#i guess this is mostly my fault for not starting earlier but u know

[kitkat-of-doom]

Someone please give me the motivation to do my fucking homework

[vikki-the-critter]

I'm so happy to see so much Roman crit bc for some reason he's always been a fan favorite alongside Virgil (and honestly I can't stand either of them lol) but I'm even happier about the Patton defense!! It feels like the fans blame him for anything happening ever. They're just biased imo bc I can tell you FOR SURE that if it wasn't for c!Thomas' Christian background being connected to Patton's character, ppl wouldn't be so hard on him. At least I don't remember half the fandom demonizing him in the earlier days of the show. Anyway thanks for the cool posts <3

Yeah, haha. I do love Roman (and Virgil) but he gets basically zero criticism. Not just in fanon, but in canon, too. I don't think he'd be half as annoying if he got called out/suffered consequences for his actions. The only time Roman's made a meaningful sacrifice is SvS, and it was basically turned into a bad thing in SvSr. (Which is mostly c!Thomas' fault, and I will always stand by this. I should start posting c!Thomas crit, there's not nearly enough of it, haha)

Roman in SvS: I think we should go to the wedding, and that's my decision, because I don't want to be deceitful.

Roman in SvSr: I made a bad choice to go to the wedding, except no, I didn't, it was Patton's fault, actually. In fact, I'm going to blame Patton more than Janus, and then get mad when Patton (somewhat rightfully) won't defend me against him.

H U H

The fandom: Roman is right.

H U H

I could bitch about SvSr for a while, and I probably will, but that's for another time.

But, yeah, Patton. He gets way too much hate, and I think that's in part, because of his stans. All the sides have toxic stans, but I think Patton's might be the most vocal. I'm not 100% sure, though, Virgil stans might be louder. I know annoying/aggressive stans can ruin a character for people. Not to say that's the only valid reason to dislike him, there are plenty of valid reasons. However, I think those reasons are overblown sometimes. Patton can be pushy, but so can the other sides. I'd say the others are pushier, actually.

When Patton doesn't want to do something, the others (including c!Thomas) will push and push until he gives in, because they know he'll give in.

They know Patton is soft in the heart. They know Patton wants to make Thomas and others happy. They know Patton is holding back, because he's the peace-keeper and has "real" thoughts on things that he's not saying. And, yet, Patton is seen as the pushy one in the fandom (and canon), because he *checks notes* has strong opinions about his role/function and stands up for them passionately. Gee, that doesn't sound like the other sides at all. The other sides totally don't fight for their opinion to an almost annoying and overbearing degree. Only Patton does that. Yep. (sarcasm)

I think Virgil might be the worst with pushiness, actually, but he's the fandom baby, so he's never called out for it.

If I had to guess, Patton gets more heat for pushiness, because he's often not aligned with what the audience wants. In SvS, Thomas and Roman wanted to go to the callback, so the audience also wanted that. And Patton wanted to go to the wedding, so, the audience was against him. At least, that's what I think based on fandom reception to SvS, SvSr, and other episodes. I actually think the audience was originally supposed to side with Patton, but when they didn't, Thomas acted like the intention was for us to side with him and Roman.

I digress.

The fandom is 100% biased, haha. Which, is understandable, to a degree. The fandom is pretty queer, and a lot of queer people have religious trauma. So, I understand being uncomfortable with a character tied to religion. The problem is the hypocrisy. All of Thomas characters are tied to religion, because Thomas (the character and the real man) is tied to religion. Thomas was raised Catholic, and that comes up in certain episodes. And, the funny thing is, most of the time, it's not Patton bringing it up.

It's usually someone using religion against him or using it to reason with him. But, Patton's not forcing it on anyone. To be fair, religion is part of why Patton's being too strict in DWIT, but it's not the main driving force. Patton might be the most religious side, but his actual philosophy seems closer to "do no harm, take no shit", or at least it used to be, before he was convinced he was the bad guy. There's so much to say about how much and the way Patton's character has changed, but most of it is heartbreaking. I might write that someday, but not today, haha.

But, I'd also like to add that the bias against Patton probably also comes from him being straight passing and him being the Dad Character™.

Patton isn't all that visibly queer, so I think that makes it harder for visibly queer fanders to relate to him. Unlike Virgil and Roman, who are not only more visibly queer, but much more vocally queer.

I wouldn't say Patton is shy with his way of showing queerness or anything, but I don't think it's as inviting or digestible to young queers watching the show as the other sides' are. Logan was also a victim of this for a while, until the orange side stuff started happening, then he was woobified to the moon and back. But, that should also be its own post. My main point being, it's a lot harder for people to sympathize with someone they relate very little to. In fact, the harder it is to relate to someone, the easier it is to villainize them.

Then there's the thing that Patton might remind fanders of their Dad From Real Life and hold that against him. Which is understandable. Emotions are valid, and there's nothing wrong with using characters to vent/cope. But, it becomes a problem when people are blind to how the characters actually act. When people act like their emotions are canon characterization and hate on anyone who knows canon. That's unfair to the character and, more importantly, the real people just trying to talk about the character.

I can't tell you how many times I've tried to have a discussion about a character, that ended up fruitless, because the person I was talking to was mad at Someone From Real Life. It's exhausting. And, again, emotions are valid, but sometimes we have to put our emotions to the side and look at the character's actual actions. Easier said than done, I know. Ironic to say that when talking about the character that is technically in charge of Thomas' feelings, haha. Which, again, should be its own post, because I kind of hate that.

It's not fair that one side is in charge of Thomas' feelings, especially, since the sides have their own feelings. Feelings that Patton is supposed to take care off, too, apparently. Patton has way too much weight put on him, and the others basically outright refuse to alleviate any of that weight.

Anyway, thank you for the nice ask. Feel free to send more, I love answering them. As you can probably tell from how long this post is, haha.

[apsarrow]

i am interested in the dabi redemption essay 👁👁

Okay, so I wanna preface this with this is all just my opinion based on my own experiences and interpretation of his character, just, so, you know people don't come after me for having opinions.

I am putting it under a read-more because it's very long!

Essentially my interpretation of his character is that he is someone who has been abused and neglected a lot as a kid. He was told he would be a great pro-hero, he had it drilled into him so much that he took it became his sole goal in life which is very much understandable because kids are easily influenced. As far as I can tell, he was never presented with any other hobbies and so, never developed any other interests. Having his goal crushed at a such a young age - which is understandable because he was hurting himself, it's not a realistic goal but a kid that young is not gonna understand without having it explained properly, which it wasn't - would be a very traumatic experience and would result in a lack of identity. I think To(u)ya (sp???) was a teenager when this happened so the development of his own identity is pretty crucial at that stage of development and a lack of any sort of identity can be pretty harmful. Also, this is a very long analysis of his early childhood but I promise it's relevant so just hold on, please.

Anyways, as I see it, he really just wanted to prove himself to his dad and his dad never explained why it wasn't possible in a way that he would understand. I believe his parents encouraged him to make friends but really they should have encouraged to take part in other hobbies and activities way earlier whilst he was doing all his training, regardless of any injury or non-injury. It's simply not healthy to present a young child with one purpose, encourage them to pursue it and ignore any other parts of life, and then expect them to just be immediately able to adjust to not being able to pursue the one purpose they were given.

So, when something that traumatising happens, kids will have many different reactions, and you can see it in all the Todoroki children. Some will repress it and have to deal with it later in life (Shoto), some will try to fix it and make things better (Fuyumi), some will be rightfully upset about it (Natsuo), and some will be outright angry and will lash out at others. All are equally valid responses to a traumatic experiences but that does not make it okay to hurt other innocent people. So, this is where the redemption comes into it. Touya has hurt (and murdered) many innocent people as a way of coping with these traumatic experiences. He turned on the world and told the world it wasn't good enough (which it's not, hero society is a shitshow but that's a whole other essay) and he made everything the world's problem. Frankly, I don't blame him for doing this because he was never given the type of support that would allow him to develop healthy coping mechanisms. It's still not okay to do this but it's not really his fault because from my perspective, he's just kinda figuring it out on his own. This is something that happens a lot in real life. People are abused, they are not supported by people around them or are in fact completely isolated as a result of the abuse, they lash out and hurt people. Often, people will realise later in life that this is not good for them and they will seek out therapy and try to develop healthier behaviours.

Now, when you're surrounded by other victims who view the world the same way that you do, it can be hard to recognise your own faults because your actions are constantly being validated. I know I said earlier his response was valid so now it's time for some clarity - his feelings are valid, not his actions but the LOV essentially validate his actions because they're doing the exact same thing. They are victims of abuse or neglect in various forms and they are lashing out at the world and they are finding small successes which kind of reinforces this idea that this is the right path to take and it's all okay. If your shitty actions are being validated constantly, you're never gonna reach that point where you realise you're actually hurting a lot of people and that's not okay and you're never going to try to get help or improve on anything.

So, like I said before, this is something that happens in real life. People do get abused in real life and some people have this reaction. Sure, they're not gonna go out and murder people but they will hurt friends and family. This is a thing that happens. And I think redemption for Touya would be most meaningful to those people who have been abused and do relate strongly to his character. The message would be that it is not your fault that you were abused, you are not inherently a bad person for lashing out you but you cannot keep hurting others. Touya realising this might even encourage people who do have this mindset to seek help and improve their own lives. And I also think that, if done properly with a scene where Touya explicitly does not forgive his dad yet still becomes a better person, it would be a good example of how you do not have to forgive your abuser for the pain that they have caused you but again, you absolutely cannot hurt innocent people just because you are in pain.

Ultimately, I think it would be an incredibly uplifting story about overcoming abuse and neglect, and the ways in which you can be a better person despite your past.

BUT, I also think it would have to be incredibly well-written because as it stands, Touya is not in a place to do this right now. As far as I can see, he still does not have any other hobbies or interests. His purpose simply shifted from being a hero to hurting the person that hurt him. He needs hobbies and interests and a goal that doesn't revolve around hurting others before he can start to make any sort of steps towards redemption. And if I'm being totally honest, I don't think it's going to happen. I'd like to see it but I don't think there's enough time left in the story (obviously I don't know how long is actually left of the story, I'm mostly just guessing here) for all the steps that need to be taken in order for him to be fully redeemed without it seeming rushed or badly written. And I think, unfortunately (for me more than anything because I really wanted to see this), his main purpose seems to be to push Endeavor's redemption arc further.

[darkfairy-tales]

Insanity - Chapter 1

Description: She was an angel who came across the devil himself and her existence drove him insane.

Pairing: Sangyeon x Reader

Genre: Mafia au

Warning: Mentions of blood. Swearing.

"Shouldn't have stayed long! Shouldn't have helped Minsu. Should have gone home earlier. God why is it so dark." You ranted to yourself as you closed down the cafe and looked up at the sky. The moon was mostly covered by some cloud and only few little stars were there. You sighed. The lack of moonlight and the lack of proper lightning on the streets made everything so creepy. On top of that it was really late for you. You were jalf glad that you didn't stayed with your parents. Oh they would have given you a whole speech on how dangerous it is if you ever got back home to them late at night. The cafe you worked at was owned by Minsu's family. She was your bestfriend. She was usually the one who closed down the shop at the end of the day which was usually at around 10:30pm. For her it was nothing as her house was just a block away. But your house was a little far. She had a date tonight and had literally begged you to close down for her for the night. You had agreed even though you were a little hesitant. You weren't a fan of staying out till late. Putting the keys inside your bag and your phone in your hand you started walking down the streets. Your breath hitching everytime you heard some sort of noise. You completely stilled in front of an narrow alleyway which was dark when you heard a hush voice. "Fuck fuck fuck." You heard someone curse with a groan in a hush voice. You gulped willing yourself to not look at the dark. You walked forwards gripping your phone.

'What if it is someone who needs my help? What if someone is in dire need of help and if I just walk away they might get hurt and fuck it would be my fault.' You thought to yourself. "Oh screw this!" You groaned stomping your foot on the concrete. You turned back and walked inside the dark alley turning the torch of your phone on using it as the source of light to guide you. "H-Hello! Is anyone here?" You called out shivering. You looked at each side to see who it was. You almost stopped breathing when your eyes fell on a guy. He was... handsome. Sharp features. And you would have commented on it if it weren't for the fact that the guy was literally a stranger, in a dark alley with you and had what seemed like a gun shot wound with blood dripping out. You squeaked. 'Gunshot wound!' you screamed internally. The guy had also looked up at you. He looked surprised and alarmed. "Who the fuck are you?" The guy literally snarled. You stepped back a little. You turned around planning to run away but stopped. "Fuck I can't leave you here." You mumbled. You walked up towards the guy. "Mr. uh sh-should I call an ambulance. Oh my god shit you are... you are loosing too much blood." You rambled. "Don't fucking dare call an ambulance. I can't go to hospital or shit." He growled. "What do I do then! You can't die." You hissed. He looks at you oddly. "Why do you care?" He asked narrowing his eyes at you. "I can't.. I can't just leave someone bleeding out here like this! I am not cruel enough to do that. And if you died here I will be guilty till the day I die." You deadpanned.

"You need medical help. You are l-loosing too much blood Mr." You said. "I said I can't go to hospital." He hissed. You sighed as you took off your bag, opening it. Your pulled out your scarf. 'I am sorry dear beautiful scarf.' "Put your hands away." You said. "What are you trying to do?" He asked not moving his hands at all. "Help. So that you don't die." You said as you pulled his hands away from the wound. You used your scarf to press against the wound. Looking down at the wound seriously. "I am Y/N." You said shortly. You weren't sure why you felt the need to introduce yourself but you did. "Sangyeon. I guess you at least deserve to know my name." He says cockily making you click your tongue. "Press it against the wound. Don't let yourself bleed out too much." You said and he followed your instruction. "Is there anyone you can call? Like anyone who can help you." You asked as you stood in front of him. He smirks looking right into your eyes. "Pretty girls like you shouldn't run after me." He says in a low voice. He couldn't believe how stubborn you were. He sat leaning against the dirty wall of the alley, a gunshot wound on his side.

If it was someone else they would have ran away or called police. But you. You were different. You didn't even knew him yet you were so willing to help him. Sangyeon wasn't so sure if you were too kind for your own good or just plain stupid. You were just like an innocent angel while he was a devil. You weren't supposed to be here. And totally not supposed to try help him. "Give me your phone." He says. You were hesitant but still handed it to him. You saw him dial a number and tap 'call' button. "Sunwoo. Listen. Come to where I am. Yes I am fine! Well as fine as a person who has been shot is." Sangyeon grumbled. He pauses as he listens closesly whatever the other man was saying. He looked up at you making you look away feeling a little shy. "Come fast. I don't know if they are still after me." He says pulling away the phone and ending the call. "You realize you didn't tell the guy where you are." You sassed. "They can track me. Don't worry your pretty little head." He says chuckling. "Are you... really fine?" You asked a bit concerned noticing how he seem to have gotten a bit pale. "I will be fine sweetheart. But I think you should run away at the moment. My men are coming and I don't think they would really appreciate your presence." Sangyeon says.

You bit your lips feeling hesitant but also dying to go home. There were blood on your hand and you were desperate to wash it away. "Okay fine I will... I will go. Give me my phone." You says putting your hands out. "I can't. I have to keep it with myself. My men are going to be tracking your phone to find me so I need it. I will give it back to you soon." He says. You look at him eith your mouths open. "B-but my phone-" You stuttered but stopped. "No can do sweet heart. Now now run. You should go fast." He says with a smirk. You weren't sure if your heart was beating so fast because you were scared or because of the fact that this sangyeon guy, whatever he was, was so so charming and not to forget beautiful. "Take care." It's the last words you say as you gripped your bag, turning around and walking out of the alley. You literally ran towards your house. Shortly after a while you reached there. You huffed as you tried to take deep breathes in feeling the lack of oxygen with how fast you ran and how choked up you felt. You unlocked the door, your hands shaking while doing so. You carefully walked inside the house and into your room. You went to the bathroom directly. "W-why the hell this doesn't go away fast!" You whisper yelled as you rinsed your hands under the water wiping the blood away. After rinsing away all the blood carefully you washed your face and changed into your PJs, flopping down on the bed immediately. Too tired. You mind was a mess. Your heart was still beating fast. That night you dreamed of guns, blood and a certain guy names Sangyeon.

[Next Day]

The next day you woke up early and got ready to to the cafe to open it as the key was with you. Minsu comes to the cafe a few minutes after you had opened up the cafe and were setting up some things. "Y/N!!! I had such an amazing night! Younghoon is such a damn nice guy! He asked for a second date and I agreed. And what the hell! Why did you pick up my calls! I kept calling you last night. Because I wanted to thank you again and also make sure you were okay." Minsu rambles. You gulp. "U-Uh I lost my phone yesterday on my way back to home. Tried to find but I couldn't. Maybe someone took it." You lied. Minsu gasped. "You need to get a new one then! I mean without phone how can we even keep in touch with each other." She says. You chuckled at her. "Yes yes I will. For now let's finish setting up everything. Customers are going to start coming in." You said as you walked at the back to prepare a drink for you and Minsu.

'I hope he is fine.' You found yourself thinking about Sangyeon while making the drink. "Aish why am I even thinking about him?" You asked yourself. "Him? Who is this 'him' huh? A boyfriend perhaps?" Minsu says smiling sheepishly as she approached you. You alnost choked on air at her words. "No one! I was talking about... about my idols! Kai hurt his foot again and I am worried and I keep thinking about him!" You blurted out an excuse. Before Minsu could ask more there was a sound of bells jingling as a customer entered and you were thankful as it stopped Minsu from asking something more. She walks out to greet the customer, leaving you again. You just couldn't tell Minsu about the guy from last night. She will freak out and might end up calling police for all you knew. You sighed to yourself looking outside to see another customer walk in. "It's gonna be a long day~" You mumbled to yourself as you went out to take orders. Hopefully you wouldn't be worrying and thinking about the Sangyeon guy the whole day.

Trailer || Next Chapter

Hello everyone! I am so sorry it took so much time to update this! But yayy my exan finally ended and I can finally post more now! I hope you enjoyed reading this. Don't forget to like and reblog! I will try to post as fast as I can again!

Love you all~ Buiii ♪ ♬ ヾ(´︶`♡)ﾉ ♬ ♪ ❤❤

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 18

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Leo's life is hard (but maybe there's some hope left).

A/N: Yay, time for a new chapter! I decided to make Friday my new posting day so that’s when the future updates will (hopefully) happen.

It's not time to resolve the previous drama quite yet but dw, that's coming! Meanwhile, I hope you'll enjoy this Leo centered chapter. It’s also time to bring Frank in!

Don't forget to let me know what you think! :)

Characters in this ch: Leo, Frank, Georgina, Jo, Emmie

Words: 1700+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / next chapter / AO3

...

“Maldita sea!” Leo yelled at himself as his wrench flew at the wall, thankfully not causing damage to it. Nothing he tried to fix or build that day seemed to go right. He hadn’t been able to figure out a pretty basic seeming issue in someone’s phone, one of his own inventions had broken and even solving a physics problem that would usually have managed to distract him only felt frustrating.

There was a lot going on in Leo’s head. Well, he’d argue that he always had a lot going on there due to his ADHD, but this time his usual methods to calm himself down didn’t seem to work. He would probably have to quit studying the only field he was truly interested in. He couldn’t do his work. His flatmate for whom he may or may not have started slowly developing some very not flatmate appropriate feelings had apparently had a thing for his friend, which not only complicated Leo’s situation with Calypso but also with Percy. And his mother’s death anniversary was coming, which was always a hard time for him. Leo imagined she’d probably be so disappointed if she saw him now. ‘My son, a failure in every aspect of life’. No, Leo’s real mother had been way too nice to actually say something like that out loud, but he just knew she’d at least think that. And Jo, Emmie and Georgina were counting on him too.

After throwing the wrench, Leo decided to take a break because his hands had started shaking too much to continue working. Taking a deep breath, he leaned against his worktable, closed his eyes and started tapping a rhythm that he had memorized years ago. His mother had taught him Morse code when he was a kid, and this particular phrase was one she had used a lot when he had needed calming down. Written down, the code looked like this:

.. .-.. --- ...- . -.-- --- ..-

I l o v e y o u

He whispered it very quietly a couple of times before looking out from the window and saying aloud:

“Mom. I’m trying to be strong. I really am. But sometimes it just gets too fucking hard. Everything seemed to be fine. Really. My other family is great. I was studying something I actually cared about. My new flatmate… uh, she’s an interesting force of nature. But if she likes someone like Percy… I’d never have a chance. And all my career plans are about to run down to the sewers because I can’t use fire, in any way. Not because of what happened to you. Because of what I... I just feel lost.”

He took a deep breath and rubbed the corner of his eye dry quickly. Saying his thoughts aloud seemed to make him feel a little bit better, and he decided that maybe getting out of the flat and getting some exercise would help with the shakiness. To his relief Calypso wasn’t home either so he didn’t have to answer any awkward questions about why he looked like such a mess. Leo found himself jogging all the way to Waystation, which was several miles from his flat. As he reached the yard, he noticed Georgina with Festus, but even with her back to him he could sense something was wrong. Of course. There was always some way the day could get even worse.

“Hi, hermanita!” he started, trying to sound cheerful even though he didn’t think he was a very good actor. Georgie could probably see right through him. His suspicions were confirmed when Festus didn’t even run to greet him as he usually did. “What’s going on?”

“I tried to call you,” she said, hiding her worry badly. “Moms went to run some errands and something… something happened to him…”

“What do you mean? What exactly happened?” Leo insisted on knowing.

Georgina seemed to grow more and more upset each moment. “I… I gave him a bully stick… but I forgot to put it in a holder even though moms always say you should do that when you give him one because he always tries to swallow them so fast… And then he started feeling sick...”

To prove her point, Festus, who was laying on the ground, made a loud gagging sound. After that he tried to whine but even that didn’t sound like it usually did.

Leo’s ADHD kicked immediately in, in the form of him wanting to act fast.

“We’ll discuss this later, I need to borrow Jo’s car now that I can take him to the vet,” he exclaimed and ran inside the house to get the keys to the car from the spot Jo usually kept them. He picked them and Festus’ leash and ran back, telling Georgina to stay home to tell Jo and Emmie what happened when they’d return.

At least one thing went right that day: the emergency vet clinic was fairly quiet when Leo arrived there. Not long after that, the vet took Festus in. He had an intern with him; a young man who Leo suspected had his roots somewhere in East Asia. He had black, short hair, a bulky body and kind of child like face even though the intern was probably older than Leo. As the vet asked Leo some questions about what exactly had happened to Festus, the student wrote down some notes and occasionally added a short comment as well. When Leo was about to explain why exactly Festus had gotten issues with the bully stick, he heard the intern mutter something to himself.

“What was that?” Leo asked a bit more aggressively than he had planned, having already been stressed even before the issue with Festus had come up. He had to admit, though, that it had distracted him from the other issues.

“Nothing,” the intern quickly said, pretending to focus on his papers again.

Leo didn’t give up that easily. “I heard you, though. You were implying that I had somehow caused this.”

“Well, you did give him the bully stick, didn’t you?” the young man asked.

“I wasn’t even there when he got one!” Leo growled, starting to feel the frustrations from earlier that day flooding out of his system. “My… uh, little sister gave him one when our parents left to run some errands and he kept whining and wanted something to chew! It wasn’t her fault either, she’s a child and she didn’t know that could happen!”

“Mister Valdez, please calm down a bit,” the vet interrupted him, and Leo immediately shut up. “There’s no need to yell. Festus is going to be just fine; I’m going to give him some medicine and fluids to help with digesting the stick and we can watch how he’s doing overnight. And Frank, please don’t make assumptions like that about clients.”

“Yes, sir,” Frank said, to Leo’s surprise actually looking regretful. Then he turned to Leo. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Nah, I kinda lost my cool there too…” Leo said, the frustration leaving when he saw Frank’s face.

“Kinda,” the intern said, attempting to joke about the situation.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that;” Leo rubbed the back of his neck.

After that the vet asked Leo a couple of more questions and did some more examinations on Festus while Frank helped him.

“Other than this stick issue, he seems like a healthy dog,” the vet complimented after the check up. “His fur and teeth look good. I think you’ve been taking good care of him.”

“Well, to be honest he lives more with my parents than me because they have a lot more space…” Leo said, “But yeah, we all try our best. Even Georgina, my sister.”

“I’m glad to hear that. It’s a good thing you got him here that fast so he’ll get the best possible treatment,” The vet said.

After that he wrote some notes on the computer and then dismissed Leo who scratched Festus from behind his ear and promised to come back soon to get him. As he was putting his jean jacket on in the lobby, the intern, Frank, approached him.

“About what happened earlier, I really am sorry. It isn’t like me to attack clients; you can even ask my boss about that. I just…”

“Chill, man,” Leo said. “I’ve heard this story before. People assume things about me because I look like a problem teenager. Truth to be told? You’re not entirely wrong. But things have changed. And trust me, Festus is my best friend and I’d do anything for him. I’m sure Georgie has learned her lesson too now.”

“Good to hear that,” Frank said and extended his arm to Leo. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow when you’re coming to get Festus.”

Leo nodded. “Yep, I have a feeling my whole family will want to join me. Anyway, I’m off now. Thanks for the help!”

“I’m glad we could help!” Frank told him before he started walking towards his car.

...

Jo and Emmie had already returned to Waystation when Leo got there.

“Is everything OK?” Emmie asked immediately. “We didn’t really get much out of Georgina… Just that something had happened to Festus and you took him to the vet.”

“Nah, it’s gonna be fine!” Leo reassured her. “He got some digestion issues because he gobbled a bully stick too fast but that’s being taken care of now. Georgie sure remembers to be more careful from now on, won’t ya, hermanita?” he addressed the young girl then.

“I will…” she promised, not even protesting about the nickname this time.

Once Leo had explained with more details what had happened at the vet and it became clear that Festus would be fine soon, the family moved to other matters. Unlike usually, Leo was happy with mostly listening to the others. The incident had reminded him that there were bigger matters than girl issues or his studies and he realized that those things didn’t feel quite as hard to overcome now as a few hours ago. Yes, he still needed to deal with them, and yes, his past would probably never stop entirely haunting him, but when he had people like this around him? It wouldn’t be impossible.

[choupichoups]

And this you'll find in fiction :: 1/1 ::

A persistent chill at the tips of his toes wakes him.

He makes a lazy attempt to shove the sheets further down, all the while using as little movement as possible. Newsflash: it doesn’t work, and he’s stuck with a niggling awareness to the cool temperature inside the room, out of place with the scorching heat from outside. 

The first thing he hears is the sound of Lucas’ alarm— knows it’s Lucas’ simply because Eliott would never set up such an irritating chime as his daily wake up call. It rings loud above the humming of the portable air conditioning unit Lucas and his roommates have been recently obsessed with.

The first thing he smells is something homely, something familiar, and he’s hit with a creeping nostalgia, welcoming that same feeling he gets whenever visiting the bakery around the corner that he and his parents used to frequent.

The first thing he sees is Lucas— eyes closed, breathing even. Eliott’s chest warms, forgetting about the cold touch on his body as Lucas snuffles, snuggling closer into Eliott’s space, chasing contact when Eliott jostles them a little too much. 

With one finger, he runs a soft line along the bridge of Lucas’ nose, watching it wrinkle at the disturbance. He doesn’t have to wait long until those pretty eyes flutter open, sleep darkened blues blinking in gradual awareness. 

“Hi.” Eliott’s voice barely makes a sound, but Lucas responds just as sweetly, head tilting into the dips of Eliott’s hand. His flushed cheeks fit perfectly inside Eliott’s hold, as if Lucas truly were made for his touch alone. It’s a phenomenon Eliott continuously marvels at— how he and Lucas are vastly different, two puzzle pieces belonging to a separate whole, yet when put together, somehow, somehow, they manage to fight their mould. And they fit. They fit so well that attempting to pry the other apart is a challenge taken only by an utter idiot. 

“Morning,” Lucas mumbles into his pillow, eyes falling shut when Eliott starts massaging a hand through his hair. Eliott basks in the serenity of the moment. 

Which is a good thing, apparently, because when Lucas next opens his eyes, they’re wide and panicked. He gasps too, the sound of it a tad bit concerning for Eliott’s muddled brain. He means to ask what’s wrong, arms ready to comfort and lips ready to form soothing words.

The last thing he expects is the stunning, albeit cushiony, force of a pillow being shoved right into his face. Eliott lets his body fall back dramatically, blinking rapidly when the pillow is removed and Lucas scrambles to pet all over Eliott’s face, squeaky apologies pouring out his lips. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Lucas fumbles, “uh, go back to sleep.” He grabs the sheets around them and starts tucking the corners around Eliott as if swaddling him like an infant would instantly knock Eliott back to sleep. 

“What.” Now fully awake, Eliott no longer feels all that chilly. It’s starting to feel quite warm, actually, so he squirms around to try and escape his blanket entrapment. “No, I can’t go back to sleep now.”

“Yes, you can,” Lucas insists, moving on to fluffing the pillows up around Eliott’s head. He’s mumbling something under his breath but when Eliott leans up to catch the words better, two firm hands on his chest keep Eliott where he is. “Stay right there.” 

He doesn’t get to respond. Lucas rushes out of the room quick as lightning, tripping over the bedding as he gets out. Eliott laughs at him, freeing one arm from the sheets so he can sit up. There’s a clanging sound in the kitchen but Eliott figures Lucas would call out to him if any assistance is needed. 

“Oh!” A dull thunk of metal on counter. The light padding of quick footsteps. Lucas returns inside the bedroom empty handed, a whirlwind of loose shirts and wild hair and bright eyes. “Happy birthday!” he breathes out, jumping into bed with a loud kiss to Eliott’s forehead. The latter laughs at the ridiculousness of it, fitting warm hands around Lucas’ waist, dragging him down for a proper kiss.

But Lucas is gone again before Eliott could even process the weight shifting off his lap. 

Denied of kisses? On his very birthday? How criminal. 

“Lucas!” He calls out once he’s decided that his boyfriend’s been gone long enough. “Come back here.” 

He gets back a muffled, “Hold on!” And when Lucas returns for the second time, he’s holding a small plate of what looks like fruit tart in between two hands. “I’m running a little behind schedule, but we can’t miss the breakfast cake.”

Eliott’s not going to be the one to tell him that that’s not a cake. “So there’re gonna be a lunch cake?” he asks, mostly joking. He chokes on a laugh when Lucas gives him a look that says, duh, what do you take me for? “Baby—”

“I got this from that bakery you like,” Lucas continues on, carefully sitting on one of Eliott’s spread legs so that the tart is held deliciously under his nose. “And there’s some croissants and other stuff in the kitchen for later.” No wonder the apartment smells like the bakery itself. “For now you can blow out your first candle.”

Eliott just smiles at him, indulgent. “How many candles do I get?” 

“Three.”

“Three wishes, huh?”

Lucas beams, nodding. “Whatever you want.” 

Eliott blows the candle out, wishing for time to stand still. He knows it’s irrational. “What’s this schedule thing you’re on about?”

He watches Lucas meticulously remove the candle from the middle of the tart, brushing off any drops of wax left behind. “I was actually gonna wake you up earlier,” Lucas says, cutting into the dessert with a fork. “But I fell asleep after the bakery.” 

Eliott snorts, dutifully opening his mouth to eat the piece Lucas holds up for him. It’s too big a bite, so he can’t respond right away. Lucas probably does it on purpose.

“Shut up, it’s your fault. Looking all cozy in bed.” Lucas reaches up the corner of Eliott’s lips and wipes off a bit of cream, popping his thumb in his own mouth to lick it off right after. It’s an absent gesture, Eliott’s sure Lucas doesn’t mean to look half as alluring doing it as he does. But, well, Eliott’s only human.

He hums distractedly, unable to recall what they’d been talking about. 

“Do you like this?” Lucas asks after swallowing his own mouthful of tart. 

Another hum, and then Eliott presses their lips together, licking into Lucas’ mouth, tasting sugar and fruit and Lucas. It’s a divine mix, he thinks. The sweetest thing to ever settle on his tongue. It’s a pity he’s discovered this so early in life— nothing else would ever quench his craving quite like this one from now on. 

“Yeah,” he whispers into Lucas' lips, unwilling to part just yet. He nibbles on those soft lips, can’t get enough of the pliant give under his teeth. “I like this.” 

Lucas leans back with a quiet giggle. “The cake, Eliott.” 

Eliott only shakes his head, smile so wide his jaw aches with it. Reaching up, he holds Lucas’ chin between thumb and forefinger, gently steering their lips back together. He feels Lucas reach behind himself to settle the plate on the nightstand. 

“The cake is good too, I guess.” 

Lucas' laughter is music.

Eliott tugs at the back of his knee until Lucas throws his legs over both of Eliott’s, settling properly over his lap as Lucas’ hands card gently through Eliott’s sheet mussed hair. Lucas leans down, kissing Eliott close mouthed before murmuring, “We’ve gotta finish breakfast. There’s a long day ahead of you, mister Demaury.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Can I use my first wish, though?” 

“Who said I’m the one granting your wishes?”

Eliott’s eyes pop open, offended. “Who else?” 

“I don’t know, the universe? Fate? Deities?” Lucas moves to get off of him but Eliott holds him tight, pouting miserably. “You are an actual spoiled brat.” 

“Says you.”

“What?”

“I said I love you.” 

Lucas eyes him dubiously. “I love you too.” 

“Great! So can I have my wish now?” Eliott grins at Lucas’ answering groan. He’d known it was a winning battle from the start. 

“Jesus Christ, okay, fine, what does your highness want?” 

Eliott’s grin softens into a close lipped smile, hands gliding from Lucas’ sides up to his face. His hands have held Lucas this way a hundred times, yet his touch is no less reverent. 

“Can we stay here for a while? I just want to look at you.” He’s aware of how sappy that sounds, but any and all future ribbing about this moment is worth the blush that colours Lucas’ cheeks right this minute. His smile is small, shy, like he can’t believe Eliott would say something like that. It’s a work in progress, convincing Lucas just how beautiful he is. Eliott would work on it forever if he has to. 

Lucas nods, the curve of his forearms a gentle cradle around Eliott’s neck, foreheads pressed close together. Eliott keeps his eyes wide open even as Lucas’ slide close. One hand stays on Lucas’ cheek, thumb brushing aimlessly around a smooth cheekbone. It takes him back to that morning after their first kiss, when he’d been granted the privilege of seeing Lucas soft with sleep for the very first time. Eliott is yet to figure out how to keep from losing his breath at the sight of it. 

But of course Lucas has to ruin the moment eventually. “Not that I don’t enjoy this but I really do have plans for us.” 

Eliott groans, “Can’t we just stay here forever?” 

There’s an absolutely wonderful smile that breaks out on Lucas’ face and Eliott is, at once, found weak against it. Goddamn it. 

“No, silly. I have a list and everything.” 

“You made a list?” 

Lucas nods, flopping over Eliott to search underneath his pillow near the headboard. He brandishes a crumpled sheet of paper with a triumphant sound that has Eliott feeling gooey with adoration. “Here, look!” 

“Wow, that’s a long list.” 

“The plan is to romance the hell out of you.” 

“Right. Lucas Lallemant. King of romance.” 

“I don’t appreciate your tone but anyway.” Lucas tries to get off again and Eliott is getting real tired of it so he tumbles them back into bed, using his weight to keep Lucas in place even as the latter squirms and laughs out weak protests. “Eliott! Come on, there’s romancing to be done!” 

“No offence, baby, but the only romance you own is your hoodie.” Eliott kisses Lucas’ cheek as his mouth opens and closes wordlessly, shocked at being called out so rudely. 

“Oh, fuck you.” 

“Let me see that list again.”

“No, you’ve lost that privilege.” Lucas turns on his side, hiding the piece of paper in his arms. 

“Please, Lucas,” Eliott laughs, “I’m joking.” He tries to turn his boyfriend over but Lucas resists, holding tight onto the list even when Eliott’s fingers crawl ticklishly over his sides. 

“Don’t!”

“Show me the list!”

“No!”

“It’s literally my birthday and you’re denying me things.”

“Birthdays don’t mean a free pass!’

They tussle around in bed, cackling up at the ceiling, giggling into each other’s space. The room is sweet with their leftover breakfast, warm with their mingling breaths, soft with careful touches, and as they settle down on their sides, Lucas a firm, reassuring shape against Eliott’s chest, Eliott thinks about a version of himself from five years ago. Three years ago. One year ago. 

The one who wishes for the kind of love in the story books. The one who hopes for the happy ending in the movies. The one who craves to feel the connection they talk about in love songs.

“Eiffel tower? Lucas, come on, it’s sweltering outside.” 

“Romance, Eliott. Romance.” 

“I can think of more romantic things to do without leaving this bed.” Eliott fits his lips over the gentle curve of Lucas’ neck, the tip of his nose nuzzling against smooth skin. 

Lucas’ shoulder lifts slightly at the ticklish sensation. “I bet you can but I’m not asking for your opinion, am I?” 

“Okay, I’m hurt.” 

“I’m sorry, happy birthday.”

“You can’t just wish me a happy birthday every time you say something mean, Lucas. That’s not how it works.” 

You’ll have that, he wants to tell his younger self. The one you dream of in the loneliest nights.

He feels Lucas shake with silent laughter. Watches as the beautiful creature of his dreams lets the list fall on the sheets, turns around in Eliott’s arms, and catches his lips in a kiss searing enough to rival the atrocious heat outside. “Does that work?” 

Because this.

“If you do it again, it might.” 

This story is his reality. 

[redbeanboi]

Hii. New anon here. I love your hcs!!!! Its so good and im wondering if your requests are open if yes. May i request for a mista x reader hcs where she wears a mask bc shes insecure about her face and doesnt like to take it off just like how mista doesn't like to take off his hat? Can u do something like the gang finding a way on how to take off her mask and his hat? If not you can totally ignore this ask. Thank youuuuu

hi anon! Thank you for the support :) I am actually not a hc blog; just accepting them for the fun of it. ((I can’t remember when, but I reblogged a post asking for hc requests and that’s when I started “unofficially” doing them.)) That being said, I’ll gladly fulfill your request. Thank you for asking first though! I appreciate that. Will keep this a bit on the shorter side since I have a habit of making stuff wayyy wayy too long (looking at you 3.0k mista mini-series)... xx

Mista and F!Reader who wears a mask. 

Here’s mysterious Y/n and Mista:

Mista never takes off his hat

Everyone’s been mostly okay with it, mostly because they assume it’s either always greasy or just very messy looking (fair enough, hat hair, right?)

but! once you’re assigned to Bucciarati’s team, everything changes. 

Fugo’s made a game out of guessing what’s under your mask and what’s under Mista’s hat

Narancia is curious but he doesn’t really say much other than “don’t you guys get tired of wearing the same thing all the time?”

Giorno hasn’t put much of a dress code in place and frankly doesn’t see the point in forcing either one of you to indulge in their curiosities

Bucciarati is curious but, like Giorno, isn’t interested in making you or Mista uncomfortable. Think: ‘If you’re wearing those things all the time in public, it’s probably for a personal reason’

Abbacchio claims he “isn’t very curious” and tells everyone to cut it out, but he does stare at you and Mista now and then.

Mista, on the other hand is very curious about your face. He hasn’t seen much of it, but he has seen your eyes and he thinks they’re very pretty. 

You’ve overheard him gushing about it to the others one time

“C’mon, it’s such a waste to hide all that away! Aren’t you guys curious too?”

And he only drops it when everyone else points out that ‘you cover up your hair all the time, doofus’

And as MUCH as he’d like to see the rest of your face, he’s not about to force you to take the mask off

really you’re only insecure. 

just a tiny bit

and who isn’t?

and while you’ve considered maybe taking it off once in a while around these guys

you’re terrified of letting mista see the rest of your face

what if he thinks you’re ugly 

wait

why do you care

not like you like him or anything right? haha

either way

you wouldn’t be the first person to wear a mask for those reasons

and it’s not like anyone needs to know what you look like anyway

as long as you do your job well, it shouldn’t matter whether or not you wear a mask or look cute

and it doesn’t matter if a certain team member thinks you’re attractive because--

right

ahem

anyway, mista’s got his hat, and you’ve got your mask

So the others (Abbacchio, Narancia and Fugo) decide to find a way to get your mask and Mista’s hat off

Giorno and Bucciarati want absolutely no part in any of this, but don’t think they’ll actually try to stop any of them

most of it includes very very stupid things

Like sabotaging the laundry 

which is not very effective when they realize you have dozens of that same mask in your stash

And Mista’s hat just almost never comes off

one time fugo tried to offer you something to drink, thinking you’d take the mask off

except you just sneak the straw underneath your mask and hand back his drink and respond with “that was pretty good! thanks”

and then they went back to the drawing board and asked Trish to take you to a spa

unfortunately you refused to take off your mask there

Abbacchio once slyly asked if you were into makeup and offered to give you some lipstick samples he received in the mail

but you politely decline and say “I don’t usually wear lipstick with the mask on, but thanks”

and dammit he thought he was so close

One time they tried to stain your mask with some pasta sauce (after a failed attempt to feed you some of their food again) 

and in that same afternoon they tried to dunk Mista’s head into some gross and questionable looking fountain

but then you panicked and used your stand on them 

they got a couple of bruises and mista happened to hit his head on something as he tripped and fell

Mista just got very angry at them (and makes sure to reassure you and tell you that none of this is your fault whatsoever)

And now three of Bucciarati’s team members are getting treatment from Giorno because of the injuries you gave them

And then Giorno decides to do something a little underhanded

because really, enough is enough and he’s sure that you’d both rather face a little discomfort for a brief passage of time than deal with this for the rest of your lives

“Mista, you must have hit your head on something earlier. Let me take a look at it”

And before you can blink you rush over to him

“oh that’s right. Mista, are you okay?”

“yeah i think--”

and just when you get to him and Giorno

Mista’s hat just

magically turns into a frog

and your mask just turns into a rabbit and jumps onto the floor

and bucciarati just asks the others “are you all happy now?”

Narancia’s just pointing at your face and his mouth is wide open

Fugo is kind of surprised, brow is quirked up and everything

abbacchio just shrugs because, yeah.. he’s satisfied now

“good”

bucciarati is just telling the others to quit it and leave you guys alone

and to your surprise, Mista hasn’t really said much of anything

you were expecting him to just scramble for his hat again, but instead he’s staring right at you

He’s also making an expression that you can’t exactly read

does he like it?

or maybe he thinks you’re ugly

why

does he think you’re ugly or--

Mista suddenly tears his eyes off of you and smirks at the others over his shoulder

 “would you look at that fellas--I was right after all!”

oh god

he thought you might have been cute but he’s seen your face and now he HAS proof that you’re not as cute as he initially thought

that’s why he’s smiling and blushing right?

or

well, if you’re so ugly, 

why is he smiling like a goofball?

part of you wants to scream because he just keeps looking and smiling and you’re not so sure if you can take any laughs from mista

you’re convinced he’s gearing up to make fun of you

why else would he be smiling like that

but Narancia immediately follows up with

“well I never said you were wrong”

whats that mean

“stop staring and being creeps, guys, she obviously doesn’t feel comfortable with all the attention”

and mista’s mostly right

but when you see mista’s hair

you are ready to just ignore the rest of them because his hair

it’s so

perfect?

It’s short enough to be completely covered by the hat, but !! it’s glossy and dark and kinda wavy

and it’s so cute and you just

pat his head

pat pat pat in silence

its so soft and pretty

and it smells kinda spicy

like cloves and cinnamon or something

nice warm scent

and just as you’re patting away, Mista just grabs your wrist and pulls you in a little closer and says 

“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this before, but you’re really cute”

A/N Thanks for being patient and for sending this in! I’m planning on writing a few things for Mista sooner or later, so please keep an eye out on my ao3 for those.

xx

[stayextrafrosty]

I am Your Future, I am Your Past: Chapter 7

A Roswell New Mexico soulmate AU

Note: This chapter is very Alex and Forlex heavy but I promise it’ll be worth it in the coming chapters

Read on AO3 // Chapter 1

Alex stared at the phone after the line went dead. He felt the sudden stab of pain in his chest. Something was clearly wrong, but he couldn’t just ditch out on Forrest. If there was something life threatening Michael would have said so.

“Everything alright,” Forrest asked? Alex looked at the black screen for another moment.

“Yea. Nothing I can’t figure out later.” He smiled. Forrest hesitated but then grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the doors of the building.

Alex had pointed out that with their combined knowledge from being in the military, an escape room might not be as hard as intended. Forrest insisted that was why they were going at it alone and not with another group. He had rolled his eyes and agreed. Never having done something like this before, he guessed it would be fun just by Forrest’s excitement alone.

“Alright. The rules are simple. You have one hour to make it out of the room. There is no reason to break anything as everything is accessible through clues. Make sure to check everything closely. Feel free to pick up props and move them around. Things such as wiring are marked off with tape, please don’t tamper with it. You will be entering the Area 51 bunker. You wake up after being knocked out in a cell with no windows. Good luck!” The guide led them down the hall and opened a door. She smiled as they stepped inside. She handed a walkie-talkie to Alex. “If you’re really stuck you can ask for a hint. But only three times.”

They stepped into the room, looking around at the walls that had been covered by what looked like the inside of a freight car. Various slogans were spray painted in big red and green letters. ‘We’re not alone!’ ‘They lied!’

Alex laughed at all of it. A mannequin dressed in a marine’s uniform stood motionless in the corner, wrists and legs bound to the wall by chains. He shuddered. If only they knew how real that situation could be. The door clicked shut behind them and the lock thunked closed ominously.

“I never quite understood why these things are horror themed,” Forrest said, looking around.

“Well, why else would someone be locked in a room?” He nodded in agreement.

“I suppose you’re right. Ok. I’ll check the bed, you look though that guys pockets,” Forrest instructed. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking for, but he listened anyway.

Walking up to the marine, he noticed it was way bigger than he thought. Alex wasn’t even short but this thing towered over him. He looked around on the outside first, feeling for dog tags or pins. Not that there would be any. His first instinct would always be to identify a body in uniform.

“I found a magnet hidden in the pillowcase. What’d you get?” Forrest stepped up next to him as he located the chain for the tags. Alex pulled them out only instead of the tags, it was a key. The chain had been modified with a clasp to make getting it off easier.

“Any idea where this goes to,” he asked, looking at Forrest.

“You know, for an air force captain you really aren’t observant, are you?” Forrest laughed. There was no malice in his words. “There’s a locked box right here,” he said, grabbing Alex’s hand gently.

He felt stupid. Even if Forrest was just poking fun at him, he should have taken in his surroundings better. Just like he should have at his house. Just like he should have at the barn a week ago. He jumped when Forrest shook him.

“Alex? Are you ok? I said your name a couple times.” He looked anywhere but at Forrest.

“Sorry. Just spaced. Where’s the box?” He pushed past him and crouched down. The lock seemed old, but it could have just been decorated like that. None of this was real.

“Is this triggering something? You can talk to me about the PTSD you know.” He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He sighed.

“It’s not PTSD. My triggers are a bit more specific.” He looked over his shoulder and up at him. He gave a small smile. He should be trying to enjoy himself. “Thank you though. Now let’s figure this thing out.”

Alex popped the lock open, pulling out an old satellite phone and folded piece of paper. The phone had no batteries in it. Alex turned it over a couple times to look for writing but there was none. He handed it to Forrest before unfolding the piece of paper.

“555 444 4 44 8 7777 666 88 8,” he read out loud. It was so simple yet he couldn’t place what it was referencing. Maybe he was just overthinking it. He could break into heavily secured data bases in minutes but something designed for the general public was tripping him up? He stood to show the note to Forrest. He hardly glanced at it before realization spread over his face.

“You know, you get a little line in between your eyebrows when you’re thinking too hard,” he teased. He reached up, rubbing his thumb over the area on his forehead, forcing Alex to relax. “Think like a normal person instead of an elite hacker,” he suggested, handing the piece of paper back to him.

Alex took a breath and looked again. The sequence of numbers was familiar but not like it was recent. Like it was accessing years old knowledge he had tucked away, not knowing if it would ever be useful again.

“Here. Look,” Forrest said, handing him the phone again.

The numbers had corresponding letters. Years old memories of his first cell phone came rushing back. Hitting numbers one too many times and needing to go through the whole cycle again to get the letter you wanted. And yet everyone still managed to type out whole paragraphs in under a minute.

“I can’t believe I forgot that,” he said, starting to laugh. Taking a closer look, he corresponded the numbers to their proper letter. “L-I-G-H-T-S-O-U-T. Hit the switch.” Forrest smiled and nodded, stepping toward the door.

The room was dark for a moment, but then lines and lettering started to glow. A few UV lights lit the room. Handprints led the way to a spot in the corner behind the bed. They abruptly disappeared three feet from the other wall, hinting at a door. The two of them headed over and felt around for a latch or grip to open it. Nothing.

“Hey, look.” Forrest was pointing at a grouping of paint made to look like someone focused more attention on that spot. He held the magnet up and moved it around that spot. A latch clicked and the door popped open enough for them to grab the edge. Alex rolled his eyes at the trick, but he had to admit, he was having a good time. They stepped into the next room. It looked like a repurposed dentist office.

There was a large box off to the side and a chair with surgical supplies in the middle. There was also a pile of folders and files. The two of them shared a look and grinned.

“Alright. Seems easy enough,” Alex said, feeling more confident and comfortable than he had in a long time.

-

“Ok well we both checked that file cabinet and there was no key in there. I’m telling you, it’s rigged.” Alex laughed at Forrest’s frustration. They had gotten stuck in what they think was the last room.

“I told you to make sure you pulled the drawers all the way out,” he said, smiling.

Forrest shook his head and pulled his keys out of his pocket. Alex had teased him earlier when he showed up at his house in a normal SUV. The van was for ‘special operations.’

“Well, regardless of the outcome, I think we made a pretty good team.” Alex felt the heat rise to his face at no fault of the sun. He nodded in agreement and stepped up to the passenger side door.

“As an apology for being bossy once I figured out what was going on, I’ll buy you a drink,” Alex said, pulling the door open. Forrest grinned.

“Looking to spend more time with me? I’ll take that as a good sign. Planet 7?” Alex tried not to stumble over himself at the mention of the local gay bar. It wasn’t official but it was known to attract those from the community.

“Actually, I was thinking The Wild Pony if that’s ok with you?” Forrest shrugged. Didn’t matter to him.

“You’re buying so I can’t complain.” Alex rolled his eyes and hopped in the car.

It’s not that he was opposed to Planet 7, he just wasn’t sure if he could properly hide from people if he knew them. The Wild Pony was a local’s bar. He knew the crowd and could avoid conversations if he needed to.

And maybe Michael will be there to see you with Forrest…

He shook the thought out of his head. Whatever Michael had wanted to say to him earlier, it had nothing to do with Forrest. That little pang of something earlier was just him feeling guilty about shrugging him off. But he had nothing to feel guilty about. He was free to spend his time with whoever he wanted.

The ride was mostly silence. Just enjoying each other’s company was enough. The radio played softly, occasionally fading out and back in. Alex glanced down at Forrest’s free hand on the arm rest between them. No one could see them in here. It would be ok to hold his hand.

He reached across slowly, first resting his hand next to his. They had only held hands briefly in the escape room. They were soft and steady. Gentle even.

He reached his pinky out, brushing against the side of Forrest’s hand. He saw his head turn slightly but he never looked away from the road completely. Alex moved his hand closer. Then he pulled away. But before he could worry that he had done something wrong, he was placing his hand back down, palm up. Encouraging Alex to take it, a gentle smile settled on his face. Alex couldn’t help but smile too as he wove their fingers together.

He ran his thumb over the back of his hand. The smooth skin was nice, but something felt like it was missing. He found himself wishing there were calluses. That his hand was a bit warmer.

Alex hardly noticed when they pulled into The Wild Pony parking lot. He jumped back into reality when Forrest released his hand to get out of the car. He cleared his throat and climbed out himself. He shoved his hands in his pockets as they walked. A brief moment of confusion crossed Forrest’s face but it was replaced with a smile.

They pushed through the doors and Alex immediately looked for Maria. He watched her as she took inventory of the bar before the Saturday night rush. The bar was still mostly empty.

“Go grab a booth, I’m just going to say hi to my friend,” he said. He nodded and headed in the opposite direction. Alex made his way through the tables to the bar. He knocked a couple times to grab her attention. She turned with a fake smile on her face, ready for whatever customer was going to be there. Once she recognized it was him, it changed into something softer. But something still seemed off.

“Well look who it is. The one who doesn’t return my calls when I think I have a lead,” she joked. Alex smiled at her.

“I’m sorry. It’s been a crazy few days.” She nodded understandingly. To be honest, he just didn’t know what to say to her after Michael’s confession in the hospital. “Can you get me two of whatever the special on tap is?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Two?” Alex looked over his shoulder to find Forrest. He watched him, a sweet smile on his face. Didn’t even turn away when he was caught, making Alex blush. “He’s cute. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she joked, winking. He rolled his eyes and she pulled out two glasses filling them expertly.

“Did you and Michael find anything? He called me earlier today, but I was busy.” Her smile fell, looking more sad. His eyebrows drew together. What had they found that warranted a look like that?

“Well… we didn’t find anything. I left earlier than planned.” Alex reached for her hands as she wrung them together. What was she nervous for?

“What happened, Maria?” She took a breath and tried to paste on a happier face., like whatever she was about to say didn’t bother her.

“Michael and I… We won’t be working together for a bit.” Alex still didn’t understand. Did they have some sort of argument? Michael would probably come apologize to her before the day was out. She must have seen the confusion on her face. “Alex… we broke up.”

Anything he was going to say left his thoughts in a second. What could have possibly happened that would push them to that? They seemed so happy together. And Maria wasn’t one to give up something she loved so easily.

“What happened,” he finally asked? She shook her head and smiled.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you when you’re not in the middle of a date. Now go have fun.” She didn’t give him time to respond before moving to the other end of the bar to ask a day drinker if he wanted another round.

He grabbed the two drinks and headed back to where Forrest was sitting. He set the beer in front of him.

“Sorry about that.” He looked up from his phone, moving the glass closer to him.

“Don’t worry about it. Things looked pretty intense. Everything alright?” Alex wanted to tell him. But he also didn’t want him to get a bad impression of Michael when he didn’t have the full story.

“She and her boyfriend broke up. She wouldn’t really give me details but I’m sure she’ll tell me soon.” Forrest looked over to the bar. He frowned as he watched her.

“Wasn’t she dating Michael? Ran into her a couple times at the hospital.” Damnit. He remembered.

“Yea. But she made it sound like it was a mutual thing. I don’t think they’re on bad terms. I just wish I knew what happened,” he said, taking a sip from the glass.

“Well I’m sure she’ll tell you eventually.” He reached over to rest a hand on his arm comfortingly. He knew he shouldn’t speculate about what happened between them. But something in his chest told him it might have to do with the curse. And by extension, have to do with him.

-

Michael had paced most of the day since hanging up on Alex. He tried calling Maria, but she never picked up. He needed to do something. Waiting just wasn’t cutting it. He tried triggering more visions by reading that journal front to back.

He didn’t know who those two were. They started as friends and it grew to more. Thomas was forced to present himself as his sister and twin who was often ill. Samuel was a child of the servants. Thomas’ father was a grade-a bastard who needed to control everything. He threatened Samuel’s life more than once. Then it was the Manes family who was supposed to provide the sacrifice for the year. So, the two of them ran away.

“Sounds a lot like the original story,” is what Isabel had said. He was tempted to agree but the original was a princess and a slave. And even if there was the possibility of that being true, he wouldn’t be able to find out. The last entry was the night they ran.

He needed to figure out what Jesse Manes did with those original scrolls. Max refused to let him anywhere near the soldiers that had ambushed them. He said they hadn’t said a word about who they were working for. Michael knew in his gut it was that asshole.

A knock on the wall pulled him from his thoughts. Isabel looked at him sympathetically.

“You’re going to run a hole through the floor if you keep pacing. Instead of overthinking why not do something productive? Give Sanders some extra help at the junkyard. It’ll keep your mind busy.” She stepped toward him to rest a hand on his arm.

“I have to figure this out, Iz. This vision wasn’t like the shared dreams. It felt like a message. This could be what we need to break the curse. I don’t know how yet, but it’s got to be a clue.” He pulled away from her, picking up the journal again, thumbing through it mindlessly. She sighed and took the book from his hands gently.

“Look, I get it. Breaking this curse is the most important thing but you can’t do that if you burn yourself out. Let’s go.” She grabbed him, pulling him out of the study. He knew she was probably right, so he let her pull him along. “We’re going to go get a drink and then you’re going to clean up that bunker for whatever it was you were planning to do down there.”

Michael raised an eyebrow at her. He never told her his and Alex’s plan. Max must have spilled. Damn him. The less people knew what was going on the easier it would be.

“Fine. But let’s avoid The Wild Pony if you don’t mind.” Isabel snorted.

“Please. Even I’m not that cruel.”

-

He didn’t pay attention to the name of the bar they walked into. It was smaller than the Wild Pony, but Isabel had said it was still considered a local’s bar. At least there wouldn’t be any sort of alien hunting enthusiasts.

The colors all over the place made him feel out of place in this cowboy hat and stained jeans. Where in the world has Isabel dragged him? She sat them down in a booth then waved to the bartender and batted her eyelashes. Michael looked between the two of them.

“You know her,” he asked, surprised?

“We hooked up a few times. Let’s just say she was my, awakening?” Michael nodded in understanding. “She’s really cool and nice but it’s not serious.” Alex was his ‘awakening.’ But he seemed to be a lot harder to shake. There was never any ‘just hooking up’ with him.

The waitress came over holding two colorful drinks. Michael rolled his eyes but he could enjoy something like this. The blue and purple faded into each other. He shot Isabel a look.

“Where exactly are we?”

“You weren’t paying attention? Planet 7. The local LGBT bar.” He hummed in realization. That explained all the colors. He didn’t even want to know what the drink he held in his hand was called. Probably some pun on ‘bisexual.’

“Not that I don’t appreciate the change in scenery, but why here?” A mischievous grin settled on her face. “If you say it’s cause you wanna get laid, I’ll just leave now,” he joked. She rolled her eyes at him.

“While that might be nice, no. It’s not why we’re here.” He took a sip of his drink. Rum. It wasn’t his favorite type of liquor but the drink wasn’t half bad. It was certainly fruity.

“You just gunna sit there and watch me chug this or are you gunna tell me why?” She looked around before leaning close.

“Forrest is a regular here. I figured it you wanted more information on the guy…” Michael groaned. He loved his cousin really, but sometimes she was not the brightest. People don’t normally go around talking about other people to strangers.

“Look Iz, I’d rather not think about him at all.”

“I know Max told you to consider bringing him in on the curse secret. Or at least part of it. You should know who the guy is.” He ran a hand though his hair. She was right, but what could he get from these people that he couldn’t get from a quick google search or from Max?

“I can see you doubting my methods but trust me, you can get interesting stuff from the people in town.” He sighed. Might as well let her do her thing. She was the socialite of the family. He waved his hand, signaling to the rest of the bar.

“Well then where do you suggest we start?” An evil grin settled on her face. What was she--?

“Hey Blair, I have a question!” The bartender from earlier returned to the table. Isabel rested her chin on one hand and played with the straw in her glass with the other. “Have you seen Forrest around recently? My cousin here is kinda into him,” she said sweetly. Michael just about choked on his own drink.

“Iz—”

“He was last here a few days ago. Seemed a bit distracted. At least your cousin has good taste. Even though I don’t like guys, he’s always nice to look at. Really sweet too.” She looked over her shoulder at a group and continued, “James might be able to give you more info. They dated for a while, but it didn’t work out. They’re still friends from what I can tell.”

Michael glared at Isabel. She thanked Blair before casually taking a sip from her drink. So what if Forrest was good looking? Even by lesbian standards. Sure Michael wasn’t blind. Maybe he was always focused on Alex that he never thought about it before.

“People here love romance. Everyone’s always trying to set people up. Just for the drama of it all,” she said, laughing at the look on his face.

“So, why’d you throw me under the bus? Why not just make up a person?” He shook his head at her giddy expression.

“Because then it looks like we’re fishing for information.”

“Ok, but we are,” he pointed out.

“But they don’t have to know that. Let’s go.” She suddenly stood, grabbing his arm again. There really was no stopping her if she was determined. “James!” Isabel called as they walked up to the table. The guy that turned was on the muscular side, probably played some kind of sport.

“What can I do for you,” he asked, smiling?

“Blair said you used to date Forrest Long?” Everything about this screamed ‘bad idea’ to Michael. They shouldn’t be prying into his life like this.

“Yes, but why?” He raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them. Isabel looped her arm through his, pulling him forward.

“My cousin here has a bit of a crush. He’s kinda shy and every time I try to encourage him, he just gets nervous,” she said, stealing his hat that he was trying to hide behind. The blush on his face was definitely noticeable. He hoped this wasn’t what she did to people who had real crushes.

James chuckled and shook his head before taking a sip of his drink. He turned towards them fully for the first time, a knowing grin on his face.

“That guy has always been popular. He’s really great. Thoughtful, caring, always tips more than twenty percent. He’s supportive and crazy smart. He can take a dumb idea and turn it into the best. Probably one of the best relationships I ever had.” He seemed to be smiling at the memories. Michael shoved his hands in his pockets, pretending to be nervous.

“If it was so great, why’d you break up? If you don’t mind me asking…” James shrugged and shook his head.

“There were too many secrets. The nature of his job just made it hard for him to tell me anything. It just ended up getting in the way of our trust in each other. We’re still friends and I wish him the best.”

“But doesn’t he work for the police? In a place like Roswell how many secrets could there be,” he asked? He laughed a bit.

“The police stuff he does wasn’t the problem. It was the other stuff for the military. But let me make something clear. If you’re really into him, go for it. He’s a great guy. And maybe things have changed. Now I can’t tell you everything about him. That takes the fun out if it.” Isabel let out a small giggle and thanked him. Then she was pulling Michael away and back to their little booth.

She plopped the hat back on his head then crossed her arms, just smirking at him. He would admit that knowing he still did work for the military was helpful. But what exactly was his title? He was a weapons specialist for the police but what else?

“Fine. I’ll admit that some of it was useful. But we still need a google search and whatever information Max can get,” he pointed out, fixing his hat.

“Fine, just dismiss my perfectly executed plan,” she huffed. Michael laughed and rolled his eyes.

“Yea about that… Never do it again,” he said. The grin returned quickly.

“No promises,” she said, winking.

-

Alex lost track of time again. He and Forrest had sat and talked through the dinner rush, the weekend drinkers and the bar had started to wind down. Everything was just so easy.

“You did what? How did you get away with that? My second in command would have had my ass for sneaking out,” Forrest exclaimed.

“I told you. I became best friends with my second in command. She covered for me a lot when I wanted to meet up with a guy. Now it was only when we had time off, but she was pretty awesome.” Forrest laughed and shook his head.

“Wish I could meet her. She still in the service?” The smile fell from Alex’s face. He didn’t even know if she was still on this planet.

Staring into the amber of his beer, his thoughts drifted. He doubts she died. An angel can’t just die, right? Forrest noticed his shift in mood. He reached across the table to take his hand, rubbing his thumb over it comfortingly.

“She’s uh… missing,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry. That can be worse than just being gone.” Alex nodded slowly. He squeezed his hand. “Hope makes everything harder. But we need it just to survive.” A tear slipped down Alex’s cheek. He wiped it away quickly.

Forrest gave him a gentle smile and stood, still holding his hand. He moved to stand in front of him. The raised table and seats made them about the same height this way. He looked around the bar then stepped closer.

Forrest pressed a quick gentle kiss to his cheek. His eyes flicked around the bar, panic settling in this gut. No one seemed to be watching but he couldn’t shake the feeling there was.

Alex wanted to kiss him. To accept the comfort he was offering. But every part of his body screamed to run. To not associate with him until it was safe. He didn’t want him to get hurt. What if his father found out? What if…

“Hey. It’s ok,” he said gently. His smile was sad but understanding. “I’ll drive you home.” Alex nodded and pulled out his wallet, tossing a few twenties down. It was probably too much but he didn’t think about it.

He followed Forrest without a word. Even the car ride was mostly silent. What was he supposed to say now? Maybe he should apologize for the way he reacted? Thank him for the thought anyway?

They pulled into his driveway and he shut the car off. They sat there for a moment. Alex picked at his nails. He took a deep breath.

“Forrest, I—"

“You don’t owe me an explanation. I get it. But if you ever want to get out of that closet, you let me know. I’ll walk you to the door.” He smiled and hoped out of the car. Alex knew he shouldn’t let his father or other past experiences get in the way of this.

What happened with Michael was different. He still felt awful about it, but he couldn’t let that hold him back forever. Thinking of Michael made his chest ache. He knew he needed to find him. The dream had told him so. But was he ready to be found?

He shook his head and jumped out of the car. Hurrying to catch up to Forrest. The motion sensor lights clicked on.

“I had a really nice time today,” he said, pulling a key out of his pocket.

“Likewise. I hope we get the chance to do it again.” Forrest smiled and leaned against a pillar. Alex smiled back, pushing the door open. “I’ll see you around, Alex.” He turned and started back to his car.

“Forrest, wait!” He stopped and turned. An eyebrow raised.

Before he could second guess himself, Alex took his face in his hands and pressed his mouth to his. Forrest ran his hands over his arms, pulling him closer. It felt good, like he didn’t have to worry about anything. But a little voice in the back of his head kept him from lingering too long.

He pulled away slowly, breathing heavy. A small smile sat on Forrest’s face, as though he expected nothing less from him.

“I like you. Just give me a little time,” Alex murmured.

“I’ve got nothing but time. I just hope it doesn’t take too long.” Alex chuckled and released him. He watched as he pulled away, flashing his brights in a final goodbye.

The dull ache settled in his chest. He ignored it only until he made it to his bedroom. It slowly become impossible to ignore. Something wasn’t right. Michael was calling for him.

[thunderstruck-amanita]

if you would like....one that's very self indulgent on my part and very specific: “I think we should stop before I throw up again.” prompt for host and dark (you just write them so well!!) maybe, if you desire, specifically with dark pushing host past his limits with his narration powers/overusing host's powers....but asdjadj only if u want!! dont worry abt it

I love this prompt.  So much.  I loved the details you added and kind of went ham with it.  It ended up getting waaaaayyy longer than I intended, but I hope you enjoy!

~~~

Something was wrong.

Host knew it from the moment Dark had entered his room.  No knock, no greeting.  Just a tension that Host could feel without even narrating it.  Just the crackling of astral projections shooting off of Darkiplier like static electricity even though he normally had them so under control.  Just a frantic energy that Host recognized instantly but hadn’t felt from him in a very, very long time.

“Host, I need your help.”

Host frowned.  On any other day, he would’ve snapped back at him.  Maybe made some snide comment if he was in a good mood or growled and gone back to his radio station without a second thought if he was in a bad one.  But today wasn’t any other day.

Host’s mood didn’t matter.

There was something coming that was bigger than either one of them.

Host slowly slipped off his headphones and placed them on the desk.  One nod was all Dark needed, and the work began.

It was slow going.

Urgent bursts of narration, hushed and hurried thoughts, then fervent narration again.  It went like that for a long time, and Host was beginning to feel the strain.  His stomach lurched in pain, exhaustion tugged at his limbs, old wounds from his countless deaths began to open up again.  He was always losing blood, but rarely did it affect him the way it was starting to right now.  The light-headedness, the dizziness, the sharp, shooting pain in the sockets where his eyes used to be.  He was fast approaching his limit, but Dark showed no signs of stopping any time soon.

“Dark…” Host muttered, interrupting what the other was saying.

Darkiplier stopped talking but bristled in annoyance all the same.  “What.”

Host took a deep, shaky breath.  “I need to stop.”

“Oh.  You need to sSTOPp, do you?” He glitched in the middle of his sentence, throwing the emphasis of the word into disarray.  “Well, we need to SToP too.  Do you know what we need to stop? Hmm? Or did you forget?”

Dark stood up and began pacing around Host’s chair.  Slowly.  Purposefully.  Almost like a wild animal hunting his prey.  Almost.

“WE need to stop that masochistic mANIAC before he ruins our f***ing LIVES beyond repair!”

Dark slammed his fists on Host’s desk, and things shifted.

They shifted.

They were launched into a dark and empty dimension as a multitude of tortured projections erupted from Darkiplier.  They screamed, screeched, scratched the empty air for purchase.  The noise was almost enough to make Host’s ears bleed, and he dryly hoped that at least one of his four senses would be unscathed by the end of the day.

But they returned to the room just as fast as they had left.  Nothing in his bedroom had changed aside from the disrupted dust that was beginning to settle and the microphone that now laid on its side on the desk.

Darkiplier was not to be trifled with today.  He was aggressive, assertive, maybe even desperate… but Host also sensed something in him that a true predator didn’t have.

Fear.

Host wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he knew that feeling.  He had thrived on one side of it and survived on the other.  The thrill of writing stories that would send a reader’s heart pumping, send shivers down their spine, move them to the edge of their seat… and the agony of experiencing it himself.  Every time he had to enter another of his horror stories to serve his penance, he knew what would happen.  He knew every step he took would inevitably lead him to his impending doom.  But knowing the next chapter didn’t stop the fear from clawing at him and staying with him as scars that would never heal.  So Host took Dark’s words, bitter and caustic, and swallowed them down with his own thoughts.  If Dark was this scared, this desperate, then this could be the final stretch to Mark’s demise.  Yes, he knew what it was like to fear, perhaps better than anyone.  And he knew that anger combined with fear would make the sweetest revenge.

So without a word, he picked up his microphone again and continued to narrate.

~~~

It was hardly another hour before the pain became excruciating.  The gunshot wounds, machete slices, and chainsaw gashes were gushing now.  Host could tell that he was pale, that he was going to faint at any moment.

But he didn’t stop.

That is, until he spun his chair around to vomit onto the carpet.

Dark grew quiet as the room filled with a nauseating scent of bile and blood, waiting patiently as Host heaved and heaved until his stomach was entirely empty.

Host wiped the vomit from his chin with the back of his hand and turned to where Dark had last spoken from.

“Well,” Dark stated, unphased.  “Are you done?”

Host growled from his throat as he grabbed the arm of his chair and stood on his wobbling legs.  “Yes,” he replied through grit teeth.  “Very.”

He leaned against anything he could grab onto as he made his way towards the door.

“Then where are you going?” Darkiplier snapped, jumping out of his chair.

“I’m going to the doctor,” Host snarled right back.

“We’re not finished yet,” Darkiplier said.  His tone held a challenge, daring Host to disobey him, to change the rules of the game that Dark was playing.

“Well.  Call me ludicrous, but I think we should stop before I throw up again.”

Host continued to make his way to the door.  It was unsettling, feeling like his body could fall apart at any moment.  He grimly imagined connecting and leaving him in a pile of jumbled up pieces before shoving the thought away.

“I’m not-”

“We’ve done enough!” Host screamed.  It was a wild, guttural, barbaric sound that sucked out too much of his already depleted energy.  “I’ve narrated all f***ing day, and if we’re not any closer to getting Mark, that’s your fault.  Not mine.”

He didn’t even have the strength to slam the door behind him when he left.

He would probably pay for this.  Darkiplier would hate him for a good long while.

He ground his teeth together and focused on getting downstairs.

If that was the case, then so be it.

~~~

It was a week before Host saw Dark again.

He had expected to see him much earlier, to pick up where they had left off.  Then again, the look of rage on Dr. Iplier’s face when Host had collapsed on the floor of his small home clinic should have let him know that Dark wouldn’t be visiting any time soon.

“You were ill.  You warned me and I should have listened.”

Again, Dark had entered without knocking, without any introduction. And the words were Dr. Iplier’s, clearly. He had probably threatened the man to come in here to apologize from the way Darkiplier ground the words out of his mouth, like he wanted nothing more than to be done with this apology and get back to work.  Host suppressed a smirk.  The man’s reluctance only made the apology that much better for him.

“Yes, you should have,” he snarled as he sat up in his cot, holding back a wince.

He was pieced back together again.  Mostly.  Dr. Iplier suggested another few days to rest, but Host was itching to be back in his studio again.  The clinic was fine every once in a while, but it was too spotless for him to think straight.  And the overwhelming scent of citrus-scented cleaning surprise was disgusting.

Dark made some grunt of annoyance, and Host felt him sit down at the edge of the bed.

“Time is short.  Things are happening and it seems like he’ll be coming soon.”

Host nodded.

“I guessed that from your panic,” he stated as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.  Darkiplier tensed up again, but before he could speak, Host continued.  “But trust me, I want him to meet his end just as much as you.”

Darkiplier sighed.  “I know.”

They sat for a moment in silence.  It wasn’t friendly.  It was hardly civil.  But both seemed to find comfort in the common hope for revenge that accompanied them.

Host stood up, slowly, before straightening out to his full, intimidating height.  He turned his head to where Dark was still seated.

“Let’s get back to work.”

[thesurielships]

New Girl meets The Court of Dreams (a Feysand fanfic)

Hello, this is my first fanfic, and it’s still rough around the edges, so proceed with care. Yesterday, I suddenly had this idea of Feyre moving in with Rhys, Cassian and Azriel in a New Girl type of setting, and she would have to go get her clothes from Tamlin’s place. The story hasn’t reached that far yet, but I might go on with it if inspiration hits. Anyway, without further ado, enjoy the feysand fluff.

Part I, Part II, Part III

Rhysand had never thought he’d see the day Feyre Archeron rode with him in his car.

That’s right.

Feyre, as in Feyre Cursebreaker Archeron, as in the girl he’d been pining over for years, was now sitting in his car, looking out the window, her nervousness apparent in her restless hands and the bottom lip she’d been chewing on for the past half hour.

He had been utterly shocked when she had run up to him earlier, panting and breathless, and asked him for a ride. At first he thought she’d meant another kind of ride, one he was totally willing to give her ten times a day, seven days a week. He somehow managed not to make a complete fool of himself, and here they were.

He didn’t realize he was staring at her until he veered off his lane and a car honked angrily. Snap out of it, he thought. She can totally tell you like her.

But Feyre only had one thing on her mind, and it wasn’t the gorgeous guy sitting next to her. No, she was thinking of how she would get her clothes back from her now ex Tamlin’s house. She had fled the house the previous night after a particularly ugly fight with the controlling asshole, and had only texted him: “I left. Thank you for helping me when I needed you. Please don’t come looking for me. I am not coming back.”

Now she had no clothes, no home, and most importantly, no phone charger.

She slumped in her seat, sighing.

“Tonight is the winter solstice.” Rhys said, quietly.

Feyre smiled wryly. “Longest night of the year.”

“The stars shine their brightest tonight.”

She looked at him then, his profile flickering in the light of the passing streetlights. He glanced at her, and when his eyes met hers, her breath caught.

Your eyes shine brighter than the stars, she wanted to say. She blushed, and looked away.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “For the ride.”

He chuckled. “You’ve thanked me three times already.”

“Still-“

“But,” he interrupted, smirking. “If you still feel bad, you can always thank me in other ways, Feyre darling.”

She scowled. “In your dreams, prick.”

“You do seem to make quite a regular appearance in those.”

Feyre’s heart skipped a beat. Dangerous territory, she chided herself. It was soon, way too soon after Tamlin. It had only been a day, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from retorting: “As you seem to have difficulty not staring at me day and night, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Am I supposed to deny,” he drawled, eyes sparkling, “that I find you attractive?”

“You’ve never said it.”

He sighed. “I’ve never had a chance to. Aren’t you dating that flower boy?”

She snorted at the ridiculous nickname. Steroid Tamlin was anything but a flower boy. “Not anymore.”

Rhys’s eyebrows rose. “Should I be sorry?”

Feyre slumped again in her seat, dejected. “Don’t. I’d rather be homeless than live with that controlling asshole.”

“Wait,” Rhys said, eyes wide, and she savored how the light reflected in them. “You’re homeless?”

“Temporarily, I hope. But yes, I suppose I am.”

“Then where am I taking you?”

“A cybercafé. Open 24/7. Should work for tonight.”

He made an abrupt U-turn, eliciting a cacophony of honks all around them. She yelped. “Where are you going?”

“As it happens, one of my roommates just moved out last week. We still haven’t found a suitable replacement.”

Feyre’s heart started beating loudly. “Oh no, Rhysand, I don’t want to abuse of your kindness…”

“This is not charity, Feyre darling. My roommates and I have a screening process to judge potential rommates. You’ll have to go through that first.”

She opened her mouth to argue but was stopped short by an explosion of light in the corner of her eye.

A shooting star.

“A wish for a wish?” Rhysand’s voice was soft, tentative.

“I’m fairly sure that’s not how wishes work, Rhysand. Doesn’t telling a wish ruin it?”

“Only you can decide what gets in the way of your dreams, Feyre darling.”

“Poetic, but no.”

“Fine,” he sighed, aggravated. “I’ll go first.” He paused long enough for her to see his eyes go soft and his smile grow wistful. She waited for what he would say with such trepidation that she was caught completely off guard by the absurdity of his wish.

“I wish you’d stop calling me Rhysand.”

She huffed out an incredulous laugh. “Isn’t that your name?”

“My friends call me Rhys.” He crinkled his nose. Adorable. No.

She tapped her chin. “I’ll consider it, if you stop calling me darling, you shameless flirt.”

He smirked. “No way, Feyre darling.”

If she was honest with herself, she rather liked the endearment, so she let him off easy, looking out the window to hide the smile tugging at her lips.

“You still owe me a wish.”

She looked back at him then, and drank in the sight of his profile shining ethereal in the starlight, his eyes a deep, sensuous violet that was rapidly turning into her favorite color.

“I want to paint you,” she finally said, barely more than a whisper, afraid to break the moment.

To her surprise, he did not smirk, and he did not preen. Instead, he graced her with the most beautiful smile she had ever seen, his eyes shining so bright she could’ve sworn they had stolen all the stars in the sky.

“Stars eternal,” she whispered, still entranced. Her heart was beating a tattoo in her chest, and she longed to run a hand along his sharp jawline, brush a finger against his lips…

“I love it when you look at me like that.”

She blinked, blushing furiously.

“Like… like what?” she stuttered.

“Like I’m the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.”

She scowled, her cheeks ablaze. “You arrogant prick.”

He pulled over then, parking perfectly in the midst of the busy street.

She frowned. “Are we there already?” She looked at her surroundings. They were in the middle of the financial district of Manhattan, and all she could see in every direction were office buildings.

He shook his head, and motioned for her to stay still. He got out of the car, went over to her side, and opened her door with a flourish.

“After you, my lady.”

She shook her head, laughing. Rhysand was already hearing wedding bells. He knew she had just broken up with Flower Boy, and he probably shouldn’t rush her, but when she smiled at him like that, he just couldn’t help himself.

He bowed and offered her his arm, and she put her hand in the crook of his elbow, laughing at his goofiness. He guided her through throngs of people, to his favorite restaurant in town. It was a hole-in-the-wall kind of affaire, and he had stumbled upon it one drunken night with his inner circle, only to find the best food he had ever tasted. They even had it on speed dial back at their flat.

“Velaris,” Feyre whispered in wonder.

They went inside, and everybody seemed to know Rhysand. He was greeted by every single one of the staff, and the chef came personally to take their order. Feyre was taken aback. She wasn’t used to seeing the outgoing, friendly side of Rhys. He was mostly known as the college bad boy, and he was generally cold and closed off. Tonight, however, the smile never left his face. It was genuine and open and so warm it made her fuzzy inside. She blinked and suddenly realized that Rhys and the chef were both staring at her expectantly.

“Uh,” she fumbled, flipping rapidly through the menu, the options a blur in her eyes. “Surprise me?” she finished weakly.

The chef smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”

Rhysand was tapping a steady beat into the table, trying to hide how nervous he was. Feyre was here, with him, in Velaris, his favorite place in the world. He couldn’t help but marvel at how she fit in just right. She was already a favorite among the staff, he guessed from the three water pitchers, one bottle of wine and numerous plates of appetizers already on the table, if only because they thought she was his date. If only.

“Nice place,” Feyre said, breaking his train of thought just as it took a self-deprecating turn. “Really cozy.”

“Wine?” He asked.

“Sure.”

He poured them each a healthy dose of the amber liquid. She took her glass and clinked it against his. “To the people who look at the stars and wish, Rhys.”

He smiled, even as his heart broke a little. “To the stars who listen, and the dreams that are answered.”

Their dinner came then, and he watched, utterly fascinated, as she first took a tentative bite of her food, then moaned with delight. Her blue eyes lit up and she looked so blissful that he just knew he would never forget that moment.

Feyre had never had such food before-warm and rich and savory and spicy. She was so enraptured by this life changing experience that she did not notice as Rhys polished off his own plate and went ahead to the counter to pay the tab.

He came back to find her lying contentedly in her seat, a hand on her belly and a sated smile on her face. He wished he was the one to put that smile on her face, having satisfied different cravings.

“Am I going to have to carry you out of here, Feyre darling?”

She blinked drowsily, and her smile turned sheepish.

“I might settle for being rolled out of here. I don’t think you could carry me when I just ate my body weight in the most delicious food I’ve ever had.”

“Is that a challenge?” He ran a predatory stare along her body, leaving tingles in its wake.

She smirked. “Is it?”

Then immediately regretted it as he carried her so fast she almost puked all over his chest.

“Easy!” she yelped, clutching his shoulders.

“You’re looking a little green, Feyre darling.”

“And whose fault is that?”

He chuckled and made his way toward the door.

“Wait. What about the tab?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Rhys.”

“Consider it a welcome dinner to our flat.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I thought I still had to pass through the screening process.”

He clucked his tongue. “Are you always so stubborn, Feyre darling, or is it the palpable sexual tension between us that’s making you testy?”

She rolled her eyes, but she knew she was fighting a losing battle. So she resolved to put money in his back pocket later when he wasn’t looking, and instead snuggled deeper into his chest.

On their way home, she finally let sleep claim her. By the time they got to the flat, she was so far gone that she didn’t feel Rhys as he carried her up to his room and tucked her snuggly into his bed, and she didn’t hear the “sweet dreams, Feyre darling” he whispered as he brushed a kiss against her forehead. And sweet were her citrus scented dreams of star-kissed oceans.

-> Next chapter

[sunkissedpages]

In The Dark || Tom Holland x Reader

a/n: this came from three things- my drive home from university (yay spring break), hozier’s new album, and those pictures of tom in That Jacket. also this is lowkey a love letter to my first car, miss u bud. I didn’t include a destination because they can be going anywhere you want :)

Summary: a road trip with your boyfriend doesn’t exactly go as planned

Warnings: swearing, okay there’s like one (1) mention of a blowjob, just a whole bunch of f l u f f 

Word Count: 1.4k

Masterlist

“I see them, Tom!” you said with as much composure as you could muster. You knew he was only warning you about the car braking in front of you to be helpful, but his backseat driving was getting a little on your nerves after three hours in the car together.

He didn’t drive much himself, so every time he tried to offer advice you were more than a little hesitant to take it. To be fair, your squinting at the dark road in front of you was enough to make anyone nervous, but it wasn’t your fault you were in the middle of nowhere and your car’s headlights were so dim.

A road trip had seemed like such a good idea a few hours ago when the sun was setting beautifully behind the trees and you were both listening to Wasteland, Baby! for the first time. Now three loops through the album later your muscles were beginning to ache and your eyes started feeling strained and your attitude was less than chipper.

“Sorry, love,” he apologized with a grin, taking your right hand and kissing your knuckles. He held your hand on his lap and you began to relax as he rubbed circles on it with his thumb. “Just trying to help.”

You sighed. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m just tense.”

“We can take a break if you want,” he offered.

“No, we’ve only got like an hour left,” you insisted, rolling your neck. “I’ll be fine.”

He nodded and relaxed further in his seat, keeping your hand in his. He shuffled the music on his phone and turned up the volume when it landed on some 80s pop hit and you turned your attention back to the cars in front of you.

It was so hard to focus on the road and not on him. Not when the light from his phone highlighted the tiny freckles on his face, and his hair was so curly and dark from winter and he was wearing that soft sherpa denim jacket that you were set on stealing. It was unfair, really.

You zoned out as traffic thinned around you and the warmth from Tom’s hand spread through your fingers and up your arm, not even noticing the first few times your headlights flickered until they went out for a prolonged few seconds before sputtering back on.

Tom sat up. “Love,”

“I see it,” you said, without frustration this time. You narrowed your eyes at the road even more and watched as the shadows on the road slipped into complete inkiness in rhythm with the flickering of your headlights.

“Should we pull over?” Tom asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know, there isn’t anything but road for miles.” Then, without further warning your headlights went out. And they didn’t come back on. You kept waiting, slowing on the freeway until you were going thirty under, willing them to come back on, but they’d given out for good this time.

“Come on, y/n, this is dangerous, just pull over,” Tom said again, squeezing your hand.

You sighed bitterly and pulled onto the shoulder of the road by a fence overlooking a field.

“This is fucking fantastic,” you complained, feeling tears well up in your eyes. You were so tired, you just wanted to curl up in bed and go to sleep, but you still had at least fifty miles to go before you’d even get to, and who knew how long you’d be out here.

“It’ll be alright,” he said soothingly. “We should call, um, what is it you guys have over here?”

“Triple A,” you groaned and pulled out your phone.

“Want me to do it?” Tom asked, knowing how much you hated making phone calls.

“You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he said and winked at you. “Anything for you.”

You watched Tom dial the number and put the phone up to his ear and listened in as he started talking to the guy on the other end like he’d known him his entire life. You always forgot how charismatic and charming Tom could be when he wanted, not that he wasn’t with you, it was just different.

“Yeah, it’s both headlights,” he said and waited for the other guy’s response. “Where are we?” he asked.

“In between exits 435 and 439.”

Tom repeated what you’d just said to the guy on the phone. “Okay, great. Thanks. See you then.” He turned back to you with a grimace. “He said they’ll be out here in about two hours.”

“Two hours?” you repeated, instantly tearing up again.

“Yeah, I guess wherever they’re located is pretty far, but they’re on their way. He also said since both lights are out it’s probably a battery problem and we should turn off the car.”

You put your head in your hands and tried to take deep breaths. “We were so close.”

“We’ll still get to the Airbnb by tonight, we can just text the owners about what’s happening. I’m sure they’ll understand.” Tom, always the rational one, said soothingly.

“I know, you’re right. This just fucking sucks!” You put your car in park and turned off the ignition.

“It does,” he agreed softly.

It was eerily silent now that the engine was off and music wasn’t playing. Instead, you could hear crickets chirping in the distance and Tom’s steady breathing beside you. 

You figured you might as well take advantage of the break, however inconvenient, so you opened the door and stepped out onto the gravel to stretch your legs.

“Y/n, where are you going?” Tom called after you in concern. “This is a good place to get murdered.”

“This is a good place to dump a body,” you corrected him, which didn’t erase the worry on his face at all. If anything, it only increased it. “Don’t worry, I’m not going far.”

You stretched your arms and legs each for a few seconds before jumping up on the hood of your car, sticking your tongue out at Tom through the windshield, making him laugh. He wasn’t far behind you once he saw what you were doing and hopped up on the hood next to you.

The car shook under his weight as he slid next to you, sliding and arm underneath your head as you leaned back against the windshield together. And it was nice for a second before you remembered you still had about an hour and fifty-three minutes before you could go anywhere.

“Fuck me,” you cursed under your breath and banged a fist on the hood of your car in frustration.

“Hey, be nice to Edison,” Tom protested and you laughed at him calling your car by name. “I’m serious! He doesn’t deserve that!”

“He stranded us in the middle of nowhere!”

“Don’t people always say it’s the journey, not the destination?”

“Does it count as part of the journey if you’re not moving?” you asked.

“God you’re so bitter about everything, you’re lucky I love you.”

“I guess I am lucky.” You shrugged and rested your head on Tom’s shoulder.

“This is the part where you say you love me back.”

“Right, that too,” you said with a smirk and kissed him chastely on the lips.

With no light from civilization to pollute the atmosphere, the stars above you shone at their full capacity. You raised your free arm and started to point out constellations to Tom. You were mostly making them up, but he listened anyway, and laughed when you traced one you called ‘Orion’s Strap’ and again when you tried to convince him the group of stars to the left were actually a constellation of a cat.

After that you passed the time by listening to more music from his phone. He sang Almost (Sweet Music), your favorite from Hozier’s new album, word for word softly in your ear, and if you weren’t stranded in the middle of nowhere where traffic could pass at any moment, you would have blown him right then and there. You played with each other’s hair idly and Tom told you about the strange dreams he had last night. Stubbornly, you found yourself not wanting Triple A to show up just yet. You sighed deeply, regretting how bitter you had been earlier.

Tom turned his head towards you at the sound. “You okay, love?”

“Yeah,” you smiled at him, positive you looked as goofy and lovestruck as ever. “I’m okay.” I’m more than okay.

Tom just smiled back, taking your hand back in his like it had been earlier, before all of this, kissing your knuckles again like he had. You rested your other hand on the hood of your car, admitting to yourself that yeah, this was part of the journey. And yeah, it wasn’t too bad. Thanks Edison.

yooo that was sappy as fuck who am I, but uh lmk what you thought I always appreciate feedback

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[smuttyassholes]

Attention - Namjoon Smut

Request: You guys get to an after party late because you couldn't decide what to wear and he's clearly upset. Once you get there, he leaves with the rest of the boys for a few pics etc. And another idol comes & tries to flirtn & since u were mad w joon too, u do it a little back on purpose, joon notices & goes over (v defensive + he was already pissed) he pulls you to the restroom, lifts up ur dress only to realize ur not wearing panties and he fucks you infront of the mirror ;)

a/n: I know this probably didn’t go the way you expected it to, but my asshat of a professor decided to assign a whole ass book and a shit ton of textbook chapters/exercises on the first week and I’ve been swamped with a bunch of bullshit so I’m not all creative atm. Bare with me please. - asshole 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How are you still not done yet?!” Namjoon yelled from the living room. “If you don’t hurry up we’re gonna be extra late.”

“We’re going to Leo’s first win after party, and you expect me to rush the way I look?!” You yelled back. He knew damn that Vixx was your all time favorite group, let alone Leo being your favorite artist. How dare he try to rush how you looked when it would be your first time meeting him.

“Whatever. I’ll be in the car.” You heard him grumble before hearing the door open and close.

You rolled your eyes. “Always so dramatic.” You sighed before scanning your lip tint collection for the perfect shade to compliment the rest of your makeup, and carefully applied it before giving yourself a quick once over before smiling at yourself.

You walked out of the room, went into the living room and grabbed your handbag before walking out and getting in the car.

-

The drive was silent but you could tell Namjoon was thoroughly upset, however, you didn’t get why. He’s been with you long enough to know that you take forever to get ready, it’s practically his fault for telling you five hours prior instead of giving you a formal heads up on the event, so you didn’t even bother pleading your case. It would be best to stay quiet and hope that you could enjoy the night.

By the time you got there, you checked the clock on your phone and saw that you were only shy of ten minutes late, so that made you a little more ticked off by Namjoon’s earlier actions. Mostly because you definitely weren’t the only late ones, even then, it’s not like it mattered because he left with the rest of boys to go take pictures right after you walked in.

That being said you walked around mindlessly, trying to see if you knew anyone. Though you probably didn’t, so you just decided to see if there were any drinks nearby, which thankfully you saw not too far from your current spot.

On your way over, you were suddenly bumped by a tall, well dressed man who smelled like expensive cologne. Part of you was ready to go off, but the other part was too distracted by the familiar pink hair color that stood out.

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.” The familiar soft voice spoke down at you, and you momentarily forgot how to English as you stared up Leo. 95% because of shock, 5% because you didn’t think he was this tall in person.

“Uh. No. It’s fine.” You stuttered out and looked up and him. “It’s not like I fell or anything. Just a tiny bump.” You smiled.

“Still. I feel bad. You could’ve fell.” He frowned.

“No, really, it’s fine.” You insisted. “I mean, even if I did fall, it’s not like I’d hate you or anything. You’re too great for me to hate you.” You spoke before thinking and your eyes widened at the fact that you just nonchalantly said that, but before you could reply, you heard him chuckle, and you mentally cursed yourself.

“I’m so sorry. I totally didn’t mean to come off as weird.” You cringed at yourself.

“No, it’s nice to meet people that like me as an artist. Especially when they’re cute.” He smiled. And you didn’t know if it was the prior argument you were in with your boyfriend, or not but you played along with it, hoping your night wouldn’t end horribly after all.

“O-Oh.” You smiled shyly. “I’m just pretty average. Nothing special.”

“Well, to me you don’t seem ‘pretty average.’” He smiled, and you nearly swooned. His personality on camera was so different from how he’s acting. Was he really not as shy as he came off as?

“You’re pretty talkative for someone who acts so shy on camera.” You smiled up at him.

“No, I actually get pretty shy, but I feel comfortable around you for some reason.” He scratched the back of his neck and you saw his Adam's apple bob. It had been a good while since a man had been nervous in front of you. Namjoon was confident from the get go, and it was a blessing and a curse. You’d began to wonder if he ever even felt nervous around you before.

“Would you like a drink?” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, and before your voice could fail you, you quickly nodded your head, silently hoping you didn’t come off too eager.

You followed behind Leo as he led you to the counter and pointed at a chair for you to take, which you gladly accepted, but before you could sit, the clearing of someone’s throat interrupted, causing you to turn around and meet an unamused Namjoon.

“Are you really about to sit in that chair?” He glared and you scoffed.

“Yes. Now go back and play with your little friends like you have been. As you can see, I’m fine on my own.” You smiled at him and turned back to face Leo.

“Don’t worry about hi-” You started but Namjoon grabbed your hand to turn you around and drag you away.

“What the fuck?” You almost yelled, trying to get your hand out of his grasp, but to no avail, as you ended up being dragged into the nearest restroom.

“What the fuck was that?” He spat out.

“Am I not allowed to keep myself entertained while you abandon me?” You quirked a brow.

“You were flirting with him. It was obvio-”

“No. He was flirting with me. I never flirted back.” You stated matter-of-factly.

“Whatever that was. Why? Just because I was gone? Were you that desperate for attention?”

Your mouth dropped did he really just? “So, let’s get this straight. You don’t talk to me since we leave the house, we get here and you leave immediately after walking in, Leo comes up to talk to me and I finally get to talk to somebody, and then you rudely interrupt us because you finally wanna remember that I exist. Correct?” You quirked your head to the side.

He was silent, opting to breathe in heavy as a response.

“That’s what I thought.” You said, moving around so you could walk past him, and get out, but he quickly blocked the door.

“No. You can’t leave.”

“Why not.” You sighed. Completely fed up with whatever mood he was in.

“He’s your favorite artist. I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone with him.” He said quickly.

“Why? You think I can’t be faithful?” You questioned, feeling a little offended.

“No! Not that.” He almost yelled. Closing his eyes in frustration.

“Then what? I don’t have all damn night.” You looked up at him, trying to read the look in his eyes.

“I guess I’m just, I don’t know. Jealous.” He said, looking away.

You blinked at him. The embodiment of confidence is feeling jealous. It was unlike him.

“Does Leo make you that uncomfortable?”

“A little. I mean, you’ve done nothing but talk about him as your favorite artist ever and you’re always listening to his songs, and watching his videos. You’ve never given me and the guys that kind of attention.”

“Namjoon. Do you even hear yourself? I like him as an artist and just that. Not as a person. Sure, he’s hot and all, but I’ve been with you for almost a year. The least you could do is have some faith in me. Is it so bad to like your favorite artists? You used to be obsessed with watching girl group performances and I never once said anything. And I don’t give you guys the same attention because I can see it in person. I’ve never met Leo before, I can only ever watch videos and videos alone.”

You looked at him and waited for a reply, but you couldn’t get one. You sighed, giving up. “If you need me, I’ll be outsi-” Before you could finish your sentence, Namjoon grabbed your face and brought your lips to his, cutting you off.

The kiss was only soft for a few seconds before it got rougher, Namjoon pushing you against the sink, picking you up to place you on it.

“What just happened.” You whispered, pulling away a bit.

“I fucked up and now I’m apologizing.” Was all he said before placing his lips back on yours, giving you no room for further argument.

He tapped your thigh with his finger and you spread your legs so he could slip between them to be closer, his growing bulge pressing against your thigh, making you moan unconsciously, and move your hips towards him.

“Fuck.” He said, placing his hand on your lower back to hold you against him, groaning when it wasn’t enough. “Get up and turn around.”

By this point, there was no point in arguing. You slid off the sink and turned around so you faced the mirror in front of you, watching as Namjoon stared down at you while he undid his belt and slid his suit pants down before grabbing the helm of your dress and lifting it right above your ass.

“No panties?” He smirked, running his palms across the curves of your ass.

“They would’ve shown through the dress” You bit your lip as he squeezed the flesh of your ass in his hand.

“Smart girl.” He smiled, sliding his hands down to cup your heat, causing you to flinch, getting a hum in approval from him. “You’re always so sensitive.” He whispered to himself more than to you. “It never takes much to get you going.” He said while slowing sliding a finger into you, causing a small whimper to leave your lips.

“Do you think you can stay quiet for me?” He looked at you through the mirror, and you nodded. “Words.”

“Yes, I can stay quiet.” You sighed, as he slid his finger out, and spread your legs wider.

“Good.” Was all he said before sinking to his knees and placing his tongue flat against you, the feeling catching you off guard, and causing you to grip the sink for support. Your legs almost closing had it not been for Namjoon’s hold on your thighs, to pull you closer to him.

“Fuck, Joon, please. Do something.” You whined, backing yourself onto his face.

“But I am.” His muffled reply leaving the best vibrations in its wake.

“Eat me like you always do.” You whispered, reaching back with one hand to grab at his hair.

“Ask like a good girl.” He mumbled, drawing a small circle on your clit with his tongue.

“Please eat me like you always do.” You scrunched your eyes closed in frustration.

He hummed in response before poking his tongue inside you, then bringing it out to run up to your clit and suck on it, your legs tightening in response.

“Oh, shit.” You let out as he pushed two fingers into you, pumping at a reasonable pace to match his mouth, before speeding up, and curling ever so often, leaving you whimpering quietly while he did as he pleased, only stopping when your legs started to shake.

“I want you to look at yourself while I fuck you, okay?” He said breathlessly.

“Okay.” You swallowed hard, the thought turning you on even more as you looked into the mirror to see Namjoon grabbing his cock and pushing it inside you.

The both of you groaned as he bottomed out, and he stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust before you pushed back to give him the hint that he could move.

He brought his hips back, making slow and shallow thrusts, before gradually speeding up, causing you to grab onto the sink even harder to keep your body from moving too much. Not that you were complaining because watching Namjoon’s face scrunch up in pleasure was even more of a turn on. The way his eyebrows furrowed together or the way his suit still looked good while he was slamming into you made the situation ten times hotter.

“You look so good underneath me, you know that? You take my cock so well.” He grunted, placing a finger on your clit and rubbing lightly. “Like your pussy was made just for me.” He emphasized his words with particularly hard thrusts and pinches to your clit, ignoring the whines and small moans that fell from your lips.

His words plus what you saw in the mirror were all too overwhelming and you closed your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling of Namjoon. But only for a moment as he grabbed your hair and made you look back into the mirror.

“I thought I said to watch, baby girl. You’re normally so good at listening, why can’t you do something so simple?”

“I-It’s too much to handle.” You whispered out.

“I know. I can feel you clenching. You like watching yourself get fucked, huh? Getting used like the fuck doll you are.” He licked his lips.

“Yes, fuck.” You started. “I love it so much.” You breathed out.

“Such a good girl for me. I know you’re about to cum, but hold on a bit, okay?”

You nodded and tried your best to hold your upcoming release back as you felt Namjoon pull out all the way and slam back in. The whine that left your lips maybe a little too loud, but at this point, you didn’t care, it felt too good to care.

“Rub your clit for me, baby, show me how much you wanna cum.” He growled, placing both hands on your hips, and pulling you back into him. Your hand trailing down between your legs to rub eagerly at your clit, your orgasm building fast.

“Mh, gonna cum for me? Go on then, cum for me, but say my name when you do.”

“Fuck, Namjoon, I’m gonna cum.” Your voice was higher in pitch and you knew you were getting even closer as the pressure in your stomach kept building, so close to snapping.

“Fuck, babe, I’m clo-” He was cut off by his own orgasm, his body stilling as his cum shot into you. His orgasm triggering yours.

While regaining your breaths, the realization of it all hit you. You just fucked in the restroom, at a public event. And now you had to deal with looking fucked out for the rest of the night.

“Fuck.” You groaned.

“What?” Namjoon spoke, sliding out of you and pulling his pants up.

“We still have the rest of the event to stay for and I look like shit.” You whined, getting up and straightening your dress back down.

Namjoon smiled down at you and draped his suit coat over you.

“Who said we had to stay?”

[podcastlimbo]

Posted on AO3 too!

Woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat really worried that something bad would happen to Rilla’s house while she was. u kno. kidnapped. And it’s not like she has an alarm system or anything. So here we are. This is my first go at an actual rad bouquet thing so it’s a little short and clunky please forgive me akdjflksjdlfkja UH ANYWAYS happy lizard kissin’!!

Over the weeks following the battle at Fort Terminus, the three of them had spent most of their time in the Keep, and as such things go, had developed a routine, which started with them taking turns to make breakfast every morning. 

Rilla, Damien and Arum were gathered in kitchen (or at least, the room in the Keep that most resembled a kitchen). The weak early morning sunlight that filled the room illuminated shelves stocked with jars of jam, trays of vegetables and mushrooms, and baskets of fruit. There was a work bench in the middle of the room. Previously filled with clutter from Arum’s experiments, it had been mostly cleared out, save for a few odds and ends, to be replaced with a new sort of mess. Damien’s books and scrolls were piled high, and ink jars, quills and spare nibs had taken over a quarter of the table. Meanwhile, Rilla’s recorder, scientific journals and a lute she was in the process of constructing took up another quarter, as the three would sit together at the table, whiling away their lazy afternoons, working on their own projects in comfortable silence. 

As Rilla and Damien sleepily cleared the table to make way for breakfast, each handling their own treasures gingerly as they moved their mess to a corner of the room, they were shaken out of their morning reverie as Arum turned to face them from the pantry.

“We’re out of milk,” he announced. 

Ignoring the ensuing groans from his two (very petulant) humans, he carried on. “However, I don’t see this as much of a problem. After all, the pantry is still well-stocked with bread, fruit preserves and vegetables, all of which would make a perfectly acceptable breakfast.” “But no milk…” Damien’s voice, still thick from sleep, trembled slightly. 

“No milk means no coffee,” Rilla moaned. 

“Oh please. It’s not like you humans need coffee to survive.” “We do,” the two said in unison. 

“Well then, you’ll just have to drink your coffee without the milk. Now that that’s settled-“ 

“-but on it’s own, coffee is just bitter liquid! The milk adds flavour and body to an otherwise mediocre stimulant! Without it, coffee becomes undrinkable, and without coffee, our meal becomes incomplete,” Damien insisted, now fully awake. 

“So you’re saying… no milk means no coffee. No coffee means no breakfast.” 

“That’s exactly what we’re saying,” Rilla sat herself down at the empty table, pointedly ignoring Arum’s inevitable mutterings of “damn humans” and “inconvenient diets”, instead looking at Damien with pleading eyes. 

“All right then. It seems we have no other choice. Keep, open a portal to Rilla’s hut, and make sure no one else is nearby to see. I suppose we’ll have to do our shopping a little earlier than anticipated this week.” Damien ran hastily back to their bedroom, changing out of his sleepwear, as the Keep sang in acquiescence, the walls shifting to form an entryway back into the human world. 

“Wait! Wait! Damn it all! I’m all out of money!” 

Hearing his shout, Rilla and Arum made their way to where Damien was standing in the hallway, tunic half-buttoned and an empty purse hanging from his outstretched hand. Rilla put a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s all right, Damien. I’m sure there’s money at my place. We’ll just go check together!” “Make it quick,” Arum grumbled, “or I’m having breakfast without the two of you.” 

As the two ran off, Arum sat himself back down at the breakfast table, idly fiddling with Amaryllis’ recorder. 

It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes that passed this way, before his humans came dashing back through the portal.

“Back so soon? When I said I was going to eat without you, you know I didn’t mean it.” 

“It- it’s not that…” Damien’s eyes are frantic, and Arum could hear his panicked breathing. His frill flared slightly in worry, and he quickly made his way over to where the two were standing. 

“My hut- I got robbed!” Rilla exploded. 

“What?!” Arum snarled, longing for the reassuring weight of his knives he knew he had put away, having had no use for them in weeks. “When did it happen? Which miserable human did it? I swear I’ll tear their limbs off if-“ 

“-calm down, Arum. They only took my money and some of my jewelry. Most of my plants and experiments are intact. I mean.” She scoffed. “It’s not like anyone else is interested in a herbalist’s work, but-” 

“They took her backup recorders, too,” Damien finished. “The Queen had stationed guards to keep watch over her house in the wake of,” he cast an apprehensive look at Arum, who waved an unconcerned hand, “the kidnapping. I suppose during the chaos wreaked by the fear monster, the guards decided that some things weren’t worth protecting.” 

“I guess I should be grateful they didn’t take anything too valuable. Money can be made, jewelry can be bought, but those recorders… they were a secret between Marc and I. We were planning on improving them together and releasing them to citizens eventually but now…” 

Arum sighed. “I understand, Amaryllis. Come here. The both of you.” They stepped into his welcoming embrace and he wrapped his arms around them as they burrowed their faces in his chest. “If only I thought to secure your house before leaving for Ballast…” Damien’s voice was muffled, but both Arum and Rilla could hear it shaking. “I knew that your house had been broken into just hours before, but I was so worried about you that I didn’t think, and then the Queen summoned me on another mission before I could even catch my breath, and oh Saints your home had been broken into and you were kidnapped and I shouldn’t have trusted those guards I didn’t.. I couldn’t-“ 

“Hush now, Honeysuckle. Hush. Breathe.” Arum’s hand made small, reassuring circles around Damien’s back, as he felt the human’s frantic breathing slow. “If anything, the fault is mine. I broke into your home and took you away, Rilla. I should’ve thought that an abandoned hut with a door hanging open was practically an invitation for all manner of thieves and burglars. And now the fate of your creation is uncertain because of my stupidity. I’m… I”m sorry.” “I think you’d know I’m lying if I said I knew things were gonna be okay,” Rilla said grimly. “But I hope It’s nothing some time and luck wouldn’t be able to fix. Who knows? Maybe the person who took it just wanted to sell the shiny thing for parts. Besides.” She looked up at him with a slight grin. “You didn’t know me back then, did you?”

“And if I did, I wouldn’t have heard the end of it from you. Either that, or the Keep would’ve made me return and fix what I had broken.” 

At the Keep’s agreeing hum, the three of them chuckled. As one, they disentangled from the embrace, Damien giving Arum a small peck on the corner of his mouth before letting go of his hand, relishing in the look of confusion on the lizard’s face. He could swear that if Arum were capable of blushing, his green scales would’ve been flushed bright red. 

“What was that for?!” 

“That was a thank you. For helping me remain calm.” “You’re.. It’s.. I did nothing,” he huffed. 

“And Arum.” 

“Yes?” “You don’t need to blame yourself either. We’ve all erred in the past. As long as we recognise our mistakes and make them right.” “Of course I know that, my ever-righteous poet,” he replied, not unkindly. “I do hope that matters will work out…okay, as Amaryllis said.” “But if they don’t?” This question came from Rilla. Downcast, toying with the recorder on the table with her hands. “Then we’ll work it out together.” 

As Damien lent an extra pair of hands to Arum’s two, preparing their breakfast, sans-coffee, and as Rilla hummed in harmony with the Keep while she waited, the three (or four, if sentient plants counted) knew that that would always hold true, no matter how uncertain the future appeared to be. 

[sunlitblue]

Sigh Not So

this was not requested, but i missed my boy race, so here’s a (long) fic based on my favourite scene from much ado about nothing, which is my favourite shakespeare play. it’s also heavily inspired by a modern re-imagining of the play, which i am in love with, called nothing much to do. 10/10 would recommend watching, even if you’re not an english lit nerd like me. enjoy! <3 (PS if u can spot the quote from the original that i squeezed in near the end, then you’re legally required to marry me, sorry i don’t make the rules) (also the title is a ref to a quote from the play, i’m a nerd sorry)

It felt a bit melodramatic to call Race Higgins your enemy, but it was near enough to the truth. The truth was that you had liked him, once, maybe even more-than-liked him, but, as you grew older, the qualities you had once liked in him became obnoxious. It used to loosen you up when he made stupid jokes about whatever was happening, but now he was little more than a class clown who couldn’t take anything seriously. As you grew up, friendly roasts began to sound a little more serious, and, by the end of high school, he was the nearest thing you had to a sworn enemy.

You managed to fight with him about anything, from the correct translation of your Latin homework to the DC and Marvel cinematic universes. It was fun, sometimes, but mostly just exhausting. Sometimes, you wondered if it wouldn’t just be easier to get along, for your friends’ sake, if not for your own, but then he would make some ridiculous comment about how Parks and Rec was better than The Office and you would remember that he was the worst.  

He was annoying at track practices, when his hair was impossibly curly, and his eyes glittered with happiness, and he insisted that his team needed half of your soccer pitch to practice for field events. He was annoying in class, when he argued with the teacher about the underlying racism in Anthony and Cleopatra and, sure, he may have been right, but who cared about correctness when you went about an argument in the completely wrong way.

(“You,” Katherine would say every time that you brought this up. “You care about correctness, especially when it’s opposing Shakespeare.”

You ignored her. What mattered was that it was Race arguing with the teacher, and he was always wrong, even when he was right.)

He was especially annoying at parties, when he’d flirt with anyone who breathed – except you, of course. The way he nonchalantly joked with everyone else, and pretty much ignored your existence, except to tease you about your hair or something you had said, made your blood positively boil.

(And, Davey was wrong: you weren’t jealous of anyone, not even a little bit.)

He annoyed you at parties, but his absence from Jack Kelly’s annual Halloween party left a gaping hole. You were dressed as Jim Kirk, from Star Trek, and you had expected him to tease you as soon as you got to the party, insist that you had yourself pegged wrong and that you were definitely more of an expendable red shirt, than a royal yellow. You would respond in kind, with a snarky comment about how he had less personality than a Vulcan commander and all would be right in the world.

But, he didn’t show. Or, if he did, he managed to keep quiet the entire night which, considering who you were dealing with, just made the former more likely. Towards the end of the night, you found yourself leaning against a wall in the living room, talking to a girl that you kind of knew, dressed as Wednesday Addams, and a boy that you didn’t recognise, in a full Batman costume, face-covering cowl, and everything. Maybe, you had had a little too much of the definitely not kid-friendly punch that Romeo had whipped up, or maybe you were just tired, but, when the conversation lulled, Race popped into your mind.

“Hey, you haven’t seen Higgins around tonight, have you?”

“No,” the boy answered, clearing his throat. “I mean, no, I haven’t. Why?”

Maybe it was the alcohol, but you were almost certain that his voice was pitched a little lower than it had been earlier in the conversation. You frowned, it was probably the alcohol.

“No reason, I just feel like everyone’s here and he’s, like, not. It’s weird. And, it’s so uncharacteristic of him to let a night go by where he’s not the centre of attention.”

You winced a little at the harshness in your tone, and the boy must have picked up on it, too.

“You’re being kind of hard on him, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes.

“No, I’m giving him the same treatment he gives me, all the time. And, besides, it’s not like I haven’t tried to get to know him – it’s not my fault he’s the biggest douche canoe this side of Canada.”

You couldn’t see the boy’s face in his costume, but you thought that he might have been frowning.

“What do you mean ‘tried to get to know him’? From what I’ve heard he’s a pretty dope guy.”

You scoffed. Did people still say dope?

“Dude, I think I would know. We used to be really good friends, like, maybe even best friends when we were in middle school, and then I guess he just lost interest, like he always does. He’s got the attention span of a studious gold fish, I swear.”

“Well, did you ever talk to him about it? Maybe, it was just a miscommunication kind of thing.”

“Ugh, as if. If he stopped talking to me, it isn’t my job to figure out what his issue is. I just,” you huffed in frustration. “We’re all here, having a good time and making fools of ourselves and he’s just missing in action. Although, I bet if he did come to this party, he’d be dressed as Peter Pan, the boy who never fucking grows up.”

The boy flinched, and you wondered for a second if you had gone too far.

“That’s harsh. You should try to give him a chance, maybe he actually wants to try to get to know you, again,” he said, before drifting off like some mysterious faerie. You weren’t sure when during the conversation the girl had left, but, soon, you were standing alone. You stood there for a moment longer, wondering idly about who that guy thought he was, anyway. You finished the drink in your cup and sauntered off to find some more of that magic punch, not giving the boy in the Batman costume a second thought.

The conversation only drifted through your mind again the next morning, when you woke up, groggy and confused, on Jack’s couch. Maybe you were a little harsh, but you had given Race the benefit of the doubt, once upon a time. He had been one of your closest friends, once upon a time.

You still remembered the last proper conversation that you had had with him. You were twelve, sitting in your bedroom and playing video games, when he paused the screen and turned to you with an oddly determined look on his face. He asked if you had heard the rumour that someone was spreading around school, that you and he were dating. You said you had, still a little confused,  and he gave you this intense, unforgettable look, before asking what you thought of it all. You laughed at the idea, telling him, perhaps a little dishonestly, that it was super gross. He was like your brother, you said. You didn’t think much of it, at all. Why would he care, anyway? He had that pretty girl, Zoey. Finch had said that he had seen them holding hands at Sarah J’s party, so you didn’t want to ruin anything for him by admitting that you sometimes wished that the rumours were true. You pressed play and kicked his ass in Tekken. 

The next Monday, at school, he acted like nothing was wrong, but, after that, the pair of you started to drift apart. You stopped playing video games together, playful barbs became antagonism and, by the time you reached high school, you had nothing left of the friendship that you had once shared. It was sad, sure, but you weren’t a chaser. If Race didn’t want to be your friend, then so be it.

You didn’t think again about the conversation with Batman boy, or what you might have done wrong to get Race to hate you, until a few nights later, when you were sitting at home alone. You were trying to convince yourself to get up and get something done, maybe cook dinner or do your homework, for once, but, instead you were scrolling through your unexciting Instagram feed. You idly double tapped on a few photos, exhaled out of your nose in lieu of laughter at some stupid memes, and then you reached a picture that Albert had posted, from the weekend’s party. It was him and a couple of other boys grinning at the camera and you were about to scroll past, when you saw a familiar costume. It was yellow and black, with the tell-tale Batman logo on the front, but, this time, the wearer had the hood off. Shit. Shitshitshit. There, in the Batman costume was Anthony Higgins. You had accidentally complained about him to him. Sure, you and Race weren’t the best of friends, but you didn’t want him to think you were an asshole.

You fumbled to your contacts app and called Katherine. She’d know what to do, you were sure of it. After she had got done laughing at you, she offered you a solution: Talk to Race and apologise for what you had said. You knew, logically, that that was your only option, but you really wished that the world would end before you had to apologise to Race Higgins. You couldn’t stomach texting him and figured that you could just grab him after school the next day.

The day went by a little too fast, and, before you knew it, the bell had rung to signal the end of your last lesson. You resigned yourself to your fate and made you way to Race’s locker, which was just a few doors down from yours. He was alone, thankfully, and looked more than a little surprised to see you heading his way.

“Hey,” you tried to smile when you reached him, but you were sure it came across as more of a grimace.

“Hi,” he answered, barely looking at you as he moved books from his locker to his bag.

“Race,” you tried again, putting a hand on his forearm to stop his fairly violent rifling. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” He glanced down at where your hand touched his arm and sighed, turning to you, looking a little deflated.

“Fine. What’s up?”

You took a deep breath.

“Look, I didn’t know it was you that I was saying that shit to at Jack’s. And, I know it was shitty of me to be saying that to anyone, but I didn’t mean most of it. You’re on my nerves half the time, and making fun of me the other half, but that was mean. I’m sorry.”

He looked shocked, and a little pensive.

“It’s, um. It’s okay, Y/N. It just made me kind of sad that we aren’t friends anymore. I mean, we were good together.”

He met your eyes, and you were struck by how much you had missed the way they shined when he was being sincere.

“Yeah, uh, me too. We made a good team. I miss that.”

He looked like he was going to say something else, when Albert came up behind him and put two hands on his shoulders.

“Race and Y/N? Having a civil conversation? I’m entering the lottery on the way home, because today is a day for miracles.”

Race rolled his eyes at you and you laughed.

“Fuck off, DaSilva, you’re not even old enough to get a ticket,” he said jerking the boy’s hands off his shoulders.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “And you waste enough money buying coffee to flirt with Elmer at Jacobi’s.”

“Nice,” Race laughed high-fiving you, and Albert stuck his tongue out at you, before stalking off because he didn’t have a good comeback to dispute the truth.

There was a beat of silence, and before it started to get awkward, Race spoke again.

“Uh, if you’re serious about being friends again, we should hang out some time, maybe go to the arcade?”

You smiled at him, brightly.

“You sure that’s a good idea, Higgins? I’ll smoke you in ice hockey, like I always used to.”

“Uh, you wish. I’m the ice hockey king, baby.”

You punched him in the shoulder and made plans for that weekend. That had gone better than you had expected.

It wouldn’t have been true to say that you had changed your mind about Race right away. You had fun with him, from that first day at the arcade, onwards. It was still a little awkward and there was always a little tension in the room, but you worked through it. You were seniors, you could be mature, if you tried.

(Although maturity certainly seemed to be in short supply when you and Race giggled, together, at the matching sixty-nines that you got on your history pop quizzes, or when he whispered “that’s what she said” in your ear at almost every sentence that came out of Mr Bunsen’s mouth in bio.)

You didn’t hate him, not that you ever really had. You hated that, now, his stupid jokes made you laugh, because you were included in them. You hated the warmth you felt in your chest when you said something that made him laugh, and you especially hated that crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he smiled at you, sincere and earnest.

You, realised, gradually, that you and Race had never been enemies – you just responded to what you thought was his hate in kind. It was easier to keep roasting one another, when neither one of you broke the cycle. That conversation at the party had been a turning point, for both of you.

Although, you still seemed unable to talk about the elephant in the room. You and Race never discussed how the animosity had begun between the two of you. Bringing it up would force you both to admit how stupid you had been, and neither of you were very skilled at admitting fault. It was easier to ignore it, to dance around it, than it was to deal with it. It was on your mind more often, now.

You wondered what had really happened, because something had to have happened, right? The more you thought about it, the more it made sense. People don’t just stop being friends and turn to enemies, like flicking a switch, especially not two fiercely loyal people, like you and Race. You didn’t mention it, though, for fear that you would slip back into old habits.

You liked Race, you realised, even if the two of you were incapable of having a conversation about emotions. You grinned at one another in private moments of understanding, warm with that feeling you get when you spend time with someone who has the exact same sense of humour as you. It was really good to be his friend again, until it wasn’t.

The argument had started by accident. Race was coming over on a Thursday, after school to work on a project for history. You were determined to get better than a sixty-nine for this one, even if that was the golden number. When Race had rung the doorbell, your mum had welcomed him in, pleasantly surprised to see him. You always had a feeling that she was sadder about your losing Race than you were. She was convinced that the two of you were soulmates, even when you were kids in the playground. She called it a mum’s intuition. You called it heteronormativity, but, anyway.

She chatted his ear off as she waited for you to come downstairs, talking about how much she had missed having a boy around, and how glad she was that the two of you had patched everything up. You caught the tail end of the conversation as you made your way down the stairs.

“What ever happened between you two, anyway?” your mum had asked, innocently enough.

Race laughed uncomfortably.

“Oh, I guess she just got too busy for me. I’m glad we’re friends again, now, though.”

Your mum agreed, and you fumed. Almost as soon as you had pulled your bedroom shut behind you, you gave him A Look. He was alarmed.

“What?” he asked.

“What do you mean ‘what’? Do you seriously think it’s my fault that we stopped being friends?”

He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Oh, about what I said to your mom? I mean, yeah, it kind of was. You stopped inviting me over or replying to my texts, so I just figured you were busy,” he sounded unsure of himself.

“You stopped talking to me, Race. Was I supposed to be super nice to you when you always acted like you’d rather be anywhere else when I was in the same room as you?”

He scoffed.

“Are you being for real? We were fine, we were doing great, and then you started hanging out with Katherine or Davey instead of me, which is fine, but it was so not my fault.”

“You pretty much begged for space that day when you asked me about the stupid rumours about us dating, or whatever!”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“I cannot believe we’re talking about this. We were twelve, we were stupid!”

“And, now, you’re deflecting,” you replied. “We were best friends, Race. I just wanna know what happened between us.”

He sighed and flopped on your bed like a petulant child. His blue eyes were stormy, and they looked familiarly intense.

“Fine, it was kind of my fault, I guess.”

You kept yourself from fist pumping.

“It’s just, I felt so stupid!” he continued.

“What do you mean?” you asked, gently, this time, sitting at his feet on the bed.

“So, that day? When I asked you about the stupid middle school rumours?”

You nodded, motioning for him to go on.

“I had the biggest crush on you, and I figured that that was your way of letting me down easy. I was like your brother, right? It sucked. And, whenever we hung out, after that, I just felt so frustrated. I was mad at me, for being stupid and catching feelings and making everything weird between us, but I guess it was easier to just lash out at you. It was dumb, but I don’t think I like anything in the world as much as I like you, you were the first person that I ever felt any anything for. It sucked.”

He scrunched his eyes shut and looked ready to disappear.

“Wait,” you said, still processing his words. “’Like’, as in, present tense?”

He sat up straight.

“I – what?”

“You said like, like present tense like, like currently like.”

He cleared his throat and his eyes scanned the room, as he searched the walls for something.

“Uh, slip of the tongue, whatever. You said like way too many times just then.”

You waved your hand. Semantics.

“Do you, um, like me, as in like-like me, present tense like me, Race?”

He sputtered for a moment, and then swallowed drily.

“I guess, it’s stupid. It kind of never went away, if you can believe it.”

You could believe it. It wasn’t hard to believe, since you could relate. He was waiting, nervously, for you to say something, but your words didn’t seem to be working. Instead of speaking, you moved across the bed, so that you were sitting next to him, both of your heads leaning against the wall.

“I, um,” you took a deep breath. “Uh, same.”

His head snapped to yours and he searched your eyes for humour. He sighed, shakily, and then let out a soft laugh.

“’Same?’ I practically confess my love to you and all you’ve got is ‘same’?”

His eyes twinkled with mirth.

“Well, what else do you want me to say?” you protested. “That I don’t hate you? That I never wanted to hate you? I just figured that you didn’t want to be my friend, anymore.”

“God. We are idiots.”

“Yep,” you agreed.

You sat in silence for a moment, letting the realisation of what you had just admitted wash over you. Race suddenly turned to you.

“So, what happens now?”

You shrugged, still not meeting his eyes. You weren’t sure what you were nervous about now, but the tumble of feelings in your stomach insisted that looking at Race’s eyes would ruin you, so you stared at the white wall in front you.

“Because,” he said, putting a hand on your knee like he was bracing himself. “I kinda wanna make out with you, like, romantically?”

A laugh bubbled out of you and you turned to him, finally. You had been wrong, before, about the consequences of meeting his eyes. They weren’t storm-blue anymore. They were blue like the sky on a sunny a day. They were blue like the ocean, when you’ve spent months away from the sea. They were a sight to behold.

You turned your whole body to face him and gently slipped a hand to the back of his neck, playing with the blonde curls there. You leaned into him, and just before your lips met his, you muttered a word, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Same.”

You leaned in and kissed him, with years’ worth of hidden feelings, and he smiled against your lips. You pulled away after a bit and looked at his eyes. His pupils were blown wide, but they were as blue as ever. You wondered how you had ever pretended to dislike eyes as beautiful as his.

 TAGLIST: @bencookisagod @broadwayandbookblog @theygivesyawhateveryouwant @crazymecjc

[moonraccoon-exe]

Omg, Coonie it was your Birthday? If you told me before I forgot it, so sorry. Please have the warmest hugs I can give and the happiest vibes possible. Here some beautiful moonflowers and delicious muffins too. Aaaah, Coonie, it was your Birthday! I hope it was super nice and that you spend it with the good side of your family. I hope you got everything that you wished for and if not that you may recieve it in the future. Have all my best wishes. *hugs you so tight and lovingly as I can*-Peridot

KLASJDFKLDAGJAKLFJADLKG AKLFJADGKLDAG LKADGJ KLDAGJADLKG DKLAJAKLDFJ KLGDAJA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 

PERIDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!!!!!!!! ❤❤

*HUGS AND STAYS FOREVER HUGGED TO YOUR HEAD*

OMG PERIDOT!!!!!!! SUNSHINE WAFFLE, PRECIOUS MUFFIN, ADORABLE CUPCAKE MADE OF SWEETNESS AND RADIANT KINDNESS, IT U!!!!!!

*AGGRESSIVELY SNUGGLES*

BUDDY, IT!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH, I DID NOTICE YOU HADN’T BEEN ONLINE AND I WAS WONDERING IF YOU HAD SEEN THE OTHER ASKS I’VE ANSWERED TO YOU BUT IT’S OKAY MUFFIN, NO NEED TO BE ONLINE ALL THE TIME, I HOPE EVERYTHING’S ALRIGHT WITH YOU ASLKDJDLKGJALDKJGADJL

Peridot, buddy, thank you so much!!!!! Omg, thank you,my heart is so full right now aaaahhh ;A;

Do’t worry about missing my birthday, dear Peridot!!! The thing is that I didn’t tell anyone, so I can’t be upset at anyone for something they didn’t know they didn’t know. Truth be told, I only wrote 1 tag at the bottom of a tag rant only a few hours from my midnight before my birthday, which is sleep time for most of the world, so of course people wouldn’t see it. Indeed, if it wasn’t for Yuu’s ask, everyone else who said something wouldn’t have known o remembered!! And that’s only because Yuu was around the previous year already, and drew something or me, so that kinda stuff you don’t forget. 

So really, I can’t blame anyone. I said literally nothing about it, I’ve been quiet about it since my last birthday, hahaha <3 So it’s not your fault. I never told you before. So no worries about that :)

((let me put a nice keep reading right here))

Peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeridoooooooooooooooooooooooooooot!!!!! <3 <3 <3

Thank you so, so, SO much for this BEAUTIFUL, most wonderfulask, dear friend. Thank you, thank you wholeheartedly for all the good words, kind wishes, and the overall beauty of this message, aaah. You know how you always leave me not knowing what to say? Once more, I’m sitting here speechless because I don’t know how to tell you enough how grateful I am and how happy you’ve made me :’)

Thank you so much for the warm hugs and the happiest vibes!!! I receive them and I very dearly treasure and appreciate them. Thank you for taking the effort to send to me such beautiful thoughts and vibes. I’m sure they’ll be doing their job and give me a splendid day, and even if they don’t, you ask as itself has already done so. You’ve made me smile so much and have made me so happy with this, dear Peridot, I don’t know how to describe it enough :3

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, thank you so so so much for the  moonflowers and the delicious muffins!!!! <3 NOW I FEEL THAT I’M SITTING HERE ON A BEAUTIFUL  NEST OF THE PRETTIEST MOONFLOWERS AND CHOMPING DOWN ON ALL MY MOUNTAINS OF CHOCOLATE AND VANILLA MUFFINS LIKE A CHAMPION LIKE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM NOMNOMNONMONMNOMNONMNOMNONMONMONMONMONMNOMNONMONMNOM NOM  HASDHJFDAGAJDJFADKGLJADGKLAJGKLAGJD

YAS. PRINCE RACCOON CHARMING SURROUNDED OF THE  MOST BEAUTIFUL FLOWERS AND EATING ALL THE YUMMY TREATS IS LIKE HEAVEN LKAJSDLKDJGLKADJGDALKG AFLKADJ

Aaaaahhhhhhh, seriously, thank you so much!!! :’3

And yeah, it was a nice day!! There was nothing grand or particularly special, but I had a good day. The better side of my family all live in other states and the nearest is an hour and half away, the rest are over 4 hours away (and the states are relatively close...the cons of a huge sized country!), so I’ve never spent a birthday with them, hahaha. But that’s okay. As good as they are, I don’t finish blending in, you know? So like, they don’t have the same sort of fun that I do, except for a couple cousins but they live like 7 or 8 hours away. 

But that’s okay! I really LOVE and prefer spending time with my friends. This year it wasn’t possible, but mostly because, surprisingly, it was the first year my family decided to stop work and hang out with me :3 The core of my family, I mean, mom and dad and my brother.

I guess a lot of it is because papa hasn’t had formal job for over a year or two now. So on his formal profession, he’s always away and home on the weekends if we’re lucky, so that’s a lot to blame on why I hadn’t spend birthdays with them before in like the past 8 or 9 or so years. But now that he’s in an informal job, he can drop it any time he wants. So it was a matter of waiting for mommy to be out, him to catch up, and me to make it to a middle point (I went to my course schoo,too). My brother sadly can’t drop it as easily as my parents, but that’s okay, he caught up afterwards.

So it was a good day :3 We didn’t go anywhere particular or do anything special, but it was nice haanging with them and walking through the city. I chomped down a big bowl of my favorite food at one of my favorite places and my favorite Icee flavor I don’t find as easily, and some other very yummy treats!! I felt like an ancient roman eating and eating non stop to celebrate kalsjdkladgjadlkgjadlkgajd

So yeah, it was a great day!!! 

Thank you for your good wishes, dear Peridot. Thank you for hoping that I got what I wished for, or to receive it in the future. I honestly can’t think of anything special to wish for. I’d like some extra cash right now to pay my mommy for the course I’m taking, but that’s really not important. I’ve got my family alive and healthy, so am I, I’ve got a house and blankets, and food in the fridge. I’m so blessed and more privileged than most, I can’t think of anything besides material things, which really are just an extra and bonus of life.

Thank you wholeheartedly for suc pure and sincere and beautiful wishes, dear friend. Thank you, immensely, I can’t describe how much. 

Thank you. Thank you for taking the time to drop by and write such heartfelt and wonderful ask, my dear friend. Again, no worries about being late. It literally wasn’t on you. You could have been months late, I’d still have been hyped <3

Thank you for writing those  beautiful things, and thank you immensely for the most beautiful wishes and the kind words. 

I’m so grateful to be your friend, PEridot. I’m so grateful you took the time to write to me. Thank you so much. Your message means a lotto me, more than I can say, just because it’s you and you’re a very dear friend to me. 

So really, thank you. You’ve brightened my day fully <3

As to the day, my birthday is on the 11th, so Friday it was! :) 

I’m a bit worried for you, though. I hope everything’s been okay. Were you busy and that’s why you hadn’t been online since wednesday? Perhaps it’s the job teaching that you told me about in an earlier ask? I hope that it was anything except something bad, dear Peridot. And if it was something bad what kep you away, then I sincerely hope and wish for it to have eased and gotten better now, and if that’s out of reach, I at least do wholeheartedly wish for you to at least feel better. I hope you’ve taken the time you may have needed to recover and rest, my dear friend.

May the stars give you twice as you’ve given me, buddy. I hope you’re alright. And if you’re not, I send you my warmiest, happiest, and most healing raccoonie magical vibes to help you recover soon. And even if you’re alright, I still send them, just to give you a bonus of joy!!

Thank you again, my dear friend. I hope that you had a FANTASTIC weekend, and may your new week start off phenomenally. I wuv ya!! (ɔˆ⌣(ˆ⌣ˆc) ❤

[jugheadangst]

Wine Snob

Pairing: Jughead x Reader / Jughead x Betty

Word count: 3,486

Summary: An AU where Jughead has been living with his mother this whole time but is now visiting his father over the summer during his break from college. He hit it off with Betty but it is you, the reader, the ends up stealing his heart in the end. Considering the nature of this fic, obviously the characters are over 21.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, tsundere af reader, kissing and touching but not much else - similar to the last one

A/N: ALLOW ME TO GO OFF ON A TANGENT for reference - I suggest any wine by Prophecy tbh. their bottle art is inspired by tarot cards. their sauvignon blanc is my favorite. the bitterness is to die for. Curious Beasts’ chardonnay is also delicious. but dont drink any wine from california because that shit is absolute trash water. just pay the extra money for imports. you’ll thank yourself later. i’ve yet to taste a marlborough wine i dont like sO THERE U GO.

Jughead doesn't like to admit it but he's kind of a sentimental guy. Broody as he might be, when it involves him and someone he cares about, he wants things to be special. Just right. Perfect, even. And so it goes without saying for the date he has with Betty that evening. They had never been close. How could they? Last he knew, she had been pining for Archie. But that was before Jughead's parents separating and before he moved away with his mom and little sister. He had always been given the option to visit his dad over the holidays - he had even been encouraged to do so. But he never actually did. He couldn't forgive his dad for not being able to hold it together for the sake of his family. For a long time, Jughead hated his sad and sorry ass. But as he grew from an adolescent to a young adult - from high school to college - that anger faded. And although he still couldn't forgive his father for being the reason why his family had to fall apart, Jughead could at least tolerate him now. So he decided to finally spend a summer with FP after all these years. Yet it wasn't his father who Jughead has been spending most of the summer with. Instead, it's been Betty. And tonight was the night he hoped to make a move into something serious between the two of them.

But what did it mean to Jughead to make a first date between him and Betty special? He thought that wine might be a good place to start. So he found himself at a store that sold wine exclusively. Not quite his daddy's local liqueur agency.

When Jughead entered, the ring of the bells above the glass door echoed throughout the empty store. For a moment he thought that he was the only one there but far in the back of the store, he heard the tinkling of bottles knocking against bottles.

"Hello!" a voice called out. "I'm back here if you need any assistance!"

Jughead took one long look around the store and called back, "I think I'm going to need assistance."

Standing at the front of the store was a new face. You didn't get these very often. Anyone passing through Riverdale would opt for a more convenient means of attaining their alcohol - grocery stores, mostly. The only ones who passed through the doors were regulars. And this wasn't one of them.

"Is there anything in particular that you're looking for?" It's the first question you always ask on the rare occasion you get new customers.

"Not really," the guy mutters. "I don't actually know anything about wine."

"First time buying?"

"Yeah."

"Best to start with something sweet, then. Although in this summer heat, dry is sometimes better. How well do you hold your alcohol?"

The poor man looks at a loss for words. His mouth is open and his eyes are darting around the store. His visible confusion is beginning to develop into panic.

Sighing, he says, "Look, it's for a date. It's my first one with her. I'm not a drinker and I highly doubt she is, either. I just want something nice."

You pause for a moment before responding, giving him a long look. It's not uncommon for people to become overwhelmed when they seek out a wine that isn't Arbor Mist from the bottom shelf of a grocery store but you can't help but feel like he's being a little rude right now.

"Fine," you say. "Rosé it is. Sweet, like I already said."

Without another word or beckon, you begin walking to the section of the store that sticks out from the rest of the shelves by color alone. This is where liquid in every tint and shade of pink imaginable is kept and it's a favorite among the regulars.

The man stands still in front of the selection and stares blankly at the bottles. You stand next to him, waiting.

"Any suggestions?" he asks, weakly.

You point out a bottle with a blonde woman on the front of it.

"Prophecy makes great wines of every varietal. And the price isn't too expensive either. It's a personal favorite of mine."

Reaching out and taking the bottle that had been pointed to, the man follows you to the register thereafter. He hands you some money and leaves with a muttered, "thanks."

Hopefully you never see that miserable brood again.

The date did not go as Jughead had hoped. Try as hard as he may to have made it special. But how could he have known? As far as he's concerned, it wasn't his fault.

Jughead arrived at her house early and although she was still getting ready, he waited patiently in the living room meanwhile avoiding her mother's glares from the kitchen. He escaped out the front door as soon as Betty made it to the bottom of the stairs.

"So where are you taking me?" she has asked. And Jughead smiled in response. But that's all he did. Shaking his head when Betty prodded for more answers. Once you arrived at your destination, however, she shook her own head and rolled her eyes, muttering, "Sweetwater River? I should have know." Her tone had been playful, though.

"You should have known by the time we started walking through the trees," Jughead had pointed out. And they shared a laugh.

They shared a lot of laughs, in fact. From within his messenger bag slung across his shoulder, Jughead had pulled out a small blanket just big enough for the two of them to sit closely together. He certainly had not intended it to be this way - his bag was small and it was the only way he could fit the wine in along with it.

Which he eventually brought out. Once Jughead thought that him and Betty had settled in and gotten comfortable with each other, that's when he decided to open up the rosé wine he had bought earlier that day. And the laughing stopped. Betty's expression went blank and she just stared at the bottle in Jughead's hands.

"Would you like some?" he asked.

"Not really," she answered, looking away.

"What's wrong?" Jughead asked. "You don't like wine?"

"I don't like alcohol. Period."

"Okay, well, I didn't know. I was just trying to be...romantic, I guess."

The tone of Jughead's voice was deflated and he turned to shove the bottle back into his bag. But when he turned back, Betty was in tears.

"What's wrong?" he repeated. Jughead had moved in to hug her, an attempt to comfort her, but Betty shoved him away. Hard, too.

"Get the fuck away from me!" she shouted. Before he could even process what was going on, Betty was on her feet and running. He could hear her sobs fade as she moved through the woods.

"Goddammit," he muttered. And he got to his feet as well because there was no reason to stick around. Collecting the blanket and stuffing it in where the piece of shit wine bottle already was, Jughead made his way in the direction that Betty disappeared off to. But he wasn't chasing after her. No. He was going home.

Later Jughead would learn from Archie why Betty had reacted so poorly to the offer of alcohol. It had a lot to do with why things became sour between the two of them. According to Archie, he had drank a little too much and they had gotten into a fight. Archie wasn't too kind to her. He thinks that she might have a little bit of trauma attached to what happened and has therefore developed an aversion to alcohol.

"It triggers her," Archie supposed.

"And you know what?" Jughead asked - but, before Archie could respond, he answered his own question. "I don't blame her. Shit like what happened between you and Betty is how my own parents' split developed. So fuck you." Jughead hung up the phone before Archie could say anything back and he ignored follow up calls and texts thereafter.

It sucked what happened between him and Betty. But what sucked even more is that someone Jughead considered to be a friend could turn out to be such an awful person. At one time, he would have sworn that Archie was better than that. But time changes people. And so does alcohol, Jughead supposes. If his own father was any example.

The bottle that had only been partly responsible for his bad date hadn't left his messenger bag since he stuffed it in that night. Not knowing what else to do with it, Jughead had decided to just go ahead and drink it. Or at least try it to taste. Who knows? He might like it. But when he went to go get the bottle from the messenger bag that had laid abandoned by the door since that ill-fated night, it was nowhere to be found.

"Dad..." Jughead muttered with a sigh, shaking his head. It wasn't even worth confronting FP about stealing his ten dollar bottle of wine or about going through his personal possessions. Jughead knows that where it concerns his father, it's best to pick his battles, so he snatches up his keys and decides to drop into the store for another bottle. This time he'll keep it well hidden if he doesn't end up polishing it off by himself. He figures if both his dad and former best friend can do it, why not him, too?

It had been about a week since you'd first seen that rather rude newcomer. You almost thought your wish came true - that you'd never see him again. But as your (albeit bad) luck would have it, that afternoon he returns. You have enough time to expel an exasperated sigh before he reaches the back of the store where you are.

Forcing a smile, you greet him. "What can I help you with today?" Before he can respond, you add, "More delicious rosé wine or are you looking to expand your palate?"

"I'll take your word for it that the wine you sold me is delicious. I wouldn't know. My dad drank it."

Rude as ever, you observe.

"But what about your date?"

"It was a disaster."

You stare at him and he stares back at you. After a long pause, you ask, "So...what is it you're looking for today?"

"Any suggestions for the man that will remain perpetually single?"

"No man remains single with the right wine, I'll assure you that."

His response is the last thing you're expecting. And he looks you dead in the eye as he poses the question, too.

"Does that mean you'll go on a date with me if I pick out the right wine?" You might just be imagining things but you could swear you see an eyebrow of his quiver - as if he's trying his hardest to repress a smug expression.

And broody, standoffish personality be damned, this guy is pretty cute. If you're honest to yourself and fair to him, people tend to say that you're not the most approachable individual, either. Birds of a feather, you suppose.

"I don't know," you reply with a shrug. "For a guy who knows nothing about wines, how could you possibly know what the right one is?"

"I'll figure it out," he says. "I'll do some research and come back to you."

You begin to feel a nervous, giddy feeling welling up in your stomach and it creeps its way up to your throat. You can't remember the last time you felt the flutter of a new romantic possibility and although you had your doubts about this guy at first, you can't deny the attraction that's started to develop.

"Fine," you give in with a sigh. "Do what you gotta' do and pick out a wine that impresses me. But be warned - I'm the one who picks out all the wine sold here so every bottle here is the best if I do say so myself."

"Well that just makes it easy then, doesn't it?" The guy is smiling and he's not repressing any expression of smugnes now.

"Get out of here," you mutter with a wave of your hands. "Don't come back at all, for all I care."

"You care," he says. "You will."

The still broody but now cute man is about to let himself out of the store before you call out to stop him. You just realized something.

"What's your name, anyway?"

"Jughead."

Rather than tell him that that's the stupidest name you've ever heard, you opt to share your own name, instead. And the way he says your name when he calls back a "see you soon" might have made your skin crawl with goosebumps.

Jughead doesn't know a damn thing about wine. But he does his research just as he says he was going to. It's just that it doesn't real help him. Like, at all. He's reading up on everything related to vintage, varietal, and vineyards, but with so many variations of all three, Jughead can't even begin to imagine how anyone could ever possibly pick a favorite from among it all.

But that's when he remembers. The pretty lady at the wine store does have a favorite and she told him. It was the wine he had bought for his date with Betty. She said it was a personal favorite.

That would be the right wine; no research required.

You feel like this Jughead guy walks in a little cocky. That's the first sign that gives away how in for it you really are. But you won't let him take away the spoils just yet. Jughead can walk in with a head full of knowledge and still pick out a wine you don't particularly care for. Though, since working at the store, you've developed a taste for almost everything. You still have your favorites.

"What have you got for me?" you ask him.

And he doesn't respond. Instead, Jughead slinks across the store to the section you had introduced him to the first time he entered. He looks at you. Looks at the bottles. Looks back at you and reaches out for the wine you had suggested.

"It's a personal favorite, no?" You almost want to slap the smile off his face if it wasn't how damn smooth he was being right now.

"That hardly took any effort on your part," you mutter as you ring him up.

"You didn't say I had to work hard for it," Jughead points out. "Just that I had to pick the right wine."

"You win, okay?" Locking eyes with Jughead, you ask, "Now what?"

"Now we go on a date," he responds. That smile you wanted to slap has turned into a shit-eating grin. What have you gotten yourself into?

Lacking any originality whatsoever, Jughead takes you to Sweetwater River. You know this is probably where he had taken his original date - the one that failed so miserably, according to him - but you hardly even care. You quite like the woods and the water. Just because Jughead a poor experience with one woman here didn't mean he had to have a poor experience with another. In fact, you're kind of looking forward to showing him the opposite. Not to get too far ahead of yourself or anything but you've been thinking about him a lot. You also think you're at least a little bit curious about what could happen between you two. Perhaps you were just a tad judgmental. First impressions aren't necessarily the true.

"I don't imagine you had any room for glasses in that little bag of yours," you say with a smile.

"What?" Jughead asks in response. "Got a problem with sharing saliva?"

You laugh and turn away, hoping that Jughead doesn't see the blush that's slowly creeping up your cheeks. You're worried about losing your calm and cool demeanor but this boy is breaking down your defenses and it's almost like he knows it.

After passing the bottle back and forth a few times, you wonder if he likes the taste. And he shrugs, saying that it's alright.

"Maybe if I hang out with you a little while longer, I'll develop a taste for this stuff." Jughead's gaze is piercing into your own and you feel your lips part, your response getting caught in the back of your throat.

"Do you...I mean, is that what you want? To hang out more?"

"Do you?"

"I do."

You don't even hesitate in your response. To cover the pressure of saying anything else or responding to whatever he might say next, you snatch the bottle and begin drinking deeply.

"Save some for me!" Jughead shouts, slapping at your hand and laughing.

The sudden influx of alcohol is something like a shock to your system. You rock back and forth a little bit, feeling quite woozy and dizzy in the head, before collapsing on Jughead. He catches you, though, and you don't notice at first but slowly you begin to realize that he's not pushing you upright. He's holding you in his arms - quite tightly, if you're not mistaken. So you let yourself slip lower so that you're laying in his laps with his arms still wrapped around your shoulders. He's leaning down to compensate for the length you slipped to. And as you gaze up at him, you can see the faint light of stars beginning to peek out of the purple-blue sky as night creeps across the landscape.

"You feeling okay?" Jughead asks. His voice is soft and you relish the deepness it has compared to the sound of when he speaks normally.

You reach up and run a hand across the skin of his cheek, soft as his voice, and whisper, "I feel great."

What you do next can't even be blamed on the alcohol because it's something you've been thinking about since you put Jughead up to the challenge of finding the right wine. Those lips - when he smiles, when he speaks - are just too tempting. So you close the distance between you and him. Reaching up with your other hand, you pull Jughead down and kiss him. Softly, slowly, tentatively at first. Exploring the possibility that he wants this like you do. And when he doesn't pull away, you know that he does. He kisses back harder than you do; gestures more aggressive. You don't mind it at all.

You're losing yourself in the moment of simply kissing and touching. It's been awhile since you've experienced anything remotely similar to this so this alone is enough. But Jughead breaks the moment when he pulls away, a soft pant brushing against the skin of your lips as he does so.

"Are you sure?" he asks. And you wonder what he means. "About this. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm not drunk," you tell him. And you're not. Truly. A little tipsy, sure. Fuzzy around the edges, still dizzy in the head. But, god, you're feeling good. And you feel so much better when his lips are pressing against yours while his fingertips brush against every little bit of skin he can find.

He pauses before he goes on with what he has to say.

"It's not that I don't believe you." He brushes a bit of hair behind your ear and smiles. "I trust you. But drunk or not. I don't want to take advantage of you even being tipsy."

How honorable. You want to roll your eyes but you don't want to be disrespectful to him, either. Not when he's trying to be respectful to you. Because how many other guys wouldn't have scooped you up back to their place by now? Or have just taken you as you are right then?

"Okay," you whisper - albeit reluctantly. "Do we have to stop kissing, though? I really like this."

"I like it, too," Jughead agrees, his smile growing. "And I suppose not." His fingers are trailing underneath your shirt, from your hips up to your ribs and then back down again. "But not much else, okay?"

"Okay," you say again.

Disappointed as you might be, there's a level of comfort you feel welling up from deep within you. It's the feeling of trust. Of certainty. That if this is how he's treating you now, whatever develops from tonight will be special. And if he ever hurts you, it won't be out of intention or selfishness. That's not something you've experienced in a long time - if ever, now that you think about it. And if that's what you're in for, you're okay with waiting it out by simply kissing and touching in the meantime. It'll be worth it.

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