#i feel like my brain just slides off of traditional art right now

[2dmax]

spent today either trying to draw or amping myself up to draw or resting from drawing.

i did take a pass at some of the chibis on my desk, but just to give you an idea of both my mental prowess and stamina right now, took another crack at this very simple personal drawing to ease into traditional drawing once more — lets just say i dont have much to show for myself today 😅

[attllhak]

Adoption AU - Lullaby Reacts to Time’s Batman Level Adoption Bullshit

@tortilla-of-courage I offer you mercy. Also no one mentioned wanting to be tagged on the last story on this series so it’s just you for right now I guess.

Also, this fic is called ‘Aunt Lullaby/Uncle Sheik On Time’s Sudden Acquisition Of Kids’ in my docs, but I’ve been using the ‘Batman-Level Adoption Bullshit’ for so long that this is the title now.

Also! Some of the boys have some heavy topics to their backstories (Wars comes to mind as an example), so let me know if I need to tag this with certain warnings or stuff. Nothing is actually shown, but I figured I’d just put that out there.

-----------------

Lullaby, who was still just Zelda then, had been very excited when Time, then just Link, had called her to tell her that Malon was pregnant.

She had gotten the call first, as Link had found it important that she knew before anyone else. After everything else in his life, he said, he wanted the person who he knew would always be there for him to know first, and that he was going to be making a few other calls later that day.

Link had never had an easy life. When his father died when he was 10, he’d ended up devastated. Zelda and her Aunt Impa had found him hiding in an alley a few days after, once he’d run away from the social workers. His sister Navi had been with him, and the two were sorting through the very few bits of snack food they’d had. Link’s father had been a foster parent for a lot of strays, orphans, or abused kids needing another place to stay. Link had fallen into the orphan category, and so the social workers had planned to cycle him back into the system. He’d lost contact with his sister Saria, whom he still hadn’t found out how to make contact with again, and so all he had was Navi. Impa had taken them both in on the spot, much to the annoyance of Zelda’s father initially, but the two grew on him. Navi went missing when Link and Zelda had been 17, after an issue with a man who really had wanted to see them both dead. Link hadn’t given up hope yet, but with every passing year it looked worse and worse for her to be okay.

Zelda had known Malon from day one, and had loved Link’s wife and was so happy to see him find that bit of happiness. The one thing she knew he wanted more than anything else was to have a solid, stable family of his own.

The pregnancy was a wonderful bit of news, and she couldn’t be happier for her brother.

She had spent some time over at their house, her then-girlfriend Ruto coming as well, helping Malon with some of the housework and such since she wasn’t supposed to be doing too much of the ranch work while pregnant.

She had arrived at the hospital less than thirty minutes after she got the call that Malon was in labor, and spent the time pacing in the hall, then supporting Link when he got kicked out after panicking too much. Apparently Malon had enough of him.

She could relate.

After Link had his whole ‘we made a whole baby person’ moment where his brain short-circuited after he was handed his son, the next person who got to hold him was Zelda. A chubby baby, who slept almost the whole time. He had his mother’s nose, thank Hylia.

Zelda saw him open his eyes only once that day, and she could swear she saw in his cobalt-silver eyes that same spark in his father’s eye. Singular, since Link only had the one.

Zelda’s family had a long tradition of naming their kids after family members. Her name was her grandmother’s and her great-grandmother’s, so on so forth. Her father had been pressing to pick a family name the entire pregnancy. Her mother had kept telling him to back off a little. Fortunately, Malon’s family also had a set of passed down names, hers being one of them. So the idea of naming the child after family wasn’t a big deal for her, even if it was a different set of names.

However, there was one thing to take into account here, and that was Link’s family.

No one knew what the naming traditions in his family were, he didn’t even know his birth parent’s names. But that didn’t change the desire to find a way to work them in too.

There was only one name from Link’s family that anyone knew.

The baby was named Link.

Zelda’s father stopped complaining a week later. Her mother was very clear about it.

At Zelda and Ruto’s wedding seven years later, Link Jr. was the ring bearer.

Junior stopped being his nickname when he was thirteen.

(---)

Zelda got a call from Link Sr. about a day after it happened with a simple request.

“Who was in charge of the paperwork when your family adopted me?”

Zelda blinked once, then twice. “Come again?”

“The lawyer who arranged for my adoption, who was that?” Link asked again.

“Why?” Zelda asked, her wife leaning around the doorframe to give her a concerned look. Zelda shot her a thumbs up.

A heavy sigh came from the other end of the phone. “I think I’ve acquired another son,”

Zelda came over.

This new nephew of hers, apparently, was a sweet boy. A series of scars littered his entire left side, burn and explosive damage if she were to guess, and he had no idea how he got them. He had amnesia. The one thing he did know was his name.

His name was Link.

Zelda had to take a minute. She was trying very hard not to laugh. This was exactly the kind of luck her brother had.

“Zelda, stop mocking me, this wasn’t my call,” Link whined, though he’d never say it was a whine.

“Link, you have to see the humour here,” she gasped, waving at the two boys in the living room where Jr. was trying to show Scars how to use a lasso. This was Zelda’s idea, but she wasn’t taking responsibility for it.

Link just sighed heavily. “Link found him on the street. Malon looked into it and his parents died in a car crash a year ago, he has nowhere to go. We’ve agreed to let him stay, you understand that,”

Zelda nodded, sobering up some. “Yeah, I get that, kinda. The lawyer we hired was named Rauru, Mom should have his contact information still, you should call her,”

Link sighed, relieved. “Thank you,”

“Of course, just don’t make it a habit,”

(---)

The first inclination this would be a habit was a year later.

Wild, the younger of his sons, was in the same class as another boy named Link. This boy had lived with his uncle his whole life, and got the call his uncle died when at school. Sheik was about ready to punch someone for doing that to the boy, and just before christmas no less.

Wild brought him home, insisting he could stay at least for the holidays. The agreement wasn’t even a question, there was no way he was going to be forced to spend a holiday at an orphanage.

When Sheik and Ruto showed up on christmas day, not that their family cared much for christmas but they were all off anyways, the newest Link had been named Legend.

He was a little more shy than the others, understandably, and a little snappish.

Not a bad kid, just one grieving and in need of family. That was something their family had never hesitated to provide.

Sheik’s mother teaching him how to spin a butterfly knife was probably not the wisest decision, but considering Rottla heard a therapist say “Your kids are traumatized, they need to feel safe again,” and decided to sign them up for every martial arts she could, well, it should have been a sign that she wasn’t the best in that regard. Time, Link Sr., had made it very clear he felt Sheik took after her. Sheik had no idea what his brother was talking about.

Legend didn’t leave after that. One call to Rauru, and Legend was a permanent member of the family.

Sheik took great pride in being the favorite Uncle of Legend’s, after his late guardian of course. He pointedly ignored that he was the only Uncle, and only part-time.

Time could suck it.

(---)

Lullaby, since so many of her nephews’ friends were named Zelda apparently, received a call at five am.

True, she knew her brother and his wife woke up at sunrise to do yard work and such, but usually they were kind enough to let her sleep in.

Not so this morning.

“Wha?” She mumbled into the phone, trying, and failing, to not wake her wife.

“Zelda,” came Malon’s clipped tone through the receiver, “do you know about a missing person’s case for one Jerimiah Smith?”

Zelda blinked heavily, and had to convince herself not to go back to sleep. Who, why did Malon care? It was five am, the sun wasn’t even up yet.

“Why?” She asked to buy time, still working on a quarter of thought. Ruto rolled over and held her. Not helping, Ruto.

“I have a Link Smith in my barn claiming that his grandfather went missing, and he’s run away from a temporary foster home,” Malon explained, and okay that was worth waking up for.

Lullaby sat up, pushing Ruto’s arm from her waist to her lap, causing her wife to grumble, and turned on the lamp, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “Okay, okay pause. Pause and back up,” she half-swallowed a yawn, squinting into her bedroom. “What is going on?”

“I got up to do some work, since Link is still asleep, and I came into the barn to find a boy asleep in the hay, here you are,” her voice dropped away from the receiver, likely talking to the boy in question, then came back. “So I found a boy in the hay, and I woke him up. He says his name is Link Smith, and he was living with his grandfather since his father was overseas in the military. His father wasn’t home enough to care for him, so his grandfather had sole custody after his mother died or something, there was a lot of tears at this part. Anyways, his grandfather went missing a week ago, and he’s been through three foster homes and none of them were very accepting of, he apparently has a ‘mental thing’ that he’s dealing with. I was wondering if you could confirm his story?”

Lullaby leaned over the bed, grumbling, and grabbed her laptop, Ruto giving up on getting her back to bed and sliding up the headboard with her to drape over her shoulders while she pulled up Firefox. “Hold on,” she told her sister in law, plugging the name into Google. Jeremiah Smith, went missing a week ago, blah blah blah, oh there we go.

Link Smith, grandson of Jerimiah Smith, left in limbo after his grandfather’s disappearance. Oh, that was interesting. According to this article, which most certainly was breaking some privacy laws and if Link Smith was staying it would be coming down, the boy had multiple personality disorder.

“Yeah, he’s telling the truth,” Lullaby said, switching the phone to her other ear so Ruto could nuzzle up better without bumping it. “Also, I found his weird ‘mental thing’. According to this article, which I’m pretty sure isn’t legal, he’s got dissociative identity disorder,”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Ruto mumbled, still mostly asleep on her shoulder.

“No, not really. He’s actually more likely to be in danger than a danger,” she twisted to kiss her wife’s head, then went back to Malon. “He probably really needs someone who’ll be supportive enough through all this, both the disappearance and his condition. DID isn’t something easy to live with, I can see him having some issues with foster parents,” Lullaby had never been so glad that she got bored one day and decided to look it up after she heard people talk about it so negatively. You never know when information like that would be useful.

“He’s fine to take in?” Malon whispered after a moment. “I just, the other boys,”

“Will need to be patient, but unless one of his alters is particularly bad for dealing with threats, perceived or otherwise, in an unkind way then he’s fine and safe to be around. I’d ask him about that, but don’t force him to admit anything that can be bad for him, but I don’t see any more risk than taking in Wild or Legend,”

Malon sighed on the other end of the line. “Alright, I’ll bring him in and wake up Link, so he can call Rauru about all this while I sit with him and try and get him to relax,”

“Wonderful, I’ll call the office and see about what I can do about this article then. And for the record, if you ever call me at asscrack of dawn o’clock in the morning again, then next time we meet I’m clocking you,”

Malon had the nerve to laugh.

Four, as he’d been nicknamed by the time Lullaby and Ruto showed up to meet him, was a fascinating person. Green, the host of his system, was a brave, if occasionally airheaded, boy who wanted to try everything, and had been fascinated by his grandfather’s old-timey forge. Time had plans to make one in the yard for him. Red, the emotional and spiritual protector of the system, was empathetic and sweet and compassionate. No one had a bad word to say about Red. Vio, short for Violet, was the gatekeeper for the system and kept the four of them working on the same page. Bright and clever boy, his nose stuck in a book most of the time and willing to offer up the most random and yet useful information. Blue, the physical protector, was a little gruff and definitely someone you just got used to, but he cared deeply about his ‘brothers’ as they called each other, and the external brothers he acquired grew on him quickly enough too. It was a bit of a fight to get custody of him, but Rauru was the best there was, so it was only a week or two before the paperwork was going through for him.

Lullaby had a feeling this wasn’t the end by a long shot, and prayed that Hylia would be merciful about granting Time’s wish for a family.

She was going a little overboard.

(---)

Sheik wasn’t surprised in the least at the newest addition when he walked in the one day. No, mostly he was just confused as to why he hadn’t gotten a phone call before he got there.

Usually there was a phone call.

He was very upset by the way the boy looked, however.

This new addition, Warriors as he’d learn later that Time acquired yet another Link, was curled up in the corner of the couch with his scarf wrapped around him like a blanket, clearly trying not to be seen. Voices floated out of the kitchen, and Sheik picked up that Twilight brought him home, and was lobbying for a new brother.

Ah, that’s why there was no phone call.

Ruto went to investigate the conversation, so Sheik decided to introduce himself to his newest nephew.

Upon closer inspection, the boy looked about Twilight’s age, and had a bruise on his temple, maybe a day or two old now. Looking closer saw a few more on the left side of the boy’s face. Someone hit him, with purpose.

Sheik sat down next to him and said nothing, waiting for him to make the first move. Eventually, he poked his head out of his scarf.

“Hello,” Sheik offered once it became clear he wouldn’t be saying anything.

“Hullo,” he mumbled into the fabric, glancing away and back at his feet.

“My name is Sheik,” Sheik offered lightly. “Time is my brother,”

The boy looked up, eying him. “Twilight is your nephew?”

“Yes, he is,” Sheik nodded, smiling at him. “You’re a friend of his?”

The boy shrugged. “Kinda,” a beat of silence passed, then he shifted around. “He said I’d be safe here,”

“You will be,” Sheik agreed, trying to be comforting. “I can assure you of that,”

He hummed and snuggled back into his scarf.

“May I, if this isn’t overstepping, can I ask why you need somewhere to be safe?” Sheik asked after a moment.

He tensed up, eyes darting to him and at the doorway, and then back, wide eyes a little panicked.

Sheik was just about to apologize when the boy spoke.

“I ran away from home,” he admitted, looking away. “My uh, my parents aren’t, great people. I can’t go back, so I need somewhere else to go. Twi said I could be safe here, that his parents would fight for me,”

“They will,” Sheik said with enough conviction it almost startled him. “I know my brother, and he can’t turn away from someone in need, and his wife is the most strong willed woman I’ve ever met. You won’t find another pair of people more willing to go to war for you than them.”

He blinked at Sheik, then nodded, relaxing a little. “And, if my parents come for me?”

Sheik grinned. “My family is very rich, and we have a small army of very good lawyers. You won’t be going back there, I assure you,”

He smiled, and leaned over towards Sheik a little. “I’m Link,”

Of course you are, Sheik thought. He held out an arm for ‘Link’ to lean into, not getting attached to the name since it would be changing. The boy leaned into his side easily, deflating against him with a sigh. He looked so tired.

“Link,” Sheik asked carefully, watching his words. “Can I ask about the bruises on your face?”

The boy blinked up at him, biting his lip.

“They uh, my dad did that,” he admitted in a small voice, curling into Sheik’s side, and the sheikah pulled him in close to his side, hoping to provide the comfort Link was seeking. “Right before I left. I packed up and went through the window. My twin sister is still there, and I’m a little worried about her, but I can’t go back again. I, he,” he paused, sucking in a breath. Sheik rubbed his arm and side, trying to help him calm down, ignoring the tears on his shirt.

“I thought he was going to kill me,” Link finally admitted in a small, scared voice.

Sheik knew he never had very many parental instincts, and he and Ruto agreed no kids before they even got engaged, but for the first time ever Sheik felt that flare that Time and Malon described everytime something threatened their kids. It was then and there Sheik decided this boy would be part of their family, whether Time was the one who took him in or not. No kid should have to say that and mean it. No kid should be scared their parent was going to kill them.

Oh, the lawyers Sheik was planning on bringing down on whoever these assholes were would be many.

Time took the boy in, as Sheik predicted (thankfully), and sure enough the immediate support was immense. His parents never even put out a missing persons report. Sheik added child negligence to his list of growing charges to lay out.

Two months after Warriors moved in, he got a call from his sister. She got out and was safe now, and wanted to be sure he was as well. This made him very relieved. They met up once or twice, and seemed to be getting back to normal.

Two weeks later, Legend and Wild got suspended distracting Warriors’ parents so Twilight could sneak him out the back of the school. Four didn’t get suspended, but only because when Vio messed with the security cameras to cover up the escape he didn’t get caught. Time took all three out for ice-cream and junk food when he picked them up.

Lullaby saw an opportunity and took it without hesitation. Lawyers were called and organized, and without much wait there was an order for both of them to appear in court on child abuse and negligence charges. The kidnapping charge laid against them in retaliation was almost laughable.

A few weeks later, Time and Malon had full custody of Warriors pending a proper criminal trial for full punishment of his parents, at which time Linkle, Warriors’ twin sister, planned to testify as well. If they couldn’t get things settled before Warriors turned 18, then they planned to push through an adult adoption the day he did. A birthday present, Time had said. Lullaby laughed.

(---)

Sky was probably the most skittish of Time’s sons.

Lullaby wasn’t sure entirely why he was so skittish, but he was. He reminded her of a bird, or a rodent, or a cat who really, really didn’t want to interact with new people.

She had been briefed before she visited on Sky’s background. His social worker had been having trouble setting him up with a home where he’d stay for longer than a week or so, and in a last ditch effort had asked Time and Malon, with their long track record of housing troubled and unhousable youths, if they could take one more. They agreed.

Sky apparently had a friend, a bit of a troublemaker if Lullaby guessed correctly, who had gotten the two arrested. Time mentioned the event had Sky concerned about being ‘too much trouble’ and that ‘they’d get rid of him too’ or something. Time said this was ridiculous, as Sky caused him the least amount of trouble, but the boy was concerned about being thrown away again. He apparently had a few self-worth issues.

Lullaby found him on the back porch talking to the birds. Not in any human language, mind you, and Lullaby spoke many, but cooing and chirping back at them. He seemed very happy and at ease like that, singing at the birds.

“Do you mind if I join you?” She asked in a whisper during a pause in the conversation.

Sky jumped, eyes wide, and he squirmed a little when he saw her. “Uh, sure, I guess,”

She sat on the other end of the bench next to him, and calmly went back to watching the birds, and him interacting with them. He seemed much more at ease here than he did with people.

“Did you need something?” He asked, after a while, letting a blue jay grab a peanut from his hand.

“Not specifically,” she shook her head. “I had wanted to meet you, but nothing else,”

He blinked at her a little dumbly.

“Why would you want to meet me?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” She asked back, not sure what he was trying to say.

“Well, I mean, I’m not exactly special. And, it’s not like I’m staying,”

“I think you’re pretty special, most people can’t get birds to land on their hands like that,” Lullaby said gently, not liking how he spoke about himself. “And why would you think you aren’t staying?”

“I never stay,” he admitted, turning his eyes back to the birds, frowning. “No one ever considers me worth the effort,”

“You are very much worth the effort,” Lullaby countered, trying her best to keep her face soft instead of pinching up. “Trust me, however much effort you are, it is nowhere near the level of your brothers. Time wouldn’t have taken you in if he didn’t want you,”

“He’s just doing Impa a favour,” he said glumly, offering up more birdseed to the birds. “I won’t be staying forever,”

“I’m sure my brother has explained why that’s bullshit,” Lullaby said bluntly.

“But, I got arrested,” he mumbled.

“So have three of your brothers,” Lullaby pointed out. “Regularly. For much worse things. I promise you, that is not an issue,”

“But,”

“If you are going to say something bad about yourself again then I’m telling you right now I’m not going to listen to it,” Lullaby cut him off. “Time has told me a lot about you, and all of it is how much he loves you,”

“Really?” Sky looked up at her.

“You cause him the least amount of headaches of all his sons,” Lullaby smiled. “He adores you,”

Sky turned away, clearly trying to think that over.

“How about you tell me more about the things you enjoy doing,” Lullaby suggested.

“Huh?” Sky asked, turning back to her.

“I’d like to get to know more about what makes my nephew happy,” she smiled.

“Why?”

“Well, I’d be a bad aunt if I didn’t, especially since you’ll be sticking around,”

Sky looked like he didn’t believe her, but told her about his woodcarving anyways.

Lullaby was happy that as time went on Sky became less skittish and self-deprecating. He was a sweet kid, and as he got more comfortable and confident more of his true colours started showing through.

She felt a bit bad for Time, though. Apparently he was as prone to chaos as his brothers, he was just more subtle about it.

Time brought it on himself though. He should have known this when he adopted six boys.

(---)

The call about the next son had Lullaby’s head hitting her kitchen table, groaning loudly even when Ruto came to check on her.

Wild found a boy in the woods and they’d decided to keep him.

This was getting to be just a bit too much.

When Sheik and Ruto got to meet the boy, they were a bit taken aback. They had expected another Wild.

What they got was a quiet boy who mostly kept to himself. He was a bit shy, but he seemed to open up a bit more around Wild and, amusingly, Legend. He was a bit jumpy, but considering they had no idea how long he was in the woods that was expected.

What was surprising them most was that he did actually have a mother, who loved him very much, but who was very sick and so wasn’t able to actually take care of him, thus the wandering in the woods. His mother had been very worried, but physically unable to look. She had asked family to check but they gave up pretty quickly.

In light of her family being horrible for taking care of her son, and not knowing if she’d survive her illness, she asked Malon and Time if they could take care of her son for her since she clearly couldn’t trust her relatives and the boy’s father had abandoned them the moment she decided to keep him.

Time and Malon had taken one look at the boy and their sons, and agreed. They worked out an arrangement to keep the boy’s mother in the loop, and then they called Rauru. After which Time called his sibling.

This boy’s name was also Link. Sheik did not feel bad about laughing. Really, his brother had the weirdest luck.

They, for some reason, decided his nickname would be Hyrule. Why they decided to name him after the country, Sheik didn’t know. Apparently it was the only nickname he liked.

He had trouble reading, but he liked learning, especially if he could use what he learned to help people.

He fit right in, which made Sheik wonder exactly when his brother was going to stop adopting. He hoped it was before the ranch house ran out of room.

(---)

Eight. He stopped at eight.

Which was still too many, in Sheik’s opinion, but whatever.

The newest hellraiser at least didn’t come from the streets like almost all of the others.

This Link (because yes, his name was Link too) had recently lost his parents and his grandmother couldn’t financially support both him and his sister. So Time and Malon agreed to take care of him for her. The rest of their sons all acquired a grandma as well, it seemed.

They nicknamed him Wind, and he immediately latched onto his older brothers and started giving his new parents headaches.

When Lullaby and Ruto showed up next, she felt no sympathy for her brother. He brought this on himself.

She was more than a little pissed off when the brat stole her wallet though. Damn thief.

Time assured her that they’d talk to him about it. Lullaby wasn’t sure that’d help.

But, she reasoned, despite the chaos, Time was happy. Practically giddy. He lit up whenever he spoke about his sons, and he clearly loved them dearly.

Hylia had granted his wish for a family. She maybe went a bit overboard, but as long as Time was happy, so was Lullaby.

(---)

She wasn’t commenting on the ninth kid. She refused.

At least his name wasn’t ‘Link’.

[fandomscombine]

Love and Sacrifice

A Fred Weasley x Reader and Adrian Pucey x Reader

BG: Fred didn’t know what went wrong. One moment you were happy together the next you reappear after months of silence only to came back engaged to Adrian Pucey. But what he doesn’t know is that you made the ultimate sacrifice for him.

Contains: Forbidden love. Arranged marriage. Angst alert! Get ready to feel the pain.

A/N: Was supposed to be just an outline, but kinda became a straight up full fic.

WC:1662

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

>>JOIN MY WRITING CHALLENGE!<<

Weeks leading up to the day that Fred and George were to leave Hogwarts to start Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Fred had noticed you becoming distant. Though he didn’t put much though into that as to NEWTS coming up and you had been staying up most nights helping them sort out the joke shop’s paperwork instead of revising. He knew that this situation would be temporary and once you graduated, you would be moving out of your strict parent’s house to live in with him- as you both had planned.

However, after graduation, you were still giving him the cold shoulder and not replying to his letters. Even his siblings had noticed that after they left, you were acting weird-not talking much, low energy and generally not feeling like yourself.  Although you had sat with the remaining Weasleys on the Hogwarts Express, you were unusually quiet, a shell of your past self. Similar to Fred, his younger sibling attributed this behaviour to being anxious in knowing the results of your NEWTS, which were set to arrive mid-July.

Fast-forward to a few weeks after graduation, you are now engaged to Adrian Pucey. You both were walking around Diagon Alley, doing some wedding shopping when a certain shop comes into view. Of course, you had only seen the concept art and blueprints, so you had an idea what it would look like, but it was even more magical seeing it in person.

Adrian catches a sight of your face and understands, understand that these past few weeks with him had been a whirlwind and acknowledges that you and Fred would need closure for both for you to move on.  Adrian gave your hand a squeeze, ‘Go on y/n, I know you want to.’ Beckoning towards the shop. ‘We should at least give him the decency to tell him in person rather than him finding it out in the daily prophet that you are soon to be married.  We are gonna have “The wedding of the year” as they call it.’

The whole time you were reluctant to approach him. Unable to predict how he would react to you popping up out of the blue.

With hands in your pocket, hiding your ring. You call out to him after 3 long months.

‘y/n?’ Fred did double take, almost not believing that you were real, the actual y/n that he loved, that disappeared is now within reach.

Emotions came rushing back. How foolish did you think that months apart, forcing him out of your mind would diminish everything you felt. Panicking, you dashed to the door.

Nevertheless, his long legs had quickly caught up to you. He tries to stop you from leaving him again, holding your arm back, you resisted yanking away his grasp.

His hand slides past yours, accidentally pulling off you ring too.

It falls to the ground.

Fred kneels down, getting to it first.

It’s even funny really, you though that he would be at that position before. Of course, under different circumstances.

He stares at the ring.

Right then Adrian reaches your side. “What are you doing with my fiancée’s ring?”

“Fiancée?”

‘Yeah my fiancée’ Adrian interlocks your hands. ‘The soon to be Mrs. y/n Pucey’

Fred chokes on air, turning redder than you’ve ever seen, you can see the veins in his arms contract.

The only time you saw him like this was when Malfoy insulted his family back in Year 5 quidditch match.

You turn to Adrian, with soft eyes.

He nods, understanding what you were asking. ‘I’ll be right outside, okay?’

‘Thank you.’

However, when you turned back, Fred was already walking away.

‘Fred! Wait!’ you finally caught up to him ‘Can we talk? Please.’

He stops, nodding though not bothering to face you. ‘In here.’ Leading you to his office.

Crossing his arms, he mocked. ‘So this is why you weren’t returning my messages.’

‘Fred….’

‘Cause you were with him all this time.’

‘NO!!! No… I wasn’t believe me.’

‘Then why?’ Fred was emotionally exhausted. ‘I just had the love of his life reappear after months of silence, only to find out that she’s engaged to someone else, someone I know she practically strangers with!’ Fred runs his hand through his hair, leaning defeated against the table. ‘Why did you leave me? You just disappear, like we didn’t have history. y/n. NO note. NO explanation. Just silence.’

‘Remember when you and George were trying to get this place up and running?’

‘Yea but what’s it got to do with all this?’

You raised a hand to stop him.

‘Do you recall that all your efforts were being blocked? The lease, the permits…..’ you exhaled. ‘Apparently that was my father’s doing.’

‘Your father??’

You nodded.

‘News got to him that we were dating- and no I don’t know how, but it did.’ You added, knowing what’s on his mind. ‘You know how my father is... with his traditional ways. He couldn’t believe that his only daughter was seeing a blood traitor. There was no way he would allow it.’ You shook your head.  ‘So he used his influence in the ministry, pulled some strings in order to do whatever he could to stop you from building the joke shop.’

‘You and George were being held back with one thing to another, it’s unheard of to have a business struggle so much just to get the right paperwork. So I did some digging, I had my suspicions then, I knew it had someone powerful but what was curious was that you were faced with all these constant barriers that couldn’t possibly be an authority being throughout with the paperwork. No, it was more inclined to someone with a personal grudged.’ You explained.

‘So, I took a chance and confronted my father.’ Continuing on, you sneered. ‘It was funny cause he didn’t even bother to deny my allegations, said he was doing the right thing.’ You air quoted.  ‘And that if I wanted it to stop. He would do so immediately, under the condition that I break up with you and agree to have an arranged marriage.’

‘What?’ Fred shocked by your confession. ‘y/n. Why did you agree? ’

‘It was the hardest thing I had to do, but I knew that it was for the best.’ You looked at him with melancholy. ‘It would be the best for you.’

 ‘You thought it would be the best for me, did you honestly thought that I would agree to this huh y/n?’ Fred challenged.

 ‘I did it so that you would have a bright and happy future, even if it meant that I won’t be in the picture.’

He scoffs.

‘Freddie..’ When he wouldn’t look at you, you tried again. ‘love…’

He winces at the nickname.

‘You have been wanting to turn this dream of having your own joke shop into a reality for the longest time. I know that burning unstoppable passion you have in bringing joy into the world ever since I’ve known you.’ Moving closer, you cupped his cheek. ‘Time and time again, you had overcome people’s discouragement on your passion, and you came up on top.’

‘So who am I to stop you from fulfilling your dreams? I can’t do that to you Freddie. I won’t be always to bear with the knowledge of holding you back. I can’t. I couldn’t Not to you. ’

‘So you sacrifice your own happiness for me to have mine?’

You shrugged.

‘Do you love him?’ Fred’s voice was strained.

You were caught off guard by his question. ‘Adrian?’

‘Yea.’

Gathering your thoughts together, you reasoned ‘I…..I…It’s only been a few week since we got engaged-‘

‘Do. You. Love. Him?’ Fred could feel his heart contracting. But he needed to know where he stood emotionally to you.

‘I like him.’ Blinking, you thought about your past couple of weeks with Adrian. ‘He’s sweet and nice. A really caring gentleman.’ You admitted. ‘Not exactly the typical evil Slytherin archetype either. So there’s that.’

‘That’s not exactly a high bar.’ Fred taunted causing you to chuckle.

‘But in time…given time. I don’t see why I won’t potentially fall for him.’ You replied truthfully.

You both just sat there, shoulder to shoulder on his office table. Hints laughter could be heard through the door. In contrast to this small room full of eery silence and tense with the gloom of a last goodbye.

‘Well..’ You stand, brushing your dress straight. ‘I guess that is all there is to say.’ You sent him a reassuring smile, eager to maintain this light ambiance between you. ‘I just dropped by for a quick visit you and to inform you of the upcoming wedding of the year. Thought that it be best to clear the air and be polite and give you a heads up personally rather than finding out about it in the daily prophet tomorrow.’

You wrap him into a hug, knowing that this would be the last time. ‘I’ll miss you.’

Fred held onto to you tighter, inhaling your scent. ‘I’ll miss you too.’ Compelling his brain to remember what you feel like, what you smell like. His The One That Got Away. Burying his face into your neck, he pleads. ‘Do this one thing for me please…. To make things easier.’

‘Anything’ you replied.

‘Tell me you don’t love me.’

You stiffen in his arms, pulling back a bit to see his face. ‘I can’t.’

You were about to walk away when once again he stops you.

The next thing you know, you were spun back into his arms, kissing with intense passion, pouring your hearts out, knowing that this is it. The final kiss. The final moment. This is where your stories diverge.

You broke apart, cherishing his face this close one last time.

‘Goodbye, Fred Weasley.’

With that you exit his office, leaving behind a perfectly happy life of what ifs and a heartbroken man surrounded by reminders of his achievements and happiness.

  Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1​

[lockefanfic]

Toy

It was one of those moments in your life when you hoped you weren’t just dreaming the whole thing up. 

When Chaeyoung and Momo aren’t looking, you pinch your left forearm - but the small prick of pain barely registers amidst the pleasure the two girls were working on your shaft as they shared it between them.

Momo lets your cock, slick with her saliva, pop out of her mouth, grasping it with her left hand and raising it up to reveal your swollen balls; Chaeyoung takes the hint and dives into your crotch, searching for and finding your sacks with her tongue, lathering them with her spit. A sly smile appears on Momo’s lips as she contents herself with watching her younger friend go to town on your nuts. She strokes your swollen cock lazily, and you sigh as you enjoy the feel of her hand pumping your shaft up and down.

You were more than a little surprised when TWICE’s manager approached you after their concert, giving you a hotel keycard and instructing you to show up to that room in half an hour. The concert was fun, but when Chaeyoung locked eyes with you during the encore and then immediately whispered something to Momo you assumed she was just pointing someone out who was nearby; never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined it would lead to this, now, with two members of your favorite girl group naked and on their knees between your spread legs, sharing a blowjob.

Chaeyoung finally ends her time with your balls, letting one pop out of her mouth with a loud slurping sound. Momo immediately resumes her blowjob, taking your shaft into her mouth and bobbing her head up and down, not missing a beat. You sigh involuntarily at the feel of one of the hottest idols in Asia sucking tightly on your shaft; surely this had to be a dream.

You reach down and caress Momo’s shoulder, delighting in the feel of actually touching a woman you thought was forever beyond your reach. Suddenly finding reserves of courage you never thought you had - and encouraged by the lustful look the Japanese girl gives you - you let your hand drift down her upper arm, eventually sliding beneath it to caress her full, round breast, finding and capturing a stiff nipple between your thumb and forefinger and giving it a soft pinch. Momo moans around a mouth full of your cock, and the vibrations it sends up and down your shaft send delicious sparks of pleasure up your spine and straight to your brain.

Chaeyoung watches all of this happen, watches you fondling her friend’s tit, and with a devilish grin she makes a suggestion you are powerless to resist.

“You should fuck her tits.”

The very thought of having you fuck her tits must have flipped a switch inside the older Japanese girl, because she almost immediately stops sucking your dick, giving it one last lick from base to tip before rising from her knees and moving onto the bed you were sitting on. Chaeyoung follows close behind her.

You take a moment to admire the sheer beauty of the two naked females, and the intense contrast between their bodies - each absolutely breathtaking in their own way, their unique features only highlighted by their close proximity to each other. Momo was the more traditional kind of hot, what with her perfectly sculpted model-tier body with curves in all the right places, full breasts and chiseled abs. Chaeyoung, by contrast, was all lean and wiry with muscle, small and tight, like some sort of predator cat always ready to pounce.

“Stop staring and fuck my tits,” Momo says, snapping you back into reality as she lies down on the bed, already cupping those round, full breasts in anticipation.

You straddle her, your legs on either side of her torso. You place your glistening cock between her large mounds, and the tightness you feel when Momo presses her tits around your cock makes you feel dizzy - but when you actually begin to move, thrusting your cock in and out slowly between her soft, warm breasts, you think you might pass out.

“Fuck that’s hot,” you spit, almost involuntarily, the words leaving your mouth before you knew you were saying them. Her breasts feel like heaven around your shaft, warm and tight. Momo’s eyes are focused on the tip of your cock as it appears from between her tits, and she tries playfully to lick it.

Chaeyoung is not idle during all this, and she crawls up behind you, pressing her naked chest against your back and wrapping her arms around your torso.

“It’s your lucky day, isn’t it?” she whispers into your ear, “Getting to fuck two members of your favorite girl group?”

“Fuck yes,” you answer back. Chaeyoung’s implication of even more impending pleasure drove you insane.

“You think you can keep up with us?”

You make the mistake of glancing down at Momo, her hands tightly pressing her breasts around your glistening shaft. She must have felt you staring at her, because she catches your eyes and holds your gaze, her eyes glazed over with pleasure. She moans softly - and it occurs to you that Chaeyoung was fingering her.

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna fucking cum soon.”

It embarrassed you a little, cumming so soon, but the whole situation was so wild, so unexpected, that you doubted anyone could last much longer.

“Cum all over her pretty face,” Chaeyoung hisses, “paint that face and those tits with your cum.”

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, trying in vain to hold on and prolong the pleasure. But when Chaeyoung brings her fingers to your mouth - stained liberally with what you assumed were Momo’s tangy, slick juices - it all becomes too much to fight.

You thrust a few more times into Momo’s tits before your orgasm overwhelms you, and your cock spurts large ropes of warm, thick semen onto Momo’s cleavage and face, the white liquid landing wetly onto her pretty cheeks. Momo opens her mouth widely and sticks out her tongue, and is rewarded with a few streams landing into and around her mouth. The rest of it falls on her cheeks, her long, graceful neck, and the flushed skin of her upper chest.

“Good boy,” Chaeyoung says, appreciative of the work of art you’d left on her friend’s chest and face.

You watch as Momo finally releases your cock from between her flushed, reddened tits, using her hands to gather up as much of the cum off her face, neck, and breasts as she could, bringing the thick white semen to her face to lick off like some sweet treat. You stumble off her chest, lying down on your side next to the prone Japanese girl.

Chaeyoung almost immediately pounces on Momo like the feline predator you figured her for, pressing herself against Momo and licking your cum off her face. You watch for long, glorious seconds as the younger girl gathers each stream of semen off her friend’s face and breasts with her tongue before swirling it around in her mouth. When she has enough, she raises her head above Momo’s and spits it into the older Japanese girl’s mouth, letting it fall from her pursed lips in a single long, glistening strand. You watch as Momo opens her mouth, gratefully accepting the rope of semen that lands squarely on her pink tongue. When she has received it all, her throat gulps, finally swallowing your cum.

The sight is so intensely erotic that you quickly find your shaft springing back to life. Your left hand almost involuntarily begins to stroke your cock.

“Are you going to just sit there jacking off, or are you gonna fuck me?” Chaeyoung asks.

“If you two are going to fuck, I better get off too,” Momo spits, and you watch as she grasps the top of Chaeyoung’s head with her hands and pushes her downward. Chaeyoung takes the hint and travels down Momo’s body until she is between the Japanese girl’s legs. You take up position behind Chaeyoung, and with one quick thrust, you slip inside the Korean girl’s tight, slick pussy.

You groan out loud at the feeling of first penetration - Momo’s tits were wonderful but being inside a warm, tight pussy was on another level altogether, and the fact that said pussy belonged to one of your favorite idols made it even more surreal. You’d spent so many long hours just staring at photos of these girls - and now you were balls deep inside one of them, ready to give her a hard fucking.

“Fuck me already,” Chaeyoung snaps, looking back at you over her shoulder with fierce eyes, “Fuck me hard. Don’t stop until I cum.”

“Don’t stop until I cum either,” Momo adds. “Then you can fill up this bitch’s pussy with cum.”

You were entirely prepared to pull out when the time came to it, but who were you to refuse Momo’s instructions? And so when you begin to fuck Chaeyoung with long, deep strokes of your cock, you did so knowing you could cum inside her - which made every thrust, every penetration, feel that much better.

Chaeyoung’s lean, tight little body is rocked with each thrust into her pussy, and she uses it as momentum to fuck her friend’s pussy with her mouth, her tongue pressed flat against the Japanese girl’s clit, swirling around it occasionally. You watch as she slips two fingers into Momo’s pussy, curling upward and finding a spot that elicits long moans from the older girl.

You slap Chaeyoung’s firm, tight butt - softly at first, but when she gasps in response and tells you to spank her ass with a fierce tone, you are all too happy to oblige. Soon her cheeks are red and flushed, the room filled with a chorus of breathy female moans, the wet slap of flesh against flesh, and the loud smacks of Chaeyoung being spanked harder and harder.

Momo is the first to cum - she clearly got off on being titfucked and fingered at the same time, and now that Chaeyoung was eating her out while being fucked herself - it was an image that drove the Japanese girl quickly over the edge. She only has time for a quick warning before her body becomes a quivering, shaking mess.

“Oh, fuck-” she gasps, her voice cut out as her body shakes almost violently in orgasm.

Bringing her friend to orgasm must have triggered a similar reaction in Chaeyoung - and Momo’s juices flooding into her tongue clearly helped. 

“Oh god, yes, fucking cum for me Momo. Oh god… yes… keep fucking me!”

You increase the pace of your thrusts, slapping Chaeyoung’s sore, red ass more and more - and her pussy tightens and clenches around you with each thrust, the wetness and tightness of her walls increasing exponentially as she reaches her own orgasm.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“God, Chaeyoung, I’m gonna cum too.”

“Fucking cum inside me. Give me every drop. Fill me up. Fuck. Cum inside my pussy! Oh--”

Like Momo, Chaeyoung’s voice also cuts out as she cums - and you yourself cum soon after, driving yourself as deeply as you could inside the shrieking Korean girl’s pussy as you could before finally releasing a veritable torrent of cum inside her, the warm, thick semen spurting from your tip to paint her inner body in white.

Your mind goes absolutely blank - not only was it mind blowing sex; it was a mindblowing threesome with two of Asia’s hottest idols. What any man on Earth would have given to be in your position now, balls deep inside Son Chaeyoung, having her walls drenched with your cum.

You give her a few more thrusts, delighting in the feel of your juices, hers and yours, wet and thick around your cock. When you finally slip out of her, the flood of cum that appears from between her splayed lips is an image you want to remember forever.

Exhausted, you finally collapse on the bed next to the two sweaty, breathless girls. Chaeyoung is still recovering from her orgasm, but she finds the wherewithal to grab her phone off the nightstand and point it at your still hard cock, drenched with cum.

“Sana would want to see this,” she says, before lying down on Momo’s body, using the older girl’s tits as a pillow. Her tongue pokes out to toy with a stiff nipple, and Momo strokes the younger girl’s hair appreciatively.

“I wonder how she’s doing with her playtoy,” Momo wonders aloud, her tone weirdly innocent given the erotic nature of her words.

Chaeyoung’s phone vibrates, and a sly smile appears on her face upon reading Sana’s reply. She shows the phone first to Momo, who chuckles to herself, before showing you the screen in turn.

On it is a close-up photo of Sana, with a thick, long, hard cock, glistening with saliva, pressed against her cheek. The younger Japanese girl’s face is weirdly cute and innocent, as is the smile on her perfect lips - take away the cock and you’d think she were shooting an album cover photo. You’d always been attracted to the duality of Minatozaki Sana, and never in a million years could you have dreamed you’d see it here, highlighted so intensely.

Chaeyoung’s phone vibrates one more time, and she reads aloud Sana’s reply.

“Sana’s on her way here,” she says slyly, “she thinks maybe she wants to play with two toys tonight.”

“Man, what a lucky day you’re having,” Momo quips. Your shaft is sore and spent, having recently cum twice, but the thought of having a session with Sana brings the first feelings of arousal back into your exhausted flesh.

“I hope you like to share,” Chaeyoung begins, “because you’ll definitely be sharing Sana. You better decide what end of her you want. She loves being spitroasted...”

---

Author’s Note: I legit banged this out in a single quick session, so apologies for any errors/grammar. I got a super hot ask/request from ninjja275 and just had to write it! Feel free to drop your own ask/requests... or if you just wanna talk about your fave idols :)

Looking back at this, damn, this was especially filthy/dirty and totally PWP. It was a nice change of pace from the storyline-driven Dream Girls. Hope you all like it - lemme know if you guys wanna see a Part 2!

[damnedparker]

velvet and sunshine

pairing: obi-wan x reader (gender neutral, no y/n)

warnings: food mentions, reader is sad, very mild general hurt/comfort

summary: college au. little to no sleep and awful professors have given you quite the day, and you need a nap. preferably in obi-wan's bed.

also posted on ao3

more self-indulgent fluff from me! i’m a one-trick pony! but i was yearning and stressed over college and i’ve screwed up my sleep schedule again so yknow here we are. i hope some of you enjoy my too sweet fluff. i would definitely write a cute little au series of this concept if i had the time <3

Oh, college. The ultimate vehicle of stress.

Your first of two classes you had on Fridays had went absolutely horrid, all on top of the fact you had gotten maybe an hour of sleep the night prior to get the homework due today done. You knew you needed to be better about procrastination, you really knew, but there's only so much blame you can put on your past self before you run out of time to catch up on the work that was stressing you out enough to put it off in the first place.

Your one, single hour of sleep had been at the cost of you having enough time to properly wake up and get ready as usual, so on top of being exhausted, you also had to deal with being around people when you felt more insecure than usual, feeling like a slob and like everyone was judging you for not having your usual makeup or outfit on. It did nothing to help your already miserable mental state.

In your first class, there was a discussion on the work due today, and the professor had taken every shot he could at putting down your contributions and opinions in the assignment. The rest of the class was completely silent as well, not knowing what to say. It was humiliating, and had gone on for around fifteen minutes, which ended up feeling like hours. After finally getting out of that class, you just wanted to curl up in a ditch and cease to exist for a while. But you had another class in around half an hour.

You sighed as you got in line at the campus market, clutching your meager excuse for lunch—some potato chips—in your arms like it was a precious treasure. It wasn’t the most fulfilling lunch, but the campus up-charged on-campus food like crazy, so you didn’t feel like wasting too much of your money on mediocre food. You would just eat later after your next class.

Just as you were imagining the lecture you’d receive from him for your poor nutritional choices, your phone buzzed with a message from your favorite person—Obi-Wan. He had sent you a simple little meme, one of those with a cat surrounded by heart emojis, accompanied with a simple “thinking about you :-).” You smiled and almost felt like crying at how sweet it was, despite this being a daily occurrence from him. That man loved his wholesome memes, and sent them regularly, and you were so thankful. It always made your day better.

But after today? The little spark of happiness didn’t last long.

After paying for your sad excuse of sustenance, you trudged out of the university center, walking slow as can be in the general direction of your next class. You really did not want to go; you could feel the exhaustion creeping up on you and you could tell you’d doze off in class, which was a nightmare waiting to happen. Although you had your best friend, Anakin, to cover for you, since he sat right next to you in that class, you just didn’t feel like dealing with any of it today. None of it.

And with that, you simply turned and started walking towards the edge of campus, toward your safe haven: Obi-Wan and Anakin’s apartment. You lived quite the ways away from campus, much too far to walk, but Obi-Wan and Anakin’s little home was just a block over. Your boyfriend had class for another hour or two, but you really just wanted a place to nap, and you didn’t trust yourself to drive all the way home. You would’ve almost certainly been hanging out with Obi-Wan later tonight anyway, so you figured he wouldn’t mind. You could have him bring you to get your car sometime later.

After some delirious walking, you finally reached the apartment complex, heaving out a sigh once you stepped in the elevator, leaning against the wall as it made its way to the second floor. Your brain was absolutely fried from the lack of sleep, stress, and emotional day you had, and you could feel yourself struggling to hold back tears from the overwhelming mood beginning to take your mind once you arrived and managed a small knock at the door.

“Oh no, is it raining?” Anakin’s brows furrowed once he let you in, figuring you were there to drive him. That’s what you always did when it was raining outside, mostly just so you didn’t have to hear him complain about his clothes being wet during class.

“No, I just- I can’t deal with another class today,” You sighed, setting your bag down by the couch and toeing off your shoes.  “Obi’s not working today, right?”

“No, he should be home after class,” Anakin watched as you rounded the kitchen counter, helping yourself to a glass of water. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just having a day,” you could feel your shoulders hanging, your posture reflecting your mood. “I just need some sleep. I can’t do class the rest of today, sorry to leave you to deal with Windu alone today.” You scrunched your nose in apology, referring to your strict, and often frustrating political science professor. The man was wonderful at lecturing, but absolutely frustrating when it came to assignments and tests. He often liked to pick on Anakin for discussions, and usually you came in to save him when no one else in the class felt like talking.

“Don’t worry about it, I can handle him on my own,” your friend nodded, reaching over to squeeze your arm affectionately. “Enjoy your nap,” he collected his bag and put in an earbud, preparing for the walk to campus. “But do not eat all my snacks like last time. Obi-Wan hates Cheetos, so I know it was you.” He gave you one last playful glare before grinning and shutting the door behind him. You looked down at the counter, now alone in the quiet apartment. You felt safe here, comforted by your best friend and boyfriend’s belongings laying about. It was clear what was Anakin’s and what was Obi-Wan’s, the difference very clearly seen between objects that were tidily tucked in their places, while others were strewn about in random places. You had witnessed many fights between the two adopted brothers over things like this, and sometimes it was a wonder they were able to live alone together at all. Not to say that Anakin hadn’t insinuated you should move in with them multiple times lately, very pointedly looking at Obi-Wan while he did so. Of course you would say yes in a second, but you didn’t want to pressure your boyfriend, who was very careful about big decisions in your relationship. The two of you had been dating for almost a year now, and were practically inseparable, and he was secure in the fact that you both believed there would never be anyone else you could love as much as each other. However, you knew Obi-Wan was a very particular man, and could be somewhat traditional in his courting. You thought it was sweet. Anakin, who was already daydreaming to you about proposing to his own partner, thought it was stupid, saying you already practically live here anyway! He wasn’t totally wrong. At this point, unless Obi-Wan was at yours or you were somewhere with him, you were probably going to be found at their place.

You sighed to yourself, feeling your eyes getting heavy. You were beginning to crash from your many cups of coffee last night. You headed straight for Obi-Wan’s room after locking the front door. His room was always impressively neat, never any clothes on the floor or anything out of place, except momentarily when you had forgotten to put something away or the two of you were in the middle of something. Painted a deep blue, and decorated with various framed posters or art, along with a few framed photos, his room was very simple. It was just the right size for it to be cozy without being suffocating.

You made a pitstop at his closet, pulling a sweater off the very top of his laundry basket, the one he’d worn the day before, along with some pajama shorts you kept in his dresser for impromptu sleepovers. You changed quickly, not keen to sleep in jeans, and also wanting desperately to lay down. You crawled into his bed, snuggling under the sheets and breathing in the scent of him all around you. Sleep came not long after you settled into the blankets.

---

Obi-Wan hummed softly under his breath, a song that you had showed him a few days ago and had subsequently gotten stuck in his head. He smiled to himself as he remembered the overjoyed look on your face when he had told you how much he liked it, fumbling to get his keys out of his pocket and get in his apartment. He paused while he was hanging his jacket up, noting your bag next to the couch, along with the glass on the counter. He furrowed his brows, knowing you had class, and although you certainly had before, you rarely skipped since your professors counted absences against your grade. He dropped his bag next to yours and made his way into his room, shoulders drooping as the weight of worry escaped them. You were curled up in his bed, wearing one of his sweaters, fast asleep. It was an adorable sight, you clutching onto the stuffed bearded dragon you had won out of a claw machine at the mall on your last trip together, whom you had gleefully named Boga as you passed the gift into his arms, insisting it was for him.

Obi-Wan shucked off his pants, leaving him in a t-shirt and his boxers, before sliding in next to you. He watched your eyelashes flutter slightly; clearly you were dreaming. You mumbled something in your sleep, followed by a happy sigh, and another mumble of something that vaguely resembled his name. He could’ve collapsed in on himself from adoration purely aimed at you.Carefully, he reached over to brush a stray hair out of your face, before beginning to press kisses to your skin, first at your jaw, then cheek, forehead, nose. You began to stir at his affections, sleepily blinking open your eyes to your boyfriend smiling at you. He trailed his hand down your arm, intertwining your fingers together as you began to wake up more.

“Hi, Obi.”

“Hello, my love,” he murmured, keeping his voice soft. “Not that I don’t enjoy coming home to you in my bed, but don’t you have class right now?” Your peaceful state from just waking up seemed to crack at his words, and a lump came back to your throat at the return of your sour mood from earlier. His eyebrows furrowed at your immediate change in mood, knowing something was wrong.

“I really couldn’t handle another class today,” you rolled onto your back, moving your joined hands to lay on your stomach. Obi-Wan scooted closer to you, resting his head against his hand, propped up on his elbow as he studied your face. “Sorry, I should’ve texted you to let you know I was going to be here.”

“No apology needed, darling, you’re always welcome here,” he untangled his fingers from yours, beginning to play with your hair as you talked. You could feel tears springing to your eyes from the gentle affection, the simple relief of being around the person you loved most, and his immediate recognition of your need for comfort. Obi-Wan could read your moods almost scarily well, and he almost always knew what you needed from him to make it better. “If you want to talk about what’s made you sad, I’m here to listen. Or we can just have a cuddle and listen to music.” You managed a small smile at his offer. Always so sweet.

“Can I have all of the above?” You turned your head to pout up at him, earning a happy grin and chuckle from your boyfriend.

“Anything for my sweetheart,” he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, rolling off the bed to retrieve his phone from where he’d set it on his dresser. He shuffled the playlist you had made together one late night on Spotify when you couldn’t sleep, full of relaxing songs that the both of you often drifted off listening to together, since the both of you couldn’t sleep in complete silence. “Now, come here.” He almost jumped back into the bed, immediately pulling you on top of him. Your head fell into its usual spot at his neck, forehead pressed to his pulse point, which was steady and comforting. Obi-Wan wrapped you up in his arms, gentle hands sliding under your— his— sweater, rubbing comforting shapes into your lower back. You hummed contentedly.

“I might fall asleep like this instead.”

“That’s okay, honey,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your head. You let out a soft chuckle as his scruff tickled your forehead. “Now, tell me everything that’s wrong so I can make it better.”

As you began to detail everything that had led you to seek refuge in his bed, Obi-Wan listened patiently, humming affirmations every so often and continuing to trace lines across your back, his sweater now partially pushed up to expose your lower back. The contrast between the slight chill of the open air and his hands was pure heaven. You didn’t know how you were still talking so clearly; half your attention was busy focusing on the slight callouses of his fingertips against your skin. Everything was warm and gentle, swallowing you up in velvet and sunshine. It was an absolute miracle that you didn’t doze off by the time you finished venting, the heavy feeling dragging you down having been lifted just the slightest bit, both by letting it out and by Obi-Wan’s hold.

“That is quite the horrid day, my dear,” he affirmed. “But you made it through, and it’s over now. You’re here and you’re safe, and we can spend the rest of the night doing whatever you like. You can relax.” His arms fully circled your waist then, squeezing you to him affectionately in a hug. “Everything will be better now.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, lifting your head and slightly sitting up from your comfortable position against his chest. Your boyfriend gave you a small smile when your gazes met, leaning into your hand that was now resting against his cheek. “You’re too good for me, Obi.”

“Oh no, I’m afraid it’s the other way around,” he grinned, a bit of pink settling on his cheeks. Crow’s feet became evident around his eyes and you were absolutely crushed by how lucky you are, how much you loved this man. “It’s a privilege just to be able to make you feel better after the awful day you’ve had.” His words were completely genuine, gaze absolutely soft as he looked at you. You could have cried. You don’t know how you didn’t. Obi-Wan seemed to gather this from your long silence, and the slight shift of expression on his face. “Everything alright, angel?”

“Yeah,” you said after a moment, pressing a short, chaste kiss to his lips. He found your hand next to his head, intertwining his fingers with yours. He squeezed your hand and tilted his head in a silent are you sure?  “Everything’s perfect.”

[darriness]

Klaine Advent 2020 - Day 6

Title: Farm

Author: darriness

Rating: M

Word Count: 782

Summary: A Christmas tradition

Author’s Note: I sort of challenged myself to start each summary with 'A Christmas...'. Not sure I love how this descriptions ends but I kinda love the fic so it balances out lol 

Also thanks to @caramelcoffeeaddict, @slayediest, @na-page, and @tchrgleek for voting in my informal poll yesterday! I tried to satisfy all of your votes. Hope I succeeded! @lucy8675309 - Also thank you for voting! I will try and fulfill your request at some point!

AO3 Link

Kurt comes awake to Blaine kissing his neck. In the brief moment between being asleep and being awake, Kurt relishes the pops of sensation each kiss brings. When he’s fully awake, he still relishes the feeling but his brain finally catches up and he groans.

“We have to be up early.” Kurt whispers into the quiet.

Blaine doesn’t even pause in his ministrations, “I need you again.” He all but whines.

Sex had happened before bed. It usually did. But then they’d drifted off to sleep in their post-orgasmic haze and Kurt had assumed he wouldn’t be up again until the alarm went off.

Kurt closes his eyes around a hum as Blaine’s hand trails down his stomach and begins to palm him through his pyjama pants. Kurt relaxes into the feeling, letting his hips thrust slightly a few times, before he smacks his lips together and tries again, “Farm. Kids. Tomorrow. Early.”

They’re taking the kids to the Christmas tree farm in the morning to look at animals and choose their Christmas tree for the season. They’d promised them earlier in the week. They need to be asleep because a regular Saturday with their two kids is exhausting enough but a day on a farm?

Blaine’s wet lips drag upward to rest against Kurt’s ear as he lightly squeezes the cloth covered hardening flesh in his hand, “I’m still wet and open.” He pants.

Kurt curls towards Blaine with a desperate groan, hooking an arm under Blaine’s and clutching his shoulder, “Don’t say stuff like that.” 

“Why?” Blaine asks, “It’s the truth. I’m open, wet, and I need you again.” He says, “I need you to turn me over, flatten me onto the mattress and use this,” He lightly squeezes Kurt’s now fully erect cock again, “to make. Me. Scream.” He punctuates each of his last words with a firm stroke of Kurt’s erection.

Kurt bites his lip and buries his face into his pillow. He knows Blaine won’t actually scream. They’ve been perfecting the art of quiet sex since Lizzy was born eight years ago but just the words and the imagery are REALLY doing it for Kurt. And making him forget why he was protesting this in the first place.

“Please.” Blaine begs into Kurt’s ear and that’s it. Kurt is lost.

He pushes at Blaine’s shoulder until the younger man rolls away. He pushes his pyjama pants down as Blaine groans, triumphantly, and wiggles out of his boxers.

Kurt climbs up onto his knees and pulls Blaine’s hips back to meet his. He hisses at the contact, his cock sliding between Blaine’s spread thighs and rubbing along Blaine’s equal hardness, and thinks maybe he could just come from this.

“More.” Blaine pants and oh. Right. Blaine wants him inside.

He fumbles for the lube on the bedside table and dribbles it over Blaine’s still wet hole and his own erection. He might as well make this good for both of them.

-- -- --

“Daddy! Papa!” 

Two hours, and not enough sleep, later Kurt and Blaine are awoken by screaming voices and pounding feet. Lizzy and Matty charge into their room without knocking and scramble onto the bed. 

Lizzy straddles Blaine’s back and Matty straddles Kurt’s stomach. The four-year-old bounces slightly, causing Kurt to laugh and groan at the same time as he stills Matty with his hands on his hips. 

Kurt opens his eyes to see his smiling son above him and then turns to his right to see Blaine’s eyes squeezed shut. Kurt laughs at the pained expression.

“This is all your fault.” Kurt reminds.

Blaine’s eyes come open to glare.

“What’s Daddy’s fault?” Lizzy asks, “Are we still going to the farm? You promised!”

Kurt smiles at Blaine before looking up at Lizzy still straddling Blaine’s back, “We are definitely still going to the farm.” He says, avoiding the other question, “But Daddy and Papa can’t shower if you’re on us.” He says, tickling an already giggling Matty who falls over onto the mattress.

Lizzy giggles as well and moves from her spot to allow Blaine to get up. Blaine does with a massive groan and Kurt smirks as the other man limps toward the bathroom.

“Are you okay, Daddy?” Matty asks, concerned.

Blaine stops at the door to their ensuite and turns to his son with a smile and tired eyes, “I’m fine, buddy. Papa and I were just...playing a game last night and I hurt my back.”

“What game?” Matty asks as his eyes light up and he looks to Kurt, “Can I play?”

Kurt laughs, “When you’re older.”

Blaine’s laugh comes through the closed door as the sounds of the shower fill the room.

[meandmyechoes]

The problem with The Bad Batch is, it’s not TCW S8 as much as the showrunners and fans want it to be. It’s not a spiritual successor to Clone Wars. I ain’t even sure it’s a love letter to Clone Wars anymore.

Bad Batch is not Filoni’s show as much as Resistance is not his. I’m not shifting the blame for Filoni, I’m stating it’s unrealistic to expect the good stuff Filoni brought to Clone Wars to be continued in Bad Batch.

The technical crew stayed: Animation Director Keith Kellog, Cinematography Supervisor Joel Aron, Music by Kevin Kiner and Sound design by Matthew Wood, CGCG still doing the grunt work.

But the software is an entire different group of people. Producers Jennifer Corbett and Brad Rau hasn’t even worked on Clone Wars, at all. Not in the original run for 12 years, not even for two years on Season 7. Now would you trust somebody like that to make a faithful Season 8? In a period as rush as a year with the mouse executives pushing? Of course they are diehard fans of the show. But any fan would come with their predisposition and preference, instead of an adherence to canon. And I quote, Corbett is picking cameos to “serve our characters' stories”

A show about clones couldn’t even get the nuance about clones right.

We’ve seen how they slide established characters for their protagonists, in Kanan and in the regular clones. There has been numerous commentary better-written than my limited knowledge. I watched the show, I watched them go back to Kamino, and suddenly the clones are bland as saliva? I don’t feel a tingle of emotion towards them, either compassion/pity towards their supposed brainwashing or dissatisfaction that the script isn’t fair. In a show about clones, it doesn’t nearly make me care about the clones half as much as it did in a show about the Jedi. They feel like pawns, they don’t have agency, which makes you question why then would the Empire swap out these half-machines? 

Watching, I keep diverting to the technical details of it. The plot is so predictable. I’ve seen too little of it to call it boring yet. However, the connection to Force-sensitive clones via Omega is so plain, plus the writer’s background in the sequel era - well, I’m just tired of EVERY post-EP 9 media picking up its slack.

Omega. Omega herself, has promises - I mean before the trailer. It’s just - disappointing they didn’t make her more than a plot device. It’s moot to ridicule the Mouse’s cowardice of not making her trans/non-binary for me, since I’m sure it’d’ve been token and unaddressed anyway. Even with more traditional stereotypes like “hunk with a soft heart”, it’s not like they dare to stride. (I was thinking of Wrecker when I wrote that trope but eh, it fits Hunter too huh?) Omega is so obviously a Baby Yoda I’m not even sure we want to see it again.

Admittedly the whitewashing already didn’t impact me, a monoethnical-society-raised person, as much, but even I can tell things are wrong. It’s just leave a sour taste. I’m dead inside watching this and eagerly trying to excite myself by turning off my brain.

The nice thing I can say about it, is we get to see more of neurodivergent Echo.

I do want to like this show but I’m lukewarm about it at best. It is a surge of delight for that 30 minute but it doesn’t enhance me as a person. And I’m in such a frustrated headspace right now this piece definitely came less positive than I intend. 

The things I want from a clone-centric post-order 66 show would’ve been the struggles and impacts on these regular clones, who strove so hard to establish their individuality. What are their ideologies and how do they clash? They almost went there with Crosshair. I think it’d be more interesting if he actually turned. But what do you expect? It’s a kid’s show!

I never liked saying that, or hearing people twist the meaning out of “kid’s show” But this? It’s a show enjoyable to a 30-year-old manchild. I’ll still sit down 30 minutes a week to watch it, for Echo, for the planets and effects. The best commentary I heard about art, the worst comment to receive, is you have technique.

[hopeshoodie]

BobbyXNoah Headcanons

I could go on and on for hours but after working late this is all my brain got:

They have very different tastes in movies. Bobby always jokes that “Noah likes movies where nothing happens and you feel inadequate after, and I like actual good movies.” In reality, Bobby loves anything lighthearted- rom coms, dramas, animated, family- and Noah likes psychological thrillers and art house films. I think in their house they have a Friday night tradition where they pick up food and have a movie night, switching off who gets to pick. Noah’s favorite movie is something like Hereditary, and Bobby’s favorite is an old rom com like The Decoy Bride. Noah made Bobby watch the Lighthouse with him and Bobby legitimately threw up in his mouth and had to leave the room.

Noah doesn’t use social media much if at all, but Bobby has a super active instagram and twitter. Bobby doesn’t usually turn out looks (come on, 29 year old lesbian looking motherfucker), but when he’s really feeling himself he’ll do an OOTD post. Guess who has to take the pictures? For his part, Noah doesn’t mind, and he gives good directions like ‘move into the light this way’ and ‘try this pose’. Just thinking about Noah being an instagram boyfriend for Bobby has me 🥰🥰🥰 Noah doesn’t post pictures of himself online, but Bobby’s instagram is full of candids of Noah being cute and domestic.

Noah becomes a lot more into PDA when he’s with Bobby because a) he loves him so so SO much and b) Noah assumes that because they’re mlm people won’t know they’re romantic, so he always is holding Bobby’s hand in public. Bobby does not mind one bit.

They’re both vers, so there’s not a distinct top or bottom role. It depends on the setting and how they’re both feeling. Bobby will happily top Noah, but also get all flushed if Noah commands him to do something. 

They can’t really agree on a pet and they’re both out of the house 7-6 every day so it doesn’t feel right to get one. That is until one day Noah is in bed and realizes?? There’s a cat sitting on the bookshelf???? Honey did we get a cat????? It crawled through the window and now it’s our cat. They don’t name her at first because Noah insists they can’t keep her, so Bobby just keeps calling her “little lady” and “baby face” and “princess”. Lady sticks, and after months of Noah still saying ‘we have to find her owner’, Bobby creates a powerpoint presentation and sits Noah down. He says "this is very important" and clicks to the next slide which has a huge photo of the cat licking peanut butter off a spoon. The presentation is just things like ‘I love her’ and ‘look at that face’ with photos of Lady, but Noah is thoroughly convinced. And just very smitten with his boyfriend. They keep her.

There’s a competition for who will propose first. Bobby’s super anxious about it because he wants to be the one to do it but he has to wait for the right moment, and Noah teases him “not if I get to it first… I’m not so picky and where or when.” They go back and forth for a few months, Noah psyching Bobby out before every day night. Bobby finally puts an end to it and drives to the library at like… 1pm… and just finds Noah restocking the shelf and gets down on one knee. Noah of course says yes. It becomes a running joke, though, whenever they’re in a pretty place or together, that Bobby will say “maybe this is where we would’ve gotten engaged if you weren’t so stupid about it.” And then they kiss.

In general they have a lot of running jokes. Noah never forgets anything and loves peppering in references when the timing is just right, and Bobby loves beating jokes to death. They have lots of little things, like keywords that trigger a joke or weird rituals they do when something happens. A lot of ‘when we hear police sirens both of us accuse the other of finally getting caught with progressively more outrageous crimes’. Kind of like they quote vines at each other, but the vines are inside jokes and phrases.

Noah’s a lot less confident in his bisexuality than Bobby is. If they ever go to pride, Noah is super withdrawn and uncomfortable. The one time Bobby confronts him about it, Noah says “like I’m not… I don’t belong here- I’m just pretending or whatever” and Bobby has to be like “babe, you’re engaged to a man, unless there’s something I don’t know about…” Noah just always assumed he’d end up with a woman, so Bobby is a nice surprise that he has to work through mentally.

Their wedding is *chefs kiss* SO tasteful. I’m thinking it’s pretty small, just immediate family and closest friends, but they both worked so hard on the theming and decorations that it’s so beautiful. 

When they buy a house, they both have very different focuses. Noah wants to paint the outside and work on landscaping, Bobby wants to focus on making the inside as comfortable as possible and filling it with meaningful knick knacks. They bump heads over the budget a bit, but always seem to find a compromise and time to make out.

I don't see them properly fighting. Noah will just stew on things he's upset about, and Bobby's very attuned to how Noah's feeling. So things don't tend to blow up because Bobby catches them early and asks Noah directly what's wrong. They can usually have pretty calm and reasonable discussions. If there's something that gets them heated, Bobby always diffuses it with a joke and gives in.

Noah is a lot more health conscious than Bobby is, and he starts forcing Bobby to be healthier. Bobby finally gives up smoking at Noah’s insistence, and Noah forces him to actually do things like annual check ups and going to the dentist. 

Of course they adopt kids. Just of course. Both of them are amazing and supportive parents in their own right, and their children will grow up so loved and doted on. Noah’s actually really bad at disciplining them, he gives in really easy, so Bobby’s usually the one who has to enforce rules. Noah’s the parent the kids will go to when they need to talk about hard stuff, and Bobby will go to the end of the earth for them. Picture them standing at the bus stop with their kiddo, Noah’s wearing their backpack and Bobby’s holding their hand. Noah’s on the PTA (Bobby’s too busy and gets too heated), so he reports back to Bobby and they gossip together over a glass of wine when the kids are in bed.

[ngame989]

“Enough” - TGG SVTFOE Fanfic Collection Ch. 11

Writing: @ngame989​

Art: @toxicpsychox​

Musical Arrangement: @ubercelloczar​

Editing: @ubercelloczar​, @seddm​

Alternate fic links - FFnet, AO3

Summary: Star, Marco, Tom, and Janna reflect on their pasts, arrive at a crossroads in the present, and make decisions about their futures when Echo Creek Academy hosts a dance with an uncannily familiar theme.

Comic Page

Masterpost

Merry Christmas, happy holidays, happy New Year! This is a very special chapter, slightly breaking the tradition of having its poster be a Polaroid photo (though one of those will be coming soon lol). Also, this was inspired by an actual real life event, Google the date for yourself. MASSIVE thanks to my friend @ubercelloczar​​ for the musical arrangement - I can’t embed it partway through so I’ll just link it when the time comes. Hope you enjoy!

Red. All these years, and she was just now realizing how little red there was in her expansive collection of outfits. Star could probably count on one hand the number of times she’d worn anything in that color besides Marco’s oversized hoodies. Though for all intents and purposes she’d moved into Marco’s room over a year ago, most of her clothes were still kept in her old room at Angie’s insistence. You leave pajamas in the mailbox ONE TIME and suddenly everyone’s all “please use a closet, Star.” Her fingers fondly brushed over the fabrics of dozens of dresses and skirts she owned. The turquoise with the narwhal? Timeless classic, though a bit worse for wear after so many life or death incidents on Mewni. Purple with suspenders? Eh, not so much… for whatever reason she just hadn’t felt like wearing that in a while. Her sleeveless sky blue dress, on the other hand, had made its way back into her rotation after the dimensions cleaved. Why, she couldn’t say, though she tended to skip the leg warmers these days. The pink overalls with the cute skirt were one of her favorite buys on Earthni - the perfect blend of dimensional fashions.

Minutes passed as she reminisced, her wardrobe a library unveiling its stories as her eyes roved its contents. One random winter night came to mind at the sight of her rarely used fuzzy yellow jammies. The heater had been on the fritz, so she and Marco had cuddled up even closer than normal. Her brain had been too frozen to think straight at the time, but in hindsight it was one of her favorite memories - spending all night watching movies with family, hot cocoa by the gallon, and holding Marco tight did more to warm her soul than any heater ever could. Some more notable memories were captured in the attire too, like the lavender dress she’d planned to wear to her first school dance before ditching it to resurrect a clown; the Love Sentence concert tee she’d made; her green dinosaur dress, captured forever on that fateful photo strip.

Experiences shared with Marco stood out among the rest - they usually did anyway, but tonight perhaps more than most, and for good reason. She’d once obsessed over a tattered, stinky hoodie of his as a source of calm and stability for some of the harshest weeks in her life, but tonight she felt like she was at her highest point. When her eyes finally spotted her target, the reason she had even been rummaging around an old closet and choking on enough dust to fell an adult warnicorn, her small, nostalgic smile stretched into a wide grin laden with too many emotions to count. If there’s any night to wear red, this is it, Star thought as she slipped into the silky dress awaiting her.

After all, she and Marco were once again going to a Blood Moon Ball.

Six Weeks Earlier

“Not sure if we’ll be able to pull this off, Diaz. They’ve got us surrounded.” Steam rolled out of Star’s mouth with the words, threatening to give away their location. She shivered despite the warm pink fleece she wore; the wind today was so chilly that even Marco had donned a winter jacket over his hoodie. They were in the midst of a battle, nay, an all-out war. We’ve got one, maybe two dozen? We’re doomed.

Where Star faltered, Marco’s resolve was firm. “Our only option is a last stand. I can lead a strong forward assault and draw fire long enough for you to flank their offense.” They’d found a secure location with solid cover, but it severely limited their scouting ability. Marco lowered his hood and stole a glance above the metal behind them, ducking back down instantly. Snow had already accumulated on his lashes and glittered softly in the sunlight, but Star couldn’t afford to linger on that image. It was do or die.

He took her hands and pulled her close, almost touching their noses. “If I don’t make it, Star, I want you to take care of Nachos for me, OK?” He scooped up his armful of snowballs and moved into position.

She theatrically reached out a hand towards him right as he got to the threshold of safety. “I’ll never forget you Marcoooo…” she whispered loudly. The pair giggled as Star grabbed her ammunition. “Alright, enough of that. Ready?”

“Ready.”

Marco dashed around the playground slide and into the fray. Right as Star followed, she heard him yelp and fall into the soft snow coating the playground, three enemy combatants hovering over him and pelting him mercilessly. “Marco!” Star yelled and trudged over with the gleeful cheers of their enemy ringing in her ears. “Speak to me, Marco! Don’t leave me!”

“Star… Remember me...” He grunted and let his head drop into the snow.

“Noooooooooo!” With one final breath, she flopped on top of him and accepted death by a thousand snowballs.

One extra large hunk of snow, far too large to have been thrown by any of the kids, exploded on Star’s back and coated her entirely in soft white fluff. Star heard the warm rumble of Antonio’s hearty chuckles at his successful finishing blow. “Alright, kiddos, your families are here. Have a happy break!” His beefy hand grabbed Star’s own and easily hefted her to her feet before doing the same for Marco. How the heck he was OK in the cold with just an ear-flappy-hat and his usual flannel shirt, she’d never know.

Star dusted herself off and watched the children skip through the snow - a much smaller group than usual, since it was the last evening shift before Christumpmasday break. Most were eager to return to their families, though Star had to help two little girls finish building their snowlizard and take a few pictures before they were willing to leave without bursting into tears; in their defense, it was a ridiculously cute and fun snowlizard. And with that, it was finally holiday break time!

As they walked back to the Center with Antonio, Star took in the sight of the campus covered in fresh snow. The sparkling white planes draped across the pristine Earth architecture contrasted with the raw, natural aesthetic of snow and ice intermingled with remnants of a once-thriving Mewman village, but it all blended together into something unique and beautiful. She caught Marco transfixed with a goofy smile on his face, in awe of her as much as she was with the world, and her cheeks flushed a tiny bit more than they’d already done in the cold. The crunch of snow underfoot and the gentle whooshing of the wind as they swung their joined hands back and forth were the only sounds disturbing this peaceful, perfect moment.

“Merry Christumpmasday, Antonio!” Star shouted as she gave her boss-slash-friend a big hug, and he laughed and returned the gesture with enough strength to lift both Star and Marco off the ground a little.

“Same to you two. Thanks again for staying late, I feel bad about keeping anyone here like this. My husband’s still out of town until tomorrow so home, work, it’s all the same to me, personally. Wish your whole family the best for me.” After saying their goodbyes, Star and Marco walked back out into the cold where their ride was waiting.

“Hey, girl” Marco’s voice was tender as he adjusted Nachos’ cute winter cap and stroked her back. As he was testing his foothold to make sure he wouldn’t slip and faceplant while trying to hop on, Antonio peeked his head out the door.

“Wait, before you go… an elderly lady gave me this flier for some kinda dance.” He scratched his chin through his beard. “Dunno why she brought it here of all places, but since I had it, I thought I might as well pass it along.”

“Oh, is it for that big dance the high school is throwing for all the teens in town?” Marco asked.

“Seems so. Maybe she just got confused about what kinds of kids it was for,” Antonio said, lightly chuckling. “January 30, it says, and it’s an all-nighter; that’s quite the shindig. If Earthni parties are anything like my high school days, it’s probably best I give you the whole next day off,” he said with a wink and a smirk.

All night dance? Even the Bounce Lounge was rarely that crazy - what was so special about this? Antonio handed the flier to Star and Marco who took hold of the other side of it, moving it between them as they gaped in shock at its contents.

“No way, there’s no way, what the-” she and Marco muttered in perfect unison. “Are you- seeing this? It can’t- how did-” They started and stopped as their attempts to stop copying each other canceled each other out.

Marco blinked a few more times to finally pry his eyes away from the page. “Well, eclipses do happen pretty often on Earth, I guess...” They both glanced incredulously back and forth between each other and the flier before the tension in their shoulders finally dropped. An unspoken agreement had been made: they might as well give this dance a shot. Star took one last look at the flier before hopping on Nachos, stuffing it into her jacket and wrapping her arms around Marco’s midriff for the ride home, its words emblazoned in her mind.

January 30-31, 2018. Super Blue Blood Moon Eclipse Extravaganza at Echo Creek Academy! Come dance under the red light of the lunar eclipse!

***

Present Day

“OK, Diaz, let’s see what you’ve got. Sweat prevention, check,” he noted with a quick whiff of his armpits. “Outfit, check.” Bright red dress shirt, sharp black jacket, sleek black tie. Marco posed in the bathroom mirror a few times, getting everything in order for a night he’d been looking forward to for months. “Hair, check.” It was just his usual style, but it never hurt to make sure it was ready to go. Looking good, Diaz.

His stare lingered in their bedroom mirror for a moment too long as thoughts began racing through his mind. Was he nervous? Marco Diaz, nervous for a big night with the girl he loved? More often than not Star was his reason not to be nervous about anything, but this was their first big formal dance as a couple and he did have a pretty dicey history with those. And what were the odds that it was on the night of the Blood Moon again? He wasn’t exactly worried about the curse, per se - there was some caveat or another in demon lore that the Blood Moon could only impart its curse when shining through a special Underworld crystal, the very same one embedded in the roof of the Lucitor ballroom years ago, Relicor had assured them. And it’s not like it even did anything bad to them in the first place, right? Marco still stood by his own words - it was all baloney. Still though, it did leave him with a decision to make. He experimentally put on his Día de Los Muertos mask and turned his head a bit. Should he?

“I don’t think I ever told you how cute you look in that mask.” He’d gotten pretty good about anticipating Star’s sudden appearances but had been caught up in his own mind enough that he still jumped a bit, much to her amusement. “Buuuuuuuut…” she drawled as she swiftly stepped forward and snatched it off his head. “I like your face more.” She grinned and pinched his cheek before they both stopped to truly look at each other. They hadn’t seen each other’s outfits ahead of time but as always they’d been on the same page. “I like the rest of you, too,” she muttered, biting her lip. Marco felt his cheeks turn the same color as his shirt at the comment, but also at her own appearance. Two wavy strands of hair in front of her ears framed her adorable face, though her hair had otherwise been left down as normal. Her red dress had a lone heart clasp on one shoulder, a pattern of moons and stars on a dark band circling the waist, a knee-length wavy skirt that gently swished as she rocked back and forth, and black high heels.

“Wow,” he uttered.

“You like it?” Star asked hopefully. “I thought, well, I didn’t want to go too over-the-top and wear the old Blood Moon Ball outfit but I still wanted to fit the theme so-”

“You’re beautiful,” Marco stated. Not that she’d needed to be wearing an incredible evening dress for him to think that, and he knew she knew that too, but she was still making him a bit dizzy right now. “Wait-” he stopped her when she tried to move in for a kiss, leaning back to their nightstand. He grabbed her horns and gently placed them on her head, brushing a wayward strand of hair back into place. “Perfect.” He leaned forward to kiss her, seeing her doing the same as his eyelids closed, and-

“Mijos!” Star and Marco’s eyes opened, freezing in place so close together that her breath tickled his lips, staring at each other for a second before turning towards the door. Daaaaad. “Oh, sorry, did we interrupt a moment?” We? Rafael stepped aside to reveal all their parents, plus Eclipsa and Globgor, crammed into the hallway. Star took Marco’s hand as they separated.

“Eeeee!” Eclipsa squealed in delight. “You two are absolutely precious. Come downstairs, loves, we must take your picture.”

“I’ve got two backup rolls of film!” Angie chimed in as Moon herded them all down the stairs and out of the way.

Marco looked at Star, who was goofily smiling at him as she squeezed his hand. It wasn’t that he minded being affectionate with Star around friends and family - heck, his own parents were still the most overtly lovey-dovey couple in the house - but he couldn’t help a bit of embarrassment when they were the center of attention like that. After double checking to make sure they had everything they needed, the pair headed out and walked down the stairs together to the oohs and aahs of their families. Star’s parents merely watched while Marco’s both wielded cameras, snapping pictures fervently. Nachos wasn’t due for another few minutes, so they decided to just endure the gauntlet.

“Didn’t think a sort-of-school dance was such a big deal,” Star murmured. Eclipsa sat down on the arm of the couch next to Globgor while Moon daintily folded her hands in her lap on the opposite side with River squished between her and the size-shifter.

“Well, when Marco left for Mewni, we were worried he’d never get to have a prom,” Angie cheerily responded, having evidently heard Star’s comment. “This is basically the same thing, though. Raf, honey, remember our prom?”

“Oh, yes, it was delightful,” he said, finally lowering the camera and turning to address the others on the couch. “We had actually just broken up that morning and went separately, but your mother just happened to walk directly into me as the slow music started and we ended up waltzing the night away. That was the last time we had to get back together.” How many details about my parents have I missed? Marco wondered to himself, before realizing he likely didn’t want to know quite a few of them and shuddering a bit. Still, it was better than being endlessly fawned over, so Marco stood perfectly still and shut his mouth.

Eclipsa set a hand on Globgor’s shoulder, smiling fondly. “Globgor and I met at a dance too! Well, not quite a ‘dance’, I suppose... he twirled me out of the way of an assassin’s arrow, and I swept him off his feet, but the principle seems about the same to me.”

“I was about to eat a guard until she blasted me to the ground. She cast a spell on me in more ways than one.” Globgor laughed. “Though the literal one was very painful,” he added seriously.

“Well, River and I had been to our share of Silver Bell Balls and other royal festivities,” Moon chimed in. “Though when I was Star’s age we weren’t together yet, and I was very focused on the kingdom by the time things were calm enough to enjoy them properly…”

“And now our little girl is going to big fancy galas with a handsome young man. Next thing you know she’ll be setting out on her own, never needing her parents again!” River wailed, clutching Moon’s arm. Well, the diversion was good while it lasted.

“River, please,” Moon gently chided. “You two are quite the adorable couple, though. Though I never wished to interfere in your personal affairs on Mewni, I am certainly glad things eventually worked out as well as they did.”

Eclipsa strolled over and enveloped both of them in a hug. “You two look positively astonishing together,” she cooed before releasing them to take them in one at a time. “Star, darling, you’re as stunning as I’ve ever seen you. And Marco...” She paused, placing her hands on his shoulders. Her purple eyes were laden with unbridled affection as they looked him up and down, her lips turning upward in as sincere a smile as he’d seen her display. “Marco, you sweet young man… You’re quite lucky to have each other, you know. Perhaps it’s not my place to say, but I’m so proud of how you’ve grown these past few years. Now have fun tonight, this is great practice for a certain other first dance I see in your future,” she finished with a wink, causing his blush to return with a vengeance.

“Picture time!” Rafael singsonged, getting up close and flashing a camera near Marco’s face. “Do some fun poses! Give the people what they want! We are not going to miss any more of our son’s major life moments!” His voice was filled with determination to the point of sounding angry, and Marco’s eyes widened in part sympathy, part stark terror. Minutes flew by as Star and Marco supplied their families’ demands, exhausting both the traditional prom shots and their signature poses: back-to-back, too cool for school, Star pinching his cheeks, drowning in a monster’s stomach acid… the list seemed endless, and though goofing around with Star was always fun, he’d been anticipating the dance so long that every second of delay felt like torture. Finally, Marco breathed a sigh of relief when his dad moaned in dismay at the camera clicking without anything happening; he was out of film.

“Oh dear, only one left,” Angie echoed. “Let’s get a nice one of a kiss. Don’t be shy.”

“Well, Marco? Shall we?” Star threw him a flirtatious grin, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He opened his mouth to respond with a quip of his own when he heard wheels screeching to a stop outside. Sweet freedom. “Well, that’s our ride!” Marco stated a bit too forcefully, breaking away from Star and heading towards the door to greet Nachos. Flying in on a dragoncycle would be a major departure from whatever prom fantasies about picking up Jackie in a limo he’d had as a kid, but he still wanted to do something special with a traditional flair. She snorted and cackled when the door opened and revealed his grand prom surprise: Nachos with a top hat and bow tie.

“Marco, what did you do to her?”

“Well, it’s prom, so our ride needs to be the fanciest it can be,” he giggled as she rolled her eyes. “Only the best for you, m’la-”

When Star’s lips cut him off sweetly as she tugged him closer, suddenly Marco didn’t mind staying a little bit longer, and the snap of his mother’s camera seemed to agree.

***

Chaos. Compared to any dance Star had been to before, this was the best kind of chaos. The energetic beat of the electronic music thrummed in her ears as her hips swayed and arms waved in the air. She wasn’t sure exactly how many people had shown up, but the gymnasium of Echo Creek Academy was more packed than she’d ever seen it. Still, it wasn’t so cramped that she had no room to get her groove on; when her butt bumped into Marco beside her, it was by choice as she slyly grinned at her boyfriend in his red shirt, now sans jacket. He smirked back at her and set his feet in place, slicing his hands wildly through the air. “I thought you didn’t like the sword-hand dance,” Star loudly spoke into his ear, though it was a whisper relative to the volume of the music and crowd.

“Yeah, but if everyone else is gonna do it anyway, I might as well own it.” They locked eyes as she began to mirror him, mimicking his karate poses in time with the music. He abruptly grabbed both her hands and swung them up and down, laughing as they just shook everything they had without a care in the world. She yanked him towards her and spun them both around, their backs flush against each other as they kept bouncing to the rhythm.

“Woop, woop! Starco in da HOUSE!” Ponyhead stuck her horn between them, forcing them apart as she floated up and down.

Tom also made his way beside them, drink in hand. “Anyone else want punch?” He lowered the plastic cups he’d been levitating over the crowd into Star and Marco’s hands, and Pony’s tongue. “Gotta say, this is pretty good punch. What kind of blood is it? Centaur? Unicorn? Oooooh, I’ve heard that giraffigator blood is hot these days.”

Marco eyed his cup warily. “What the heck is a giraffigat-”

“WHAT’S THIS ‘BOUT UNICORN BLOOD?” Pony screamed, getting up in Tom’s face.

Star quickly separated them, holding her hands up to try and ease her friends. “Guys, guys, there’s no actual blood in it, I think it’s just citrus.” Well, she was fairly sure. She took one trial sip, tasting the sweet flavor of- “Wait, yep, this is blood,” she said disgustedly after she spit it back into the cup.

“More for me, then,” Tom said nonchalantly, as he snatched Marco’s cup and took another swig while Pony floated in circles grumbling. It seemed like the DJ was taking a break from the upbeat dancing music for now, so the group made their way to the outskirts of the gymnasium where they’d left their belongings. Star laid down on the bleachers, resting her head on Marco’s lap after he’d put his jacket back on and sat down. He stroked her hair with his thumb as they relaxed after an intense hour of dancing. It struck her that this was actually the first time she’d ever truly had carefree fun at a formal dance. The original Blood Moon Ball left her with very mixed feelings to say the least, and her one experience with an Earth dance had been a bit of a disaster even though she didn’t actually go. Time had largely expunged the lingering venom she’d directed at herself for her relationship mistakes after returning to Mewni, leaving some life lessons and fond memories; but even some enjoyable fiery dances with Tom didn’t change the fact that the Silver Bell Balls were stuffy political dramafests. She reached up and intertwined her fingers with Marco’s, squeezing his hand and beaming at him - this was more like it.

“You know, I will say, this DJ is killing it tonight,” Pony said as she returned. “I was kinda expectin’ something lame but this is the best party I’ve been to since the Bounce Lounge closed.” Star nodded in agreement.

Tom leaned back and crossed his legs a few rows below them, taking a sip from his second cup so far. “Oh, yeah, I know him, he’s actually the cousin of my old anger management coach. His name’s Kim H. Brian.”

“I thought your coach’s name was Brian,” Marco responded.

“Yeah, Brian Brian.”

“Get outta t- wait, the Kim H. Brian?” Star bolted up at Marco’s words and they stared at each other incredulously.

“The producer of Love Sentence’s most controversial album, Prison Breakup?” Star and Marco said simultaneously.

“That’s the one,” Tom said, chuckling a bit. “Only you two could still say entire sentences at the same time without a demonic curse.” He stared into his drink for a few seconds, his visage suddenly becoming completely somber. All three eyes closed as he took a deep breath before floating up and sitting next to the couple. “Look, about the whole Blood Moon thing-”

Hold on, was he still in a twist about this? “Tom, it’s fine!” Star said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We broke the Curse, you apologized, it’s all good.”

“I know, but it’s not that- after we went to the Severing Stone, deep down I knew that the Curse wasn’t why you two had those feelings, but I just kept pretending because I still liked you, Star. If I hadn’t been so caught up in that, maybe it wouldn’t have taken so damn long to sort our mess out. I know it doesn’t matter anymore, but… I guess the dance just got me thinking again about friendship and love and stuff. So if you’re OK with it, I actually asked Kim to do a little something special for you two later, to help give you the Blood Moon Ball you deserve,” he finished with a toothy smile.

Star’s eyes started to mist up; Tom had always been supportive of Star and Marco since they’d all sorted themselves out, but it never failed to move her. Star lunged forward, wrapping herself around him in a bear hug, and Marco followed suit. “Toooooom, that’s so sweet!”

“Yeah, man, that’s really-” Marco was stopped by the sudden intrusion of Ponyhead into their little moment.

“Hey, Lucitor, do you know where Janna went? I’ve been TRYING to ask her for the hot deets on totally eligible bachelors here. You know, name, height, bank account balance: the usual business. So anyway she hasn’t been, like, responding at all and I’m starting to worry I might not be able to score a good enough rebound to make Seahorse see that he made the biggest mistake of his life letting me dump him!”

Marco nodded toward the still-in-progress group hug. “Little busy?”

“Yeah, whatever, save your huggy feeltime for later, this is im-por-tant.”

“OK, fine,” Tom said, extricating himself from the embrace. “I haven’t seen her for a while but I can help look. It’s Janna, so she’s probably just splicing some gargoyle DNA to a class hamster or something.”

“Last I saw, she was by the old photobooth.”

Wait, that had survived? Star and Marco exchanged shocked glances at the thought of the site of their first kiss having survived the whole way to Earthni.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Marco asked. Star grinned and nodded, grabbing his hand to run off and make even more memories.

***

Janna Ordonia had never been more scared in her entire life. Okay, maybe that time a monster guy exploded into dust a few feet in front of her was more viscerally terrifying, but Janna was used to freakiness and death even before she’d spent so much time in the literal Underworld. Tonight, though? The pit in her stomach that left her unable to speak, unable to think, was something almost alien to her. She had so much unique expertise in dealing with all things mystical and macabre that it took something completely and utterly human to faze her, and now she found herself staring in a mirror struggling to cope.

Janna Ordonia had caught feelings.

She’d always known she had a thing for the spooky and supernatural, so an attraction to a half-demon with two horns, three eyes, and purple skin was basically inevitable. It hadn’t bothered her like this when she’d had a casual fling with a talking skeleton years ago, either. The only logical conclusion she could draw was that whatever she was feeling now was a different beast altogether. The night had started out so pleasantly: the Lucitors had invited her over for a casual dinner beforehand - whatever meat the Underworld used for burgers was damn good - and they’d taken the carriage together to the dance afterwards.

It just made practical sense, it didn’t mean anything, I don’t WANT it to mean anything. Some variant of this refrain had been repeating in her mind a lot lately, but staring at her own reflection, it felt thinner with every passing second. If it was true, she probably wouldn’t even be here now; she could be doing way cooler things with the night of an ultra-rare eclipse than drinking cheap punch and shuffling awkwardly on the dance floor to chart-topping pop trash. But Tom had seemed excited at the prospect, and the next thing she knew she had picked out a simple black dress with pink highlights - hell, it was even Tom’s nonjudgmental support that had given her the confidence to wear her secret favorite color more in the first place. One way or another, everything seemed to circle back to one simple fact. Each day spent learning about the Underworld and adventuring in its depths was obviously worthwhile on its own merits, but it was always better with him. If she couldn’t stop this storm brewing inside, then the only thing left was to take control of it on her own terms. Well, this is it, Janna. You have a serious crush on Tom Lucitor.

By the time her mind had finished processing its own confession, she’d already made her way back to the gym and meandered to a vacant corner to watch idly by herself, not unlike how she’d spent most of the dance so far. They’d arrived from the Underworld fashionably late and it had only taken a few minutes for Janna to ditch her friends and hide while she moped about her feelings, but of course as soon as she wanted company again there was none to be found. She huffed and pulled out her phone, switching between a few games to occupy the time.

“Hey.” She looked up to find Tom holding two glasses. “Anything fun going on in this empty corner?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty intense over here. Some dust bunnies got in a street fight.” She smirked and stole one of his glasses, raising it to her lips for a sip.

“Wait, don’t, that’s-” It tasted funny, fruity and sweet but with a metallic tang. “Blood.” Ah. She considered it for a moment before deciding to take another sip. She’d had worse. “Anyway, where have you been? We basically haven’t seen you since we got here.”

“Oh, you know, nowhere and everywhere. It’s what I do,” she deflected. “Where’re the others?” Star and Ponyhead were forces of nature when it came to stealing the spotlight, so Janna figured they were her best shot at getting through the night with minimal awkwardness.

“We were taking a break and then they ran off to a photobooth. I still don’t really get the hype, but you know how it is with them.”

“Yeah, it’s gross.”

“Yep…” They both fell silent, continuing to drink what was supposedly some kind of real blood punch as the dance droned on in the background. “Hey, so, uh, can we talk for a sec? About… us?”

She tried her damnedest to suppress the unexpected surge of conflicting emotions, burying her face in her cup until she thought she could reliably answer. One time, when they were in elementary school, she’d poured milk down Marco’s shirt at lunch and a few other girls had teased her, insisting that meant Janna had a crush on him. She never really understood that connection - she just kinda liked pranking Marco - but the taunts had gotten to her. There was a sort of pride she felt in being inscrutable, an enigma that could only be unraveled on her own terms. Had he figured her out so easily when she herself had been in denial? A mumbled “uh, sure” was the best she could as she ran through the last few months in her head trying to figure out if she’d betrayed her feelings.

“It’s pretty loud in here, can we head outside?” Janna only nodded in response, her own racing thoughts drowning out her surroundings. The DJ was announcing some kind of special song request as the gym doors closed behind them and they stepped out into the chilly winter air. “Oh, right, um-” Tom quickly took his jacket off, handing it to her. “Since it’s cold, and I can make my own fire, and-”

“Thanks,” she gruffly said, putting her arms through it. Damn him. She was cold, and he was being thoughtful and helpful, but it only made the upcoming conversation even more difficult for her to have. One hand idly pawed through the enchanted storage compartment she’d fitted in her dress (even in formalwear, she considered function most important). Damnit, she’d left her entire arsenal at home, save for a prototype glass bottle that would harmlessly evaporate on impact, which was filled with some leftover antigravity potion - no easy way out of this, then.

“No problemo,” he drawled, pointing finger guns at her before jamming both hands into his pockets and staring at the ground. “Since Star and I broke up, I’ve been trying really hard to just be my own person. Heck, you’re the one that showed me that’s what I needed to focus on. I had no clue what I was doing.... Honestly, I still don’t.” He paused again, turning back towards the school. “Being here, it just makes it hard to ignore how things have been kinda, you know, weird lately, between…” A little fireball coming off his finger zigzagged back and forth between them.

Why was he so insistent on bringing this up? “Look, Tom, we don’t have to-”

He turned back towards her “Yes, Janna, I think we do! If we don’t deal with it now it’s only going to get worse, and I don’t- I can’t-”

“Dude, drop it, OK? Let’s just go back inside so we can-”

“NO!” A puff of flame shot out of his head but quickly dissipated, leaving only a lingering sizzle and water in his eyes. “I can’t do this anymore! I like you, Janna. I really like you, and it’s screwing everything up.” ...wha? There were a few hundred possible ways Janna thought to respond, but none even made it beyond a guttural yelp in her throat, so Tom continued unabated. “I know you’re you, and you can stay really chill about stuff even when you care a lot, but I can’t, OK? You’re clever and fearless and everything’s more fun with you. You’re one of my best friends and that’s why I couldn’t keep doing this without telling you even if I’m probably making a complete idiot of myself right now.” Every second that Janna remained utterly paralyzed on the spot left Tom’s eyeliner even more streaked as his tears rained down, each tiny splash hissing on the cold pavement and melting the nearby snow and ice. “Yeah, OK, I get it. Look, forget I said anything, I just want to still be friends, OK? I- I totally get if you want some space for a while, so I’ll just- alright, bye.” He wiped off his face with his sleeve and turned around, floating off the ground and flying back into the building, leaving Janna alone on the sidewalk.

The oncoming shivers in Janna’s spine provided the final push to lift the dense fog clouding her mind. He’d just confessed to her, he had a crush on her, and she’d basically just snapped his heart in two. Pangs of guilt and sorrow and joy all ganged up on her; was this how bad things had been for Star and Marco? She almost felt sorry for ribbing them about their romantic struggles now. At this point the only thing left to do was to find Tom, so she sprinted into the building after him, braving the fray of the dance floor once more.

Can’t be that hard to spot a tall set of horns with three eyes. Even though there were all sorts of monsters in attendance, there were very few demons, but that didn’t seem to help her locate him. He wasn’t responding to her texts either, ugh! As Janna kept looking around, she realized she didn’t recognize anyone here. She’d left Echo Creek Academy at the same time as Marco but didn’t go to college, nor had she spent a ton of time with Mewni’s teenage population before the Cleaving. The Underworld was what she knew best; it was where she’d felt most at home, even with two whole dimensions merged together, and that realization spurred her to keep searching. Janna barged through another door into the hallway and rounded a corner, instantly colliding with someone.

“Ex-CUSE me! Watch your freaking face before I pulv-” Ponyhead shouted, shaking her hair back into place after being bumped into the locker. “Oh, it’s you, girl! Where you been? And is that Tom’s jac-”

“Tom. Have you seen him?”

“Oh, I see how it is, first Starco gets their own flipping song and runs outside to go boink under the moonlight or whatever, then my boyfriend runs off to sell a toaster or whatever, then Tom comes in here all moody and doesn’t want to talk to me, and now you’re abandoning me too? I feel like I’ve barely been around you guys lately, why does no one want to spend time with Ponyhead?”

“Wait, didn’t you dump- never mind, Pony, this is important, OK? I seriously blew it, I need to talk to him-”

“Hey, woah, is there some drama going on here? Shoot, why didn’t you say so? OK, so, he was floating around in circles out here for a bit. I came out here to do my bi-hourly makeup check just a minute ago and I do believe he was going back into the gym, mmhm, yes, that is where he was. Go do whatchu gotta do and give me the juicy deets after, mmkay?” Ponyhead winked and whacked Janna on the back with her horn.

Janna ran back into the gym and finally spotted Tom standing in the center of the floor, uninterestedly swaying back and forth to the beat of some crooning couple’s ballad. When his eyes met hers, his gaze became visibly pained as he turned to walk away. “Tom!” Her pleading shout was emphatic enough to keep him from running, but it also attracted an audience and left her standing there, too uncomfortable to speak.

Janna put one foot forward, then another, then another, willing herself forward against her better judgment. She’d frankly had enough: enough talking about her feelings, enough uncertainty about her own relationships, enough giving a single damn about “what-if”s. There’d be plenty of time later to tell him he was her best friend too, to assuage his doubts, and to put more meaningful words to her own feelings, but for now, she had settled on a course of action that began with reaching into her pocket to pull out the lone potion bottle within.

“Uh, Janna, what-” Tom stammered, a different kind of concern than the one he’d been stewing in all night bubbling up in his expression as the crowd backed up slightly. Some tiny voice in the back of her mind registered that they seemed nervous to the point of being frightened, and that comforting feeling pushed her to do the one last thing she needed to do. Before he could react, she slammed the bottle to the ground at her feet and felt the weak antigravity effect take hold. Janna closed the last few steps of distance to Tom, firmly grabbed both his shoulders, and kicked off the ground, crashing her lips into his as she hovered a few inches off the dance floor. Tom unconsciously did the same, letting her momentum carry both of them into the air until the confused, but cheering, audience was beneath them.

As he started to return the kiss, he hesitantly placed one arm on her waist and another behind her back to keep them from drifting apart, and Janna wasn’t sure she’d ever felt so secure.

***

Alright, that’s the last of them. Marco finished carefully stacking the photo strips in Star’s bag while he waited for her to return from the restroom. The photobooth had thankfully been a much more fun and much less emotionally exhausting experience this time around, though a very smug Ben Photino had still greeted them when they were done, $650 richer than before.

Now’s my chance, Star thought as she snuck up and affectionately pounced on Marco from behind. Nearly everything about tonight had been perfect so far - just her, Marco, and their friends getting a night of dancing and partying she wasn’t sure she’d ever forget. For so much of her life, it had seemed like nothing important could ever happen without a sizable dose of drama and conflict; by comparison, this all seemed like a dream, and she didn’t want to wake up anytime soon. Speaking of her friends, though… “Hey, where are the others?” She felt a bit guilty over ditching everyone else to go back to the booth for corn knows how much time, but she was certain they wouldn’t have gone too far.

“Not sure,” Marco responded, craning his neck and spotting a tuft of pink spiky hair and two brown horns across the gym. Why was he heading for the exit?

Marco started to lead the way across the gym floor when the sound system screeched with audio feedback and boomed with the sound of tapping a microphone. “Echo Creek, are we having fun tonight?” the DJ, Kim H. Brian, asked the cheering crowd. “We’re gonna keep this party flowing, but right now we have a very special song for all the soulmates out there, so get ready to twist and twirl your special guy or girl.” Star and Marco tentatively stopped in their tracks.

“Is that-” Marco started.

“What Tom was talking about?” Star finished. “We have to get him before he misses it!” What did you do this time, Tom?

(LINK TO AUDIO)

They had made it to the center of the dance floor when the lights dimmed and tinted red. It was obviously from a stage light, but the effect still flooded them with the same hopes and wants and fears from their run-ins with the Blood Moon. Marco gently smiled and took the lead, keeping one hand in hers and tugging her closer with the other on her waist. Piano chords opened the piece - a slow waltz - and Star and Marco were taking their first steps when the cello started to play a hauntingly familiar melody. It struck them both at the same time - this was the same tune that had played when they danced under the light of the Blood Moon only a few months into her friendship. Their moves grew more daring and flashy as the song went on, spinning and swaying to the rhythm.

“I always forget how good a dancer you are, Marco” Star dreamily sighed when he spun her around and dipped her down.

“My grandma taught me. She says that the only right way to dance is the fun way,” Marco laughed, lingering for half a second too long as the music swelled around them. Somewhere in those blue eyes sparkling with only love for him, he’d lost track of the world around them. Only after he noticed how the blonde curls in front of her ears shimmered in the red light did he snap back to reality and continue the dance, much to Star’s amusement.

“That’s good, because it’s always fun with you.” They stepped in harmony, slowly rotating as they box stepped to the same waltz that had once been a source of apprehension. Star took her hand off his shoulder and lifted it to his face, rubbing her thumb over his cheek. She knew the contours of his face inside and out, could describe every last detail of all the facial hairs that he’d given silly names, could picture every last one of the warm and loving ways his soothing chocolate gaze could pierce her soul, yet it didn’t stop her from being completely enraptured by it now. That intimate knowledge informed her when even the most trivial thing was out of place, which is why she decided to flick a spot just under his mole. “You had a fleck of corn.”

“In my defense, your dad’s cooking is really messy.”

“Yeah… it was cute, though. Like you had a second mole.” Something had changed in the waltz from what they remembered, a different theme slowly building until it led into a refrain that was entirely new yet somehow familiar in a way neither could place. It was a vibrant, comforting melody that felt right for them. Star shifted her hands to the back of his neck as the distance closed between them. Though Marco had grown noticeably taller than her, in her heels she found herself at nearly eye level with him as she rested her forehead on his.

Marco’s arms slithered around her waist, holding her tight as their lively waltz morphed into intimate, formless swaying. “This- this is really nice.”

“Yeah… I love it. I love you, Marco.” She paused a moment, leaning back to get a clear view of as much of him as she could; even after a year and a half of being together and years of friendship before that, she was still giddy over how much she truly loved every bit of him. “Nothing’s ever going to change that.”

“I love you too, Star. I’m not going anywhere.” Their hands joined once more as they resumed their spirited dance, their devotion to one another vaulting their joy to new heights. Neither cared about elegance or form anymore; their steps and spins and lifts came from the deepest places within, as if their very souls were mingling in the air above. Plucked strings accentuated the song as it grew calmer and entered what Marco was fairly sure was its final verse. A bittersweet sensation bubbled up from within his chest; he’d had plenty of moments with Star that he’d never wanted to end, but this one seemed to have an extra significance attached. The final chord of the waltz rung out, the pair both freezing in place in their final waltz pose, stunned at the beauty of what had just transpired.

The crowd’s clapping broke finally them out of their trance. “Woah,” they breathed out in unison. In her breathless state, Star idly wondered if the applause was for them, but she realized how silly that was as the full breadth of the outside world slowly trickled back into her senses. Shortly after, the dance went back to normal; had it been a dream? No, of course not, it had literally just happened mere seconds ago, but the impact it had on them felt otherworldly.

Returning from the daze, Marco finally recalled their goal of finding Tom, and the extent to which Marco wanted to crush Tom in a thankful hug and blubber into his shoulder gave it an additional sense of urgency. He turned to her with a determined look, and had it returned. “We should find Tom.” They went to the gym exit, but it was blocked by... Miss Skullnick.

“Oh, it’s you. Nice to see you, Star,” she saccharinely sneered. “Don’t be trying anything funny, you hear me? We’ve already had four couples’ ‘incidents’.”

A shiver ran through Star at the involuntary thought of Miss Skullnick catching her and Marco in a more... private moment, but she quickly brushed it aside for her own sanity. “Skullzy, we’re just trying to find our friend,” she whined.

“Well, too bad, you can’t use this door. The sidewalk somehow melted and completely iced over, and I don’t wanna be sued for liability!”

“C’mon, Star,” Marco said. “We can just go out the front door.” She was still indignant, but acquiesced and followed Marco into the main building and through a hallway. They rounded the corner to the main entrance and stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of Ponyhead passionately making out with Seahorse.

“Pony?!?” Star shouted.

“Oh, um, why hello Star and Earth Turd!”

“Greetings!” Seahorse added in his usual monotone chipper voice.

Star slapped her hand to her forehead. “I thought you broke up ‘for really-realz’ this time, Pony?”

“Well, yes, mmhmm, I do believe that is how I described the sequence of events that occurred. But then, well, you know how it is with him… we made up while y’all went off to take a bazillion pictures or whatever. That weird old human lady that kinda looks like a troll caught us while we were-”

“Pony!” Star yelled, cutting her off in shock. Really, though, the most surprising part was that Ponyhead had been responsible for only one of the so-called “couple’s incidents.”

“Lilacia gave a very high satisfaction rating to the Reflectacorp™ line of vibrating-”

Marco stepped in and clamping Seahorse’s mouth shut before they could be traumatized any further. Star rolled her eyes and took Marco’s hand once more, heading past the other couple towards the front door.

“Fine, I see how it is. C’mon, Seahorse, let’s go get freak-ay on the dance floor!”

“Reflectacorp™ disco technology allows you to boogie and/or woogie risk-free, guarantee-!”

The double doors shut behind Star and Marco as they stepped out into the cold. They walked around the building towards the gym and saw that Miss Skullnick had been telling the truth; but there was no one else in sight, only the snowflakes gently drifting through the air and a full moon above in the night sky. Star still wanted to get back to her friends, but the tranquil scene gave her pause as she stood beside him. Something had been subtly gnawing at her all night - though it’d been on her mind longer than that, if she was honest with herself. “Hey Marco?”

“Yeah?”

“When Eclipsa said earlier about ‘another dance’...” She swallowed, letting the implication hang between them. “Do you think that’s something that will happen?”

He glanced at her quizzically until the meaning sank in and his heart skipped a beat. Was she- did she- is she asking… His eyes blinked rapidly once, twice, three times while he processed the gravity of the question. But his surprise quickly dissolved; after all, he’d been thinking about it too. Maybe he hadn’t drawn that specific connection, but how many times tonight alone had he beheld the wonderful girl beside him and remarked to himself that he’d be happy with her for the rest of his life? He swiveled around to stand in front of her, taking both of her hands into his own. “If you want it to, then I know it will, someday.”

She sighed happily, lacing her fingers through his. It wasn’t even the first time they’d declared their love with permanence, but no matter how far they went, they couldn’t help but be concerned about how the other felt about the next step. “Didn’t a lot of people usually wait until they’re, like, 30 to get married on Earth?”

“A lot of them, yeah,” he admitted, “but, I dunno, I don’t really care about that.”

“Me neither,” she asserted, happily beaming at him.

“So we just… let it happen when we’re ready, I guess.”

“Mmhmm,” Star hummed, feeling a warmth deep inside that combated the chill prickling her skin. One of her hands left his and tangled itself in his hair, as her gaze fondly roved the face she hoped to see as long as she lived before finally settling on his lips. He had the same idea, leaning forward and sweetly kissing her. Their lips were a bit chapped from the cold, but it didn’t bother either of them; this signified something far more than physical gratification. She pressed them closer together until there was no distance left between them, the dual friction of his soft, inviting lips moving against hers and her silky dress rubbing on the coarse fabric of his jacket thrummed through her entire body.

When they separated, his eyes scanned the sky for a moment before sheepishly turning back downwards. “Huh,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s stupid.” Star raised an eyebrow insistently, the pair still in each other’s arms. “It’s just, I thought that maybe- maybe the Blood Moon would be shining, or our cheekmarks would glow or something. It’s dumb, I know-”

“Well, that does happen to us a lot,” she conceded. “But I’m pretty sure the eclipse isn’t supposed to start until, like, 3 AM.” “Have you ever thought about when we broke the Curse?”

“What do you mean?”

Star stepped away from their embrace, folding her arms and stuffing her frigid hands under her armpits as she frustratedly tried to piece together her complicated thoughts. “Like, when we were in the Severing Stone, I remember it took us back to the Blood Moon Ball and we started dancing… what happened after that? If it never changed how we feel, what was even the point?”

Marco shrugged; when he’d finally accepted his feelings once and for all, he’d dismissed the entire concept of the Curse as bogus, but since then he had considered it in some new lights. “If it was actually a curse, I’m glad we got rid of it, but… looking back, I’m kinda glad that the Blood Moon Ball went like it did. That was one of the first times I saw how special you are to me.”

“Same. Plus, that’s where I learned you dance good,” she growled with a smirk. “But still… sometimes I wonder if I told you I loved you while we were in there. Because I did love you then, you know. Even if I was trying to push it away.”

“Maybe we’ll never know.”

“I guess I’ll just have to tell you every chance I get from now on, then, because you’re stuck with me, Diaz.”

“So long as we both shall live. Do you accept?” He asked with a cheeky grin.

Her laughter, bubbly and playful and sincere all at once, was answer enough for Marco. Not one to be outdone, though, Star carefully lowered herself onto one knee, lowering her head and closing her eyes solemnly before looking back up at him. “I dooOOOH-” She shrieked as the icy sidewalk took its toll and sent her toppling sideways. Marco reacted quickly, stopping her from hitting the ground and helping her to her feet. “Maaaaybe we should go inside now.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he responded, draping his jacket over both their shoulders like a cape. “Still have to thank Tom.” She clung to him as they hurried back around the school and into its shelter from the cold - even shared body heat and emotional warmth could only do so much. Although they’d removed whatever eternal supernatural soul-binding curse the Blood Moon may have bestowed, Marco mused, they’d still shared a tender first dance and grown as partners under its light, once upon a time. Perhaps, in a roundabout way, it had always been a blessing, too. In a sense, they’d just cleaved their own souls together again with only a simple promise. No magic, no curses, just Star Butterfly and Marco Diaz... and that was more than enough.

They stepped back into the gym, ready for the hours of partying ahead of them, and were greeted by the sight of Janna and Tom floating in the air locked in a passionate kiss. Star and Marco’s eyeballs both nearly bugged out of their heads as their eyes whipped back and forth between each other and the spectacle in front of them, leaving them with only one possible response.

“WHAT THE-”

[petri808]

A Floppy Green Mess

Bakudeku Valentine’s story based on this adorably funny art piece by @corzev with permission.  https://corzev.tumblr.com/post/190847911389/dont-repostedit-uhhh-happy-valentines-day-lol

Seated in his desk chair, Bakugou braces his arms along the backing and rests his chin on top.  His eyes narrow and brows twitch as he stares at his bed… or rather what sat upon it.  Tomorrow…  tomorrow might be the death of him, and this reminder was all of his own making.  

He knew that Deku will love this stupid gift since the boy was a complete sap at heart, but coming from him, well, he had to really dig deep to pull it off.  Just sneaking it into his dorm room without being caught had been an undertaking.  He didn’t even want to think about carrying into the common room downstairs or dealing with all the gawking that was sure to come with it.  

Only one other person knew about his plans for Valentine’s day, and even that had been due to an unplanned and pure accident the blonde would have preferred never happened.  Damn that shitty hair for having a similar gift idea for Mina.  Traditionally honmei chocolates were given, but Bakugou could careless about traditions.  Kirishima’s excuse on the other hand, was that Mina hinted at wanting something other than chocolates too.  At least the red head came in useful for sneaking the gifts in, since he didn’t want to get caught either.

But why had he chosen this particular gift?!  He groans and swipes a hand down his face, sitting up in the process.  There were a lot of options at the store, and he’d spent the better half of two hours combing through it for the perfect idea.  

The most cliché gift for Deku would have been an All Might themed item, but that green-haired nerd had too damn many All Might stuff already.  Jewelry was out of his price range, plus he just couldn’t see Deku caring about such material things.  A cool new journal might make him happy, but that was boring.  Finally, when he’d been almost ready to give up and walk out, there it had been at the back of the store.  Propped on a display stand because of its size, it was perfect.  

One big ass stuffed green rabbit plush that was almost bigger than he was.  In fact, he could barely get his arms around it.  He swore the thing even looked like Midoriya, with its bright green eyes and freckles representing whiskers.  The right ear was flopped over, adding to its huggable adorability factor, but on the front of its chest were the words “My Hero.”  Bakugou wasn’t super thrilled with that message, but he couldn’t begrudge the fact the rest of the doll was perfect for his idiot little Valentine.  Deku was bound to adore it, squeeze it, probably snuggle with the damn thing, and it would be like Katsuki living through the doll even if the nerd doesn’t reciprocate his feelings.

‘He better fucking like me back!’  The blonde growls under his breath.  He wouldn’t be taking this embarrassing chance if he thought there wasn’t one.  Eavesdropping on the A-1 girl’s conversations had him pretty convinced that the guy had a secret crush on him.  According to them, Midoriya’s nursed it for years, and it was the whole reason he’s put up with the hot-headed blonde’s abusive attitude.  Bakugou didn’t want to admit that he was quite a bully to the boy their whole life, but he was an asshole to everyone.  Okay… so maybe he was worse to Deku, but the guy could be annoying too.  

‘Then why’d you fall for him?’  

‘Shut up!’  he growls at his conscious.  He had no idea why!  Somehow the damn nerd grew on him!  Yeah, the nerd was still the same annoying ray of sunshine he’s always been but watching the nerd develop after receiving One For All and go from a mouse to a powerhouse on par with him, well, it just happened.  He didn’t even notice the feelings developing, or how he’d started paying more attention to the guy, worried about, and even started acting nicer to him….  

Until one day after an exhaustive training session, they were in the communal showers, and seeing a half-naked Midoriya spiked his heartrate along with something else below the waist.  Thank All Might no one noticed the smoke coming off of his hands due to the level of steam in the room.  He’d quickly dashed back into a shower stall and took a very long cold shower to cope.  But the answer was as clear as a blow to the head.  He was in love with Midoriya Izuku.

Speaking of a shower, the waning light outside of his window signaled dinner would be soon.  He climbs off his chair and gives the stuffed doll one last look before grabbing his things.  A shower might calm his nerves and maybe provide a bit of respite to cool the other physical desires swirling in his brain.  

Bakugou reaches over and silences the alarm clock on his phone.  Unable to get a restful sleep, he’d already been up when the beep signaled the arrival of 8 am Saturday morning.  There wasn’t a rush to get out of bed, knowing that Deku was probably still out cold.  That boy has never been a morning person and on school days it often took a load of coffee to get him past the walking dead stage.  He on the other hand could rise before the sun breached the horizon and get a workout run in before heading to class.      

Another alert from his phone, but this time a message from Kirishima.  ‘I can hear Deku in his room, boy’s early today.’

The blonde sits up.  ‘Don’t panic,’ he tells himself, ‘just because he’s up early doesn’t mean anything.’  He swings his legs over the side of the bed, giving his arms and back a good stretch to warm up the muscles.  

Another alert.  ‘He left his room got his jacket and scarf on.’

“Fuck!”  Where the hell is Deku going this early?!  Bakugou hurries to throw on a pair of pants, a warm turtleneck, and his shoes almost tripping over the pants legs as he puts them on.  He then grabs the rabbit plush and races out of his room, not even stopping to close the door behind him.  This thing was so cumbersome to carry!  Hoisting it over his shoulder, he descends the staircase, figuring it would be faster.  He takes them two by two, practically throwing himself down the flights and slamming his shoulder against the open bar once he makes it to the bottom.

Crap! Crap! Crap!  The second he bursts through the stairwell entrance, Bakugou see’s Deku almost at the front door.  “Oi!  Nerd!”  He screams as he breaks into a sprint.

Deku hears someone calling his name and stops, turning towards the source.  “Oh, hey Kacchan!”  He waves with a beaming smile.

How is Deku so awake already?!  To Bakguou this was quite out of character for the guy to be lively in the morning.  He stops a couple of feet from the green-haired man.  “Where the fuck you headin’ so early?”  

“Um, well, you know my mom is all alone,” Deku flushes a little embarrassed, “so I was gonna meet her for brunch as a Valentine’s treat.”

‘That’s it?!’  Bakugou lets out an exhale of relief because deep down he’d feared his crush was about to go meet a potential rival.  Not that he’d ever admit that out loud.  “Oh.  Tch, sounds like the sappy kind of shit you’d think to do.”    

“Um, Kacchan, what do you have there?”  Midoriya points to the doll.  “Is that a gift from someone?”  His eyes crinkle, “do you have an admirer?!”

“What?!”  Oh, wait the doll!  How the fuck could he forget about the big ass plush rabbit in his arms.  “Hell, no this isn’t from anyone!  Who the fuck would give me a stuffed animal?!”

Midoriya giggles, he didn’t think so least they were ready to be incinerated.  “Then why do you have it?”

Immediately, the hot-heads blood pressure goes through the roof.  His cheeks heat up and burst into a dark reddish hue.  He averts his eyes, nervous and embarrassed.  “It’s for you Deku.”  Bakugou holds the doll out.  “You know for the holiday and crap.”

“What?!”  This surely wasn’t really happening.  Deku pinches his arm, for he had to still be dreaming. Waking up early was playing tricks on his mind.  “No way, y-you got me a-a gift?  Does that mean?”

This bitch was going to make him say it!  The blonde growls, “damn are you gonna accept it?” He tries again to thrust the doll towards his crush.  “Be my fucking Valentine Deku?”

There was no warning, no rimming of moisture, or light clouding in his eyes.  The moment Bakugou said the last three words, tears explode from Midoriya like the uncorking of a champagne bottle.  Even the hot head was taken aback by the sheer volume of liquid pouring out.  How was it even possible?!  And if that wasn’t crazy enough….  In the middle of the fountain action, the man goes limp and drops like a dead weight to the floor.  

“Stupid fucking nerd!”  Bakugou drops the stuffed rabbit, quickly slides onto his knees and pulls the collapsed man into his lap.  “Oi!  Dumb ass wake up!” he shakes his crush, but the guy was unresponsive.  Shit!  Did he hit his head or something?  “Deku this isn’t funny!” He slaps the unconscious man.  He could see the headline’s now: Pro hero dies from bunny shock.  “Wake up!”

Leave it to Deku to give him a heart attack on Valentine’s Day.  He can feel the eyes of observers on his back boring in, judging.  Of course, with his personality, it would be easy to blame him for hurting someone.  But there’s no way he’d ever hurt Deku!  Not willingly.  Who could have predicted this damn nerd would go into shock and collapse?!  Tears cloud his ruby red eyes and he cradles the man’s face against his cheek.  “This is bullshit!”  But his growls are a facade as the panic takes over.  “Deku wake the fuck up!”

Stupid rabbit doll!  Had the cute and cuddly plush toy been too much?  He’d figured Deku would love it.  Surely it wasn’t the fact he’s the one who asked the nerd to be his Valentine?  Was it really that shocking?  Okay fine, so it would seem out of character for him, especially with their history, but they’d gotten past all that and were on good terms now.  Even the crying was something he somewhat expected.  Maybe not the volume, but let’s face it, the man was a crier.      

After what felt like a million years yet in the flash of minutes, Bakugou feels his friend stirring in his arms.  He gives another shake.  “Get up nerd!”

Midoriya’s eyes open, blinking from the harsh glare that meets it.  “Ka…cchan?”  He looks around, “why am I on the floor?”  But then he notices the moisture in his friend’s eyes.  He sits up quickly.  “Oh no, what’s wrong?!  Y-You’re crying!”

“What?!  No!” Bakugou shoves the man off his lap and wipes away the tears he won’t admit had gathered.  “I don’t cry!”

“But…”

“I wasn’t crying!  You just had me worried cause you fucking collapsed!”

That’s when the whole Valentine’s confession sweeps back into Midoriya’s mind like a blaring reminder alert.  “R-Right… Kacchan wants to be my Valentine,” he mumbles under his breath as if his brain is still processing the events before it short circuited.  The stuffed plush rabbit lay off to the side, so he pulls it over and hugs it close.  “I’m sorry I worried you,” he peers up at the red-faced man in front of him, smiling, sniffling, and tucking his chin into the dolls soft head.  “Of course, I’ll be your Valentine Kacchan.”

Bakugou looks away, embarrassed.  “I’m not forcing you to be you know.”

“Huh?”  Midoriya sits up straighter.  “I know you’re not!”  He scoots closer on his knees, placing the doll beside them.  He reaches out and takes hold of the blonde’s hand, giving it a small squeeze of reassurance.  “I was a little surprised, is all to get a gift from you.”

“Tch, well don’t read too much into it.”

“Oh…”

The blonde watches his crush deflate right before his eyes.  Shoulders slumped, and body hunched a little as if the man before him wanted to curl into a ball.  He can see the tears building again in Midoriya’s eyes.  

“…okay.  Thank you very much for the gift Kacchan, but I should be on my way.”  If his body hadn’t communicated how he felt from Bakugou’s words, his tone sure did.

A stinging arrow pierces the blonde’s heart.  He’d gone too far with the remark and the sensitive man was taking it hard.  ‘Idiot!’  he growls at himself.  Sometimes his mouth really needed a filter.  As his crush stood ready to leave, Bakugou grabs his wrist, still from a seated position.  He couldn’t bring himself to look up at the man and keeps his eyes glued to the floor.

“Kacchan?”

He squeezes Midoriya’s wrist, “I didn’t….” a sigh escaping his lips, “...didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”  His brows furrow, annoyed and upset with himself for ruining the moment.  “I’m still coming to terms with the idea…. that I really like you.”  He can feel his entire body heating up from the proclamation being said out loud for anyone within range to hear it.  There was a mixture of fear, anxiety, melded with excitement and a feeling of liberation all seeping through his frame.  “Like… in a romantic way.”

“Kaachan, get up.”  Though Midoriya’s words were a demand, his timbre was gentle and lulls Bakugou into at least looking up at the man.  “Come on,” he reverses the grip on his wrist, taking hold of the man’s arm, and tugging gently, “get up.”

Once the blonde has allowed himself to be pulled up, Midoriya refuses to let go, instead switching to the man’s hand.  He intertwines their fingers with a smile.  “I like you too.  Would you like to come with me to see my mom?  I know she won’t mind.  We can say hi to your parents too while we’re in the area.”

“Are you sure, I don’t want to be a third wheel…”

“No way!  I’d rather you come along,” the nerdy man flushes red, “it can be kind of like our first date.”

Date!  Is what he wanted to scream.  “Okay fine, I’ll tag along but I’m not calling it a date cause dates are for saps.”  

That just makes Midoriya laugh, of course this man would think dates are sappy.

“But, what about the rabbit,” Bakugou motions to the doll, “you’re not taking that with us, right?  It’ll be a pain in the ass on the train…  trust me.”

Again, the man laughs, “I’ll put it in my dorm room.  Wait for me here in the foyer?”  

“I’ll come with you, gotta grab my jacket and wallet since I hadn’t dressed to go out.”

“Oh, right,” more laughter.

As they stop to part ways in front of Midoriya’s dorm room, and before letting go of the man’s hand, Bakugou leans forward hesitantly, then places a quick kiss on his crushes his lips.  “It’ll just be a couple minutes to grab my stuff.”  The green-haired man turns bright red and sputters out a few incoherent words.  The blond laughs, at least he didn’t faint this time.      

[freewheelshippin]

Ranmaru is a musician down on his luck and out of inspiration who got taken in by a sweet old couple running a gardening/flower shop, so while he pulls himself together, he’s grouchily helping out and making bouquets and doling out plant care advice. M is a tattoo artist with not enough clients, confidence in her art, or skills in keeping succulents alive, but maybe the toughie at the store across the street can help her with all three!

and because I’m Like That I got tied up and uh....wrote a little (a lot) of something, focusing on the artistic funk part of the equation. But if you’ll let me have one more indulgence, the headcanon I have is that it eventually Happy Endings into becoming roommates and business partners, starting an indie label to support other artists!!!  

anyways here’s this excessively indulgent/serious fic that came outta this LOL

He was here, folded among big green leaves for much longer than he’d intended. The owners heard he was down on hard times and didn’t have a safe place to call home, so he holed up in their guest room. Before he knew it he was stepping in for them at every heavy mulch bag, every wheelbarrow piled high, every crouch that was too much for their aging bodies.

It wasn’t a bad life. It was an improvement, sure. He was alive and fed every day, and he’d never known a home so warm. But it still wasn’t his. He felt like a houseplant, tended to and placed in warm sun, but just as easily fading into the stillness of quiet moments and the background of everyday. He’d never wanted a life like a plant. He hungered deeply even though he was eating regularly again, and he felt more like a bored tiger, pacing in its cage but nowhere to go.

******

He’d been there long enough to start noticing the regulars. The first was that friendly guy who always got idioms wrong and bought the store out of all their cat grass. The second someone was even friendlier, and he’d bug him for what kind of flowers to get a florist. He kept asking even if Ranmaru never gave him an answer past ‘I don’t fucking know’ as he arranged bouquets that used as many herbs and broad, bold leaves as traditional flowers.

The third was someone who looked like she walked in from his past life (or the one he wanted back, anyway). The shaved head, the denim and patches, the ink peeking out from under her sleeves. She was friendly enough but nowhere near as ready to ask for things or will information about herself as the other two regulars, so he only knew her from her purchases and the name on her card.

It wouldn’t have been remarkable in itself if he weren’t so hungry. He’d burned bridges he shouldn’t have while he was ablaze, and now the only people who thought of him kindly were through this stupidly quaint little shop. He was too ashamed of his bullshit to be ready to show his face in those places right now, but he also craved chasing the stage and the dream he’d stayed alive for.

It was just a made-up story he was attaching to someone, he knew this. Maybe she went home and did everything she could to fade into pleasant background like a houseplant. But he’d rather pretend she went to the shows he wished he were going to, that her fingertips were callused in the places his were going soft, and pretend like he still could smell that stuffy, stale sweat from a venue. Maybe he hadn’t burned it away completely from his life and future.

Occasionally, he still wished he was starving, but he’d bury his hands in mulch and dig space for a new plant before he gave in to dumb thoughts like that.

*****

The first time they had a conversation, it was because she forgot something. A big something, big enough that Ranmaru wondered how someone could have a head on their shoulders but forget this.

It was a long, flat portfolio bag. He flipped through it to figure out what it was and tried to not look past that. It was tempting, though, because the contents made him feel the tiniest bit sated for the first time since he’d started working here.

They were flash sheets for tattoos. It had to be hers, right? There was energy to them that he’d ached for but turned his back from. So when she came back, he brought it up very plainly.

“You forgot something here,” he said when she came up to the counter. He produced the portfolio bag.

“.......Oh.”

“What, is it not yours?”

“No, no, it is! I just didn’t realize I’d even lost it!”

“How the hell did you manage that?!”

“A swiss cheese brain full of holes,” she laughed. “...Also, I’ve been really busy.”

“What would make you so busy you forget a giant stack of art like that?”

“Uh…”

“....Whatever. It’s none of my business.” He started to properly ring her up before something occurred to him. “You bought the same succulent last week,” he commented, furrowing his brow. “And a few other times before. What’s so great about it, anyways?”

She made a face of discomfort and surprise, and he felt the same distant shame that he messed this last (even if imagined) connection to that life, too.

“...maybe you can help me, because I keep killing it.”

“You killed a succulent in a week?!”

“No! I mean. I don’t know, is that even possible?”

“First time for anything,” Ranmaru snorted.

“Okay,” she said, putting hands on the counter challengingly. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not one of those serial plant killers.”

Ranmaru just looked back at her incredulously. “You sure about that?”

“If it’s not a succulent, I know what I’m doing! I got a whole brood of chili plants and herbs and spiderplants…”

“You’re overwatering it.”

“You haven’t even seen the plant.”

“Yeah, I don’t have to. Everything else you mentioned doesn’t shit the bed if you water them too much, and succulents are stupidly sensitive to that kind of stuff. Are the leaves falling off if you barely even poke them?”

“......Yeah…” She looked apprehensive, almost resentful for a moment.

Ranmaru knew he shouldn’t, but he just kept talking. “I can’t tell you what you wanna do with your plants, but it sounds overwatered.  Don’t water it at all for a couple weeks. Make sure the drainage is good, repot it if it isn’t. Bring it in if you’re still fucking it up.”

“You sure are rude as shit when a plant buddy’s life is on the line, huh?”

“What’s the point of buying a plant if you’re just going to kill it?! You’re just throwing away your money that way,” he grumbled, embarrassed. Him, caring about plants passionately. That didn’t feel right for his image, but it felt more wrong to just let people uselessly throw away their time and money just to give a living thing no future.

“I mean, I’m also buying dupes right now to spruce up my workspace, it’s not like I just have a graveyard for my cash and failed succulents.”  

Ranmaru grunted. “Just bring ‘em in if they’re still giving you trouble. I can give you some cartons to make carrying ‘em easier.”

“Ahhhh, nah, don’t worry about it. I work across the street. It’s no problem.”

“Where?” He had a feeling he knew already.

“Oh, the tattoo parlor. I’m actually headed back there right now.”

“....Guess I could just as easily go over there.”

“Hey, and you could get a tattoo from me while you’re at it!” she laughed. “Here, hold on.” She fumbled a little before handing over her business card. Ranmaru studied it briefly before pocketing it gratefully.

When she tried to hand him money, he held a hand up.

“...Pay when you stop killing ‘em. I should’ve checked in sooner, and you get so much from here already, anyways.”

“...You’re sure.”

“If you feel guilty, then take my advice seriously.”

“....Weird business model, but I like it. I can’t give you a discount on ink, if that’s what you’re after.”

“Hell no. Go back to work. Come back when you stop watering them so much.”

“Alright, fine, fine. You drive a hard bargain,” she said with a laugh, scooping the plant into her hand. “I’ll see you next time I fuck ‘em up some other way.”

She left, and Ranmaru realized she forgot her portfolio bag again.

******

He didn’t do much of anything except sleep, eat, take care of the neighborhood strays, and work anymore, but he thought about practicing bass again. He didn’t have amps, pedals, or much of anything anymore, either sold in desperation or lifted by former bandmembers in spite, but his actual basses he couldn’t let go of. Sentimentality or some promise to himself this arrangement was temporary, he guessed.

He studied the business card a lot. Something about the style of the art on it felt right, beyond it being the dose of the studs, sweat, and tears he missed. He didn’t bother trying to describe it to himself further than that; it just felt right, and that’s all he needed to know, but it didn’t stop him from lying awake in bed, staring at it as he struggled to sleep or get out.

Eventually that led to the temptation of looking through the portfolio more thoroughly. He gave in after washing his hands so thoroughly he wouldn’t get the dirt of potting soil or the grease of human hands on it. Not out of secrecy, more out of respect.

Not all of them were things he’d say he was interested in -- science fiction, cartoons, dinosaurs, other stuff he didn’t recognize -- but so much was riffing on images, bands, lyrics, album covers that built his tastes in rock. Even models of bass guitars he’d tried to save up for, once upon a time. It didn’t match the tattoowork he was used to seeing, the lines and compositions feeling more like they belonged in a comic book or a gig poster.

It felt good. It was a small vision of the kind of future he’d wanted. Art and energy like that, paired with his music. He’d forgotten how the excitement of chasing a good future felt, much less feeling like it was even vaguely within grasping distance.

His eyes fell on an image that wouldn’t leave him. A severed, snarling wolf head, out of which winding leaves and vines and stems grew, blooming into orchids.

*****

She didn’t come back for weeks. He went about this life as usual, but some days he’d find his fingers sliding over the smooth neck of one of his basses, missing their calluses as the strings dug into them. But the motions never left him, at least, and they hit notes like barely any time had passed.

He should give that portfolio back to her already. But he’d found himself looking at its contents more and more when he missed the stage so much he physically ached. He couldn’t be imagining this feeling this art made him have, not after this long.

At one point he made a copy of the wolf with orchids growing out of it. He cut it out, unbuttoned his shirt, taped it over his heart, and looked at himself in the mirror, and for the first time since the old couple took him in, he didn’t feel like a houseplant.

*****

He came to the parlor with the portfolio in hand on a lunch break soon after that. She looked uncomfortably unoccupied, her area empty of clients while the other tattoo beds were occupied. He didn’t bother with the receptionist before calling her name. She practically jumped out of her skin from surprise.

He just presented the portfolio bag.

“...Whoops.”

“Do you just not want your art back?”

“...It just slipped my mind.”

Because you’ve been busy, Ranmaru thought to himself as he looked at the empty tattoo bed.

“Did you kill your new plants yet?”

She straightened up and her whole demeanor changed, from the moon to the sun. “Now that I can rub in your face. Look, look, come see.”

She had a small planter of succulents, nestled among spideplants and a red prayer he remembered selling her. The spiderplant and red prayer looked healthy. The succulents didn’t look amazing, but they certainly weren’t on their way to meet their maker.

“Not bad. I’ll rec you some better succulent soil next time you come in. Whenever that is.”

“I figured I’d wait more than one watering cycle before I came in parading like a pageant queen.”

“Too many and I bet you’d be holding another plant funeral,” he said with a wry smile. “But take your shit back already. I’m tired of all your art being at my place where I’m the only one looking at it.”

“...Wait, hold on. Did you look through it?”

“....Sorry. It’s been weeks. I liked your business card and curiosity got the better of me.”

“Oh…” She looked not disappointed, just surprised. “So...you mean, like. Thumbing through the pages looking at it, not just staring at the bag look at it.”

“Is it a secret project or something?”

“No, no. Just…” She hesitated. “Some flash sheets that didn’t do well is all.”

“Really?” Ranmaru was surprised. “These?”

“...Yes? Did I forget something else in there?”

“No. Just. Surprised they didn’t do well. I like ‘em. There’s a good energy to them.”

“Well, that makes you the first,” she said with a hollow laugh.

Ranmaru barely considered with his head what he was about to ask. He’d already chewed it over so much and knew in his heart his answer that he didn’t need to hesitate.

“If nobody else claimed it, I want one of them,” he said resolutely. “The wolf with the orchids.”

“...What, like, now?”

“I’m on lunch, I can’t do now. But….when’s the earliest you got?”

She laughed grimly. “When do you get off work?”

“Six.”

“Then I’m available at six.”

“Then I’ll be here.”

She looked at him in disbelief.

“...You really want it that bad?”

“Don’t tell me what I want,” he growled. “I saw it and it felt right, thinking about it on me. Orchids are a part of my name, anyway.”

“....Okay, you know what? Let’s do this properly. We’ll do a consult at six. I’ll edit the design so it’s more personalized to you, then we’ll schedule an actual appointment you’re actually prepped for so you don’t pass out on the table. And don’t -- “ She caught him about to insist before the words could come out of his mouth. “-- I’m sure you think you’re real tough, but you can’t just tough guy your nervous system into taking more pain unprepared.”

“Fine. See you at six.”

Ranmaru wanted to tell her the hurry was less because he thought he could take it, and more because he was so ready to have it on him. He didn’t, though, and just left, head buzzing with hazy, overwhelming excitement he didn’t know how to express.

*************

Consulting with her on the drawing was more fun than Ranmaru had had in weeks, maybe months. She stayed past her coworkers to do the consult, so they had the parlor to themselves to discuss edits. She played doom metal in the background, sludgy and slow enough that they could properly have a conversation, but the energy as she discussed the drawing with him, drew in edits, and made conversation was exhilarating like a concert.

It was so easy to talk. Even if he was short or blunt, it didn’t seem to stop her from continuing the conversation, and every development they pushed it in just felt good. He didn’t feel invaded, but he didn’t feel insignificant, either, and the way the drawing was going, he felt a kind of known he had lacked.

“I still can’t believe you want your first ink on your pec like that,” she remarked as she refined linework. Ranmaru enjoyed watching how her pen moved.

“It’s over my heart. Not just my chest.”

“That’s, uh.” She hesitated before capping the pen. “.......Are you really sure about this?”

“...” Ranmaru felt himself recoil at the thought of telling her the depth of what this drawing made him feel, but he wanted to communicate, somehow, that he couldn’t imagine regretting this. “I’m absolutely sure.”

“.......” She hesitated again. “This isn’t….a pity thing, right?”

The thought to hold his tongue actually managed to occur to him in time. The doubt she expressed pissed him off in so many different ways. That she was unsure enough to tell him, and that it was there to begin with. The thought of throwing away this connection just to be pissed made his stomach twist, and he thought of the person he saw in the mirror with the drawing taped to his chest that first time.

“This isn’t a pity thing,” he said stiffly as he forced his voice down. “....I saw that drawing and imagined myself with it. And I liked that vision of myself more than the current me.”

“Oh god,” she said, her face bright red. “That’s so goddamn deep. My dumb fuckin’ wolf really made you feel that?”

“It’s not dumb!” he barked. “Why’re you calling it dumb to me? I’m about to get it tattooed on me, aren’t I? Be prouder of your work!”

She took a deep breath after a moment of being totally taken aback. “....You’re right. Thanks. I should be more professional about this. So….my absolutely majestic, heaven-sent fuckin’ wolf really made you feel all that?”

Ranmaru felt his mouth crook into a smile. “Yeah. I want it to be mine, and I want that better me to be mine, too.”

She smiled back widely. “I’ll do your tit justice, then.”

***************

The appointment was that weekend. When she pressed the stencil against his bare chest, he felt the hunger in him sated for just a moment. Not in a carnal urge sort of way, but more like the path forward felt brighter. Possible. Changes and connection and a future was possible again. He wanted more ink from her already, but he also wanted it to not just be that. He wanted a friendship.

“Okay,” she said as he laid on the table in front of her. “Ready?”

The whir of the machine and needles started and stirred a nervousness in his gut that he hadn’t expected, and he hesitated and gasped for a sec.

“...You OK?”

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Just…nervous.”

“Take a deep breath. It’s not too late to rethink or reschedule if you need more time.”

“No.” He was resolute. “I want this.”

She paused. “....I can’t do this the whole time. But just to get you comfortable.”

She offered her left hand to him to squeeze. He hesitated for a moment before taking it, folding each finger over hers. He can’t remember the last time he touched someone like this.

“...Okay. Deep breath. Let out out slowly…there we go. Ready?”

“Ready.”

The needle plunged into him, and while it hurt, he felt excitement and renewal spreading through to his fingertips.

[inkedsoldier]

AMOR VINCIT OMNIA - Chapter Two

A/N: Here it is – the official chapter two of the Sam Drake x reader series. I’m planning on writing two chapters a week, but I will keep you guys updated when I will upload. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Y/N = Your name.

Y/F/N = Your first name.

Y/L/N = Your last name.

Characters: Sam Drake, Nathan Drake, Rafe Adler, Y/N.

Warnings: angst.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Masterlist

Chapter Two

All That’s Left

 Scotland, November 2000

Thin frozen puddles crack under your winter boots. The bitter cold creeps through layers of clothing, numbing your fingers until they feel stiff, unable to handle the task at hand. It has been almost ten weeks since Sam’s death. You never experienced grief this bad before. Every memory played like a song in your head, repeating itself for what seemed like forever. You were mostly lost because you had lost your other half. You could never get that part back and you wanted it so bad as life depended on it, but it was gone, vanished. Grief is the price we have to pay for loving someone. It is an emptiness of heart, a shear of nothingness that takes over and holds your soul and threatens to kill you. You never got to tell him you loved him one last time. He had been your anchor when you started to drift. There was nothing left of him, except for his clothes and some other belongings.

After you left Panama with Nate and Rafe you travelled to Scotland. There was a part of you that didn’t want to have anything to do with this bloody treasure anymore, but you couldn’t stop here - you had to finish what you had started in the first place. The cross had led you to the Saint Dismas Cathedral. Soon after arriving in the northern third of the island of Great Britain, Rafe managed to buy the land around the historical site. The last few weeks you’ve been running through the list of places the treasure could have been hidden, checking off the ones you had already searched. Your brain was working non-stop on a low battery. There is a sort of tired that needs a good night’s sleep, but this was another kind; you needed so much more. This tiredness was both physical and mental, but you knew that if you would rest the darkness would lurk around the corner. That pain was too much to cope with, too hard to deal with. You had to stay busy.

The fever came fast, robbing you of your strength. Your hands were shaking gently as you reached for the map of the cathedral and the area around it. Nate saw how vulnerable you were and how much of a toll the last weeks had taken. “You need to go home,” he said while taking your hand in his so you would turn around. “You can’t keep going like this.” The weather was rough and cold, but your face was covered in a thin layer of cold sweat. Nathan’s eyes showed the kind of gentle concern a big brother has. He touched your forehead and spoke with a soft voice. “Let me bring you home, you are burning up.”

“No, you don’t have to. I’ll take the day off and relax a bit at the apartment. I’m just tired, that’s all,” you told him, wrapping your arms around him. The two of you walked back to your motorcycle, talking about the amount of ground you still had to cover in search of the treasure. Nate was broken too, but just as you he was not one to talk about emotions easily. You grabbed your helmet and told Nate to be careful before you drove off.

Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland, was one of the prettiest cities in your opinion. It attracts lots of international tourist and students every year and has plenty of history to learn. You rented a small apartment with Nate in the old parts of town - not a luxurious accommodation like the one Rafe was staying at in the centre of the city. The third floor flat was a traditional stone built located in a quiet residential area. The old home consists of a small hallway, a bright sitting room with fireplace, a small kitchen area, two separate bedrooms – one for you, one for Nate – and a bathroom with shower and toilet. As soon as you step inside tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling on your dirty face. The muscles of your chin tremble and you can hear nothing but your own sounds, like a distressed child. It took the last energy from you as you collapsed to the ground – the nausea crept up from your abdomen to your head as the world went black.

It was only five hours later as Nate entered the small flat. As he opens the door to the living room his eyes turn wide; he spots you on the old wooden floor, not moving and drenched in sweat. In two large strides he reached you, kneeling down checking for a pulse. Knowing that you are still alive, he picks you up and brings you to the couch. The cold feeling of a cloth against your face brought you back to reality – it was soothing the feverish sensation. Nate observed every detail; he didn’t recognize the person looking back at him anymore.  Dark circles around your eyes, cheeks shrunk to half displaying sharp cheekbones and a pale skin. He carded his fingers through your hair, moving it to the side of your face. He stood up and walked towards the kitchen sighing softly, “You scared the shit out of me, Y/N.” You didn’t know what to say – you didn’t even know what the hell was wrong with you. You had been feeling under the weather for a few days already, but this scared you. Finally, being able to sit up straight, you had to catch your breath waiting for the sick feeling in your stomach to disappear. Nathan’s eyes were set on you, making you feel a bit uncomfortable while the knot in your stomach only became tighter. You had to get up as fast as possible to not vomit all over the furniture. Nate followed you to the bathroom and decided to call the doctor’s office for advice.

Two hours and a lot of questions later, they finally performed some standard exams and took your blood. You lay down in the hospital bed with Nate sitting by your side, waiting for the results to come back. He had called Rafe to tell him what was going on, but finding the treasure was way more important to him. A few moments later the door opened and a small woman wearing a white coat walked in greeting you, “Hello, you must be Y/F/N Y/L/N. My name is Doctor Brendan.” She rolled a chair towards the end of your bed and started examining the chart in her hands. “So, are you feeling a bit better?”

“Yes. The ache in my body is almost gone and I don’t think I have the urge to vomit anymore,” you told her with a small smile on your face.

“Okay, that is great news. Uhm, I’m not sure if… I mean… when is the last time you had any intercourse with someone?” she saw how you looked at Nate and asked you if you wanted to talk in private.

“No, there is no need to. You can ask me anything in front of Nate. He is my best friend… my only best friend,” you said, whispering the last part of your sentence. “The last time I slept with someone was in August, so if I had to guess… almost ten weeks ago,” you told her with the pain visibly on your face. The memories came flooding back and your eyes start to water.

Flashback Your bodies fit together as if you were made for each other. His arms wrap around your back and in one gentle pull your skin touches. With a laugh he lifts you right off your feet, carrying you towards the bed, letting you fall with a soft bounce on the mattress. “So, you bought this just for me,” Sam chuckles while kissing you softly and you lock eyes for a moment. He got lost in yours and touches your face like it were a holy grail, because that is what you were; a treasure he didn’t want to lose. Never did he dare to think that he would find someone like you; you were the most astonishing girl he ever met – easy to talk to and fun to be around. Sam let his eyes slide over your body, taking in everything; he loved the emerald green bra and panties you bought, just for him. Before you know it, you were both completely naked, and you make love like never before.

The doctor tried to calm you down a bit, offering you a glass of water. It took you a couple of minutes to relax and resume the conversation. You had no idea where the questions were leading to, maybe you picked up a virus of some sorts during all the travel from the last months. Doctor Brendan smiled at you and took your hand. “There is no need to be worried, Y/N. There is nothing wrong with you – but you need to start to take care of yourself better…,” you nodded at the doctor. You knew she was right; you couldn’t go on like this. “…because there is a little human being growing inside you.”

This was not supposed to happen. How could this be happening right now? How were you going to work this out? You didn’t want this. “What? How? No! I don’t know what to do. I can’t do this,” you mumbled while the panic took over your body. Nate didn’t let go of you and tried to calm you down. “It’s going to be okay, Y/N! I got your back,” he told you. The doctor clearly didn’t expect this reaction and left you two alone for a bit. “Please, take all the time you need. I will be in the office across this room if you have any questions.” You definitely needed time to think, to let it all sink in. There was something growing inside you - it was all there was left of you and Sam. Half you, half him.

Tag list: @kiara-arts​

[sabraeal]

WFB: There's an exception to every rule (Obi gets a pass on a frat tradition)

The Wide Florida Bay | Previous

It’s two-thirty on Thursday, which means it’s time for Zen’s weekly shower.

Not like he doesn’t shower everyday– oh no, he’s got the ten minute post-gym wipe-down honed to an art form, rolling out of the dorm every morning smelling like hibiscus and mint even though it’s practically the fast food of hygiene.

But this– this is a shower. A real sit-down, five course meal. This is forty minutes of him-time, just standing under the scalding spray and having a good long soak, using every trick Korea can give him to have smooth, glowing skin from head to toe.

It’s just asking for an unforgiving patch of acne or eczema if he’s not vigilant. He’d graced more than enough tabloid covers in high school with the headline Bloom Off the Rose for Wisteria? or Wisteria Heir’s Harrowing Health Hassle! to learn he didn’t have the luxury of skimping on skincare.

His entire kit is prepped– he knows better than to leave any of it in the bathroom; unlike Kiki, he has no clever plan to make the frat smell better by leaving his expensive lotions hanging around– and his fluffiest robe laid out, just waiting for him to shrug it on–

Until someone knocks. “Hey.”

He spins on his heel, and, hah, if this isn’t the last person he expected to interrupt him. “Obi!”

His mouth quirks. “You got a minute, Chief?”

Zen casts a longing look at his face mask and stifles a sigh. Duty first. “Sure thing. What’s on your mind?”

“Ah, well.” Obi’s hand lifts to his shoulder, working the muscle there. It’s an old injury, as far as Zen can tell, but he’s constantly tugging at it, probably making it worse. He should really just see a physical therapist. “Just was thinking, since we’re into the whole pledge part of this frat thing, it’s about time we started getting hazed, right?”

Zen stiffens in his chair, both feet slapping to the ground. “We don’t like to say hazed in Phi Sigma Pi.” Even he has to wince at how bad that sounds. “I mean, we’re an honors frat. We don’t do stuff like that.”

“Right, right.” Obi’s grin thins to a knife’s edge. “You call it nicer words, like what would be in the SATs. Not hazing, just rule introduction.”

“No, I mean,” he sighs, rubbing at his nose, “we don’t do…stuff like that. No physical stuff. Or– or gross stuff.”

“But you do stuff, right?” He waggles his eyebrows, leaning against the wall. “I was talking to the big guy, and it all sounds tame enough. But he did say that the initiation had you know, pillow cases. People getting tied up.”

Zen sputters for a moment before managing, “Well, yes. For fun.”

Obi’s mouth curves in a way that makes him squirm in his chair. “Oh, Chief, I don’t think any of you know how to tie someone up for fun.”

“I don’t–” his mouth feels entirely too dry– “we don’t–” he should have known better than to say something like this with him around– “Mitsuhide is a chief scout.”

Obi blinks. “Chief scout?”

“It’s like an eagle scout,” he offers numbly, “only like, Canadian.”

His grin pulls entirely too wide. “Well then, I stand corrected.”

Abruptly, it falls, a souffle baked a hair too far. They’re not what he’d consider close, not yet, but Zen’s never seen Obi without some sort of sarcastic smile, some dubious raised eyebrow. His face is made for it, for the sort of humor that aims for the kidneys, but now–

Now it’s all gone, and there’s only a wide-eyed worry left in its place. “Is there any way to, you know, opt out of…all that?”

Zen blinks. “Excuse me?”

“I mean–” his fingers squeeze hard around his shoulder, knuckles bone white– “without getting kicked out.”

He gapes. “Why?”

It’s perhaps not his…best moment as president of the chapter.

“Oh, you know.” Obi shrugs, suddenly casual. “If someone wasn’t into it.”

“I mean,” his mind is whirring, on overdrive, but coming up entirely blank, “no one’s really into it–”

“Oooh.” Obi’s mouth quirks, and oh, yeah, that was a mistake. “How do you know, Chief? Maybe one of these boys–”

“I regret talking,” he says. The last thing he needs to hear in Obi speculating on kinks in the house. Zen would like to sleep at night.

“Seriously though.” Obi’s grin is stretched tight across his face, strangely stilted. “If someone really didn’t like it. If it brought up bad stuff for them. Is there–” he hesitates– “is there something for that?”

“OH.” The word echoes, too loud, but Zen barely notices over the way he’s completely panicking. There’s definitely– stuff. Stuff for stuff like that. For sure. He took a whole course and everything, required by the university.

He just…doesn’t remember a single thing about it right now, when he needs it most.

“I’d have to check,” he manages, and even too his own ears it’s limp, stupid. “I mean, probably. But there’s bylaws? That I’d have to read?”

A corner of Obi’s mouth twitches; great, now he knows he’s acting like a loser. “Don’t put yourself out, Chief. It’s no big–”

“No, it’s cool.” Maybe he shouldn’t be talking over him. That’s probably bad etiquette in situations like this. But he can’t just stay quiet either. “Just…give me a few days.”

“Hey.”

Mitsuhide glances up, right over the rim of his reading glasses, and for a solid second, Zen kinda gets what Kiki might see in him, beside the whole chiseled-body, lantern-jawed good looks. Or at least, he would if the guy wasn’t parked behind a bowl of greens so big most people would serve chips out of it, calling it an afternoon snack.

It’s got hard-boiled eggs too, and something that looks too much like nutritional yeast for comfort. No wonder him and Shirayuki get along so well.

“Hey,” Mitsuhide ventures, clearing his throat. “Something up, Zen?”

He grimaces. It’d be nice if Mitsuhide could at least pretend that distress wasn’t written all over his face. “No. I mean, not much.”

Mitsuhide mulls this over for a second, and then pushes his salad to the side, closing the LSAT study guide that’s perched behind it. “Sounds like something is.”

“Well, yes, obviously,” Zen stumbles, melting into the chair across from him. “Do we have exemptions?”

He blinks. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“I mean, for the frat.” He waves his hand, wishing he could be half as casual as Obi had been about…all this. “You know for people.”

“I don’t mean to be critical,” Mitsuhide says gently, “but somehow that’s only making things less clear.”

“I mean, in the initiation.” Every word might as well be a pulled tooth for how easy this is. “When we do the– the stuff with the rope and things–”

Mitsuhide holds up a hand, mouth quivering. “You mean how the pledges are trussed up on the way to initiation?”

“Yes, that!” He frowns. “What else would I have meant?”

“Ah…” A flush blooms right around Mitsuhide collar, and he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. But you wanted to know if there were exemptions written in the bylaws for participation?”

“Yes.” How can everyone else just…say stuff, when he’s stuck with a 404 error in his brain. “Exactly.”

“Well.”

Zen’s never had a good picture in his head of Mitsuhide as a lawyer; it seems like something that would take a pettier man, one willing to cut corners and look the other way, but when he sits like this, hands folded over the green-painted wood of the kitchen table, setting his glasses to the side– he gets it. He may not be ruthless, but he’s got authority.

“Even though the initiation itself is outlined,” Mitsuhide explains, one hand reaching out to gesture across the grain, “the exact events leading up to it are not.”

“Oh.” That’s…surprising. And relieving. “So that whole thing is just…?”

“Tradition.”

Nope, anxiety back at full swing. “Oh, great.”

Mitsuhide eyes him, concerned. “It is great. You could just suspend the whole thing–”

“No.” He drops his head into his hands, headache teasing at the edges of his eyebrows. “We can’t. Because it’s tradition. Meaning everyone else has done it, and they expect everyone else to do it.”

“I’m sure people would understand–”

“Yeah, but then I’ll be the president that got rid of it,” Zen insists, wishing that he could will Mitsuhide into understanding.

“And that’s…” Mitsuhide lifts a brow. “Bad?”

“Yes, because then it’s not– it’s not fair.”

The point hangs over the table, heavy in the silence. Mitsuhide sits back, sliding his glasses back on, and drums at the edge.

“I think…” he starts, but instead closes his mouth, thoughtful.

He sits another minute, fingers stilling.

“There’s no bylaws about it,” he says, even, no judgement in his voice, “and only an old tradition to uphold. So–” his gaze pins him, as thoroughly as Izana’s ever has– “I think it’s up to you, Zen.”

He collapses in a heap over the table, just barely missing Mitsuhide’s salad. “Great,” he groans. “Just what I wanted to hear.”

“My, my.” Izana’s drawl is as grating as ever, crystal clear even across a hundred miles. It’s probably the 5G. “A call? Thanksgiving is still weeks away.”

“I know that,” Zen snips waspishly. “And I call, sometimes.”

“Of course,” his brother soothes cloyingly, “when you’re in trouble.”

His jaw snaps shut with a snick. That…that may be an accurate assessment, but still…he didn’t have to say it.

The silence must stretch too long for Izana. “Is something wrong? I’m in the middle of something right now, but I can have it wrapped up in–”

“No, no!” The last thing he needs is his brother swanning in here, reminding everyone what an amazing president he was. “I just…had a question.”

Izana hums, far too intrigued for comfort. “Oh my.” The words melt like honey. “Are you asking me for advice?”

“No!” He grimaces, then amends, “I mean, not really. It’s just about the frat…”

Zen may not be able to see his brother, but oh, he can feel that eyebrow raise. “The frat.”

“Yeah, something’s come up with one of the pledges.”

He knows the moment the words are out that they are exactly the wrong ones. “Come up? Like a criminal record? You know that Phi Sigma Pi doesn’t–”

“No, not that!” He hopes. “It’s just that this pledge has, ah–” special circumstances seems a little premature, considering how little he knows about Obi in general– “asked for an exemption to some of the parts of the pledging process.”

“Hm.” Strangely enough, it sounds like Izana taking it seriously. “Have you asked Mitsuhide if there’s anything about it in the charter or our bylaws?”

“These things aren’t, um, stipulated in either.” He’s not even in the same room with his brother, but still he shuffles from foot to foot, nervous. “It’s just…traditional.”

“Ah, traditional.” Zen could swear there’s the barest undercurrent of a laugh. “Of course.”

“So I was just wondering if there was a, ah, precedent for this sort of thing.” He hurries to add, “I thought you might know since you were, you know, a president too.”

“When I was president, I ran the frat on the same traditions that had been passed down to me.”

He lets out of huff. Of course he had. Izana always did everything perfect. It’s him who can never seem to stick to the script their father laid out for them.

“But…” Izana hesitates. “That doesn’t mean it’s the right decision. After all, we didn’t have women in the house, and I think we can all agree that was a mistake.”

Zen snorts. “Well, it certainly does smell better around here.”

“To say the least,” Izana agrees. “You’re running the frat now. I think it’s up to you what sort of precedent is set for your pledges going forward.”

“Ughhhh,” he groans, flopping bonelessly into his chair. “I hate it when no one will give me answers.”

Again, he can tell that his brother is making a face. Probably one that’s laughing at him. “You know, it wouldn’t bother you so much if you weren’t always waiting for permission.”

His mouth pulls thin. “Well, anyway, great talk.”

Izana chuckles softly. “I’m glad I could be of help.”

“Oh yeah, loads,” he snips. “See you at Thanksgiving.”

“Ah.” His brother’s grin is palpable through the speaker. “Now that’s more like it.”

Kiki stares at him over her dish of soft serve, blank. “I don’t see the problem.”

“What?” Zen yelps, nearly tipping his off the table. “What do you mean?”

She licks her spoon, cleaning it, before serving in for another scoop. “Everyone told you to do what you want to do. So all you have to do is do it already.”

“That’s– that’s not the point!” he insists. “I can’t just…waive the whole thing.”

“Why not?” she says, uncomfortably even. “You did the same thing when I pledged.”

“It’s different.” Zen shifts in his seat. “That was just…sexist bullshit. This is…tradition.”

“Oh, right, Tradition.” He doesn’t know how she does it, say the word like it’s got a capital and italics. “I thought you were all about ridding the frat of archaic and antiquated ideas about Greek life.”

“I am, it’s just…” He takes a bite of his ice cream, trying to stall. “Everyone’s gone through it. If I suddenly say, oh nope, don’t have to do it anymore, people are going to get upset.”

Kiki lifts a brow. “After the shit fit everyone threw about letting me into the house, you’re afraid of some people being upset?”

“No! I mean, yes, but not–” he shakes his head– “there’s a half dozen co-ed dorm on campus, and the frat itself is co-ed, it’s just the people who rushed the house were, you know, guys. Anyone who thought you couldn’t hack it was just a– a pig. But with Obi…” He shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe it’s unfair.”

She hums, at the precise pitch Zen knows as judgement. He’s heard it enough from Izana, after all. “Are you hesitating because you think it’s actually unfair, or because you’re afraid of what people will say about who you’re changing it for?”

He tenses, closing his eyes against the tabloid headlines that flash before them. Wisteria Heir Growing Out of the Closet? No, they’d be worse than that, with pictures of Obi splashed across the front page while they played shirts and skins, and Shirayuki–

Well, there’s nothing with Shirayuki. They’re just friends. Just like him and Obi.

He shakes his head, shoving another spoonful in his mouth. “Sometimes I really wish we hadn’t known each other so long.”

Kiki grins, far too sharp. “Really? But your mom says we’ll make such a cute couple.”

Zen gags.

“Also,” she says, more serious now, “Do you really think Obi would bring this up if it was a small thing?”

Ah, there’s the rub. He doesn’t really know Obi well– a few weeks may make a friend, but they’re not close, not confidants. That kid’s locked up tighter than his father’s liquor cabinet, and they haven’t managed to find the key to that in almost ten years.

But he knows enough to know Obi’s life hasn’t been easy; hell, if it was, then there wouldn’t have been a sweet scholarship for Haruka to wave under his nose, and the only place Zen might have met him was on the squash court. He’s not the sort of person who expects exemptions, or who even assumes they could exist without a gospel choir of Franklins, but he still came to him anyway, and–

“No,” he sighs, tilting his head over the back of his chair, the top of it hitting against the first rung. “Obi’s the sort of guy who would die from a paper cut before asking for a bandaid.”

Kiki’s mouth tilts, amused. “That was my read as well.” She taps her spoon on the table, thoughtful. “So would blindfolds work?”

He coughs around coffee ice cream. “What?”

“Instead of pillow cases. Or can he not be tied up?” She leans back, gears churning so loudly he can practically hear them. “We could just get a van with no windows. Or tape them up.”

“Uh.” He stares at her dumbly, trying to catch up. “I don’t– I don’t know. I didn’t really ask for details.”

“Do it.” She set her spoon to the side, finished. “I’m sure there’s a way to work around what he needs. And if not…” She grins. “There’s always other traditions he can participate in.”

Zen’s halfway down the grand stair when he hears one of the one pledges– Kai, he thinks his name is– grumble, “It’s not fair.”

He freezes, hand gripping the banister so hard it nearly creaks. This is it, the beginning–

“I know,” Shuuka mutters back, “his legs look good in that skirt.”

“I shaved and everything,” Kai complains, “and I still look like King Kong next to– to that!”

Shuuka lets out a huff. “I heard he borrowed Kiki’s skirt.”

“That’s gotta be it.” Kai leans toward the window with a glower. “That’s cheating.”

Zen smothers a laugh and makes sure his steps are louder, almost stomps, as he descends the rest of the stairway. “Is there a problem, pledges?”

They both scramble to stand upright, trying for a level of casual two men who have never worn anything shorter than basketball shorts could not possibly achieve in pleated skirts.

“Oh!” Shuuka pants, pasting a smile on his face. “No! I just– we were just saying that, ah…”

“Obi has nice legs,” Kai blurts out. “And it sucks.”

Zen coughs, trying to keep back his laugh. “Is that right?”

“I don’t know how he got them so smooth!” Kai peeks back out the window. “Do you think he waxed?”

Shuuka frowns, following his gaze. “I don’t know. My sister used Veet once, and those looked pretty smooth.”

Zen bites his cheek. He shouldn’t laugh at them, not when they’re enjoying themselves. “I’m to take it he’s outside?”

“Yeah, talking to Kiki.” Kai glowers. “I bet she gave him tips.”

“It’s cheating,” Shuuka mumbles. “I had to borrow my sister’s skirt.”

Zen leaves them at that; any more and he’s liable to burst, and then this whole exercise becomes less about pushing boundaries and more about humiliation, and that’s– that’s not the point of Phi Sigma Pi. Or at least, it isn’t going to be now.

He steps out onto the porch, but it’s just Obi leaning against the rail, mile-long legs crossed at the ankle. The whole skirt-and-sneaker combo shouldn’t be working as well as it does, but as Kai put it, Obi has killer legs.

“I trust you’re enjoying yourself?” he asks, sidling up to the post across from him, settling his hip against the banister.

Obi arches a brow, far too knowing. “Are you, Chief?”

Heat flares up his neck, and oh, he just knows his skin is showing every bit of it. “I-it just seems like you’re getting a lot of attention.”

His mouth breaks wide into a grin. “Oh, if only you knew the whistles I’ve been getting. I should raid Ms Kiki’s closet more often.”

“Well,” Zen manages through clenched teeth, “there are about four more days of this–”

“Oh, I know,” Obi assures him. “I’ve got outfits planned. My milkshake will bring all the boys to the yard.”

He lets out a long breath. He should have known. “Well, tell them we already handed out our bids. And then send them home.”

“Ooh, Chief, are you jealous?” Obi’s grin turns positively gleeful. “Are you going to tell me you want to do a special initiation with your presidential paddle?”

“No.” God, he should have known it would be a mistake to talk to Obi when he’s in this sort of mood. “But I did want to talk to you about, ah, the initiation thing.”

The mischief drains from his face, leaving it blank, guarded. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” he coughs. “Kiki wants to know if you’d be open to blindfolds?”

He knows the words are a mistake the moment they leave his mouth. Obi’s eyes spark, going from flat gold to amber. “Oh, anything for Ms Kiki. Tell he my safe word is–”

“WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS LATER,” Zen interjects, dizzy. “I can see you’re in a– a mood–”

“Oh, hey.” Obi brightens, eyes fixed down the walk. “Is that Doc?”

Zen’s gaze whip’s over his shoulder, and sure enough, there she is, red hair bobbing down the walk, eyes fixed on her shoes.

Obi stands up, feet hitting the planks with a thud. “I gotta show her my legs.”

His mouth pulls thin, and he’s about to tell him that maybe she’s not interested in his legs, that maybe she isn’t into tall, dark and handsome, when–

“Obi!” She lifts a hand, waving wildly. “I love your shoes!”

“Do you hear that?” he asks giddily, “she loves my shoes!”

Zen gives him a flat look. “I am right here.”

“Cool.” He bolts toward the stair to meet her, but pauses. “Hey, can we talk about all this…?”

“Later,” Zen agrees with a nod. He can let him have his fun, for now. “Enjoy showing off.”

Obi winks, gives him a wink that could only be called salacious. “I always do.”

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Nothin’ Big

A/N: The 12 Days of Christmas start on Christmas Day and go into the new year. But the 12 Days of Christmas Fics starts RIGHT NOW. Starting the countdown with the sweetest Mafioso that ever lived. This is MM Nick. There’s a “chapter 3″ floating around unfinished, and this little interlude to the main story comes chronologically after it, but luckily non-linear storytelling is a game i like to play, so out of order it is! 

Word Count: 4,097 

Prompt from: @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​

“Just open it.”

“It’s not weird, it’s tradition.”

“I didn’t know what to get you. You’re not exactly easy to shop for.”

It was warmer in your drafty home than it had been since the weather turned. The heat still wasn’t working right, but for once you had all four burners on the stove going, and the tiny oven had been set to 375 all morning. The sweet smell of sugary confections filled the air as you pulled a batch of cookies from the center rack, setting the tray on top of the waiting trivets on the counter. Red, green and blue sprinkles covered the crisp, golden forms of trees, mittens and snowflakes, and you smiled as you slipped the quilted pot holders from your hands and stuck them into the pocket of your apron. Just need to finish the chocolate chip, then I can get dinner in and start cleaning up. You turned and grabbed the second tray, already loaded up with rounded dollops of dough, and placed it in the oven. The timer beeped as you set it for twelve minutes, the microwave chiming in to let you know that your coffee was once again an acceptable temperature. You grabbed your mug, a chipped ceramic snowman that was nearly as old as you were, noting the time as you took a sip of the warm nutty beverage. I’ve got three hours. Perfect.

Setting your coffee down, you started sliding the sugar cookies onto a sheet of tin foil so that they could cool. You’d admittedly gone overboard- one batch of cookies would have been more than enough, but you’d let yourself get carried away by the nostalgia of the beat up old recipe book, the stained apron and festive pot holders, ending up with two dozen each of the sugar cookies, chocolate chip, and oatmeal raisin that you’d made the night before. Gonna be eating cookies for breakfast lunch and dinner. You made a mental note to find the green tins in the closet upstairs so that you could fill them up and bring the leftover sweets in to work with you on Thursday. For tonight though, you’d pulled out the long glass tray etched with little reindeer that had once belonged to your grandmother. You ran your fingers over the design before arranging the cooled cookies, letting your mind wander back to Thanksgiving, and the start of this entire holiday hullabaloo.

..  .. ..  .. .. ..  ..

The wind lashed at the screens, causing them to buckle and knock against the glass panes, the windows shaking in their frames. You nestled deeper into the pile of blankets that you’d disappeared beneath, eyes shut tight as you sighed contentedly, pressing your cheek into the soft green pillowcase. Rain pattered against the roof, adding to the stormy symphony, the clouds contributing to the colorless sky. You loved sleeping through storms, especially on rare days off from work when you didn’t have to pull yourself from your cocoon before you were willing to do so. Normally your alarm would be blaring by 7am, alerting you that it was time to start your day, but turning your face to the clock on your side table, you pried one eye open just enough to see the bright red numbers reading 10:57. A sleepy smile pulled your lips upwards. Still so much time to sleep. You flipped your pillow, relishing the cool side as another strong gust rattled the glass and screens above your head. 

But just as you felt yourself giving in to the waves of slumber that would take you back into dreams, your phone rang. It buzzed and vibrated against the wooden surface of your bedside table, causing you to jolt, nearly falling out of bed in a tangle of sheets and covers. What the- you groaned, slowly realizing that you’d forgotten to turn your phone on silent. You never got calls on your days off, so you didn’t bother to switch the setting before crawling into bed. Glancing at the phone clutched in your hand, you read the caller ID, blinking questioningly at it. Huh? What’s he calling me for? Sudden panic mixed with your sleepy confusion as you swiped your screen to answer.

“Hello?” Your heart pounded three times in the half beat it took him to respond.

He spoke your name in a sigh of relief. “Where are you? Ya good? Ya okay?” His questions tumbled out one after the next, accent thicker than you’d heard it in person.

“Nick? Yeah, of course I’m fine, what are you…what do you mean? What’s going on?” You raised yourself up on your knees and turned to peer through the curtains, nothing to see but a gray sky and a few seagulls swooping through it. “Why are you callin’ me?”

“You’re okay? You’re not…” he let out a heavy breath. “You’re not hurt or…or anythin’?”

His tone was only making you more nervous and unsure. Hurt? Why would he think that? “Nick, calm down. I’m fine. Where are you, what’s going on?” You sat back against your pillows, pulling your knees to your chest.

“I’m…at work. I’m outside, it’s,” you heard the rattle of the door handle as he tried to yank it open. “It’s locked and the lights are out. There’s no cars here. No one’s here and you usually are so…” The door rattled once more as he let it go. “So I wanted to make sure nothin’ happened.”

He was worried about me? You couldn’t really blame him, considering how things had gone only a few weeks before when you’d gone from cashbox girl to getaway driver to…whatever new label your latest antics had earned you. “Nothin’ happened, Nick, everything’s okay.”

He sighed again and you heard a soft thud, imagining him collapsing back against the locked door, that one section of hair falling in his face as he tucked his chin to his chest. “Okay. Okay, good, I… Okay…so where is everyone? No Steve? No Ralph?”

Pfft. I wish no Ralph, ever, that’s the dream. “No, Nick. No Steve, no Ralph, no me. Dockside’s closed today, it’s-“ The adrenaline had cleared the drowsiness from your brain, and it socked you in the gut that he had absolutely no idea why things weren’t operating like business as usual today. “Nick, it’s Thanksgiving. Even we close on Thanksgiving.”

He was silent for a few seconds, just the sound of the waves crashing against the vacant boat slips echoing in the background. The smaller sailboats and scuppers had all been plucked from the water to dry dock inland for the winter the week before, and soon enough the remaining ferries and large fishing boats would don festive lights and evergreen roping to usher in the Christmas season. “Shit,” he finally whispered. “Shit, I forgot about Thanksgivin’…” There was sadness in the silence as his sentence tapered off, and it sent a chill through your chest as the screen banged against the glass above your head. “I’m sorry, I- you probably have holiday plans and…and family an all that an-“

“I don’t.” You cut him off, biting your lip. “I uh…well, my plan was to sleep ‘til noon but some jerk had to call me and wake me up, so,” You gave a nervous laugh, hoping to erase whatever tension or uneasiness he was still feeling. “So I’m up now. Nothing planned but football and beer today if you wanna… I mean if you got nothin’ to do, you could come watch the games with me.” You said you’d be careful with this one. What are you doing inviting him here? You told yourself to shut up while you waited for his response.

He sniffed. “Yeah? You…you sure you don’t mind me crashin’ your party?”

Again that chill swam through your chest. He was trying to joke, but there was something there, something that sounded like loneliness and regret, and it was something you understood. Oh, Nick, of course I’m sure. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you were feeling just as lonely as he sounded, despite telling yourself over and over that you enjoyed the way that you spent your holidays, and company might just be the cure for that misery. “Yeah, I mean, don’t go expecting a turkey and stuffing and all that jazz or anything. I’m pulling out exactly zero stops here,” you paused and the sound of his chuckle chased some of that chill away. “But yeah, you’re welcome to join me. If you want.” You held your phone tightly to your ear, the backs of your earrings digging into the skin behind the lobes as you tried not to get your hopes up too much that he’d say yes.

“Alright,” he said a few hour long seconds later. “Alright, yeah, that’s…”

“Alright? That a yes, Nick?” You flung the sheets from the bed and stood, your free hand combing through your hair as you headed for a shower you wouldn’t have taken if it was just going to be you.

“Yeah,” he said, and you couldn’t help but grin at your reflection as you passed the long mirror hanging on your closet door. “Yeah, it’s a yes. Text me your address…I’ll see you for the games.” You were about to wrap up the conversation  before hurrying to make yourself and your place presentable when he spoke your name, solidly, like it mattered. “Thank you. For doin’ this.”  

..  .. ..  .. .. ..   .. .. 

By the time you’d finished in the kitchen, plating everything on the festive dishware that hadn’t gotten any use in over a decade and cleaning up the inevitable mess that your cooking space became every time you made a foray into the culinary arts, it was nearly 3pm. You hung the apron you’d been wearing all morning and afternoon on the hook next to the fridge, and ran upstairs to change and freshen up, the steps creaking beneath your socked feet as you took them two at a time, the framed photos that lined the staircase blurring by the corners of your eyes.

You exchanged your oversized tee shirt and dark green flannel pajama pants for a bright red cable knit sweater that fell off your right shoulder and a pair of black jeans that clung to your hips and thighs. Smoothing your hands down over the material of your top and picking off a few stray pieces of lint, you looked yourself over in the mirror. Your hair had been pulled up and clipped in place, soft tendrils falling around your face, and you’d dug your green and silver droplet earrings out from the bottom of your jewelry box. They sparkled, light bouncing off of the emerald facets, but you opted not to do your makeup. This is still just… we’re just friends. This is just two people spending a holiday together, so they don’t have to do it alone. No need to… I don’t need lipstick for that.

The fact was that it had been becoming increasingly difficult to see Nick as just a friend, and impossible to see him as simply a co-worker. Whatever had changed that night when you’d helped him pull off his inaugural job for Steve had deepened at Thanksgiving, when he’d shown up at your door with two turkey subs and a side of mashed potatoes from Wawa. He’s such a good guy. How’d he ever get caught up in all’a this? You’d laughed as he brandished the bag and a grin, opening the door for him and wondering if he questioned the same about you.

..  .. ..  .. .. ..

You were on your third beer and Nick his fourth, empty, crumpled wrappers and a few shreds of lettuce all that remained of your holiday meal, when the second game of the day cut away to the halftime show. Both of you had gotten comfortable on your well-worn couches, you curled up in the corner where the two sides formed an L shaped angle, and Nick sprawled out on the reclining portion, shoeless feet propped up on the extended foot rest. “S’a nice place,” he said, looking around the room while the game was on hold.

You laughed, a warm fuzzy tickle in your brain from the beer, and it yanked the corners of his mouth up into a smile that wrinkled the skin on the bridge of his nose. “No it’s not. It’s drafty and old and creaky. The pipes freeze, the heat’s toast, and –“

“Yeah,” he said, draping one arm over the back of the couch. “Maybe all that’s true. But it’s yours. And it’s,” he looked around at the few decorations and knick-knacks that defined the space, some old, some new, all of them having some kind of meaning. “It’s cozy. I dunno, feels,” he shrugged. “Feels homey.”

“That’s because it’s the only home I ever had,” you explained plainly, blinking at the eyelet lace that lined the curtains. You sighed, facing him with a small smile. “This is where I grew up. Pretty much everything you see has been here longer than…well longer than I have, actually.” The tickle in your brain faded and you felt a tug behind your ribs, reminding you of memories made and teasing you about the ones that would never come to fruition. Time for another round. You stood then, grabbing the deli wrappers and the empty potato container. 

“Lemme help ya” he stood, swinging his legs over the side of the recliner and leaving it extended. In just half a step he was right next to you, so close that you could smell his cologne mixing with the beer on his breath. You could feel the warmth coming off his body, his socked feet only a few centimeters from your own, the heavily worn orange carpet tufting up in the space between. He bent down to reach for the wrappers, knuckles nearly brushing yours.

You turned, the paper and container in one hand and four empty bottles between the fingers of the other, to face him. “Nah, sit, I got this.” You looked up into his dark brown eyes, wondering if the chocolate in them was bittersweet. He tried to protest, swiping his hand over his hair as he opened his mouth, but you cut him off. “I said sit, Nick, guests don’t help.” And I need to pull myself together, here. “I’ll grab you a beer, ‘kay?” 

He nodded, a sideways smile lifting one rounded cheek into his eye, lips twitching beneath the scruffy stubble. “‘Kay,” he did as he was told and sank back into his seat while you ducked into the kitchen. “Hey what’s this shelf up here for?” He called as you stuffed the trash into the can under the sink. “S’empty.” 

You sucked in a breath as you reached for two more brown bottles in the fridge and thought about how to answer. The shelf in question ran the length of the wall above the couch from corner to corner, held up by carved maple brackets stained a rich amber color. “Uh, yeah.” You let the refrigerator door swing closed with a soft smack, and returned to the living room. Handing him his drink, you followed his eyes up to the one item on the shelf- a small snow globe depicting the lighthouses of the Outer Banks, the base sculpted to look like the crashing waves of the Atlantic. 

Using the neck of your bottle, you pointed up to the lone trinket. “Used to be more of those…” you took a sip, the hoppy IPA doing nothing to dislodge the knot that unexpectedly formed at the memory of that shelf when it was full. “A lot more.” You finished, punctuating your thought with another swig. 

You hadn’t turned around, but you could feel his intense eyes on you. “What happened to ‘em?” 

Short answer? “They broke.” You blinked twice and gave a minute shake of your head to clear the images of shattered glass, your father’s desperate, tear stained face, the heartbreak in the vibrations of his vocal chords as he threw each one to the ground. 

“All these goddamn perfect moments!” He grabbed two more pieces of your mother’s collection and hurled them downward, glittery liquid splashing over the floorboards. “All these perfect fuckin moments of hers and what good are they now?!”

You’d gotten him to stop in time to save the last one, a memento from a family vacation from a decade past- from before she’d gotten sick and lived vicariously through the memories trapped inside the crystal globes. It was all you had left that meant anything to you. You turned back to face Nick, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand before you did. “But what can you do, right? Things break.” 

His forehead wrinkled as his brows gathered together. “Yeah,” he cleared his throat. “Things break.” 

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. 

At 3pm on the dot you heard his knuckles rap against the borders of your screen door. He’s here. Setting the last bowl on the table, you tugged at the sleeves of your sweater and headed for the door. He was standing on your front step, vapor puffing from his mouth as he let out a breath in the frosty winter air. As usual, he was dressed all in black, a stark contrast to the white sky, frozen blanket of crusty snow and unlit decorations all around him. He turned as he heard you opening the door, a smile on his face. “Merry Christmas Eve, Nick,” you greeted him, welcoming him in from the cold. 

“Merry Christmas Eve to you too,” he responded, scraping his boots against the doorframe before entering your home. You let the screen swing closed and bolted the front door against the chill. When you turned back, he was looking at you with a shine in his dark eyes. “You look…” he gestured up and down your height. “You look nice. Real festive.” 

You felt your cheeks flush and rolled your eyes inwardly at yourself. “Oh, thanks,” you mumbled through a smirk. 

Nick looked around your living room, taking in the tree, lights, and other decorations before landing on the table in the dining room, laden with trays, dishes and serving bowls. “And all this is... “ He grinned with a small shake of his head. 

“Go big or go home.” You shrugged and winked, reaching for the coat he’d just removed. The top lines of the ink on his neck peeked over the collar of his shirt, and you swallowed the flush before it made it to your cheeks this time. Stop it, will you? You can’t...he can’t… It was only after you’d hung his coat and you were about to offer him a glass of eggnog or a hot cider when you realized he was holding a small gift bag. “Nick,” you tilted your head as he extended his arm out to hand it to you. “What did you...you didn’t have to-” 

He stepped closer and you curled your fingers around the gold ribbon handles, the contents of the bag shifting and feeling heavier than you assumed as he let go. “Just open it.” He cocked his head over towards the couch before taking a seat himself. You followed, sitting down beside him, leaving enough space between your thigh and his. “It’s nothin’ big or anythin’, just…” 

You reached in, digging through the crumpled tissue paper. When your fingertips found a smooth, round surface, your heart skipped off rhythm. Is that..? Closing your grip around the round object, you pulled it from the gift bag. Oh, Nick. You turned the object over in your hands, the white glitter floating magically through the clear liquid and falling down around a bright green Christmas tree topped with a shiny gold star and surrounded by colorful gifts. “Nick…” you whispered his name, staring at the globe in your hands before lifting your eyes to his. “Nick, it’s…” He smiled and you couldn’t keep one from your own face, from your own heart. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” 

He shrugged. “Ah, your welcome, like I said, it’s nothin’ big, just...ya know,” he pointed to the shelf above where you sat. “Figured you’d wanna fill that back up.” 

It’s huge, Nick. You don’t know how big that is to me. You stood on the couch cushion and placed his gift next to the lighthouse globe, catching a flush leaving his cheeks as you came back down. “Well, Tortano, you figured right.” You fixed the pillows, smacking a holiday throw as you stood back up. “And I actually…” you toyed with your earring before your hand fell behind your neck. “I did something for you, too.” 

“What? C’mon you didn’t have ta get me nothin’, it’s nice enough you invited me over and-“ 

“Relax,” you laughed and held up your hands, palms facing him. “It’s not… it’s not a gift really. Not that you can open anyway. I still don’t know you that well, so I didn’t know what to get you. You’re not exactly easy to shop for.”

It was true, and it was by design. You and Nick shared very few personal details with one another. He knew you were estranged from your father but didn’t know why. You knew he had a brother but didn’t know where. Mostly, you kept things light, which was what both of you needed. But with each week that passed you felt things take on more and more weight. Like when he’d told you how much he’d miss spending Christmas Eve with his family this year; how he’d miss his cousins and brother, his aunts and his Nonna, all the food and the laughter. It would be the first one that he’d missed, and though he tried to shrug it off you could tell that it hurt him more than he was letting on. 

.. .. .. .. .. .. 

“Does your family do the six fishes thing?” You’d asked, trying to learn what you could about the man you’d just spent Thanksgiving with. “I always thought that was weird, but hey who’m I to judge?” 

He’d been turning a bottle cap over in his long fingers, and he tossed it at you breaking into a grin. “It’s not weird, it’s tradition,” he protested. You laughed, swatting the small metal projectile away from your face. “And it’s seven, not six.” 

.. .. .. .. .. .. 

“So, yeah,” you gestured toward the dining room table and the array of seafood that sat atop the holly patterned tablecloth. Nick gripped the back of one of the chairs, staring at the spread. “It’s not much, but,” You’d stopped at the Fishery in Keyport and picked up two or three each of shrimp, crab legs, scallops, and mussels, as well as a filet of flounder and one of salmon. “I know it’s not like your family’s cooking but… traditions are important.” 

He turned to you, mouth open and eyes wide. “You…” you watched him swallow the words that he couldn’t get out, then shake his head before dragging one hand down over his mouth, letting out a stunned burst of air. “This is amazing,” He finally said, not taking his eyes off of yours. A spark ignited in them as a slow, mischievous grin spread up his face. Here it comes. You’d been waiting for this moment, knowing it would make him laugh. “But I’m only countin’ six here.” 

“Count again, Tortano,” you smirked, watching him scan the table, and knowing exactly when he’d found the seventh “fish” by the twitch of his lip and the crinkle near his eye. Between a pot of penne and a dish of green beans sat a small snack bowl full of goldfish crackers. You grabbed a small handful, tossing one at his chest and popping the rest in your mouth. “Seven fishes.” 

In a moment that happened too quickly for either of you to stop it, he wrapped his arms around you, one behind your waist and the other draped over your shoulder. He pulled you tight against himself, so close that you had no choice but to lean your cheek against his chest. You found it easy to slip your arms around his torso and reciprocate the embrace. Too easy. “Merry Christmas”, you felt more than heard him say the words, and before you could respond he released you, his watch sliding back down his arm as it fell to his side. 

Way too easy. “Merry Christmas, Nick.”

.

.

.

@something-tofightfor​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ @suchatinyinfinity​ @lexxierave​ @songtoyou​ @poindexted​ @thesumofmychoices​ @gollyderek​ @zaffrenotes​ @traeumerinwitzhelden​ @breanime​ @roses-in-your-country-house

[eerythingisshaka]

Moronic Jealousy

(M’Baku x Reader)

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings:  Fluff and Smut, 

A/N:  HAPPY BIRTHDAY ATHENA!!! 🎉🎉🎂🎂🎁🎈💕💋 

I fully intended on posting this on the actual day, had the plot and everything but this week was, whew chile!  So after some selfcare, I finally got a story for you @muse-of-mbaku!  Happy Birthday and I hope New Orleans treats you well.  Continue to be great, break necks, and make moves!  This is inspired by a part of A Different World episode between Jaleesa and Walter.  Soon as I saw it on Prime Video, I been wanting to use it as fanfic fodder. It’s silly, so I hope you like it!

“So then I was like ‘Put the pussy on the chainwax!’”  Michelle cackles out loud as you and Adriene look at each other, telepathically wondering if your friend has gone insane.

“Honey, why would you say that in traffic court?  I enjoy the enthusiasm, but it’s misguided.”  Adriene states, leaning into her glass of moscato.

“You just don’t get it.  (Y/N), you get what I was trying to say, right?”  Michelle looks to you.

After several seconds of gulping air to find the words you respond.  “To me you just added a charge of animal cruelty on top of not having a working headlight, so I’d put you up for 3 years if it was my word, but Adriene is the jury here.”

Girls night is your favorite night of the week.  It’s a tradition that has been hard to keep up with given the busy weekdays you all shared, but in a way that made the final connect all the more sweeter.  And what comes with that is your favorite pastime: Drunk Courtroom.

“Man, you ALWAYS take Adri’s side in this.”  Michelle pouts, blowing a 3B curl out of her face.

“That’s what the judge does!  My jury tells me what to do- I think I need to cut you off of the Barefoot, cuz…”  You slide the bottle closer to you on the coffee table.

“No, that ain’t my problem!  You really bossy since your engagement to Timbuktu.”  Michelle cheeses into her glass.

Your jaw drops, scoffing.  “Oh my God, how many times I gotta tell you to stop calling him that!  Especially now that he is my future husband, chill with alldat.”

Michelle giggles, pushing you a little.  “Can I play a little??  You landed a gold mine, or should I say vibranium mine with him as your catch.  See what happens when you put the pussy on the chainwax?”

“Once again.  I. Don’t. Understand. That. Phrase.”  You clap between each word in frustration.  “Besides. He doesn’t work with the vibranium, he handles Jabari wood, which is just as sacred and important.”

“It sure the hell is.”  Adriene says out the side of her mouth.  “I bet his wood is handled very properly, hence the ring….”

“Stop.”

Michelle chimes in with a seductive tone.  “Does he wax his own wood, or do you do it for him?”

“Guys.”

“Is that what he names it?  Jabari?  ‘Jabari needs some attention…’ or whatever?”  Adriene inquires with an M’Baku impression that sounded more like Vincent Price.

“Fuck off y’all, damn!”  You get up in embarrassment to get some ice cream from the fridge as Adriene and Michelle balk in laughter.  Don’t nobody know how to cut you down from your high horse like your friends.

“Ok, ok.  My bad, we just playing with you!”  Michelle calls out.

Adriene cosigns.  “Can you blame us?  Mr. Perfect out here wining and dining you, leading a whole damn tribe and slaps a rock like that on your finger?  Don’t pay attention to us.”

Sitting back on the couch you lick your spoon instead of your wounds; the vanilla, brownie, caramel combo soothing you as you hold out your left hand.  

Two weeks ago, M’Baku took you on a gondola ride that set the mood for romance just right.  You weren’t expecting anything to come from it but some snuggles with your love but when the boat looped back to dock, rose petals covered the path a nearby fountain, fanciful luminarias shaped in a heart on the ground marked the spot where he led you.  One of his cousins was there to shoot the moment as M’Baku got down on one knee and spoke his sweet words to you.  You couldn’t pay attention to their context because you were sobbing so much but knowing him they were profound and loving.  When you said yes he couldn’t stop hooting in the dead of night, hugging you tightly, kisses unabating.  He hasn’t stopped holding your hand since because ‘the ring is so heavy.’  

“Yeah, well I still can’t stand y’all heffas.”  You grumble, rocking into them side to side.

“I wanna play a new game.  Adri, pick something, child.”  Michelle directs, pouring her glass to the brim again.

“I’m three years older than you, but go off I guess.”  Adriene mutters under her breath, pulling her braids back in thought.  “How about...Telephone!”

You scoff at her suggestion.  “You need at least 10 people for that game to be effective.  Pick something else.”

“What’re you talking about?  All you need is some phone numbers and gumption to cold call people.”  Adriene says with lip smack, pulling out her phone.

Michelle groans.  “Girl, you talkin bout crank calling people, not telephone.  Telephone is the whisper challenge for people with a lot of friends basically.”  

“Ohhh, you right!  Ok, so crank calls.  Let’s make em!”  Adriene picks up a handful of hot cheetos, munching excitedly.  “And Michelle should go first since she so smart or whatever!”

Michelle screws her face up.  “No!  If I apparently lost Courtroom, I’m sitting out first round.  (Y/N), start things off.”

“I don’t feel like it.”  You whine, not entirely joking.  The moscato and late hour of the night made for a deadly combo.

“Pleeeease.  One round!  Ooh, to make it interesting, how about calling Tim?”  Michelle asks sneakily.

“His name is M’Baku!”  You exclaim.

“That’s neither here nor there.  I wanna see this!  Wake his ass up!”  Adriene says, bouncing in her seat.

You lay the ice cream down, picking up your phone regretfully.  “What do I even say?”

That’s all Michelle had to here.  “Ok, so check it.  You call him and change your voice a little to make it seem like you’re someone else and just catch his reaction.”

“Pretend he got child support payments due!”  Adriene offers.

“You always gotta be extra, Adriene!  But he’ll know it’s me.  This ain’t the 90s no more and he has my number after all.”  

Michelle brushes your doubt away.  “Just *67 him!  It still works today, trust me…”  her voice trails off as she sips from her glass shaking her head in an apparent flashback.

“O....k.  I’ll try it, but soon as he knows its me, I’m cutting it.  I don’t wanna stress my baby.”  You say, lowkey getting excited by the approaching tease.  Adriene cuts the music they were playing as you dial in silence.  

The phone rings on speaker phones ominously as you wait for M’Baku to pick up, fully expecting him to say your name and catching you instantly.

“Hello?”  He says sleepily.

You pause, words leaving your brain as Adriene and Michelle mime things to say.

“Uh, bueno, I’m so sorry for the late call.”  You say, lowkey butchering a Spanish accent as you hang your head in shame, certain you are caught already.

You hear rustling on M’Baku’s end as he moves.  “Well, may I ask who is this?”

You hated this already but push your way through the conversation.  “This is...Daniella?  Um, lo siento.  Pero, a friend of mine gave me your number to call so I could introduce myself.”

“What friend?”   He asks curtly.

You look to your girls for help on this one as they mouth names.

“Uhhh, Terrance?  Michelle’s brother.”  You say hesitantly.  They had only met a couple times at group events, so they were hardly friends but it is the best you have to make a connection.

“Ohhh, Terrance, yes, we are wonderful friends.  Known him for years.”  M’Baku says perking up.  You make a face at the phone as he lies so effortlessly.  “So can I help you with something, Ms.  Daniella?”

“Well, you may not know me but I have seen you at the gym a few times,  y I was muy impressed by su cuerpo y musculos….sorry!  I meant your body and muscles, I’m always slipping that way.”  You say playfully to keep up your Spanish identity.

“No, it is alright.  I speak Spanish fluently so si quieres, podemos hacerlo-”

“No!  No, but thank you!”  You clutch your chest as your heart pounds nervously.  No way in hell your high school Spanish could keep up with his.  “But, maybe we could meet in person and study our native tongues together.”  You throw that in for good measure.  Michelle almost howls out at your brazenness.  

M’Baku chortles out loud, and you know you are caught.  Shaking your head as he laughs at you, you almost start to reveal the prank and ask him to knock it off.

“I have never been so enchanted by a woman I have yet to meet.  You have piqued my interest, Daniella, I cannot lie.”

“Really?  Oh, you are making me nervous now.  I thought for sure you would have someone already keeping your attention.  You are just so handsome.”  You waited on edge for his response.  This is when you will surprise him that the woman he is about to talk about in his life is the one pranking him.

“Nooo, I try to keep my personal life as stress free as possible.  And I am very relaxed right now, so I would love to meet you sometime.”  

You can hear the smile in his voice as his baritone shines through, and you are disgusted.  That voice that made you quiver is intentionally being used for another woman, imaginary or not.  You couldn’t look at your friends for fear of breaking down.

“Wonderful!  How about tomorrow night, 8pm?  Since you are free…”  You try your best to keep up the art of seduction but it is waning fast.

“Perfect.  We can meet at this nice restaurant by the Lake Kenoba.  It’s beautiful at that time of evening.”

“Perfect!  See you then.”  

Hanging up the phone, you look to Michelle and Adriene who are staring back at you, mouths agape.  

“That didn’t go as planned.”  You say, tossing your phone aside on the couch cushions.  

“Why the hell did you pretend to be a date for him?  I can’t believe he’s playing us...I mean you!!” Adriene exclaims.

Michelle pats your back.  “Now now, don’t get so up in arms.  I bet you five he is pranking you back.  No way in hell he actually fell for that.  Your Russian accent was so far left field, I couldn’t-”

“It was Spanish!”  You say defensively.  Michelle just makes a face, looking to Adriene for help.

“Ok, well, honestly I agree with Michelle on this.  He is a smart man, and loves you to death up until now.  No way this is a sign of anything else.  Right?”

You sit back on the couch looking to the ceiling to search your thoughts for anything that may have lead to a sign of this coming.  “Guys, I don’t meant to kick y’all out but I need to be alone.”

They both try to convince you to not think too much into the whole conversation, but that was impossible.  Soon as they left, you were pacing the floor, channeling Angela Bassett circa Waiting to Exhale.  If the band on your ring wasn’t vibranium, you would burn it with his clothes.  Instead, you come to a moment of clarity.  Maybe they are right and he isn’t a low down, dirty dick ass cheater.  Maybe.

You pick your phone up and text him a ‘Hey babe!’ with a kissy face.  His response is quick, giving you an equally affectionate hello text.  

You text him asking for some time to see him tomorrow night at 8pm.  Same time as Maria, or Lisbeth, or whatever name you gave yourself.  You see the bubbles pop up and disappear several times on screen, driving you insane.  Now he takes his time to reply?!

He says he cannot make it, meeting with family that day.  You offer to come with, but he says it is private.  Too private for your future WIFE to be apart of??

You end the conversation, not bothering to respond.  Your phone dings again but you don’t bother checking it out.  As you make your way to bed, you look up on Amazon for gasoline cans and bleach with one day shipping guarantees.

The next day, you are in a hazy cloud of dread.  Your concentration at work is gone, you barely could eat lunch, and Michelle and Adriene keep blowing up your phone asking for updates, which there were none.  Your fears had already been confirmed so what more was there to talk about?  

That’s when your brain hatches up a plan.  You were gonna catch him in the act, no doubt about it.  When you got off work, you went to your place to gather an overnight bag and head over to his.  He won’t even feel like going out when you were through ‘being his peace’.

Pulling up, you knock on his door at 6:30pm.  M’Baku opens the door, shirtless in his joggers.  

“(Y/N), what are you-”

“I figured after you are through with your family, we could hang out!”  You say hurriedly, walking briskly past him as he stares at you in confusion while you toss your bag aside.

M’Baku walks over to you, arms crossed.  His pics substantiated by his stance and bold tattoos across them.  “Did you text me before getting here?”

You swiftly turn to him, taking off your jacket and shoes.  “No, not at all.  Should I have?  Am I interrupting something?”

M’Baku furrows his brow looking from your bag to you.  “Like I said, I made plans with family at 8, so I am in the process of getting ready.”

You blink a couple times, holding your chest.  “Oh, oh!  Don’t let me stop you, Timbuktu!  You do all you need and keep it moving, I’ll be upstairs chilling.”  You pick up your bag and head up.

“Tim- Have you seen Michelle today?  Why are you calling me that?  And what is in the bag love?”  M’Baku calls after you.

You don’t answer as you head to his bedroom and get undressed, grabbing a shirt of his out of the dresser to put on as a night gown.

“You got a lotta questions for me, but I ain’t asked you a damn thing.  SO don’t worry about me, just go on your little date...with your family.  I’ll do your laundry while you’re gone, how’s that?”  You give him a tight smile as you crawl up in bed, turning on the TV on almost full blast.  

M’Baku’s belly jiggles as he chuckles to himself with his hands on his hips before going to check your bag.

“Get outta my stuff!”  You exclaim, getting up to pull his hand away from inside.  

This is an obvious trap as M’Baku swiftly wraps you up in his arms, staring you down with a cold, calculative expression.  “Where’s the gas can you ordered?  Bleach?”

You shrank in his grasp as you wiggled to make him put you down.  Damn that shared Amazon account.

You stand up to him defiantly.  “Where’s Daniella, hm?  She meeting you at that restaurant, right?”  

M’Baku’s expressions cracked into a smirk.  You wanted to rip those full lips off of his face.  “It’s about time you brought it up.”

You exhale sharply.  “Why?  Because I should’ve always known?  I should’ve suspected it a long time ago that you been two timing me?”  You are shrill as you crawl into his bed in the fetal position.  

M’Baku groans as he sit on the edge of the bed in front of you.  “Come on, my adored one.  Is that what you think of me?”

You shake your head, long faced.  “Of course not, until she called you.”

“But it was you!  You called me!”

“You didn’t know that!”

M’Baku laughs out loud, slapping his knee.  You push on his broad back with your feet to try and get him off the bed to no avail.  “Aye, you think I believed that wasn’t you but a random woman who attends my gym, that I haven’t even noticed has any female participants at the early hour I go.  And is also friends with a sibling of your friend who I have only seen less than a handful of times?”

“Then why did you lie and say you knew him for years?”

“I was trying to break you out of character!   But you fell into it, so I kept going along to pull the wool over your eyes instead.  Plus, your Japanese accent was borderline offensive.”  M’Baku says softly, bringing his hand to your cheek, brushing it with his thumb.

“IT WAS SPANISH!  Why would I SPEAK Spanish while sounding Japanese.”

M’Baku’s body shakes a little as his face strains to hold back his childish laughter.

“You are diabolical.”  You mutter, attempting to nip at his fingertips.

M’Baku gave you a gap toothed smile big enough to make the earth quake.  “Don’t blame me, your friends have gotten you into trouble with me plenty of times before but we make up, always.”

You huff as you turn to the TV to remain bothered.  “I’m not ready to make up.”

M’Baku lays his head back on your belly, talking to the ceiling.  “What if I told you I made reservations at the aforementioned restaurant and I had planned to  come by and pick you up to expose your plan. Hm?”

Your heart falls at this revelation.  You would’ve loved to have seen that happen, and that restaurant had bread and butter you would kill to consume right now, and pack extras in your purse.  But jumping to conclusions ruined that as it is your Olympic sport, gold medal winner.  

“M’Baku, I’ll give it to you that I shouldn’t have thought that you would two time me, especially without talking to you first.  But I still don’t like that you tricked me.  You drug it out on me too long.”

M’Baku rolls over, his head traveling up your arm to your neck, kissing behind your ear and humming.  The vibrations of his voice tickled you along with his breath but you ignore the dopamine flowing through you, lying perfectly still and unphased.

M’Baku picks his head up, tutting at you as he gets off the bed to head for the restroom.  Next sound you hear is the shower coming on.   You hope he doesn’t think you’re joking about not wanting to go out now because you were firmly in that frame of mind.

His 1000 count sheets caressed your skin nicely as you snuggled under his down comforter.  That coupled with the pitter patter of the shower left you fighting your eyelids to watch the TV screen and losing.

You were awakened by the shift of weight on the bed, M’Baku wrapping his arm around your midsection to pull up behind you, breathing in the coconut and shea scent of your hair before resting his hand fully encompassing one of your breasts.

Instinctively, you hold his arm tightly.  “I’m still mad at you.”

“Eh, I know.”  His lips graze your ear lobe, making you flinch.

“And I don’t wanna go to dinner with you.”

“The reservation time passed.  You slept through it.”  

“Did you go eat without me?”  You ask.

M’Baku’s hand moves to travel up your thigh.  “I’m not going anywhere when you’re laying in my bed.”

You start to feel warm all over, a familiar sensation begs you to give in.  “Whatever man.”

M’Baku’s groan rumbles through his body as he reaches under your nightgown/his shirt, grazing your fupa, playing in your tuft of hair between your legs.  “I don’t want to bed you while you’re angry…”

Your hand clutches his forearm desperately as your legs part slightly involuntarily.  “You think I’m that easy?”

M’Baku’s plush lips falls on your neck softly.  “No.  That’s why you are perfect for me.  I never worked so hard in my life to get what I want.”

His wide hand pushes your legs apart farther as they plunge between your thighs, palming your pussy.  His fingers finding your wetness with ease.

You gasp, hips bucking for friction against his hand.  “I think I need  a little more convincing…”

“At your service.”  M’Baku crawls under the covers.  You giggle as you lie on your back watching his frame under the blanket make mountains to get to your lower portion.  Feeling yourself spread underneath the covers without him in sight is exhilarating for you.  You feel his breath on you as he exhales with built up lust.  When his tongue spreads across your lips your back concaves in aching relief.  M’Baku’s tongue goes into a rhythm between your inner labia, flicking your clit every so often.  The pulsations of his pace threaten your sanity as you try to sit up, crawling backwards slightly, but M’Baku’s arms wrap around your hips to keep you in place.  

He seems to punish you for you resistance, focusing now solely on your clit, sending you into a tizzy.  Sounds like a Campbell’s chicken noodle soup commercial under the covers with all the slurping and lip smacking he shamelessly devotes to taste every drop of you.  You’re blubbering his name, peppering encouragements with begs for mercy as you feel your orgasm wash over your body.  All of the stimulation happening underneath the blanket elevated your pleasure sensors as you couldn’t see the source.  You had to see him or you would for sure lose your mind.  Pulling the blanket back, you see his cheeks hollowing out, maintaining pressure on your clit, eyes deviously trained on yours as he penetrated you with a couple of his fingers.  

This is much worse for you now, but at least you can take it out on him instead of the blanket.

“God, I’m cumming on your face right fucking now, Baku.”   You squeal, fingers gripping his hair as your hip flexors strain to hold back from crushing his skull .

He turns you lose of his mouth finally, crawling up to you to tongue your down, tasting yourself along with him.

“It seems our native tongues were pretty well together.”  M’Baku growls, pulling you down by your legs and he pulls his joggers off, dick unfurling full and ready.  “Have I convinced you yet?”

You claw above your head for something, anything to hold onto.  “You’re getting there.  It’s just, my gut is telling me something else.”

“I can fix that…” M’Baku licks his lips, reaching to take your shirt off over your head, squeezing you titties like fresh picked fruit.  You both groan from the touch, his eyes entranced by your nipples as they draw him in, working his neck to lap his tongue around your areola until its peak is reached.   

You lick your lips, biting them as reach down between the two of you for his dick, stroking it slowly.  You feel him expand in your hand as his moans concentrate on your nipple as he continues to suck, vibrating against your sensitivity.

He comes off of your breast with a pop, smiling devilishly.  “What are you doing?  I’m supposed to be pleasing you tonight, my love.”

“This pleases me, Baku.  This does.”  You whisper as you continue to ready him. 

M’Baku smiles into your mouth, kissing you as you wrap your arms around his neck, laying back as you wrap your legs around him, walls contracting excitedly awaiting his entry.

M’Baku maintains eye contact as you feel his tip pressing into you before the sensation of stretching you makes you break; closing your eyes and mouth falling wide as his girth slowly navigates your canal.

M’Baku mirrors you as your tightness affects him as well, wrapping his hand around your neck lightly before tonguing your tonsils out hungrily.  His hips activate against yours moving in shallow motions to prepare you before taking his strokes longer and longer until his entire length massages your insides beautifully.  

“Fuck, you feel good.”  M’Baku groans as he punches the headboard once for good measure, laying his body flush with your, kissing your neck and clavicle as his strokes picked up pace.  

You gasp as if you’re drowning, clutching onto his arm, kissing his tattoo band gratefully.  “Ohh, my gut is telling me something much different now.”

“What’s it telling you?”  M’Baku grunts in your ear.

“It’s telling me to marry the man attached to this dick.”  You say before your voice hitches from the wave of pleasure flooding over you, seizing your body up.  The sweet cacophony of his skin slapping against yours signals M’Baku’s enjoyment of you in this moment, trapped between your legs as stare into each other’s eyes threateningly.  He pulls out of you, rolling you over to give your ass a slap.

“You need to be on your knees then.”  M’Baku commands.  

You try your best to do as you are told, aftershocks between your legs threaten their stability as you get into position, rubbing yourself lightly as you lie in wait.  Your head is against the mattress as you watch him stroke himself as he plants his hand on your lower back, kissing your cheeks audibly, smacking them both after.

“I don’t think I have convinced you properly of my devotion, love.”  M’Baku says, rubbing the tip of his dick between your swollen labia.

You inhale sharply.  “I’m past that, don’t worry about that baby.  Just please-”

“Don’t interrupt me.  You talk a lot but not when it counts.  I want to hear you when I am inside you.”

You push yourself towards him, trying to geolocate the dick.  “Ok, I will, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”  M’Baku says, spreading your knees father apart before sliding back into you, causing you to illicit a guttural moan.  

“You fill me up so good, Baku.”  You inhale sharply as he works himself inside you roughly.  He bounces his hips against your cheeks with slow deliberate strokes.  Bam, bam, bam!  The force pulls you back on his dick with each thrust, eventually leading you to bounce against him on your own.

“Ah, that’s better.  Come to me like you came over here to tell me off.”  M’Baku says, rubbing your ass.

Biting your lip, you pick up your bounce, arching.  “I don’t play when it comes to this dick, Baku.  Don’t make me wreck you.”

M’Baku smacks one cheek enthusiastically, the sting somehow sweetens your pleasure.  “Show me.”

You give it your all, smacking your ass against his hips, tightening around him as you wind around his length expertly.  Although you had him right where you wanted him, moaning and cursing you, you get high off of your own supply.  The pressure building within you begins to release and you lose your form, holding your breath as you came.

M’Baku would not have that.  He leans over you, holding your head up by your hair.  “I want to hear you…”

He takes over, pounding into you while reaches between you to stimulate your bud.  You squeak, gripping the sheets as he commands you to breathe.  You swear this is impossible as he won’t stop digging you out and stressing your scalp with his grasp.  Then you aren’t sure if this orgasm was really long or another one came quickly but as you opened your throat, you let out an animalistic screech that scared the shit outta you but rocked M’Baku’s world.  He practically pounds you through the mattress to the floor as you both collapse, humping you into submission as he gets his last few strokes in you.  He warms your belly from inside with his release.

M’Baku gets off of you so you can breathe, kissing down your back and examining the mess you all made inside of you.  You jerk feeling him touch you, wiping the remnants down before slowly rolling off to the side of you.  He takes your hand kissing your ring again before looking at you lovingly.

You lay there, twitching every few seconds as you come down.

“Are you cold?”  M’Baku asks, getting up slowly to grab the previously discard blanket.

“No, of course not.  I’m just recuperating.”  You say between the natural jerks of your muscles, your heart still pounding between your legs.

“Any chance of Daniella coming back?  Her accent wasn’t so bad now that I think about it.”  He says, kissing your hand again.

You pick it up, laying it across his face for what was supposed to be a slap.  “Shut up, I’m still frickin embarrassed by that.  You owe me dinner though.”

M’Baku smiles, rolling on his side towards you.  “I do.  I shouldn’t be the only one eating tonight.  Plus, I can’t risk you incinerating my things.”

You lay there in silence, closing your eyes.

“Were you...really going to do that?”

You start to snore.

“(Y/N), honestly.”

[pepperstrawberry]

While I am slowly working on art things... have a bit of fiction?

So, I did a post earlier about Elly, and figured that I should post this maybe for amusement. It’s a drabble I puttered on after being inspired by @wearepaladin‘s post that I linked up there... There is more that is starting to form. I was originally going to add her to my ‘Dragon Quixotic’ story (and she still kinda is, but becoming less and less direct so), since the main city I came up with has a strong history of Paladin stuff (now thanks to this drabble is called ‘Mithvalor’... for now at least XD )

Going to put it under a cut cause it’s like a few pages long on the googledoc XD

Note: This was tossed together as a sort of ‘character moment and background’ thing… Feel free to make any commentary, but please do it in the light that a) I haven’t really tackled Paladins until very recently in any tangible way and b) this is more or less a rough draft take on a scene that popped in my head.

Note the second: One of these days I -will- make a straight forward paladin, but I’m still in that beginning ‘break all the things/see where things stretch to phase of character creation ^_^;;; (I do have a whole story that plays with the idea of gods, paladins, right and wrong, good and evil, and all that where the heroes do end as more or less proper pallys, but the start isn’t what it seems… at the moment that idea is on the back burner though)

The Gods are fallible.

This statement was the backbone of her faith.

Elizabeth Camilla Makeda had come to distrust any priest that would proclaim the perfection of any single god. Not in that she hated them or thought they were leading people wrong. It was more that they had blinded themselves to the bigger picture.

In a world where there were multiple gods, each with their own domains and focus, she could not believe that any single god could understand enough of the universe on their own to be anything but a flawed, incomplete creation. For many, this revelation would bring a deep distrust in the gods if they believed in them or even a complete rejection of any value in religion if they didn’t. But for her?

It brought her a sense of relief.

If the gods were fallible, then it just meant that the problems of the world, how sometimes monsters could win, how children could die from plagues, or how people could fall to their own vices made more sense.

Some gods would show a streak of hubris just as man does. Other times, it was pettiness. Some gods tried so hard but their domain was limited in scope, and thus was their ability to change things.

If she viewed the gods much as she viewed her fellow man, it made a lot more sense.

It was these thoughts she took into the academy of her city of Mithvalor. Paladins were a traditional position in her home, a place of many faiths, working together to make a stronger world. Her home, a hub city of trade and community, had once housed a council of seven paladin kings known in legend as ‘The Faith’. It had been many generations since The Faith was broken, but the grand tradition of this land to be a bridge between countries as well as the material and the ethereal worlds made being a Paladin both a privilege and an honor.

While she had a leg up thanks to her mother being a Paladin of the God of Courage, it didn’t mean she had a free ride either. Her family had always been about hard work and helping others. Her father had helped her train her body by working the fields of their farm on the outskirts of the city. She was put to work during festivals to help bring food around to those that needed and deliver parcels of ingredients to cooks preparing the big feasts.

Her father was big on the God of the Harvest and while her parents where in a bit of a bet of who she would chose, they knew she would make the right decision for her and continue the proud traditions of both the city and her family.

And so it was that her training began. And trouble soon showed it’s head. When it came to lessons on the gods, she would ask strange questions. Not improper ones, only ones that kept everyone guessing with which god would she finally plague her oath to, let alone what that oath would even look like. Many thought she might side with either the God of Knowledge given her persistent questions, the God of Wisdom due to how they were worded and thought out, or even the God of Mischief given how vexing some of the questions could be.

It would be the day she found her weapon that would reveal all…

---

“Come on, Elly. I know you have been paying attention to your lessons.” Sir Dulgear sighed.

Elly was once more on her butt. Her sword and shield to either side of her, the result of being so astoundingly disarmed. Again.

“It… It’s just doesn’t feel right, Sir.” She growled.

Dulgear knew that growl well. It was not directed at him in the least. It was directed inward. Her mother, the Lady Gallamir Pearl Makeda was one of the absolute best with a sword and shield. Having actually been her training partner when they were in Elly’s position, he could confirm it without any doubt. And he could see some of the parent’s talent in the child. Hell, she was worse with a warhammer or even a mace. They had tried many other combinations and while she wasn’t bad with any, she was never that great either.

And the forces she might have to face needed to be met with greatness in all aspects.

This girl had something in her, he knew it. It’s why he kept as an instructor. His best was in seeing through the rough bits to the shining gems that were waiting to be revealed. Still, he was getting worried. While she excelled in all other areas, she needed to be able to protect those around her as well as herself. And right now, she was barely above a regular great of soldier.

“Come on Elly. I know you can do this. Remember…”

Elly stood, picking up her arms and took her stance. “Think around the problem, then push through” she repeated. It was Sir Dulgear’s way of saying ‘stop and think’. She rather liked it, and it had fit her own way of thinking very well.

And thinking was what she was doing. Dulgear stood ready. She was to make the first move, so she had time, not forever, but some. She, too, stood. It was a perfect stance, the forms where never an issue. She could swing any weapon as is with just as much aptitude as any other recruit. Of course, those were also practice weapons designed to do little damage and be primarily for training and nothing else.

In her hand was a live sword. A dull blade, sure, and her trainer had protections all over him. But it was still a live blade.

A blade can cut with ease, sometimes too easily. She had seen even veteran guards accidently do too much damage to someone they were trying to subdue during a tavern fight. A mace can disfigure or even cause permanent brain damage with a strike to the head. A warhammer can crush unenchanted platemail with ease.

Deadly. All her options were decided to kill as their primary function, with little thought to what other potential these things might have.

Of course, staves, saps, and other blunt weapons didn’t quite feel right to her either, but they rarely served as good weapons for a Paladin. Those you would more often see in the hands of a monk or a cleric. Not that she didn’t try them. Still, a stave felt too ‘reed’y to her and even a sap felt like it would be better just to…

She had an epiphany.

Dulgear saw Elly square her shoulders and then charge him. He could already see the sword strike a mile way. Infact, there was even less finesse then before. Could Elly be getting tired? Or maybe she was about to try something? He smiled and brought up his shield rather than dodge. This lesson was about getting used to live weapons and focusing the potential of using a Paladin’s most universal and signature attack: Smite.

Sure, the magic the trainee’s were bless with only simulated the power, as they had yet to take their oaths, but the mook smite could be used against anything with a nice pop of pressure to give positive feedback for a success.

The sword hit the shield as was intended by both parties. Dulgear flicked his gaze to the shield being raised. For a split second, he wondered if she was going to try to bash him with it. She was always a touch more defensive minded then many of the other recruits, and while exceedingly rare, it was not unheard of for a paladin to make their weapon of choice some modified take on a shield.

However, he discarded that notion as soon as it came to mind. With how quick her bulky frame was, he would have been already feeling it. Clearly she was assuming he would strike back, and he did so not wanting to disappoint.

His sword came down and she moved the shield to properly block him. The clang didn’t have time to fully echo when he noticed something felt off about the block. She twisted and pulled to her right. That didn’t make any sense. That was her sword hand, and you don’t get another chance to strike if your opponent has locked swords with you.

The moment Elly felt her trainer’s sword make contact, she flicked both shield and sword down to her right, letting them go. Her foot work shifted, sliding her right foot back and around her left, before left followed along. She turned her entire body around, a clockwise spin, bringing her out of danger of counter attack as her shield was still between her and Dulgear’s sword.

The first weapons she learned would always be her most trusted. She had to use them against thieves in dark alleys when they tried to catch her unawares when on errands for her mother. She had employed them against drunks that would get a bit to roudy when she visited her uncle’s tavern. And she made plenty of use of them in play with her elder brother.

Spinning her body completely around was a showboat move, but it was the easiest way to allign her attack and make sure it connected. With concentration, she pushed the energies down her arm. Her right fist clenched within the gauntlet.

Dulgear had a split second to see Elly had already fully turned herself around, and her fists up near her face. His eyes widened in complete surprise.

Elly’s feet finished their turn and she planted the ball of her left foot to the ground, twisting her hip, continuing the force of her spin, drawing power from the earth, through her leg, the alignment of her hips, her upper body leaning into the motion and finally the strike.

The last thing Dulgear saw was the golden energy collecting at the knuckles of her gauntlet as Elly’s left fist fired out. The strike  connected right against the side of Dulgear’s helmet right at his cheek. And then a burst of light blinded him as he felt his entire body followed with the arc of his head being thrown back. He flew through the air and landing square on his back several feet from where he once stood.

Pieces of her gauntlet floating in the air as her fist made it’s follow through, the armor not built to handle power flowing through it in such a fashion. The glove under was smoldering from the radiant fire that exploded from impact.

Many of the other students that had been watching, as well as a few of the teachers, were rooted to the spot in shock. They had never seen something like that from a paladin before. All of them stared save her mother, who had subbed in that day for a friend. Her smile was incandescent.

Elly didn’t mean to knock him back that hard. She ran over quickly, checking her instructor for injury. While the side of his helm was dented a bit, the magic protecting him was still intact. Fortunately for him, the wards on his armor were ‘one size fits all’ in that they didn’t just keep it to the power level that should have come through the pseudo-smite effect, but from a full attack. Of course, the enchantment was also one shot, so the helmet needed to be repaired and re-enchanted before the next time it’s used. But that was just working as intended.

What was less expected was being thrown that hardback by a punch from a girl a spare few years from full adulthood. Even one as strongly and stoutly built as Elly.

Dulgear was surprised, “That… wasn’t the test spell. You… used the power ‘Smite’. The actual ability…” It wasn’t unheard of for those that had already taken an oath to seek formal training here. Hell, he was one of those sort. When he had sworn to his god, the divine being specifically led him here for training. But no one was aware that Elly had taken any oath. In fact, by all accounts, no god seemed fit for her in any direct manner, at least if her many questions during lectures and her interesting debates with some of the scholars was any indication. “When did you take the Oath? And with whom?”

As Dulgear took her hand, Elly smiled warmly, “I took no single god. The gods are fallible. I do not deny their greatness, but nor will I ignore that if all the stories are true, they are no less weak to lying, cheating, avarice, or any other vice known to mortals. I could not swear any more devotion to a god then I would to any man.”

Once her trainer is standing again, she holds his hand in both of hers, turning his hand palm up, “Faith in a friend is a powerful thing. I have that faith in many gods. But I can not worship them. I do not worship anything. For many, worship is liberating. For me, it’s stifling.”

She looked back into his eyes, “Sir Dulgear, I swore my oath on the roof of my home, laying and staring at the stars. I had thought to myself, ‘The gods are fallible’ and I was not afraid. I was happy. A god is like a king, a force for good or ill, a seat of wisdom and a source of authority and hope. But a king can fall.”

Dulgear wanted to say something, but he remained quiet. This wasn’t just one of her debates with a scholar, she was speaking her oath. “If an Angel can fall, a Devil can transcend. A god can make a mistake just as a mortal can. And we work together, we strive for better. So to do the gods together. I seek no one master, but I vow my word to the very heart of what a Paladin is: the hand of the gods in the world of man. A hand to help, a hand to defend, and when needed a hand to bring low the true monsters of the world.”

She looked back at her sword, “Blades kill too easy. But my fists are my hands. A sword must be sheathed to be seen as peaceful. I need only open my hand and offer it to do the same.”

Having spoken it out loud for the first time in years, Elly was able to start to form a more codified version. Stepping back, she held her hand out, palm down, “The gods are fallible as are men. My oath is to the very concept of Honesty, Compassion, Honor, and Duty. That I might serve the needs of all gods, all men, all that have good will and the need of help.”

She turns her hand palm up, “The Angel can fall, and the Devil can transcend. I will give quarter to any that ask save a true monster. A true monster is that which has actively rejected all light from their heart. Such beings, whether in heaven or hell, deserve my full wrath.” She punctuates her statement by clenching her fist and punching it into her left palm.

She spread her arms wide, hands open again, “I pledge to help any that I can. To do the least harm I am able. To strike down the true monsters. To lead the fallen and the lost to the light, and I look to all the gods and all my friends to help me stay in that same light.

“My oath is to the Hallowed Hope that springs eternal in every heart”

Sir Dulgear smiled, “Unorthodox, and while I don’t fully agree, I can’t see any personal fault with your view point. Such an oath would normally be a tenous thing. Swearing to the very nature of things. So nebulous. But… you don’t look at it that way. Your faith is in a deeper ideal.” He offers his hand, “I hope you find strength in your oath always and that the gods find favor in your devotion, even if it’s not directly to them.”

Dulgear smiled. Sure, a paladin could get silly with their speachafying, but it was also a part of what they did. It wasn’t so much pageantry of words as much as their words guided by their faith and hearts. “Elizabeth Camilla Makeda of the Sacred Oath of Devotion to the Hallowed Hope. I welcome you.” He grinned wider, “Now, let's look into designing you some ‘hallowed knuckles’ to go with that oath of yours.”