was too late and he appeared to have died of an overdose of injected heroin. despite the distance, he put between himself and stas, despite their issues, he felt deep sorrow and regret that he didn’t try to do anything more, but what they always say:   you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped and stas was one of those people.

in season 2, we find out that stas didn’t actually die, he was just sent to  montenegro for ‘ healing ‘  however,  he doesn’t at all wean himself off the drugs, in fact,  he moved from heroin to other drugs,    I’m thinking meth or pcp because he is essentially crazy in season 2.  his only goal in season is to torment igor and eventually kill him.  so stas plants a bomb on igors car, does go after  and threatens anyone who even remotely comes close to igor.   he kills someone who was helping igor simply because she knew igor.  he threatened,  katya and vika  (both women he loves). it’s generally a miserable time on that front,  igor does his best to handle it himself, to try and talk stas down from whatever he was trying but the minute someone physically died was when he knew he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. it took him a little before he finally accepted help and told the police lieutenant,  who of unknown to igors knowledge was having stas killed.   stas escapes and as a result of it vikas fiance danila, who is also the father of her baby gets killed because he was driving igors car. after that all bets are off,  they find him and danilas and igors friend zhenia,  vika and igor all shoot him.

a lot of things were running through igors mind because he mourned stas, when he thought he was dead.  and despite everything they had been through, he still cared about stas, still hated the fact that he turned into this monster,  that he couldn’t save him,   and stas couldn’t save himself.   there is also a part of him who accepted it,   hated stas for hurting vika.  for killing danila, a man who they had a rocky start, but he had so much respect for danila.  and stas just had to be stopped,  there was no way around it,   he had to be killed or it would never end. by the end of it all he was so angry at stas that shooting him felt right.   igor has only had a had in killing two people,  and stas was the second.  he felt peace once stas was dead,  then again, even though he felt sadness for this moment, he knew that stas had died after that overdose, at least to him,   stas was already dead.

[timeisacephalopod]

Post Averages pre everything else, Tony's having a bad day, 1st the team is crashing at his tower, the media is adding to the rumor mill and to top it off is Arc Reactor if shorting out in the middle of dinner and peppers not around to help him change it out really he just wants to bang his head against the table, knocked himself out and end this god-forsaken day but when the team goes into panic mode over him he can't help but laugh...What is his life, this is apparently.

I’ve got you lol. I threw in a little Tony/Rhodey in regards to the rumor mill part of this prompt mostly because I dislike pepperony (no hate to people who like them!), so there’s that. The team doesn’t really freak out so much as notice that Tony is a frazzeled boi, but there’s team bonding and whatnot! Movie Night cures all :)

*

Tony remembers all those horror stories people used to tell back when he was in college about terrible roommates and he thinks he really lucked out rooming with Rhodey given his situation now. Some of the Avengers, they’re clean, but Clint? The man is a fucking shit storm of mess and Thor isn’t much better. Natasha and Steve are, thankfully, very much sticklers for cleanliness and they mitigate the damage quite a lot but he still had to give his cleaning staff a good raise because he felt bad for them. Cleaning up after him is enough work, cleaning up after Clint should earn them a six figure annual income.

He pulls fuck knows what out of the sink of the shared Avengers floor, staring at it for a moment before he recognizes coffee grounds at least. “Who stuck coffee grounds in the sink? What, am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?” he asks. No one seems to hear his comment and he rolls his eyes. He throws out the… whatever that was with the coffee grounds on it and decides hiding in his lab is a necessary thing for the day.

They’ve got a dinner event later, but for now he can hide with his machines and they don’t leave mess all over that require him to give workers raises and they also don’t leave coffee grounds and other mysteries in the sink. Time off is necessary so he makes his way down to the lab, smiling when Dummy rolls up, claw spinning happily. He’s three steps into the room when JARVIS speaks.

“Sir, there are rumors of you and Miss. Potts dating again,” he says and Tony rolls his eyes. Poor Pep, she deserves better than this.

“That’s not really new,” he points out.

“There’s a picture,” JARVIS tells him. “Doctored, obviously.”

Yeah, obviously, but Tony lets out a long sigh and throws himself in his desk chair. “Call Rhodey,” he tells the AI. Rhodey is off doing… something, Tony has a hard time keeping up given that Rhodey is constantly on the fly, literally, with the suit. He doesn’t think he’d believe any stupid tabloids anyways but its always good to check in.

When Rhodey answers the phone he’s laughing. “How the hell did you convince Pepper Potts to kiss your sorry ass?” he asks and Tony relaxes a little, pleased that Rhodey has maintained his sense of humor.

“I didn’t, obviously,” he tells Rhodey.

Rhodey lets out a small hum. “Well okay baby, but this looks pretty convincing. Does Pepper know yet?” he asks.

“She’s currently in Japan so probably not, no. She isn’t going to be happy,” he says. She’s forever annoyed that people can’t seem to accept that sometimes women can be good friends with men and have no desire to sleep with them. She claims that she’s spent too much time cleaning Tony’s messes to find wanting to become one of his messes appealing. Tony knows that doesn’t really matter if someone is interested thanks to Rhodey not that people really know about their relationship. Its been an on again off again thing for years, since they were kids really, but after Afghanistan something changed.

And really, the media deciding Rhodey was just a good friend after risking his entire career to spend three months tracking Tony down? That’s probably one of the biggest romantic gestures Tony has ever seen and somehow people managed to ‘no homo’ it. Pepper finds that annoying too but mostly only because people have made her the love interest. At first Tony thought it was kind of funny because he used to have a bit of a crush on Pepper. Now both he and Pepper find it annoying but Rhodey still keeps a sense of humor about it. Maybe its because of all that time spent in the military or something- Tony knows he’s had to deal with a lot of shit and he tends to use humor to do it. Not as much as Tony, but his endless optimism is one of his finer qualities.

“Well,” Rhodey says, “guess she will also be unhappy to hear about your summer wedding.”

Tony sits straight up and lets out an irritated noise. “People are fucking seriously saying we’re engaged? Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks. So much for his day getting better.

“Aw, don’t be like that baby. We can get married in the summer if you want to,” Rhodey jokes.

Neither of them would want to sweat their asses off in a suit in the damn summer so absolutely not.

*

After dealing with the social media mess on both his and Pepper’s end Tony figures maybe, maybe the food will cheer him up. Yeah, maybe Steve is being more annoying than usual and yeah, maybe Clint chews with his mouth open and it makes Tony want to crawl back into that worm hole his nerves are being grated so hard, but food is food. Its comfort and it tastes good, can’t go wrong there.

That lasts all of five god damn minutes when he feels that familiar loss of energy around his heart and fucking great. He’s got three hours before the reactor dies out completely and half that time would be spent getting back to the lab. And Pepper isn’t around to help him change it out either so… well fuck, he doesn’t know.

He excuses himself to the bathroom so he can try and figure something out or, hell, he has no idea. He’ll burn that bridge when he gets to it.

He’s there for five seconds when he turns around and jumps when he finds Natasha there. “Did you not notice the lack of a dress on the door’s stick figure?” he asks.

Natasha rolls her eyes, “I know where the women’s bathroom is, and I also happen to know you’re probably not likely to hang out in there so here I am. What’s going on?��� she asks.

Like she cares. He bites back the snappy response though because its not really helpful right now. “The reactor is dying, I need to swap it out in the lab except I’m pretty far away obviously and I don’t have small enough hands to replace it anyways so I guess I’ll die,” he says. It’s over dramatic and ridiculous but he’s tired, okay. Its been a shitty day.

“I have small hands,” Natasha says, holding up hands that might actually be smaller than Pepper’s.

“No offense but I don’t want you near my heart. You might rip it out,” he says. There’s no real malice in his voice and sure, after the stunt she pulled he’s not overly trusting, but its Natasha’s general personality that drew him to that conclusion rather than their past.

“Please, Stark, I have bigger fish to fry. Lets go, you don’t have a whole lot of time to get that thing replaced,” she says.

He considers saying no but beggars can’t be choosers.

*

Natasha is subjecting him to some Russian shit when the rest of the team gets home. Clint looks a little sheepish, Steve has got that ‘aw shucks’ look on his face, and Bruce looks a little constipated. Basically, as far as Tony can gather, they look like they feel bad but he has no idea why. He decides to ignore them in favor of watching his heart for any signs that Natasha somehow tampered with the reactor for funsies.

“I’m not guaranteeing that stuff won’t end up in the sink,” Clint says, shuffling a little awkwardly. It takes a moment for Tony to realize he’s talking to him.

“Clint, what the fuck is this?” Steve asks, holding up what looks like an honest to god squirrel. Frankly the fact that Steve has resorted to swearing speaks volumes.

Clint examines the strange sink object and then shrugs. “Dunno.”

Steve throws the mystery object back in the sink. “No wonder Tony is pissed off at you,” he mumbles.

Tony frowns at this and Natasha lets out a soft laugh, “Stark, you’re not subtle. clearly something has been pissing you off all day and it wasn’t hard to look through the camera footage.”

When the hell had she done that? He’ll ask JARVIS later and make it harder for her to get into his systems. “I’m not pissed off at anyone,” he mumbles. Its mostly true, he’s just frustrated because he’s had a bad day. If they were mostly the ones to cause it, well. Okay so today it was mostly Clint but still.

“Are so,” Steve says, “you’ve been avoiding us all day.”

He has not. Which he tells them but even Bruce looks confused. “This morning you gave us all a bunch of dirty looks and then went and hid in your lab to call Pepper,” he says.

Tony squints, “why would I call Pepper?” he asks. Actually he has to call her to find out how her meetings went but she’s better at remembering these things than him so for all he knows she’ll call him before he gets around to contacting her.

Steve frowns, “well, you’re you know… together,” he says, turning a little red as he says it.

He opens his mouth to tell them all that no, he and Pepper are not together but Natasha speaks instead. “You two are horrible at reading romantic cues. He’s with Rhodes, not Pepper,” she says.

Tony narrows his eyes at her, wondering when the hell she figured that out because he damn well knows he hides it well. For Rhodey’s sake mostly- the military might be a lot less homophobic now but its hard to forget what that oppressive environment is like and also Tony doesn’t want to ruin Rhodey’s career over something so stupid.

‘What?” Bruce asks, frowning. “When did that happen?”

“Why are you looking at me, Bruce? I don’t know,” Natasha says.

Tony opens his mouth, shuts it, and then sighs. “Please stop leaving questionable objects in the sink, Steve clean the fucking work out equipment- you might be attractive sweaty but the damn equipment isn’t. Natasha, stop using all the coffee and not replacing it and Bruce, stop putting the milk back in the fridge empty. I have had people do literally everything for me my entire life, if I don’t have any of these bad habits you can all be broken of them,” he says. He doesn’t mention the fifteen years Rhodey’s mom spent breaking him of the same habits minus the work out equipment.

“I maintain no guarantees with the sink,” Clint says.

Steve gives him a look, “there will be no more road kill in the sink. Its unsanitary,” he says like that should be the primary concern.

*

Bruce and Steve are fighting over the empty milk carton when the elevator makes that irritating dinging noise that Tony, for some reason, thought it was a good idea. He turns and finds Rhodey standing there grinning at him. “Hey,” Tony says, walking over and, mostly out of habit, dragging him away from prying eyes.

“You know the easiest way to solve the Pepper Problem is to just… tell people we’re together,” Rhodey tells him and Tony stops.

“What?” he asks. “Wait, when did you get to America?” As far as he knew Rhodey was overseas. 

Rhodey snorts, “for a genius you’re always slow to pick up on things. I flew here, obviously. Suit’s faster than a plane,” he says.

Yeah, Tony knows. Neither of them have ever been fond of planes and travel time so he’d purposefully made the suits fast. Also he likes going fast. “I… you… what’s with the change in heart?” he asks and Rhodey frowns.

“What change in heart?” he asks.

Tony frowns, “you’ve never wanted to come out with our relationship,” he says and Rhodey gives him a funny look.

“Baby, I’ve always wanted to be out with it. I thought you didn’t.”

Tony rubs his temples because his day has been long and not good and apparently now its ending with a fucking twenty year long miscommunication. “And the military problem?” he asks.

Rhodey snorts, “we’re actual ass superheroes and if they want access to that suit, and they do, they need me. No idiot will fire me for being bisexual no matter how much I know a few will want to.”

Okay, good point. “Well, that’s the reason I thought you wanted to keep things quiet. You’ve worked hard, seems like a shame to ruin it all over a stupid relationship,” he says.

He knows he’s said something wrong when a few beats of silence go by. He sighs, guessing this is his day taking another turn for the worst. “Tony,” Rhodey says softly. “I don’t think this relationship is some kind of stupid fling and I know you don’t. I love you Tony, have for most of my life,” he murmurs.

Tony smiles and presses his face into Rhodey’s chest. Usually he resents being so short, but at times like this its kind of nice to be the small one. Rhodey wraps his arms around him and they remain like that for a moment. “You know what sounds a lot better than ‘we’re dating’? ‘This is my fiancee, stop acting like I’m dating my assistant’,” he says and Rhodey snorts.

“Is this a proposal, Stark?” he asks and Tony nods, pulling a ring out of his pocket and Rhodey’s eyebrows shoot up.

“How long have you have that on you?” he asks.

He grins a little and looks away. “Sine ‘98,” he admits. Thankfully Rhodey thinks its funny and takes the ring.

*

“No horror movies, I do not like those,” Steve tells Natasha, looking somewhat like a frightened golden retriever.

“I’m with Cap,” Rhodey says fast. Natasha looks at him and Tony wrinkles his nose.

“Not for me,” he says. Steve looks shocked that they’ve agreed on something but he doesn’t know about that time he and Rhodey thought dropping acid and watching Nightmare on Elm Street was a good plan. They might both be geniuses but they aren’t fucking smart, that’s for sure.

“All of you minus Tony a little bit have been in wars but you’re afraid of horror movies?” Clint asks, shaking his head.

“Wars don’t involve demonic possession, Clint,” Rhodey says, shaking his head.

“Well, some of those Nazi experiments… Horror movies are creepy,” Steve settles on, changing the subject before things got overly awkward. “We should watch Matilda! Sam says its good,” he says.

Rhodey wrinkles his nose, “no. We should watch James Bond, any Bond will do,” he says.

“We should watch The Sound of Music,” Clint says and Bruce gives him a look.

“No, we should watch Gravity. Sandra Bullock was good in that,” he says.

“We’re watching Sharknado,” Natasha says and Clint lets out a noise of excitement as the rest of them wrinkle their noses.

“Natasha, I forbid that,” Steve says, apparently throwing out a desperate bid for leadership over movie choices.

“Eat my ass,” Natasha tells him. “JARVIS, play the movie.”

Rhodey sighs, “I should have stayed in Egypt for the layover,” he mumbles.

[yououui]

For the Whuptober prompts, what about the “No, stop!” or manhandling one? with Kurogane and Fay, can be a mix of both if you wish to too (:

4. “No, stop!” ; 15. Manhandling

So all I have in my head is the idea for a longer story I’m working on so… Here’s a little chunk! Alternate universe vampire hunters

Prompt list

Fai and Kurogane stepped into what was left of the debilitated church. The floor was covered in grass and growing flowers, a little pond growing from rain that dripped in from the holes in the roof. It was a miracle it was standing at all, but the walls were still mostly intact, other than the chunks taken out of them. Sunshine filtered through the dirty windows in a haze, one beam shining strong from the openness of the ceiling.

In front of them stood a vampire. “Seishirou,” Fai muttered, narrowing his eyes. One of the strongest and most deadly vampires alive. Kurogane and Fai had never crossed paths with him by some force of luck, but Fai could sense the evil on him.

Seishirou grinned and lifted a palm. “You know me?” He asked. “And here I thought you two were the infamous ones.”

“Cut the crap,” Kurogane growled, unsheathing his blade. Silver glinted in the light. “We all know where this is gonna end up, so let’s just get to it already.”

Seishirou smirked and shut his eyes. “So impatient,” He said. “It’s no bother to me, though.”

In the blink of an eye, Seishirou was gone from his spot. Kurogane barely managed to lift his blade over his shoulder to block Seishirou’s claws, blood dripping down his cheek from the edge of one that caught his skin. He narrowed his eyes, his arm shaking from the force of holding Seishirou back. If he had been even a split second slower, his head would have been cut in two. Seishirou was no ordinary vampire, that was certain.

Seishirou jumped back and lifted his claws to his lips. He licked at the blood and smiled. “Delicious,” He practically sang as he pointed his finger at Kurogane. “You’re not the one I came here for, but you would be a nice treat.”

Seishirou jumped out of the way of one of Fai’s spells and looked over at the blond. Fai grinned. “So does that mean you’re here for me?” He asked as he wrote another spell in the air. “You’re not the first and you won’t be the last. But you know, it’s rude to ignore your intended opponent.”

Another spell flashed from Fai’s fingertips and Seishirou jumped into the air. Fai curved the spell up to follow Seishirou, and narrowly saw Seishirou lift his palm up before the attack hit. Fai kept his hand in front of him, ready to draw out another spell. He knew Seishirou was not defeated that easily.

The remnants of Fai’s magic dissipated, and left behind was Seishirou, unharmed and with a magical barrier in front of him. “What?!” Fai exclaimed, his brows furrowing.

Magic users were rare to begin with. Magic users who were vampires were basically unheard of. Vampires were drawn to magic like moths to a flame, which often resulted in either the vampire being killed by the magic user, or the magician being drained by the vampire.

Fai’s level of magic was unprecedented. It drew vampires to him constantly. It resulted in the death of his family, it made him want to use his abilities to hunt and kill vampires. They could hardly ever withstand his attacks, especially not with Kurogane at his back. Fai had never seen a vampire block with their own magical barrier, though. He narrowed his eyes and prepared another spell.

Seishirou smirked. “Oh please, Fai. Don’t think you’re so special.”

Fai sensed the magic in the air and shot his hand out towards Kurogane, but Seishirou’s magic reached him first. Kurogane grunted as he was thrown back against one of the brick walls of the church, the stone morphing until it enveloped his hands and feet, trapping him.

Fai leapt closer to Kurogane and began writing a rune in the air. “Fai!” Kurogane called. “Don’t!”

Fai managed to turn and deflect the magic blasted towards him, but Seishirou was right behind it. He lifted one fist in defense and began writing a spell with the other hand, but Seishirou was quick, and Fai was distracted by the need to get Kurogane. Seishirou grabbed Fai’s wrist and twisted hard, and Fai cried in pain when he felt a bone snap.

Seishirou kicked Fai’s legs out from under him, grabbed the back of his head, and slammed him to the ground in one quick motion. Flower petals and blades of grass flew up into the air, and then began falling softly around Fai’s trapped body. One of Seishirou’s hands pinned Fai’s wrists behind his back, the other pressed down between Fai’s shoulder blades, keeping him down.

“Fai!” Kurogane yelled. The idiot, Kurogane thought as worry pulsed through him. Fai could have defeated Seishirou, but he got distracted. It didn’t matter what happened to Kurogane, as long as Fai survived, as long as Fai–

“So powerful,” Seishirou hissed. “Yet so stupid.”

Fai tried to twist his body under Seishirou’s, but even with his magic, Seishirou’s brute force was stronger than Fai’s. He held Fai down with the weight of a ton of bricks, and Fai could do little more than squirm under him. Such was the strength of a vampire.

“Coward,” Kurogane said lowly, drawing Seishirou’s attention. “Too afraid to fight us at the same time?”

Seishirou quirked a brow. “Now, who ever said I was here to fight?” He asked, his lips pulling into a smile. “I only came for Fai.”

“Fine,” Fai grunted under him. “You have me, so kill me already, then let Kuro-sama go!”

“Fai!” Kurogane cried, but was interrupted by Seishirou balking at the two of them.

“If you keep assuming what I’ll do, we’ll be here all day,” He said. He leaned in a breath closer. “I’m not here to kill you. I’m here on King Ashura’s orders.”

Fai’s eyes went wide and his face paled. In front of them, Kurogane pushed against the stone that held him. “What?” Fai asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You are quite famous,” Seishirou said as he slowly leaned lower. “The most powerful magician in this generation. King Ashura has grown curious of you. And he sent me here to fetch you.”

Seishirou grinned and opened his mouth, the light reflecting off of his lengthened fangs. Fai tried to pull his head back, tried to get away, and Kurogane yelled as he strained against his bindings.

“Get off!” Fai yelled as he moved an inch. The hand between his shoulders moved to his head and slammed it down, held it in place, and Fai’s eyes widened as he saw Seishirou grow closer still, saw those fangs grow closer. “No!” Fai cried, a hot breath ghosting along his neck. “Stop!”

“Fai!” Kurogane yelled as he pulled and pulled and pulled until he managed to break one foot free. “Stop!”

Fai shut his eyes and pulled his magic forward. He spread it over his body and pushed it into the ground, feeling it crack beneath them. He heard Seishirou hiss as the magic covering Fai’s body burned his skin where he held him down. Seishirou didn’t let go though, so Fai pushed more magic into the ground. Pieces of the church fell around them, the area around them split and pieces of stone rose into the air.

“Perfect,” Seishirou whispered.

Those fangs pierced the skin of Fai’s neck, and in an instant, Fai’s magic disappeared. His eyes went wide with shock as the ground shook around them with pieces of falling stone and earth. Kurogane cried out.

“No…” Fai whispered, his voice trembling as he felt his very life being pulled from him. “Stop… Stop, stop! Stop!!!” 

Fai kept screaming, screamed until his voice was raw. Kurogane’s body grew still from shock for a moment, and then he began straining against the stone holding him again until his arms burned. He didn’t stop though, not until he heard the stone crack around his fists. Fai’s cries grew weaker as Seishirou continued to drink, and Kurogane’s voice echoed around the abandoned church as he pulled himself free with one last cry.

Just as he pulled himself free though, Seishirou pulled off of Fai. Kurogane stilled after one step, his body cold. Fai was still on the ground, his eyes half-open and foggy, staring ahead blindly. 

“Fai,” Kurogane whispered.

A breath passed. Fai’s eyes slid shut and he drew in a shuddering breath. Then, his eyes flew open and his lips parted, although his voice didn’t come through. Slowly, he tried to push himself up onto his hands, but his body spasmed and twitched. He clenched his trembling hands into fists against the ground and grit his teeth.

“N-No...” He said, his voice tight and rough.

Seishirou smirked. “I was worried for a moment you had simply died. I knew you were stronger than that though.”

Fai’s body went rigid, his eyes wide as he screamed in pain. Kurogane rushed forward, his fist swinging out to hit Seishirou in the jaw. Seishirou disappeared from Kurogane’s sight and reappeared on the other side of the church, but Kurogane paid him no mind. He knelt beside Fai, who had rolled onto his back and was thrashing his head back and forth, and grabbed him by the shoulders to hold him down.

“Fight it, Fai!” Kurogane yelled, his fingers digging into Fai’s narrow shoulders hard enough to bruise. He saw Fai try, he saw Fai consciously try to push down whatever it was that was growing within him, but Fai could do nothing against it and would end up writhing and screaming in pain again.

Fai reached up and grabbed Kurogane by the front of his cloak, and Kurogane heard the fabric rip and then felt pinpricks of pain against his chest. Fai opened his eyes and looked up at Kurogane clearly, though Kurogane could see something swimming in the blue of Fai’s eyes. Fai released Kurogane’s cloak and reached for him, his fingernails lengthened into razor-sharp claws.

Fai’s eyes pinched shut, and when they snapped open again, they shimmered gold.

“Fai...” Kurogane said lowly, his voice cracking.

Fai’s body went limp under Kurogane’s hands. “Kuro...” He murmured before his hand fell, his eyes rolled back, and he was pulled into unconsciousness.

Seishirou clapped as he walked closer, his laugh filling the decrepit church. “Wonderful!” He exclaimed with a grin. “He truly did his best to fight against it, I’ve never seen anyone take so long to turn! With his strength and conviction, he’ll be one of the strongest among us.”

Kurogane pulled Fai into his arms and cradled him against his chest. He lifted his head, his eyes sharp and burning. “He’ll never be one of you,” He growled, his grip on Fai tightening.

“I’m so very sorry to disappoint you, Kurogane,” Seishirou said, and suddenly, Kurogane’s arms were empty.

“What?!” Kurogane cried as he stood to his feet. He spun around and saw Seishirou standing at the entrance to the church, Fai hanging unconscious over one of his arms.

Seishirou grinned and a dark magic circle appeared at his feet. “Fai has already become one of us,” He said as black smoke rose from the ground around them.

Then, they were gone.

[perlukafarinn]

prompt from @cosmicannibalism:  Castiel and Dean work together and Dean got Cas for secret Santa. Dean has a huge crush on Cas of course and gets him something super sentimental and definitely over the $20 gift limit, like a first edition of Castiels favorite book or something, and just hopes and prayes that Castiel never figures out that Dean was his secret Santa.

Thing is, Dean never wanted Cas to find out about his pathetic crush on him.

For one, it’s pathetic. It’s been eight years since Dean broke up with his first boyfriend and he still can’t handle being around men he likes. And Cas is way too good for him. He deserves someone at least half as amazing as he is, and that’s not Dean.

They’re also coworkers. You don’t shack up with coworkers, that’s just common sense.

Dean keeps all that in mind, constantly, because the last thing he wants is to slip up and let Cas know how he feels. He loves the time they spend together too much. They’re sort-of friends, in that way you’re friends with co-workers you never see outside of work, and sitting with Cas in the teachers’ lounge during their lunch break is usually the highlight of Dean’s day.

Yeah, Dean’s pathetic. That’s already been established.

But when Dean drew Cas’ name in this year’s game of Secret Santa, all he could think of was getting him the perfect present. It’s gonna be a shitty holiday season for Cas, as he’s on the outs with his family again – a bunch of wealthy corporate types who look down their noses at Cas for being a teacher – and Dean just wants to make him happy for at least a little bit of it.

He ends up tracking down a signed copy of The Autumn of the Patriarch online, spending half the night in an intense bidding war. Dean’s never read Gabriel Garcia Marquez himself but he’s one of Cas’ favorite authors. Cas will probably be thrilled to get it.

Dean’s feeling pretty darn proud of himself as he puts his present underneath the sad little plastic tree in the teachers’ lounge. It’s not until the presents have started piling up and the lounge is almost filled with people that it occurs to Dean what a terrible idea it really is.

The book almost cost one-hundred and fifty bucks. It’s also a really personal gift – it’s obvious that whoever gave it to Cas is close to him or at least pays intense attention to every word he says. If Cas figures out it’s Dean who gave him that present, he’s gonna know.

By the time Becky Rosen enthusiastically announces that it’s time to open the presents, Dean’s worked himself into a state of near-panic. He barely remembers to pick up his own present, too preoccupied with watching Cas.

He stares in mute horror as Cas tears the wrapping paper off. Cas’ face lights in a smile as he sees the cover of the book but it drops slowly as he opens it, eyes going wide. Dean looks away just as Cas raises his head, no doubt looking around for the creep who got him the inappropriately expensive and personal gift.

Dean busies himself with opening his own present – a box of chocolates, the kind of thing a sane person would get their coworker for Secret Santa – and only glances Cas’ way once he’s sure enough time has passed. Cas is looking at the book again, frown on his face and thumb rubbing absentmindedly up its spine.

Dean knows right then that he can never let Cas know the gift was from him.

*

This is somewhat complicated by the fact that Cas is determined to find his Secret Santa before Christmas break.

“It’s such a lovely gift,” Cas tells Dean during lunch break. “I need to thank whoever gave it to me.”

Dean shrugs helplessly. “Don’t know what to tell you, Cas. That’s not the point of the game.”

“Are you sure you don’t know?” Cas’ eyes seek his out. Dean looks away out of instinct, flinching internally in the next moment. That was a textbook guilty move. “No guesses?”

By the table next to theirs, Garth turns around in his chair. “It has to be someone with money, right? That kind of gift has to be expensive.”

“Definitely over the twenty-dollar limit,” Tracy offers, because everyone is apparently past pretending that they’re not eavesdropping in Dean and Cas’ conversation. “So, someone who doesn’t think the rules apply to them?”

“What, everyone’s a detective now?” Dean mutters. He goes ignored.

“What about Principal Crowley?” Garth suggests.

Tracy frowns. “Did he even participate?”

“He did,” Garth says. “I got him. Bought him a nice tie with a picture of a pug on it.” He frowns. “He hasn’t worn it yet.”

“I don’t know,” Tracy says. “It doesn’t seem like him to be so generous. Besides, he’s got a thing for Dean.”

Dean huffs. “Watch it.”

“It’s not Crowley,” Cas says decisively. Then, for some terrible reason, he adds, “Is it?”

Tracy shrugs. “You could just ask him, dude.”

“Only way to make sure,” Garth agrees.

Dean doesn’t say anything, because he knows it doesn’t matter. Even if Cas does end up asking Crowley, all he’s gonna get out of it is narrowing his pool of suspects down by one.

*

Crowley takes the credit.

Dean’s not sure why he’s even surprised. This kind of douchebaggery is exactly up Crowley’s alley, of course he’d jump at the chance to make Dean’s life more difficult.

Because he knows. He knows that Dean likes Cas and that he would be the love-struck idiot who got Cas such an extravagant present.

Cas doesn’t seem too happy about it, which is even worse than if he actually acted grateful to Crowley.

“It was just about showing off.” Cas sounds so dejected and Dean is about two seconds away from tracking Crowley down and punching him in the face, boss or not. “I didn’t – I suppose I expected that whoever got me that book actually cared-”

He stops short, huffing out a small, bitter laughter, and now Dean wants to punch himself in the face. The present was supposed to make Cas feel better and now it’s done the exact opposite.

He reaches out a hesitant hand, patting Cas’ shoulder. “Hey, who cares, right? Just ‘cause Crowley’s a dick, that doesn’t mean you don’t got friends here.”

Cas gives him a smile, but it’s half-hearted at best. Dean feels like the worst kind of scum but there’s nothing to be done about it. Unless he wants to spill everything, which would probably just make Cas uncomfortable on top of everything else.

It’s better just to write this plan off as a failure and move on.

*

In the next few days, Cas doesn’t cheer up. If anything, he gets more and more depressed as the holidays approach. By the last day before break, he’s barely mustering up a smile for his students.

Logically, Dean knows it doesn’t all have to do with the Secret Santa situation. Mostly, it’s about Cas’ shitty family being their usual shitty selves.

Still, the Secret Santa thing probably doesn’t help.

Dean spends the better part of the day ignoring the guilt gnawing at his gut. He’s used enough to feeling like a piece of shit that he can mostly ignore it but even he has his limits.

His is reached at the end of the day. Dean’s stayed a little late, making sure that everything is wrapped up neatly before he goes on break, and by the time he gets out into the parking lot there’s only one other car left.

It’s Cas’, and it’s not empty.

Dean walks up to it slowly, crouching down when he reaches it to see Cas sitting in the driver’s seat, staring dejectedly ahead. The engine’s not even turned on, and it’s snowing, so Cas has to be freezing. Dean knocks on the window, and Cas startles.

“You okay?” Dean asks.

Cas takes his hands off the wheel, unbuckling his belt and getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a lot more force than necessary.

“I’m fine,” he says at long last.

“Really? Sitting alone in your car in a darkened parking lot doesn’t look like fine to me.”

Cas ducks his head, his already red cheeks turning even redder. “I don’t want to go home,” he admits. “I don’t want to go to my empty apartment, knowing that I’ll be there alone this Christmas because I can’t handle facing my family, and because I can’t find anyone willing to tolerate me for more than three dates, let alone a proper relationship.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Dean blurts, before he can think better of it. At Cas’ hurt expression, he quickly amends, “I mean, the second half of that sentence. I can’t speak for whatever thing you have going on with your family though to me it sounds like they’re just being a bunch of dicks and you’re fully justified in wanting to avoid them.”

Cas’ lips twitch in a weak attempt at a smile. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Maybe it is, but from where I’m standing they’re in the wrong here, not you.” Dean clears his throat, suddenly realizing how incensed he’s been getting. “Anyway, if you haven’t found anyone it’s just because you’re not looking in the right places. ‘Cause there’s plenty of people out there who want you, warts and all. Trust me.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Dean swallows. This is getting too close for comfort. “There’s someone out there for everyone, ain’t there?”

“I suppose so,” Cas says, but he doesn’t sound like he really believes it.

There’s a lot Dean could say here. Some more empty platitudes that don’t mean shit because Dean can’t be honest about how he feels. Assurance that he’ll be there for Cas as a friend, because that much he can at least do. More insults aimed at Cas’ family, even.

Instead, he says, “I was your Secret Santa, not Crowley.”

The confession sounds uncomfortably loud in the empty parking lot and especially in the deafening silence that immediately follows.

“You…” Cas finally says, but that’s all he gets out.

“Surprise,” Dean says, laughing shakily.

“But Crowley said…” Cas trails off. “Crowley lied?”

“It’s kind of what he does.”

“But I don’t- why?”

Dean shrugs. “It’s what he does.”

“Not him.” Cas levels Dean with a challenging look. “You. Why did you lie?”

This is it. Game over.

“’Cause if I told you the truth…” Dean swallows, ducking his head. He can’t do this while looking Cas in the face. “If I told you, you would’ve figured out everything. That’s not the kind of present you give to a coworker, or someone who’s just a friend. It’s the kind you give to someone you’re in love with.”

He heaves out a sigh as he finishes speaking. It feels like he just achieved something momentous and even though it’s gonna bite him in the ass, in the moment he feels nothing but relief.

Then Cas is kissing him.

Dean’s brain stutters to a stop, heart seizing in his chest. Cas’ lips feel cool and a little chapped, and his hand is cupping Dean’s cheek. It’s such a common fantasy of Dean’s that at first it doesn’t even register as real, but then the feel of Cas against him stubbornly persists, warm and solid in the cold evening breeze.

He’s just getting used to it when Cas pulls away. His hand remains, sliding down a little so it’s resting on the top of Dean’s chest. “I’m sorry, that was… extremely inappropriate.”

“It’s okay,” Dean says weakly. He licks his lips, chasing the taste of that kiss. “Way more than okay. Like, if you wanna do it again-”

He’s cut off by Cas’ lips. He remembers to actually kiss back this time, wrapping an arm around Cas’ waist to bring him closer. Their second kiss melts into their third and fourth, and soon enough they’re just making out in the parking lot, the world around them quiet aside from the distant sounds of traffic and snow slowly falling around them.

[gretchensinister]

6, 11, 15, and 19, please!

6: Which OC did you forget about?

If I could remember them, then they wouldn’t qualify forthis question, would they? Okay, but more seriously, in most cases, if I havean OC, and I’ve forgotten about them, I’ve also forgotten about the entirestory they’re in, so at least they’re not forgotten all alone, but are in thecompany of everyone else in that story. I don’t make characters just to makecharacters, and honestly I’m always a little surprised every time I rememberthat sometimes others do exactly that. However, interpreting this questionslightly differently, in the original fiction edited version of A Draught ofLight, I do have a character who’s actually pretty significant who kind of justvanishes near the end of the story. Presumably she went home, but like…withouteven saying goodbye, or without even commenting on all the crazy shit thathappened? I need to do another edit to give her a better exit.

11: Share the last paragraph you wrote.

Ah, this question comes at like the worst possible time,because the last full paragraph I wrote (as opposed to editing), I was thinkingas I wrote it, “I need to fix this later, this is a wall of text.” But here itis, anyway:

The doors opened onto a warmly-litspace that was bright enough to see everything up close, but dim enough thatthe brain ignored most of what was going on in the distance. A plush, velvetycarpet enveloped his bare feet, in a violet-red that immediately called to mindancient royalty. It drew away from him in a straight line and Pitch Black feltsure he knew what awaited him at the end. Because he knew this, he didn’t lifthis eyes right away.. Not straight ahead, at least. He wanted to get a bettersense of the room around him, first. Out of the corner of his eyes, the roomwas not so huge as he had first thought. Some of the walls were deeply polishedwood, and they reflected light from the chandeliers that have light to thewhole room. Pitch Black wasn’t going to stare at them too closely now, but hehad the impression that they were quite intricate. Along the walls, where therewasn’t polished wood, there were sections of stone, that seemed to glitter—no.The stone wasn’t glittering, those were pools and fountains. There seemed likean excessive amount of them, even if Sandy had a serious bath sex fetish (whichwouldn’t be bad, just surprising that it hadn’t been mentioned when so muchelse had) but then Cosmo supplied a more sensible answer. The pools andfountains were for everyone, and not necessarily for having sex in. Obviously,in a space where everyone was expecting to have as much sex as they wanted, itwould be a good idea to give people a chance to wash between partners or acts.And if Sandy had the money to buy him gold jewelry to wear for one night, itmade sense that he had enough money to put bath fixtures in that were luxuriousand fit the theme. The space in the rest of the room was taken up with beds andcouches, tables and chairs of many kinds, some curtains and screens providingmoderate separation between groupings. Opulent patterns and deep jewel tonesdefined almost everything in fabric. Off to the left, deep in the room, heglimpsed the gleam of wood and glassware that indicated a bar. All thisinformation about the things in the room he took in in an instant. He didn’tworry about it too much, either. What ought to draw his attention, and did,were the people. There were maybe twenty people there, maybe a few more, butnot a crowd. Which made sense, considering, well, the limits of humanendurance—and probably the management of group dynamics. Cosmo was suddenlystruck by the thought that Sandy just really liked friends with benefitsrelationships, and he also liked having a lot of friends.

15: How do you name settings/characters?

With settings, the thing that I keep in mind is that peoplearen’t really that creative when naming things. Is there a hill by the place?The place is going to be named after that, or maybe it’ll be named somethinglike “Hill in the language spoken when people first started living here” Hill.Is there a river? Is there a bay? Is there a certain type of tree really commonhere? A certain kind of weather? Is there a natural feature that looks like aneyeball/arm/leg/head/whatever? What’s the most memorable thing in the place’shistory? The place can be named after any of those kinds of things, and inalternate world stories I think of my naming as using a translation conventionso that the place names sound to the reader the same as they sound to the mainpoint of view character. The characters aren’t speaking English, but if theyhear the name of a place as, I don’t know, Redleaf, or something, then it’sgoing to be called Redleaf in the story.

Sometimes I do like to make up names for the sound, though,and for that, it depends utterly on the connotations I have of certain sounds.And that’s going to depend on…well,the entire history of English as well as my vocabulary and all my reading andreal life experiences. Also Tolkien, probably, because I read the Hobbit andLOTR as a kid, and JRR was much more serious about the development and sound oflanguage than I will ever be.

Oh, and in one of my settings, I name places by trying toimagine what a current place-name would sound like if it was used and garbledover a few thousand years.

Characters are a bit different. Sometimes I do go tobaby-naming websites if I have an idea of the sort of name I want, but moreoften I don’t, because looking up names isn’t furthering the story. If thesetting is on Earth, I’ll pick a name that I won’t mind writing or hearing inmy head for the whole story. Something I’ve heard or seen before. I likelearning random names in the hope that one of them will stick and I’ll be ableto find it when I’m trying to think up a name again.

Other things I have done to name characters: picked a wordthat has something to do with the character and run it through severaldifferent languages in a translator and changed it until it seemed more name-y;had a fantasy world where, for no reason but my whims, people’s names wereunusual, polysyllabic, but real, English words (I never finished that story butI had so much fun with the part I did write); and done the hideousaren’t-I-clever thing of naming my characters after other famous characters inthe English language literary canon. Hopefully I’ve given up this last.

Mainly, I try to choose ordinary names for characters thatcome from Earth, because I don’t really care for generational stories, sothere’s no way that the parents of a baby would know, when naming their baby,that the child would end up in any kind of adventure.

19: What does your editing/revising process look like?

For short things: I allow myself to write slowly, and then Ido one read through for both copyediting and content-level edits. This would bewhat I did for the stories for the kinkmeme prompts. I know it might sound alittle strange to characterize the writing of a story every two days as ‘slowwriting,’ but the stories were very short, of course.

And, honestly, for longer fics, it’s mostly the sameprocess, except chapter by chapter. For the novels that I really, really wantto be good, there’s at least two full editing rounds, as well as searches forwords that signal I used a weaker word than I could have (very, really, andothers).

But the process is just…reading everything slowly andcarefully, and changing what needs to be changed to make the story work betterand say what I want it to say. I don’t do things like printing everything outto make pen corrections by hand, I don’t change the size or font to literallysee the words differently, I don’t, Heaven forbid, just straight-up rewrite thewhole thing from scratch…I don’t do a lot of things.

Maybe I should, but no one’s called me out on my terribleediting yet.

Oh, and I also have a document where I can paste substantialsections or well-written, but irrelevant sentences that have been cut from thework to be published. That way I don’t have to feel bad about deleting stuffthat took me plenty of time and energy to produce, but I can still effectivelyget rid of it, while I know it’s still there if I need to put it back later. That’sprobably the closest thing to a Real Writing Tip here.

[lavender-lotion]

Top Five Fav Fics of 2017

These are my top five favourite fics that I have personally written in 2017.

5. Come See Me

“John.” Stiles said on a sob, his hiccuping getting worse. “Stiles? Baby? What is it?” John demanded, switching to his serious Sheriff voice. Normally it would take Stiles laugh, but it just made him cry harder. “C-can you co-come up-p?” Stiles said through hiccups. He can hear John already moving around on the other end of the phone, probably already packing a bag, “I just wanna spend the week-we-end-d with yo-ou.” “Oh course baby, I’ll be there in about three hours okay?” This one is a little bit older, back from July! I just - ah, I love these two boys. I don’t have a particular reason as to why, exactly I adore this fic, I just do! Mostly, I just love writing Stilinskicest, and I love this pairing with all my heart, and it was the first one I had put considerable thought into! I think it really drew me further into this pairing, and I have yet to be able to find my way out!

4. We Match! It’s not as though Stiles actually told anyone. Because he didn’t. Well, he told his dad, but he’s pretty sure his dad didn’t sell him out to some skeevy news outlet. Yeah, not his dad. I could arguably be said that his dad liked his boyfriend more than him, in fact. or; stiles is dating thor. that's it. this fic has NO plot This one is here because it was incredibly fun to write! I loved working on it, and although the idea came out of nowhere I really enjoyed running with it! I would have never thought about these two as a couple (like really, it is so, so random) but I just - gah, love it. I really, really want to write more for this series as well, give it substance and backbone and evolve it into something more! Just everytime I see this one I smile!

3. A Few Times Stiles Is Kidnapped and The One Time The Pack Finds Out Stiles gets kidnapped a lot. Really, it's not a big deal. He always calls Peter after, usually has Peter pick him up and generally they have sex the next morning. It's a system. or: three times stiles is kidnapped and the one time the pack notices! I have a lot I can say about this story. I wrote it ages ago, all the way back in May and it is my most popular one-shot. Around 800 kudos, this thing has gotten more response than nearly any of my other fics. I loved it, I loved writing it, but I never thought it would take off like this. It still surprises me, because I’ll go back and read it and notice mistakes, and can’t believe that so many people enjoyed the story as much as they all did. It’s amazing.

2. Let Me Hold You, Forever It was too much. To loud and too quiet and too, too much. He had to get out, to get away and just be somewhere different. He couldn’t - he couldn’t keep watching her like that, watching her lay there as she did. He needed a break. And he found it, with Peter Hale. Peter who was scarred skin and blank eyes. Peter who he sat with for hours a day, reading and ranting and just being with. Peter, who over four years he fell in love with. This one is here because it holds a special place in my heart. I think I will always love it, just a little bit. I put so much thought into it, planned the story out and had a past at writing it. I also just love how I evolved their relationship, made it into something solid and sweet and careful. GAH, this fic gives me feels!

1. Daddy's Night Stiles tries to remain optimistic the first time he goes to a club. He goes a town over, wears the best ‘clubbing’ clothes he can think of, and really, really tries to keep an open mind. When he finds out he stumbled upon ‘Daddy’s Night’ at the Forest, he thought his night was ruined. His night was not ruined. Only his underwear were. This one holds a special please in my heart as my first real go at writing smut. I had written a few orgasms here and there, but this was my first trying to write something, like, actively dirty. Also, I loved it! I love, love how it came out. This fic has helped me to become increasingly more comfortable writing sex, and it really helped me move forward as a writer and I love it for that.

Other Honourable Mentions

First one shot over 10k:  Across Your Skin, My Love - 12,169 words, whoa! Before then, I had never written a one-shot so long, and I felt so, so proud of myself!  Stiles knew he had a soulmate - had gotten his mark when he was fourteen like everyone else. He just - he just didn’t think he would meet the man for years to come. he knew the statics, knew that most people didn’t meet their bonded until their early-mid twenties. So he was really not been expecting to his name on the arm of his hot new English heater. He had to admit it turned out pretty amazing, though.

First real soulmate AU: It Is You - This was a prompt done for a very loyal commenter, and one I had a great time writing. I’m not huge into Soulmate AU’s - which is weird since I love reading them - but this was my first time really writing one! Their pack was strong. Peter wore his Alpha power beautifully, bringing together their ragtag pack and making it into some strong. They protected Beacon Hills fiercely, Stiles Guardian of the preserve. That's exactly what their doing when the Spark meets the soulmate he didn't know he still had.

WIPs I Adore:  I Built My Home, Inside Of You - This was my first time writing Thorki, and while I have yet to finish, I adored it! I want to come back to it all the time, and I have such large plans for this story, that I cannot wait to write writing. It is a pleasure to work on, and one I really, really hope I can work on again soon! (ignore spelling mistakes in the summary lol) It wasn't as though Loki hated his life. Because he didn't. He wax smart and he was a great dancer. He was rich as he was pretty and his parents didn't participate in any part of his life. Whatever. He had Ashley and yeah she was his cleaning lady but also the closest thing he had to family.Introduce Thor, Mr. I Am All Of Your Dreams In One Hot Package and Loki's carefully crafted routine comes raveling apart. It's for the better though or: the human au that's essentially all gross fluff.. like that's it. this fic is giant ice cream sundae with a very very smalls sprinkling of occasional angst.

Give Me Family - GAH, this thing. I have a huge, huge list of shit I want this story to have, Jesus. The plans I have are insane, and I am, so excited to write them all at some point, LOL! I just really, really enjoy this story! Stiles Stilinski watched his mother die while holding her restrained hand and watched her death bring what he had always thought to be a great man to his knees.He lost his mother to dementia and his father to Jack Daniels. Stiles is intimately aware of what being alone feels life. Admittedly Stiles was actually pretty sure neglect was a form of abuse. And well, abuse became pretty typical for Stiles. Whatever. He could handle it.Until, well, until he couldn't. Next thing he knows he's living in New York in the Avengers Tower and life is certainly a lot better when you have people who care about you. or; the fic where stiles life in beacon hills SUCKS, gerard is even more of an asSHOLe than in cannon, phil coulson is his uncle-turned-dad and stiles sort-of-maybe-kind-of-a-little becomes an avenger. mostly.

And of course, this WIP: With You, I Belong - I have been writing this fic for ages, and it just holds a very special place in my heart. I love it, I can’t wait to finish it. Despite Stiles doing all he can to help 'his' pack, they continue to toss him to the side. They undervalue and under appreciate him, and honestly, Stiles respects himself too much to let it continue. So he leaves. Well, technically he's kicked out - but still. But then the Alpha Pack shows up, and Deucalion is a constant presence by his side, and maybe, just maybe, they aren't all that evil after all.