#i know i’ve had this kind of slump before and i too shared it here

[shuafiles]

lie to girls [l.jn] preview

SUMMARY | it was hard watching jeno struggle with his relationship, but it was even harder when he ran to you for comfort every time. especially when you, his long-time best friend, have been in love with him for the longest time. but when jeno starts lying about where he’s going and who he’s with, you realize the biggest lie might be the one you’re telling yourself—that he’ll ever choose you. or girls will cry, and girls will lie, and girls will lose their goddamn minds for you.

PAIRING | nonidol!jeno x afab!reader

CONTENT | university au, angst, best friends to ?, aespa members included, cheating, swearing, drinking, smut (not everything is included in the teaser yet but just so you know whats in store)

WORDS | 855 (just this teaser)

A/N | sneak peek of what im working on! im planning on making this a looong one but i was too excited so i decided to share without spoiling too much. let me know if you like it! total wc is still unknown and the release date will hopefully be before november ends. also its my birthday today so heres my gift to you :D

“hey.” jeno greeted you, standing at your front door, which only meant one thing. they fought again.

you pushed the door wider, letting him inside. he looked like a mess, his shoulders slumped, dark bags around his eyes, hair disheveled. even from afar, you could tell he was going through something. his phone was in his hand, checking for notifications, but he let out a huge sigh when the home screen was empty.

“do i even want to know?” you prodded, eyes watching him as he plopped down on the couch. his head tilting back on the headrest, head filled with thoughts.

“you know how she is.” jeno mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands. “said she needed some space.”

unfortunately, i do know how she is. jeno’s girlfriend, karina. they’ve been together since first year of college when jeno met her at some random party. they were the kind of couple on campus that, at first glance, seemed perfect, but you knew all too well what kind of chaos haunted them in private. you were too familiar with how she behaved with jeno; most of the time, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

jeno didn’t even have to say anything when you saw him at your front door. you have grown accustomed to this pattern: the same heartache, apologies, and cycle of hope and disappointment. and every time it occurred, jeno ended up here—at your door, at your couch, sulking.

you wanted nothing more than to scold jeno for letting himself get run over by her, but you kept your lips sealed. deciding that giving him comfort and support was probably what he needed right now.

“again, huh?” you sat down on the opposite side of him, tucking your legs beneath you.

“i don’t even know what that means, y/n.” jeno sighed, running his hand through his hair. he lifted his head to face you, gaze soft as he held eye contact with you. “one minute, everything’s perfect, and we’re fine, but suddenly, i’ve apparently done something wrong, and she won't even tell me.” his voice cracked, hopelessness evident in his tone. it pained you to see him like this. how many times is he going to let her do this to him?

“well, did you do something wrong?” you asked, but you knew jeno too well, he wouldn’t do anything to sabotage his relationship. sure, he has made mistakes in the past, but he was a good person, a good friend, and a good lover, you suppose.

jeno stayed silent for a moment, recalling if he had done something to make his girlfriend upset. “i–no, at least i don’t think so.” he shook his head, “i’ve just been busy with classes, but i always make time for her. and everything we’re together, i always try to make it special. you know?”

you nodded along to his words, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. you have heard this story countless times, so you could probably recite it to him. it wasn’t unusual for karina to act like this; she’d get upset over something vague, and then jeno would beat himself up for it, but he’d still bend over backward to get her back.

“maybe she’s just going through something?” you said, trying to think of what to say to ease his mind.

you and karina were acquaintances at best. it’s not like you didn’t try to be her friend, but something about her attitude just seems so off-putting to you. you weren’t entirely sure if karina was fond of you either. of course, you never told jeno any of these. you knew he wouldn’t listen, not when it comes to her. he loves her. he’d return to her every time, like a moth to a flame. and you’d be there, picking up the pieces when he got burned.

“i wish she’d just tell me what’s on her mind instead of leaving me wondering what i did wrong.” his face twisted into frustration with a mix of confusion.

“jen, you know i can’t help you if you don’t tell her what you’re feeling.” this time, you couldn’t hold back. “you’re supposed to tell her these, not me.”

jeno flinched at your words, somehow unsatisfied with your advice. “yeah… you’re right.”

you watched his expression, his eyebrows furrowed while he was deep in thought. “i’m sorry if it’s not what you wanted to hear.” you hesitated, knowing you were treading dangerous waters. “i just think… you deserve someone who actually appreciates you.”

jeno stayed silent, processing your words as if he hadn’t told himself that a million times. but for some stupid reason, he couldn’t keep it in his head. he looked down at his phone, tapping the screen once more, but to his disappointment, there was still nothing. “i know you’re just looking out for me, y/n. but… i just can’t give up on her. not yet.”

and just like that, you could feel him slipping away, back into her orbit, leaving you alone with all the things you couldn’t say, wondering when he would run back to you again.

[crackedpumpkin]

𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟏𝟎 |

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

#1 Rule of Fake Dating: Don’t make it your go-to excuse for everything.

You learned this the hard way after telling Abby you had a ‘date’ to get out of her study session invite. Her eyes widened to proportions you never imagined possible as she gasped and demanded the full story of how you met your soulmate.

Before you could spin a convincing lie, your phone rang. The familiar ringtone makes you smile. For once, you were actually grateful for his annoying ass.

“What’s up, Brooky?”

Cole’s long-suffering sigh nearly makes you burst out laughing. “I’ll buy you a drink if you promise never to call me that again.” 

You bid Abby a hasty wave goodbye, watching her slump back down in disappointment over not getting any juicy details. “Depends on how expensive it is.”

“You do realise that I don’t get paid for my heroism.”

You wince. “That’s so true. You guys should really talk to the mayor about that.”

“Right?” His voice picks up, clearly hitting a sore spot. “I mean, I already feel bad enough living off Cyrus’s goodwill, especially with all of us there.”

Sandwiching your phone between your ear and shoulder, you adjust the bag on your arm and hum in agreement as he continues. “Plus, I don’t know. Master Wu’s insistent on us doing everything for free, but I think the renovation costs might’ve made him reconsider taking on a few private requests.”

“What kind of requests?” You unintentionally tune him out as you exit the university grounds to look for him. Standing on your tiptoes, you scan the crowd. Nothing. You frown, craning your neck in hopes of spotting that familiar mop of black hair. “Where are you?” you mutter, your voice slipping into irritation.

“What was that?”

“I said–”

A firm tap on your shoulder cuts you off. Startled, you spin around and instinctively lash out, your fist connecting with someone’s side.

“Oof!” A pained grunt follows as Cole doubles over, clutching his ribs. Despite his wheezing, he still manages a crooked grin. “Is this how you treat your boyfriend now? Should I be worried?”

“Oh my god!” Your hands fly to your mouth, eyes wide with horror. “I am so sorry! You can’t sneak up on people like that!”

Straightening up, Cole gives you a mock-wounded look, still rubbing his side. “Noted. Next time I’ll announce myself with a trumpet.”

“Good,” you reply, crossing your arms but quickly softening. “You’re okay, though, right?”

“Define ‘okay,’” he teases, but his attention shifts as his gaze flicks over you. His brows furrow. “Uh… are we matching right now?”

You blink, glancing down at your outfit — a brown dress paired with a white bag — before looking back at him. He’s wearing a white shirt and long brown khakis.

It hits you both at the same time.

“No.”

“Oh, absolutely not.”

You gape at each other in shared offence.

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter, shaking your head.

Cole narrows his eyes, gesturing between you. “Who’s copying who here?”

“Obviously you copied me,” you reply, placing a hand on your hip.

He snorts, crossing his arms. “Sure, because I definitely planned to match my soulmate’s outfit for a date in public.”

“It’s not a date!” you hiss, glancing around as a few bystanders glance your way with interest.

Cole raises a brow, an all-too-amused smirk spreading across his face. “Oh, so you do admit I’m your soulmate? As in, accepted it?”

You groan, punching his arm lightly. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he says, stepping aside to take your bag. “But at least I’m fashionable.”

“Don’t push it, Brookstone,” you warn, stepping past him. He simply shrugs, an easy grin on his lips when you hand him your bag without a second thought. He slings it onto his shoulder, starting to walk with you. 

“So, where’re we headed?” 

“I’ve got a lesson with Master Wu today, remember?” 

“‘Course I remember,” he huffs with a wounded tone, placing a hand on his heart. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

“Okay,” you say, stopping abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk and turning to face Cole. Your tone is calm, but there’s a certain edge to it that makes him pause. “If you’re going to keep up this boyfriend act, then you better be prepared for the consequences.”

Cole raises a brow, clearly amused. “Consequences? Like what? You making me carry your bag for the rest of my life?”

“Worse,” you reply with a smirk, resuming your pace. He follows, though the grin falters ever so slightly. Good. Let him wonder. Let him wonder and forget till the day you fill his entire room with tiny rubber dildos, enough to make an army.

You’re just about to elaborate with another (hopefully) ominous sentence when a familiar voice calls out your name from afar.

You turn to see Holly heading your way, her usual bright energy radiating even from a distance. Next to her is a boy you don’t recognise at first, but when he comes into view you realise he’s the brother you met the other day. 

“Hey,” you greet, waving as they approach. Cole glances at you questioningly but stays quiet.

Holly’s eyes flick to Cole, curious. “Who’s your friend? Is he…?”

You spot the perfect opportunity and take it, turning to Cole with a sickly sweet smile. “Oh, where are my manners?” Taking a step closer, you thread your arm through his. “This is Cole.” You bat your lashes for effect. “My boyfriend.”

The words that leave your mouth feel like poison, and you immediately feel like you’ve taken a nosedive straight into the fiery depths of hell. In your peripheral, you can feel Cole glance at you, his smirk widening.

Bastard.

Holly’s jaw drops. Her brother rolls his eyes at her reaction, crossing his arms. You recall his name starting with an L, trying to scrounge up his name from the tangled ball of yarn you call a memory when he suddenly speaks. 

“Calm down,” he says casually, shrugging like he’s commenting on the weather. “They’re probably just soulmates. You don’t have to make such a big deal out of it.”

Holly scowls, swatting at the hand he’s using to poke her arm. “I know that, Leo. I was just surprised to see her, that’s all.”

The sudden mention of it makes you flinch. Fake dating or not, the fact that the truth is out there in its purest form of the word soulmates is enough to trigger the nerves in your chest. After spending so long denying it, you’re suddenly supposed to accept it?

Leo notices your reaction and shrugs again, unbothered. “Holly told me about you not finding your soulmate. Till now, I guess.” His gaze darts to Cole, “Honestly, it’s not everything people make it out to be. Besides, the whole thing is overrated anyway.”

The ease in his tone catches you completely off guard. For a moment, you forget Cole’s smirk or Holly’s wide eyes. Your lips twitch upward into a small, genuine smile. “You’re not wrong,” you admit softly, meeting his gaze.

Leo’s grin widens ever so slightly. “Glad someone gets it.”

Cole, apparently done being ignored, steps forward and extends his hand. “Cole,” he says, flashing a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Leo takes his hand, shaking it firmly. “Leo. I’m this dumbass’s brother,” he elaborates, gesturing to Holly who looks ready to shove his head into the wall. You wish you could do the same to your fake boyfriend.

Your gaze flickers to their hands, catching the subtle shift in Leo’s expression; a raised brow, the slightest tilt of his head. It’s quick, almost imperceptible, but you see it. Intrigue.

The handshake ends, and Leo steps back, his expression slipping back into its usual nonchalance. Holly doesn’t seem to notice anything as she starts talking to Cole about something you barely register.

“Oh, wait,” you say, digging into your bag. “Do you have Instagram? I should follow you.”

Leo nods, pulling out his phone as you exchange handles. Just as you confirm the follow, Cole’s voice cuts in, laced with over-the-top concern.

“Babe,” he says, the word so dripping with mock affection it’s almost painful. “You’re following another guy on Instagram? I’m starting to feel... jealous.”

You shoot him a side-eye glare that he ignores entirely, his grin widening. You can practically hear the smugness dripping off his words. Fighting the urge to shove him into the nearest wall, you plaster on an exaggerated grin. 

“Jealous?” Leo echoes, smirking slightly.

“Of course,” Cole replies, slinging an arm over your shoulder and pulling you closer till you’re all but squashed against his chest. His very broad, muscular chest. “My Snugglebug here doesn’t just hand out her Instagram to anyone, you know.”

Snugglebug. 

I’m going to kill him. Slowly. Painfully.

“Oh, but my love,” you say, voice sugary sweet as you lean into him, batting your eyelashes. “Don’t be jealous. You’re the only one for me.”

Cole’s smirk falters for a split second, and you know you’ve struck a nerve.

“Good,” he replies, recovering quickly. “Because I was thinking of getting us matching Instagram bios. Something like, ‘Forever & Always’.”

Holly bursts into laughter, while Leo watches with what you can only describe as amused bewilderment.

“Oh, that’s adorable,” you coo, patting his cheek. “But I was thinking something simpler. Like, ‘My Rock’.”

“Perfect,” Cole echoes, his voice dripping with mischief as he gently tilts your chin to face him. “I’ll change mine to ‘My Light’.”

Oh. Oh, he’s dead.

Holly clutches her stomach, still laughing, while Leo shakes his head. “You two are... something,” he mutters, his tone dripping with amusement.

You force a smile, plotting Cole’s imminent demise. “Aren’t we just?”

Cole squeezes your shoulder lightly. “The best couple, right?”

“Oh, come on,” Holly finally bursts out, half-laughing. “You two are insufferably cute.”

“Cute,” Leo echoes, though the shit-eating grin on his face makes you want to bury yourself six feet under and pray no one ever comes to your funeral. Scratch that, no funeral needed for your demise.

You step away from Cole, letting his arm drop, and shoot him a glare that promises retribution. He just grins back, smug as ever.

“Let’s go,” you mutter, grabbing your bag from him and stalking past Holly and Leo.

Behind you, you hear Cole chuckle softly. “Anything for you, Snugglebug.”

You don’t look back, but the intense heat in your cheeks are enough to tell you he’s won this round. 

It’s only after you board the bus after waiting for ten minutes, hike up the mountain stairs (you’d gotten used to it at this point), and stormed past a perplexed Zane to grab some water and chug it down that you finally deign Cole with a scathing glare after the agony of silence.

“What’s wrong Snugglebug?” The bastard’s as smug as ever, leaning against the counter with a knowing smile. He tilts his head innocently, though his eyes gleam with mischief. “Did you want to take it to the next level? Change our Facebook status to ‘Taken’, perhaps?”

If not for the fact that the glass you’re drinking out of being classified as monastery property, you would’ve hurled it at his head without hesitation. Instead, you take a deep breath, set the glass down with no more than a soft clink, and plaster the tiniest smile on your lips. 

“Cole?”

He’s wary now. You take a step toward him, the very picture of serenity when he suddenly takes a step back, slowly moving away to the other side of the kitchen. “What’s wrong?” You ask sweetly, watching him awkwardly smile back in response as his arm scrambles for something behind his back. “What’re you looking for, Cole?” 

“Nothing,” he says, though you pick up on the smallest of trembles in his voice. “Just… loving how relaxed and completely okay with everything you are. Have I ever told you that you’re the best out of all of us?”

“Not at all,” you hum, stepping closer and closer to him until he’s flattened himself to the refrigerator door, looking down at you hesitantly. “The best, you say?” 

“Mmhm.” He nods slowly, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Your lips twitch ever so slightly, lifting your hand up. His eyes widen, gaze fixated on your hand as it swings down toward him.

And lands on his shoulder in the form of a gentle pat. 

“Okay.” He watches you move away, heading to the sink to wash the empty glass. “I’m gonna go to Master Wu’s class now. You’re on bodyguard duty for the whole week, right?” 

You can sense how flustered he is when he mumbles out confirmation, turning around and watching him stiffen noticeably when your eyes meet his. “Sounds good!” You chirp, placing the rinsed glass onto the dishrack and leaving the kitchen without another word.

— — — — — — 

“Here’re the rubber... ducks you ordered.” 

Zane holds out a small, nondescript package. His tone is neutral, but the slightest tilt of his head gives away his curiosity.

It had been two days since the whole fake boyfriend debacle with Holly and Leo, with Cole behaving more quietly ever since you cornered him against the fridge. He’d laid low, keeping jokes to himself and bristling each time you sent an emotionless smile in his direction.

But this morning, he’d seemed back to his old self, slipping in snarky little comments about your relationship. 

Earth Ninja or not, you were thisclose to snapping the next time he referred to you as Babezilla in front of Kai.

But right now, you have more important things to focus on. Like the package in Zane’s hands.

“Thanks!” You say, grabbing the bag from him and clutching it to your chest like it’s some precious heirloom whilst grinning like an absolute madman.

Zane doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He just... stares. His eyes linger on the tightly wrapped block in your arms. You’re pretty sure if you poked him he’d teeter right before falling.

You can practically see the gears turning in his head, calculating every possible reason for your delivery. When his eyes narrow ever so slightly, you know you’re dangerously close to being interrogated.

You pat his shoulder, offering him your best reassuring smile. “Don’t ask.”

He blinks, his head tilting further. “But I wasn’t—”

“Don’t.”

Zane lets it go, though the way his brow furrows suggests this will remain an unsolved mystery he’ll revisit later.

Fat chance, my guy.

Clutching the bag tighter, you make your way toward Cole’s room. His music isn’t blasting through your head like it usually does when he’s nearby, a sure sign he’s out on patrol. Perfect.

As you reach his door, you take a deep breath, preparing for the task at hand. Operation Dildo Baggins was officially a go. You’d been sitting on this idea for a while with no official target, and now, with Cole’s recent antics (antics being the kindest possible way to describe the utter humiliation and embarrassment you’d been subject to with nicknames like Snugglebug, Babezilla, and worst of all…Babycakes), it felt like the perfect time to strike.

Slipping inside, you survey the space. His room is a mess, but it’s a mess you can oddly appreciate. Weights in one corner, a pile of laundry in another, and his bed unmade. The mattress practically has a Cole-shaped indent in it, while pillows lay haphazardly around.

You pull out the bag and unzip it, grinning at the contents. Tiny, brightly colored rubber dildos, all varying in size, shape, and shade. Some even had glitter. A stroke of genius, if you said so yourself.

Now, where to start?

You’re halfway through Operation Dildo Baggins when a sharp inhale makes you freeze. You slowly turn, expecting to be busted by Cole himself, when you see a wide-eyed Jay and Kai in the doorway.

Jay’s lips are parted, his gaze darting to the opened package on the floor, where its contents are spilling out, while Kai stands there with his arms crossed, one brow arched in silent amusement.

You glance from the sparkly pink palm-sized dildo in your hands to the two of them, trying to form a coherent explanation. 

“...It’s not what it looks like.”

Jay erupts into a fit of giggles, pressing himself against the open door while he chokes on a shaky inhale. Kai steps inside, admiring your handiwork. You relent. 

“Okay, it’s exactly what it looks like,” you relent, stepping down from the footstool you’re using to hide one of them above the closet. “It’s revenge. Or as I like to call it, Operation Dildo Baggins.”

Jay lets out an absolutely unhinged wheeze, sliding down the door frame as he laughs uncontrollably. “Dildo Baggins?” he chokes out between gasps. “That’s — oh my god — that’s genius.”

Kai strolls in, folding his arms as he surveys the chaos of tiny rubber dildos strewn across Cole’s room. “So,” he drawls with a smirk, “does this have anything to do with you being called–”

“Don’t,” you cut in sharply, jabbing a finger at him before he can utter the cursed nickname. Your glare is enough to make him pause. “I still have a coupon for another bag.”

He wisely shuts up.

“Anyway,” you continue, clutching the sparkly pink offender in your hand, “if you two idiots are here, you might as well help.”

Jay perks up immediately, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, I am so in,” he says, practically bouncing as he steps over to inspect the pile, picking up a few he deems worthy. Kai shrugs, amused, and picks one up, flipping it idly in his hand.

“Alright,” you announce, “we’ve got to be smart about this. No obvious spots. Think subtle, think devious.”

Jay nods enthusiastically, like you’re outlining the master plan to a heist. “Subtle and devious. Got it.” Then, with an impish grin, he holds up Cole’s clear shower gel bottle, tilting it slightly to reveal the viscous blue liquid inside. “Ooooh, this is a good spot.”

You gape at him. “Jay–”

Before you can finish, he unscrews the cap and carefully slides in a few glittery dildos, where they sink and swirl lazily in the gel like the most ridiculous snow globe. He beams proudly.

“Perfect,” he declares, holding it up like a trophy.

Kai snorts. “That’s evil.”

You groan, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Teamwork truly does make the dream work,” you mutter, but you can’t help the small grin tugging at your lips as you snatch the bottle back and shove it into Cole’s shower bag.

“Focus, team,” you say, regaining your composure. “We’ve still got plenty more to hide.”

Kai tosses a dildo into the air, catching it with ease. “I call dibs on his sock drawer.”

Jay claps his hands together, rubbing them like an evil mastermind. “And I’ve got ideas for his weights.”

You’re fairly certain you’ve assembled the worst accomplices in history, or maybe the best. Either way, the amount of gleeful scurrying, whispered plotting, and the sheer evil glint in their eyes makes you think you’ve found your partners-in-crime for life. Operation Dildo Baggins had been an unparalleled success.

By the time you’re done, it’s time to unwind in the game room, the massive TV already aglow with the chaos of Overcooked’s cartoonish kitchen. Jay thrusts a controller into your hands while Kai rummages through the kitchen for snacks. They’d insisted you stay for dinner, and honestly, how could you refuse? A day of dildo-hiding makes a girl hungry.

“Okay, new plan,” Jay says, resetting the level for the third time. “You stay on cooking duty. I’ll chop, Kai delivers. We’ve got this.”

“Pretty sure you said that the last two times,” you deadpan, cracking your knuckles and adjusting your grip on the controller. “And yet, here we are.”

Kai returns with a bowl of chips, plopping down beside you. “Third time’s the charm,” he says, tossing a chip in his mouth. “Now stop arguing and start chopping.”

The game begins, and chaos ensues. You’re barking orders like a drill sergeant. “Jay, the tomatoes! KAI, THAT PLATE IS BURNT. WHY IS IT BURNT?!”

Jay is in another fit of giggles as he accidentally throws a perfectly good onion into the trash. “It slipped!”

“HOW DOES AN ONION SLIP?!”

“Guys, calm down–” Kai starts, but you cut him off, voice rising in desperation. “No calming! DELIVERY! We need that plate out NOW or we fail again!”

The door opens behind you, but you’re too focused on the timer ticking down and the chaos on the screen to look. The sound of a water bottle being uncapped and a few long gulps makes you hyper-aware of his presence, though. Not to mention the fact that you’d heard the faint melody of his usual playlist approaching the monastery which had made you accidentally throw away a good pot of cooked rice.

Cole.

You can feel his gaze on you, but there’s no time to address him. Not when Jay’s standing in the middle of the screen holding a pot and doing nothing useful.

“Jay, fuck off! Kai, DELIVER THE PLATE!”

“I’m trying!” Kai protests, nearly tipping over his drink in real life as he frantically mashes buttons.

It’s no use. The timer runs out, and the screen flashes a giant FAILED in bright red letters. You drop your controller with a groan, leaning back against the couch.

“That’s it. I’m done. You two are hopeless.”

“Hey,” Jay protests, “I’m great under pressure! Just… not in a fake kitchen.”

“You’d starve if we ever got trapped on a deserted island,” you mutter, reaching for a chip.

“Looks like you’ve got everything under control here.”

Finally, you glance over your shoulder. He’s leaning casually against the doorframe, his water bottle in hand, watching you with that infuriating smirk. Also, he was wearing a sleeveless tank top which, you hate to admit it, looked good on him. But also, his arms had the slightest sheen of sweat. 

In conclusion, gross and yucky.

“Care to back that up with action, or are you just here to talk shit get hit?” you shoot back, crossing your arms.

“Oh, I’d destroy you,” he replies smoothly, taking another swig of water.

You snort. “Please. You’d fold under pressure faster than Jay did when I asked him to deliver a plate.”

“Hey!” Jay protests, only to pause. “Okay, that’s fair.”

Cole chuckles, setting his water bottle on a nearby table. “You sure about that? I’ve got quick reflexes and perfect hand-eye coordination. I’d mop the floor with you, just like I did when we sparred.”

“Big talk for someone who hasn’t even touched the controller,” you retort, a spark of competitive energy flaring up in your chest. “Also, I totally let you win.”

“Oh, this I’ve got to see,” Jay interjects, scrambling to set the game to player-versus-player mode. He tosses a controller to Cole, who catches it effortlessly.

“I’m not kidding,” Cole adds as he strides toward the couch. “You’re about to witness greatness.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you scoff. “Hope you’re ready to eat my dust.”

Before you can say another word, Cole leaps over the back of the sofa in one fluid motion, landing right beside you. You blink, startled by the sheer grace of it, but quickly mask it with a scoff.

“Fancy moves won’t save you here, Brooky boy,” you mutter, gripping your controller tightly.

“Oh, I don’t need fancy moves to beat you,” he says, leaning slightly closer, his smirk infuriatingly confident. You shove him away with disgust, suddenly aware of how close you are. Before you can move away, however, Kai makes himself comfortable and manspreads. You roll your eyes.

“Bring it,” you reply easily, choosing your avatar.

Jay, already giggling in anticipation, hits start. “Let the carnage begin!”

The match starts, and the game becomes a blur of chaotic, fast-paced action. Your fingers move furiously over the buttons as you fight to keep up with Cole’s surprisingly sharp gameplay.

“You’re getting slow,” he taunts, the familiar chime of bells signalling completed orders going off non-stop for both sides.

“Slow?” you hiss, eyes narrowing. “I’m just warming up.”

Kai leans back with a laugh, munching on chips. “This is better than TV.”

For a moment, your eyes dart to your competitor. Cole’s leaning slightly forward, his full focus on the screen, brows furrowed in concentration. The corner of his mouth twitches upward, that stupid smirk never quite leaving.

Then, it hits you. The scent.

It’s faint at first, but the more you notice it, the stronger it becomes. A warm blend of spiced cinnamon and vanilla, rich and inviting, like stepping into your kitchen during Christmas to sneak a few cups of hot chocolate with your mother. A pang of nostalgia washes over you, unbidden and completely out of place. You shake your head slightly, trying to ignore how oddly comforting it feels.

How does he smell this good when he hasn’t even showered yet?

Your avatar stumbles on screen, moving erratically as you remain stuck in that memory. Cole notices instantly.

“Losing your touch already?” he snorts, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

The sound of his voice yanks you back to the moment. “What? No!” you snap, glaring at him as you hastily mash buttons to catch up.

“Sure looks like it,” he teases, that insufferable grin widening.

Without thinking, you shove him with your shoulder. He barely budges, laughing as he nudges you back. Your heart is racing in your chest, though you quickly chalk it up to the pressure of the game. 

The timer on the screen counts down to the final seconds, and your competitive streak kicks into overdrive. Your fingers fly across the controller as you focus all your energy on completing as many orders as possible. The kitchen on screen is pure chaos with ingredients on every inch of floor space, chopped cucumbers everywhere, pots almost overboiling, but somehow, you’re thriving in it.

Also, a part of it is on fire but with five seconds left, you’re prioritizing getting the food out rather than extinguish it.

“Come on, you’ve got this!” Jay cheers, leaning forward in excitement.

“Not a chance in hell,” Cole counters, his tone light but determined.

With a final flurry of button-mashing, the round ends. The results start to tally, both of you subconsciously leaning forward in anticipation. When the screen reveals you’d beaten him by two completed orders, a triumphant cry tears itself from your throat.

“I am unstoppable!” you declare, throwing your arms up like you’ve just claimed the title of world champion.

Jay hits a button on the controller, triggering cheers from the speakers. Kai sets off a party popper he somehow produces on cue. Confetti rains down, and you take a mock bow, basking in your victory.

Cole leans back on the sofa, swirling his water bottle in one hand, a soft grin playing at his lips. “You’re really proud of yourself, huh?”

“Obviously,” you say, spinning around to face him. “Beating you at anything is worth celebrating.”

His grin widens, and there’s a flicker of something in his gaze. Amusement, sure, but also a hint of challenge. “It was beginner’s luck.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Excuse me? I’ve been playing this longer than you’ve been doing your ninja stuff.”

“I’m just saying,” he drawls, sitting up straighter. “If we played again, I’d wipe the floor with you.”

Kai lets out a low whistle. “Oh, he’s laying it down now.”

Jay, grinning from ear to ear, grabs another controller. “This I have to see.”

Your eyes narrow at Cole, your competitive streak kicking into overdrive. “Fine. Rematch. But let’s make it interesting.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What, like a bet?”

“Winner gets to change the loser’s contact name for them. No swapping, no amendments. The name has to be kept and can only be changed through official Overcooked Betting.” 

Cole eyes the hand you put forth, waiting patiently for him to shake it and accept the terms. 

He takes it.

The stakes are set, controllers gripped, and tension hangs in the air as the rematch begins. The sound of clattering plates and sizzling pans fills the room, each of you hyper-focused on the chaos of the Overcooked kitchen. You’re determined to hold onto your victory streak, while Cole, equally motivated, keeps throwing glances your way, his smirk bordering on smug.

“Focus on your side, Cole,” you snap, dodging his attempt to distract you as his elbow inches closer to your ribcage. You swat it away with your arm, using the side of your head to bonk his shoulder.

“Multitasking is my specialty,” he shoots back.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Cole stealing glances at you between frantic moves, his expression equal parts focused and amused. You push harder, refusing to let him win.

Jay and Kai are on the edge of their seats, munching snacks as if watching the most gripping movie of the year.

When the final seconds tick down and the scores flash on the screen, you let out a loud groan. He’d beaten you by one order.

“No!” you cry, dropping the controller in defeat.

The tension leaves his body, relaxing against the couch with the air of an accomplished man. “Hand it over.” He puts his hand out to you, palm side up. You eye it, wondering if it’d be too late to order more rubber dildos. 

“A bet’s a bet,” Kai reminds from beside you. Groaning, you fish out your phone from your pockets and toss it into his hand. He unlocks it easily, having seen your password before during another study session where he’d kept himself occupied with books while you furiously rushed an overdue essay. 

With every ominous tap tap tap of his fingers against the screen, you bristle. His expression is infuriatingly focused, as if he’s crafting a masterpiece.

When he hands your phone back, you snatch it and glance at the new contact name. Your eyes widen in horror.

He’d changed the contact name from ‘Cole Brookstone - Ninja’ to ‘Cole <3’. It’s so simple, yet the heart he’d added after his name makes you wince. Your fingers ache, inching toward the edit icon before he hums disapprovingly. 

“Can’t change it,” he remarks offhandedly, peering down at his nails with a frown. You can see the corners of his lips struggling to remain turned down, knowing full well the bastard is busy laughing his ass off internally. “You made the rules, not me.”

“Fuck you.” 

“You wish.” His childish retort eggs you on, and you stick your tongue out childishly in turn. He makes a face, only to stop when you raise a fist and hit his side - lightly. He groans in exaggerated pain, clutching his waist. 

“How could you, Babycakes?” 

Jay’s loud gasp makes the heat rush to your face and coloring your ears crimson, narrowing your eyes. You can practically see Jay’s expression as he files away this juicy tidbit for later use.

“You did not just call me that,” you hiss, jabbing your finger at Cole’s chest.

“What? It’s your nickname for me,” he says innocently, though his eyes gleam with mischief. “Thought I’d return the favor.”

“That was not my nickname for you!” you snap. “It was–”

“Oh, I know,” Cole interrupts, cutting you off with a smirk. “It was ‘Cole Brookstone – Ninja.’ So professional. So... boring. I thought we meant more to each other than that.” He blinks innocently as he looks at you, his smile bordering on evil.

“Boring?” you echo, your tone dangerously low.

“Yeah.” He shrugs casually, like he isn’t goading you on purpose. “No creativity, no flair. Just straight-up boring.”

Your jaw drops, and you lean forward, pointing a finger at him. “Excuse me? You don’t get to talk about creativity when you put a heart after your own name. How is that not boring?”

“It’s not boring because it’s cute,” he counters smugly. “And admit it, you winced because you thought it was cute too.”

You open your mouth to retort, but Kai’s voice cuts through the bickering before you can let loose a string of curses you’re pretty sure would’ve gotten you banned from being around the monastery’s classes for elementary students.

“Okay, enough.” He steps between the two of you, holding up his hands like a referee breaking up a particularly petty fight. Also, he’d somehow produced two yellow uno cards from seemingly thin air, waving it at you both in warning. “You’re acting like toddlers fighting over crayons.”

“He started it,” you grumble, folding your arms.

Cole snorts. “Oh, grow up, Pumpkin Pie.”

Kai sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then, as you part your lips to fire back, he glances at you, a meaningful look in his eyes that reminds you of your earlier enacted revenge.

So, you press your lips together, taking a deep breath. Think mini dildos hidden in his pillow. Think glittery ones floating in his shower gel.

Suddenly, all the tension leaves your body, and you open your eyes with a serene smile.

Cole notices the change instantly, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “What’s that face?”

“Oh, nothing,” you say calmly, turning away from him with a shrug. “Just decided to be a good sport and a role model for the younger generation.”

Kai catches the edge of your smirk and shakes his head, muttering, “You two are exhausting. Not even Nya was this much trouble growing up.”

Cole watches you carefully for a moment longer before relaxing back into the sofa, though the wary look doesn’t completely leave his face. “You’re up to something,” he mutters.

“Maybe I am,” you reply, not bothering to deny it. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

He frowns, aout to say something before you’re interrupted by Zane walking into the room wearing an apron that’s an almost offensive shade of bright pink. You have to double check to make sure you’re not just seeing things. 

“Dinner is ready,” Zane announces before scanning your faces. “Have I interrupted something?” 

No one moves or responds. The mention of food acts like a switch flipping in everyone’s heads.

“Nah, you’re good buddy,” Kai groans, standing and stretching dramatically. “I’m starving.”

“Same,” Jay says, bounding after him. He throws a playful arm around Kai’s shoulders as they head for the dining room. 

You follow at a more leisurely pace, Cole casually falling into step beside you. Neither of you speaks, the earlier bickering melting into a comfortable silence as the scent of freshly baked bread and herbs fills the air.

When you reach the dining room, the table is set with steaming dishes spread across it. Master Wu, Nya, Lloyd, and Pixal are already seated, pausing their discussion when you all enter. 

For a moment, you notice the way Master Wu and Lloyd change their grave expressions into a wide smile, though there’s still a solemn tint to their eyes. Part of you bristles, but curiosity is easily buried by hunger. 

Without a second thought, you and Cole gravitate to seats next to each other. It’s unconscious, natural, and nobody comments on it outright, though Nya raises an eyebrow as she glances between the two of you.

You happen to look up and meet her gaze, raising a brow in silent question. She just smiles and looks away to chat with Jay.

“Wow,” Lloyd says, leaning forward to inspect the spread. “Zane, you’ve outdone yourself. Again.”

“Is that herb-crusted salmon?” you ask, practically drooling.

“And garlic knots,” Cole adds, pointing to a heaping basket.

“Correct,” Zane replies with a slight bow of his head. “I’ve also prepared a vegetable medley with a lemon-butter glaze and rosemary roasted potatoes.”

“It smells amazing,” you say, eagerly reaching for a garlic knot.

“Smells amazing?” Cole laughs as he piles his plate high with potatoes. “It looks like a five-star restaurant in here. Zane, you’re spoiling us.”

“Preparing meals for my friends is not spoiling,” Zane replies evenly. “It is an expression of care.”

“You’re the best, Zane,” Lloyd says, already chewing on a piece of salmon. “Seriously, I don’t think I could go back to eating instant noodles after this.”

“Not with Zane around,” Pixal chimes in, a small smile tugging at her lips. “He would somehow make them gourmet.”

Jay leans toward you, whispering theatrically, “Don’t let him fool you. Zane’s just trying to make sure we can’t eat anywhere else without missing him.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Nya teases, nudging Jay with her elbow.

“Not complaining,” you quip, popping a piece of garlic knot into your mouth and groaning. “Oh my god, this is ridiculous. Zane, how do you make everything taste so good?”

“Precision,” Zane answers simply.

Cole nods, as if Zane’s simple explanation made more impact than any of Master Wu’s advice ever did. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Zane is the kitchen ninja.”

“More like the ninja chef,” Nya says, smirking.

“Or the ninja of nourishment,” Lloyd adds, earning a snort from Jay.

Master Wu chuckles softly, his hand resting on his teacup. “It is good to see you all enjoying yourselves. Bonding over food is an ancient tradition.”

“Especially when the food is this good,” Cole says, digging into his plate with gusto.

“Damn, leave some for the rest of us,” Nya says. You can only stare with begrudging respect as she spears a roasted potato off of Cole’s plate with a cartoonishly long fork that extends to his plate without the need of standing up. She catches you looking at it, grinning widely as she pops the stolen goods into her mouth. “Like it?” She asks through mouthfuls, carefully waving it around. “Crafted it in the workshop today.”

“Hey!” he protests, but it’s half-hearted. 

“Sharing is caring,” Pixal says lightly, passing a dish to Lloyd, who is too focused on his meal to notice her amused smile.

You scoff playfully. “Not with these potatoes. If you guys aren’t fast enough, I might empty the whole thing.” Glancing over when you feel a nudge, you roll your eyes at Cole’s earnest gaze. “Fine, I suppose you can have a piece.”

Kai gags. “The couple are so sweet it’s disgusting.”

“Not a couple,” You and Cole automatically reply in sync, shovelling more food into your mouths and munching. You don’t have to lift your head to see the sceptical glances exchanged, putting aside your usual snarky replies to focus purely on enjoying every bite of Zane’s cooking. 

“You wonderful, wonderful man-droid.” You mumble out between bites. Zane nods his head in humble thanks, Cole muttering a similar sentiment. 

The rest of the meal passes in a flurry of light-hearted jabs and never-ending enthusiastic praise for Zane’s culinary talents (all of which which the man-droid rightfully deserves). Plates were cleared, dishes stacked, and as the group slowly disbanded to their own devices, you found yourself lingering in the quiet warmth of the dining room, helping Master Wu wipe down the table.

“Thank you for letting me stay for dinner so often,” you said, glancing at him with a soft smile. “And for letting me hang out at the monastery so much. It’s… nice to be here.”

Master Wu paused mid-swipe, his wise eyes crinkling with warmth. “The monastery welcomes those who find comfort within its walls.”

You tilted your head at his cryptic tone, sensing there was more to his words. “That’s… oddly specific.”

He chuckled softly, folding the cloth in his hands. “You are exactly where you are meant to be, young one. Even if the reason has not fully revealed itself yet.”

You frown, your brows knitting together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He gives you a knowing look, one that somehow carries both gravity and lightness. “You will understand when the time is right.”

Before you can press further, the sound of footsteps draws your attention. Cole appears in the doorway, hands shoved into his pockets with a relaxed grin.

“Ready to head out?” he asked, his voice casual but his gaze lingering on you for just a moment too long.

You glance back at Master Wu, who merely nodded as if to say the conversation was over.

For now, that is.

“Yeah,” you say, grabbing your jacket and stepping toward Cole. “Thanks again, Master Wu.”

“It is always a pleasure to have you here,” he replies with a small bow, his tone warm. “Safe travels.”

Cole holds the door open for you as you step out into the cool evening air. Comfortable silence falls over you both like a warm blanket, walking toward the doors. The stars twinkle above, and there are barely any clouds above you both to obstruct the view. 

One of the perks of living on the peak of a mountain, you suppose.

“Did Wu drop one of his cryptic wisdom bombs on you?” He asks after a beat, his tone teasing.

You huff in amusement. “Something like that.” You pause, tugging your jacket. “Do you ever understand all that weird cryptic stuff he sometimes spouts? Just last week he was telling me about not jumping out of a well.”

Your response elicits a laugh from him, the sound deep and easy. You find yourself smiling at it, a warmth in your chest as you look at him. “Honestly?” He sighs, hands deep in his pockets as you make your way down the stairs. “I just smile and nod, then just hope I’ll figure it out somehow.”

“Really?” Your interest is piqued. “How about when you saved the world and all that? Couldn’t have done it without deciphering his mysterious sayings.” 

He grins. “You should’ve seen the way we were all racking our brains, trying to understand what he was saying. It was worse at the start, before we all knew Lloyd was the Green Ninja.”

“Worse? How?” you ask, your curiosity pushing a teasing smile to your lips as you both reach the end of the stairs and make your way over to the bus stop.

Cole shakes his head, his grin widening. “We were clueless, running around like headless chickens. Wu would drop some riddle about balance or destiny, and the rest of us would argue for hours about what it meant. There was this one time–” He breaks off, laughing to himself.

“What?” you prod, nudging his arm gently.

“There was this one time Wu told us we had to ‘look inward to find the strength to move forward.’” He mimics Wu’s calm tone, his expression mock-serious. “So naturally, Kai thought it meant we needed to meditate or something. He sat us all down in a circle and tried to lead a group meditation. Jay couldn’t stop cracking jokes, and Nya fell asleep within five minutes.”

You burst out laughing at the image. “What about you?”

“I just sat there thinking about how hungry I was,” he admits, shaking his head with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Turns out, all Wu meant was that we needed to believe in ourselves. But, you know, saying that plainly wouldn’t be very ‘Master Wu.’”

“Of course not,” you agree, grinning. “Mystical vagueness is his brand.”

As the two of you reach the bus stop, you glance at him. “So… did all his cryptic advice ever help? Like, for real?”

Cole nods, his expression softening as he looks at you. “Yeah, it did. Sometimes not right away, but it always made sense when it mattered most. Like when we were trying to stop the Great Devourer… or when we were facing the Overlord. Those were times when his words stuck with us, even if we didn’t get them at first.”

The bus pulls up, and the two of you step on. Cole fumbles briefly, patting his pockets with a furrowed brow before finally pulling his transit pass from his back pocket. “When you travel by dragon, bus passes don’t exactly come to mind,” he mumbles defensively. You roll your eyes with a playful smile as you both settle into seats near the back. As the city lights blur past the window, you glance at him again, catching the thoughtful look on his face.

“What about you?” you ask, leaning slightly toward him. “Was there ever a moment where something Wu said clicked for you?”

He smiles, but it’s a little more subdued this time. “Yeah. Back when we were stuck in the Cursed Realm, Wu told me, ‘A leader doesn’t just carry others; they let themselves be carried, too.’”

You tilt your head, intrigued. “What did that mean?”

“It meant I didn’t have to do everything alone,” he says quietly. “Back then, I felt like I had to shoulder everything for the team. But Wu was right. Being a leader means letting the people around you support you, too.”

You let the thought sit for a moment, then give him a small smile. “Sounds like solid advice.”

“It was,” he agrees, glancing at you with a faint smile of his own. “Even if it took me a while to figure out.”

The two of you share a quiet moment, the conversation lulling into another comfortable silence as the bus hums along. It’s only when you notice his reflection in the window with his expression relaxed, the corners of his lips slightly curved… You feel the odd warmth in your chest again.

“Thanks for sharing,” you say softly, your voice barely above the hum of the engine.

He glances at you, his grin returning, playful now. “Don’t get used to it. I’m not usually this talkative.”

“Oh, I won’t,” you reply, smirking. “Wouldn’t want you to ruin your mysterious tough-guy image.”

The bus finally reaches your stop and the both of you tap out. Your apartment building is within view, but a part of you lingers, your footsteps slower as you approach. “Got any plans for next Saturday?” 

You hum in thought. “Only to pick up the cake I ordered a while back.”

“Oh. I’ll tag along.” You glance at him, mildly surprised at the statement. He catches your look, raising his brows in question. “I gotta stock up on croissants. It’s been ages since I had some of his cinnamon rolls too.”

“Where do you even find the space for all that and not gain weight?” You ask, though it’s more to yourself in jealousy than an actual question. Unfortunately, he hears it.

“Having a gym in-house does wonders when you can’t sleep.” His voice is tinged with something you recognise instantly — sorrow. You’re about to ask, but decide against it when you see the look on his face. 

“You can pick me up in the afternoon then,” you say lightly, looking at a random streetlight. He hums in agreement. “And let’s try not to match again.”

That gets a chuckle. “Don’t you mean ‘try not to copy me’?” 

“You’re impossible.”

The lift is only a few paces away. You feel him stop, turning to see one hand shoved into his jacket pocket, the other hanging loose at his side. His posture seems effortless, but there’s something steady about it, like he’s rooted to the spot. The faint light from the hallway catches the curve of his smile, his gaze soft and lingering, almost bordering on fond as he looks at you.

“Goodnight, Snugglebug.”

Scoffing, you enter the lift and press the button to your floor. “Goodnight, Brookstone.”

For tonight, you’ll let him get away with this one.

— — — — — — 

It’s around midnight by the time Cole reaches the monastery. He’d taken his time on the way back, stopping by a convenience store to pick up some pre-cooked chicken breast, planning to microwave one as a snack after tonight’s gym session.

He grabs his headphones from the lounge but pauses, setting them back down onto the table. 

She’d probably be asleep by now, right?

He leaves without his headphones, entering the gym where Lloyd is busy doing his usual sets. Both of them were the more regular visitors, having encountered the other far too many times at odd hours to instinctively understand the dark rings under their eyes and haunted tinge in their gaze. 

“So,” Lloyd breaks the silence, glancing over as he lowers the speed on his treadmill. “Your soulmate, huh?”

Cole exhales sharply, the weight of the question hitting heavier than the bench press he’d just finished. He’d been waiting for Lloyd to bring it up but didn’t expect it to be now, in the middle of their usual workout session. “Yeah. We’re not exactly eager about it either,” he says, walking over to the bench and starting a few stretches. His tone is casual, but there’s a hint of tension in his shoulders. “It won’t impact my duties.”

“Oh, I wasn’t suggesting that.” Lloyd raises his hands in assurance, though his thoughtful gaze is now fixed on his teammate. “I’m just saying, it must be exciting, right? Meeting the person you’re supposedly destined to be with.”

Cole snorts, shaking his head. “Destined. Right.” He shifts his position, stretching out his arms. “It’s not like that. We’re just... soulmates in name. That’s it.”

Lloyd hops off the treadmill, grabbing a towel as he narrows his eyes at Cole. “Sure doesn’t seem like it’s just a label.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cole asks, arching a brow.

Lloyd shrugs, leaning casually against the nearby wall. “I mean, you’re... different around her. Like when you got all defensive when Kai tried to eat her fries the other night.”

“She was clearly going to eat them!” Cole protests, the words spilling out faster than he intended.

“And how you knew her favorite bubble tea order?” Lloyd adds with a sly grin.

Cole freezes for a second before recovering with a huff. “She mentioned it once.”

“Uh-huh.” Lloyd tilts his head, his smile widening. “And that time you made sure to save her a spot during movie night, claiming it was ‘just coincidence’ when she showed up?”

“Coincidence,” Cole insists, though the tips of his ears are turning pink.

Lloyd’s smile falters, his expression softening. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

“See what?” Cole mutters, crossing his arms defensively.

“How much you notice about her.” Lloyd’s voice is quiet but steady. “The little details. The way you remember stuff she’s only said once, or how you pay attention to what makes her laugh or what annoys her. It’s not just about being soulmates, Cole. You care about her, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “I don’t—”

“Last week, when she complained about being cold, you handed her your jacket without thinking,” Lloyd cuts in, raising a brow. “No one even asked you to. And don’t tell me that’s just duty or being polite.”

For a moment, Cole doesn’t say anything, his jaw tightening as he looks away. “It’s... nothing. She’s part of the team. That’s all.”

Lloyd lets out a soft laugh, pushing off the wall. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, man. Just don’t wait too long to figure it out. Soulmate or not, people don’t stay in one place forever.”

Cole scowls at his retreating back. “For the record, this is worse than when Master Wu tried giving us the talk about the birds and the bees.”

He can vaguely make out the casual “deal with it” that Lloyd remarks as he turns a corner. Rolling his eyes, he shoves all lingering remnants of their conversation into the back of his head before continuing his workout.

After two more hours pass, he finally decides he’s had enough, heading to the kitchen where he’d dropped off his chicken breast from earlier, waiting for the microwave to heat up when he spots a text from you that he’d missed.

He picks it up, reading it before his brows furrow in confusion.

What’s a Dildo Baggins?

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — 

Taglist: @candyquokka @mossy-mika @em-100-blog @cursedreader @alicesmile1 @alexa24 @raegreenie4 @burdeningbitch @viennasthings @cadencannot @ml3czqo @nanasemo @certified-cole-simp @beescomet @theblindhag @mitbin24 @sweetlittlebumblebree @brooklyniswriting @cantbecreative @something-else3 @iinlovewithfictionalppl @itz-moonlight @jebesovovise @ryeheep @letthelightin2112 @classically-bored @clearlawyereaglewobbler @anajellyc @the-midnight-duck @fru1ty-bage3ls @elysiuansstuff

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: The Feels

Rating: General Audiences

Pairing: Azzi Fudd x Reader

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: Azzi crushing and she’s crushing bad

Word count: 1,260

Tag: @authentic-girl03

Freshman Year

I met Azzi during the first week of our business communications class. I remember walking into the room in my UConn volleyball jacket, a little nervous but ready to face the day. Azzi caught my eye immediately, sitting near the back with a notebook in front of her, already jotting something down.

“You can sit here if you want,” she said when she noticed me hovering. Her voice was soft, inviting, and I nodded, sliding into the seat beside her.

“I’m Y/N,” I introduced myself. “Freshman, volleyball team.”

“Azzi,” she replied, giving me a small but warm smile. “Freshman too—basketball.”

From that moment, we clicked. Study sessions turned into shared meals in the dining hall, which turned into late-night talks about everything from our families to our dreams. Azzi was easy to talk to, and her quiet strength drew me in like nothing else.

Now

Fast forward three years, and Azzi and I were as close as ever. My dual role as a volleyball player and cheerleader kept me busy, but Azzi always made time for me, an I did the same for her. Whether it was meeting up for smoothies after practice or us staying up late to help each other with assignments.

But something had shifted lately. Azzi seemed quieter than usual, more reserved. She’d blush when I hugged her, and her hands would linger just a second too long when we high-fived. At first, I brushed it off. But then I started catching her staring during practices or glancing my way during group hangouts.

Paige noticed it too.

Azzi's POV

“Just tell her how you feel,” Paige said one afternoon in the locker room. She was sitting on the bench, lacing up her sneakers, while I sat slumped against the wall.

“It’s not that simple,” I muttered.

Paige rolled her eyes. “Azzi, she’s your best friend. If you can’t be honest with her, who can you be honest with? Besides, the way you’ve been looking at her lately—it’s kind of obvious.”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “You don’t understand. What if she doesn’t feel the same way? I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Paige leaned back, giving me a knowing look. “Y/N likes you. Trust me, I’ve seen the way she lights up when you’re around. You just need to make a move.”

I hesitated, my heart racing. “How, though? What do I even say?”

Paige smirked, standing up and tossing her towel over her shoulder. “Leave that part to me. Just be ready tomorrow night.”

Reader's POV

I was confused when Paige texted me, asking if I was free to hang out with her and Azzi. Normally, Azzi would’ve been the one to make plans, so I was surprised when Paige took the lead. Still, I agreed, curious about what they had in mind.

When I arrived at Paige’s apartment, the lights were dim, and there was a cozy blanket fort set up in the living room. Azzi stood awkwardly in the center, her cheeks flushed as she played with the hem of her hoodie.

“What’s all this?” I asked, stepping inside.

Paige popped her head out from behind the couch, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “This,” she said, “is my cue to leave.” She gave Azzi a wink before slipping out the door.

Azzi cleared her throat, looking anywhere but at me. “Uh, hey.”

“Hey,” I said, smiling. “What’s going on?”

She took a deep breath, finally meeting my eyes. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something. And I thought this might be a nice way to do it.” She gestured to the blanket fort.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Azzi, this is adorable.”

Her face lit up, and she motioned for me to sit down. Once we were both settled inside the fort, surrounded by fairy lights and snacks, she turned to me, her expression serious.

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” she began. “About us. About how much you mean to me.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Azzi…”

“No, let me finish,” she said, her voice steady despite the nervous look in her eyes. “You’re my best friend, Y/N, but… I want to be more than that. I’ve had feelings for you for a while now, and I’ve been too scared to say anything because I didn’t want to mess up what we have. But I can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

I stared at her, my mind racing. Azzi liked me?

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way,” she added quickly. “But I had to tell you.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Then, without thinking, I reached out and took her hand in mine.

“Azzi,” I said softly, “you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

I laughed, squeezing her hand. “Yes, really. I like you too, Azzi. I always have.”

The relief on her face was palpable, and before I knew it, she was pulling me into a tight hug.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me,” she murmured, her voice muffled against my shoulder.

I smiled, holding her close. “Well, now you know.”

The Next Morning

Paige couldn’t stop smirking as she watched Azzi and me walk into the dining hall together, our hands intertwined.

“Told you,” she said smugly, earning an eye roll from Azzi.

“Alright, alright, you were right,” Azzi admitted, though her smile never wavered.

I laughed, leaning into Azzi’s side. “Thanks for the push, Paige.”

“Anytime,” Paige said, giving us a wink. “You two were long overdue.”

As Azzi and I sat down to eat, I couldn’t help but feel like everything had finally fallen into place.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[averysleepdeprivedaustralianman]

Soo uh..Forgot to post whoops!

Decided to just uh..Make a continuation of the Scarlet's Return..Heh?

Scarlet's Return-A week later!

One Week Later After Pearl's return–

The warm light of the Hermitcraft sun spilled through the windows of Pearl’s base, illuminating the room with a comforting glow. The clinking and humming of the redstone contraptions that ran throughout her base had returned to a soothing rhythm—a stark contrast to the chaos still echoing in her the horrid events of Double life.

Pearl stood infront of her storage room—absentmindedly organizing her chests peacefully. Her hands moved mechanically, sorting stacks of quartz and sandstone, but her mind was elsewhere. Every so often, she would glance at the corner of the room where the crown sat on a pedestal, untouched since that night.

Her chest tightened every time she looked at it. She wasn’t ready to deal with it. Not yet..

A light knock at the door broke her thoughts. Before she could respond, Gem poked her head in, her ever-present smile lighting up the room.

"Morning, sunshine! How’s it going?" Gem chirped, stepping inside with a basket of food in her hands. She didn’t wait for an answer as she pulled pearl away from the storage room not letting her speak. "I brought breakfast~You better not tell me you’ve skipped it again."

Pearl managed a weak chuckle as she was drgaged into a chair by gem–"I was going to eat—Eventually.."

Gem rolled her eyes but kept her tone light. "Sure you were. Here—take this." She handed Pearl a slice of freshly baked pumpkin pie. "Eat first, argue later."

Pearl took the slice, the sweet smell triggering a pang of nostalgia. "Thanks, Gem.."

Gem settled into a chair across from her, leaning her elbows on the table. "So, how’s the head? Any less stormy today?"

Pearl hesitated, poking at the pie with her fork. She didn’t want to lie, but the truth felt too heavy to share fully. "Better. A little," she admitted finally.

Gem studied her for a moment, her usual playful demeanor softening. "That’s good. Progress is progress, Pearlie. Don’t rush it."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds the faint clatter of cutlery and the soft rustle of leaves outside. It was peaceful, but Pearl couldn’t shake the tension coiled inside her.

Finally, Gem broke the silence. "You know," she began, her voice light, "I’ve been thinking.."

"Uh-oh," Pearl teased, though her voice lacked its usual spark. "What kind of trouble are you plotting now?"

Gem grinned but leaned forward, her tone shifting to something more sincere. "It’s not trouble, I promise. Just… I think you need to get out of here!–Away from your base, away from everything. Even just for a little while."

Pearl frowned, leaning back to her sit, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why though?"

"Because you’ve been stuck in this loop.." Gem said, gesturing gently around the room. "You’ve been here, alone, staring at that crown like it’s going to give you answers. And I get it, Pearlie—I really do..But I think you need to breathe a little. Feel the sun on your face, see something new. Maybe remind yourself there’s more to this world than what’s in these walls."

Pearl’s gaze dropped to the table, her fingers curling against the wood. "I don’t know, Gem. I don’t feel like I can just… leave everything behind. Not right now."

"You’re not leaving it behind," Gem said softly. "You’re just stepping away for a bit. Clearing your head. And you won’t be alone—I’ll be with you. No pressure, no expectations. Just… fresh air and some time to think."

Pearl looked up, meeting Gem’s eyes. The hope there was impossible to ignore, but there was no pity—just patience and care. She exhaled slowly, her shoulders slumping.

"Fine" Pearl said finally, her voice quiet but steady. "I suppose I'll come-"

Gem’s face lit up with a grin so bright it was contagious–Not even letting pearl finish she cutted her off—"That’s the spirit! Meet me at the portal in an hour. And pack light—we’re going somewhere new!"

As Gem left, humming a cheerful tune, Pearl stared at the half-eaten pie in front of her. The tightness in her chest hadn’t fully gone away, but for the first time in weeks, it felt like she could breathe a little easier.

Perhaps this was what she needed—a moment to step away, to see the world beyond her base, and maybe even start to heal..

(Meybe I'll make a dessertduo fic later not sure)

[am0ralexis]

I Kissed The Scars on Her Skin (comfort) ❤️‍🩹

The first thing I noticed when I walked into the apartment was the silence. It wasn’t the comfortable kind of quiet we usually shared, the kind where you’d be curled up on the couch with a book and I’d be tinkering with something on the coffee table. No, this silence was heavy, suffocating, like the air itself was holding its breath. My chest tightened the moment I stepped inside, and I knew something was wrong.

“Y/N?” I called out, my voice louder than I intended, almost like I was trying to fill the void with sound. No response. The kitchen was empty, the living room too, and my heart started to pound as I moved toward the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open, my breath catching in my throat.

There you were, slumped against the wall, your arms limp at your sides. The blood was everywhere, pooling beneath you, staining the tiles a deep, ugly red. My stomach churned, and for a moment, I thought I was going to be sick. But I couldn’t. I had to act. I stumbled forward, dropping to my knees beside you, my hands shaking as I pressed them against your wrists, trying to stop the bleeding.

“Y/N, please,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Stay with me, okay? Just stay with me.”

That night was a blur of panic and fear, of rushing you to the hospital, of waiting in the cold, sterile hallway while the doctors worked to save your life. I’ve tried to forget it, to push it to the back of my mind, but I can’t. Every time I look at you, it’s all I can think about. The sight of you lying there, so broken, so still, haunts me. I wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, your name on my lips, terrified that I’ll lose you again.

Now, as I sit on the edge of the bed, watching you sleep, I can’t help but reach out and brush my fingers over the scars on your wrists. They’re faded now, but still there, a stark reminder of everything you’ve been through. My chest aches, and I lean down, pressing my lips to them, gently, like I can kiss away the pain, like I can somehow make it all better.

You stir, your eyes fluttering open, and for a moment, you look confused, like you’re not sure where you are. Then your gaze meets mine, and I see the guilt in your eyes, the way you immediately try to pull your arms away, like you’re ashamed.

“Don’t,” I say softly, catching your hand before you can hide yourself from me. “Please, don’t.”

“Alex…” Your voice is barely a whisper, and it breaks something inside me. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” I interrupt, squeezing your hand. “You’re okay. That’s all that matters.”

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “No, it’s not. I’m a burden. I’m just—“

“Stop.” My voice is firmer now, and I reach up to cup your face, forcing you to look at me. “You’re not a burden. You never were, and you never will be. I love you, Y/N. I love you more than anything in this world, and I’m not going to let you think otherwise.”

You let out a shaky breath, and I pull you into my arms, holding you tightly, like I’m afraid you’ll vanish if I let go. I feel the weight of your head against my chest, the way your body trembles as you cry, and I press my lips to the top of your head, whispering soothing words until your sobs subside.

“I’m here,” I murmur, running my fingers through your hair. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll keep you safe, Y/N. I’ll keep your heart safe.”

You don’t respond, but you cling to me tighter, and I know that you’re still struggling, that the darkness hasn’t completely gone away. But that’s okay. We’ll fight it together, one day at a time. For now, I’ll hold you, I’ll keep you close, and I’ll remind you that you’re not alone, that I’ll never let you face this by yourself.

Because that’s what love is, isn’t it? Being there for each other, even when it’s hard, even when it hurts. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you know that you’re loved, that you’re worth it.

“Alex?” Your voice is soft, hesitant, and I pull back slightly to look at you.

“Yeah?”

“Do you… Do you think I’ll ever be okay?”

My heart breaks all over again at the uncertainty in your voice, and I brush my thumb over your cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “I think you’re stronger than you realize,” I say, my voice steady, even though I’m struggling to keep my own emotions in check. “And I’ll be here every step of the way, no matter how long it takes.”

You nod, your eyes searching mine, and I can see the glimmer of hope, however faint, starting to shine through. It’s enough for now. Enough to remind me that we can get through this, that we will.

“Can you… Can you hold me?” you ask, your voice so small, so vulnerable, and I don’t hesitate to pull you back into my arms.

“Always,” I whisper, pressing my lips to your forehead. “Always.”

[peaches2217]

⚡️

For the longest time, I’ve always headcanoned Peach being afraid of thunderstorms, since that’s usually the kind of weather Bowser likes to strike in.

⚡ - Scared of thunderstorms

You, my friend, are a genius.

Hiding

~~~

As soon as the Shiverian ambassador took his leave and the doors shut behind him, Peach slumped back in her seat. Typically she waited at least another ten seconds, just to make sure she was truly alone, but her mind was reeling so violently she could feel it in her bones. All she wanted was a moment’s rest.

Discussing trade routes and the renewal of international contracts while also pretending nothing was wrong in the face of constant threat proved difficult.

“Are you alright?” the most tender, most compassionate voice she’d ever had the honor of knowing inquired, and instantly she felt just a bit lighter. 

Mario had already relaxed his attentive and dignified posture in favor of stretching his arms over his head. This was normally where he’d crack wise about his aching muscles, how agonizing it was to stand in one spot for so long, his eagerness to spend the rest of the day on the move, but he offered nothing of the sort today. His eyes had caught hers during the meeting more than once. He knew she was in distress.

And why was the great Mushroom Princess in such distress? What threat loomed over her and caused her endless torment?

A thunderstorm. She was scared of a sodding thunderstorm.

With each crash of thunder, she had been forced to gather handfuls of her skirts under the table and hang onto the emissary’s every word to keep her own mind centered, or count each of his whiskers, or follow every last stitch and weave of his parka when the old creature began to ramble aimlessly. Losing face wasn’t an option. Revealing that one of her greatest fears was a fear shared by many a small child was equally unacceptable. Even so, keeping it reigned in for so long was exhausting. 

Each time their eyes met, Mario had nodded to her, a silent promise that nothing and no one would hurt her. Now that they were alone, she could feel the pent-up tension leaving her body. She had been safe all along. She could be no safer than she was now.

She smiled and prepared to assure him that she was alright, if tired and a bit frustrated — but an ear-splitting crack of thunder froze her before she could utter a single sound.

The bright and familiar delegation room went dark around her, and suddenly she was alone in her bed, shivering but not knowing why. Unpleasant sensations overwhelmed her huddled form. A sense of dread so heavy it nauseated her. Quick, shallow breaths, too frightened to fill her lungs properly.

Her bed covers ripped back and ice-cold claws wrapping around her.

“Peach?”

WIth a gasp, she was back in the delegation room. The silk of her dress stuck uncomfortably to her skin with sweat, yet a shiver still ran down her spine.

Eyes of the gentlest blue fixated on her.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw herself forward and bury her face into his chest, grip the straps of his overalls, weep and beg him to take away her memories of that night. Instead, she forced herself to breathe. Inhale, hold. Exhale, hold.

Mario held her gaze as she calmed herself, whispering reassurances all the while — “It’s okay, you’re safe, I’m right here,” anything and everything she needed to hear in that moment. He had taken her hands at some point and held them securely within his own. She was shaking, she realized, yet he was so steady, so stable against her.

Thunder rumbled once more outside of the window, distantly this time. He rubbed his thumbs in circles over the backs of her hands.

“I feel so childish,” Peach whispered, her throat tight.

“You’re not.” Mario squeezed her hands briefly before dropping one to brush a loose strand of hair from her face, and she sighed against his touch. He was far too understanding. Far too patient.

After another moment, he asked, "How are you feeling?"

Peach couldn’t help a rueful smile, closing her eyes and leaning her head into his palm. “Like I want to curl up and hide.”

Thunder. She flinched and willed herself to focus on his touch, the warmth of his skin which permeated his gloves. She willed herself not to go back to that night. It was over. She was safe now. She was home safe, and Bowser was down for the count, and the one who always came through for her was right here.

Something in Mario’s expression shifted when she opened her eyes. He studied her face for a moment, and she in turn studied his, watching as a sort of enlightenment bloomed across his features.

He squeezed her hand once more and gave a single nod of his head. “Then let’s hide.”

And before she could ask any questions, he pulled her from her seat and led her out of the room and into the grand halls of the palace.

No one gave them a second glance as he led her towards the southern wing wherein lay her quarters. Mario had been a castle mainstay for years now, serving as her personal daytime guard for most of that time. There was nothing unusual about him escorting her to her room, especially in light of recent events, namely the two months she was kept as Bowser’s prisoner after being taken by force in the dead of night.

Mario had risked and almost lost his life ensuring it never happened again. Even so, he and the entire royal council agreed that there was no keeping the princess too safe. So in the interest of her security, he was assigned to watch over her at all times; he spent his days accompanying her as per usual and spent his nights on a cot in her drawing room, always on high alert, her ever-faithful, ever-selfless guard.

At least, that was the official story. In truth, nothing kept him there past sunset beyond his own free will and her tentative request, and the idea of sleeping on opposite sides of her bedroom door fell through within the first hour of the first night. Now she dozed each evening and woke each morning tucked safely into his arms. But no one aside from them and their closest friends needed to know that yet.

They made it to her room quickly and without incident, and Peach was almost ashamed of the relief she felt. Already she was eager to hide beneath the blankets with him. She would happily flop right onto the mattress, heels, makeup, crown and all.

Once inside, Mario took hold of the uppermost duvet… and yanked it completely off of the bed. Not what she had been expecting, but he’d never led her astray before, he wouldn’t start now. Right?

She observed in stupefied silence as he brought the blanket over to her desk, a sturdy and ornate piece with a roll top and an empty cubicle framed by drawers, large enough for her to freely move her legs during long hours of study (or swing them like a giggling teenager when writing to her beloved hero). Mario pulled her chair out from its nesting place within that cubicle and began arranging the blanket in its place, singling out the heaviest objects on the desktop to keep it held in place.

It hung in front of the entrance like a curtain, and she felt her face go warm in embarrassment when she realized what he was doing.

“...You’re making a blanket fort.”

“Nope!” He remained focused on his work, his bushy mustache unable to hide his cheerful smile. “This will be much cozier than a blanket fort. Nice, dark, quiet—” he stepped back to admire his work, then turned and presented it to her with a flourish. “Perfect hiding spot!”

She was so baffled that she didn’t even notice another round of thunder.

“This isn’t really helping the, you know, ‘feeling childish’ thing,” she confessed. Bless her Mario, her sweet, brave, noble Mario, she knew his intentions were nothing but pure, and yet…

He hummed in understanding, yet he remained every bit as bright. “No, no, Princess,” he said, approaching her and reaching for her hands, “I promise, there’s nothing childish about it! Luigi does it sometimes you know. Whenever he’s anxious or all his senses are overloaded? He’ll back a table against the wall, throw a blanket over it, crawl inside, e ecco qua! He emerges a new man.”

Stubbornly, Peach tried not to laugh. He couldn’t be serious. Yet the combination of Mario’s impassioned description and the mental images it invoked wrenched a smile from her all the same.

He was being serious. And for some reason, she was buying into it. Stars above she loved this man.

“...Alright. I’ll give it a shot.”

Mario cheered and gave her knuckles a quick kiss before rushing back to the improvised hideaway, lifting one corner of the blanket and ushering her inside. “Your Highness.”

Everything within Peach protested as she sank to her knees in front of her desk and crawled inside. She ignored it and busied herself pulling layer after layer of silk into the enclosure; once she had succeeded in stuffing herself and her dress inside, Mario dropped the blanket back into place, and everything went dark.

Peach blinked, settling into her chosen corner and assessing her emotions as they played out. She felt ridiculous. She felt like a child. Worse yet — she felt secure. He was right. There was something oddly comfortable about this setup. For a moment, she entertained the thought of some villain entering her room, only to leave in a huff upon seeing her bed empty, as though this little alcove were a secret and private extension of the castle rather than a desk with a blanket draped over it.

Thunder, uncomfortably close this time.

“So what do you think, Princess?” Mario asked almost as soon as she registered the thunder. Her pulse quickened, and briefly her mind took her back to that fateful night, but she swallowed heavily and replied before it could take hold of her.

“It’s not bad,” she said. “But it’s a bit roomy for my taste.”

“Oh?”

“You could easily fit two more of me in here, or maybe three Toads.”

“Or… maybe one portly plumber?”

“I was thinking a dashing, handsome knight, actually.” Peach’s trepidation faded to the back of her mind at his bashful chuckle. For someone so outgoing, he flustered so easily.

She heard a soft thud, and then light poured back into the enclosure as Mario lifted the blanket to crawl in with her. A lovely blush still colored his cheeks. “I can’t promise I won’t trample your dress.”

“I have at least ten more in this exact pattern.”

He puffed out his chest in a dramatized show of confidence. “Then here we go!”

They spent at least three or four minutes twisting about, accidentally elbowing one another in the face or in the stomach, giggling together as they tried and mostly failed to accommodate the mass of her skirts and his, well, everything. But eventually they found a comfortable position: Mario pressed his back into one corner with his knees bent, and Peach half-sat half-laid in his lap facing the opposite direction, her cheek on his shoulder and her skirts swallowing the remaining space.

“There we go!” Mario shifted beneath her, and once he settled, he rested his arms around her waist. “Nice and safe, see? No one will find us here. Nothing will hurt us.”

Peach hummed and relaxed against him, draping her arms loosely around his torso. That was something he’d started doing lately, she noticed. It was never “me” and “you” anymore, it was “we”, “us”. Was it intentional? Did he even know he was doing it?

Whatever the case, she hoped he’d continue. She liked thinking of themselves as a set, two inseparable pieces of one cohesive whole.

A clap of thunder even closer than the last pierced the air around them. She gasped on instinct, her body going cold, but immediately Mario’s arms tightened around her, and he drowned out the noise with a stream of reassurances. He sounded so resolute, so certain of what he was saying. And in the darkness surrounding them, they may as well have been the only two people in the world.

Peach snuggled into his warmth and let her fears be carried away on the wings of his promises. He had never led her astray before. He wouldn’t start now.

[lostywrites]

“He’s been refusing to talk to me. I was hoping he’d open up to you,” Max’s muffled words floated through the closed door, reaching the speedster’s ears. Sulking in his room for hours after arriving home, Bart had ignored Max’s attempts at conversation. He vaguely detected Superboy’s voice, but his frustration with Robin had eclipsed any remnants of desire for social interaction.

The door opened, Superboy's concerned voice now seeping into his private space. His bedroom resembled a chaotic collage, with clothes, underwear, and comic books strewn haphazardly across the floor.

“Hey, Imp,” Superboy greeted while effortlessly defying gravity to reach Bart perched atop his bunk.

Shoulders hunched and gaze affixed to the floor, Bart sat on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling. “Just leave me alone.” The words were heavy with a mix of despondency and a stubborn determination to wallow in self-pity.

Superboy sat alongside the brooding speedster, his voice quiet. “You know, Robin was angry because he cares about you. Gotham’s a dangerous place, and he’s lost people he cared about. The Joker triggered some dark memories.”

Impulse’s voice was bitter. “So now I’m a burden he has to protect? I’m not some helpless kid. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, Bart. But sometimes, it’s okay to listen to those who have more experience in dealing with certain criminals. Robin didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“He didn't have to throw it in my face like that. And I’ve had my share of battles, too, y’know. He’s not even super-powered like us. Strip away the gadgets, weapons and martial arts, and Rob wouldn’t last a minute against the kind of criminals I’ve confronted solo.”

“Robin may not have super powers, but that doesn’t make him any less of a fighter.”

Impulse’s shoulders slumped, his anger deflating. “I know that. I just don’t want him to be mad at me. I didn’t come to Gotham to fight crime with Batman. I was there to see him...to, you know, pull a prank or two and get a few laughs...”

“Okay I really gotta ask. What’s with the pranks?” Superboy's tone held a touch of amusement. “Why do you always mess with Robin?”

Bart’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. “Well, he’s always so serious and intense. It’s fun to see if I can crack that tough exterior...”

Superboy raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on Bart. “Is that the only reason?” he asked, playfully nudging the speedster.

“Yeah, pretty much. It’s just my way of having fun.”

“Really, Bart?” Superboy's voice held a note of scepticism. “It seems like you target him more than anyone else. Why haven’t I ever been on the receiving end of one of your pranks?”

Bart slumped his shoulders and sighed. “Alright, fine. Maybe there’s another reason...”

“Spill it.” Superboy prodded.

Bart hesitated before admitting, “I like getting his attention, okay? When I pull a prank or mess with Robin, he pays attention to me, even if it’s to scold me.”

“You know, sometimes when we’re drawn to someone’s attention like that, it might mean something more.”

Bart’s eyes widened, and he looked at Superboy with a mix of surprise and anxiety. “Whaddaya mean?”

“Do you think you might have a crush on Robin?”

“What?” Bart’s expression shifted from surprise to denial. “No way! It’s not like that.”

Superboy sprang off the bunk bed and levitated in front of Bart. “Feelings happen. It’s normal to feel some sort of attraction to someone. If you do like Robin, there’s no shame in admitting it.”

Bart’s gaze flickered, his feelings were obvious despite his attempts to hide them. “Alright, fine. I do have a crush on Robin. Happy now?” He then shoved Superboy away. “Get out!”

Superboy grinned, refusing to budge. “Hey I’m just glad you’re being honest with yourself. And if you ever wanna talk about it, I’m here. I’m serious. I’m not here to make fun of you, I promise. I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

As Bart looked at Superboy, he felt a mixture of vulnerability and relief. Confronting his emotions was both daunting and liberating, and with Superboy being aware of his true feelings for Robin, he knew he wouldn't have to navigate his emotions alone.

“Promise me you won’t say anything to anyone...especially Rob.”

“Your feelings are yours to share when you’re ready. I won’t say anything unless you want me to.”

After hours of hanging out and playing video games, Superboy had gone home for the night and Bart found himself restless. His thoughts were consumed by a myriad of emotions he had been grappling with—his frustration and crush on Robin.

Unable to silence the clamour within his mind, Bart finally emerged from his bedroom, his destination set as the kitchen. His quest? To find solace in a late-night snack, perhaps a towering sandwich layered with succulent cured hams and melted cheese...

“What are you doing up this late? It’s a school night.” Max’s voice caught him off guard. The old man had been waiting in the dark in the living room.

The floor lamp then flickered to life, revealing Max, donned in his cosy old man jammies, sitting comfortably in his favourite armchair.

Bart took a deep breath before delving into what had been preoccupying his thoughts. “Max, what does it feel like to fall for someone and they don’t even notice?”

“Oh boy, I had a feeling we’d be having this conversation sooner or later,” Max muttered. His expression softened as he understood the nature of Bart’s inquiry. “Well, it’s not an uncommon feeling. Falling for someone and not having them notice can be tough. It can make you feel both excited and frustrated at the same time.”

Bart’s brows furrowed, his gaze searching. “But what if you want them to notice, but you’re scared they won’t feel the same way?”

Max’s smile was kind, his words carrying a hint of wisdom. “That’s a common fear, Bart. It’s natural to be afraid of rejection. You can’t control someone else’s feelings. All you can do is be yourself and be honest about your own emotions.”

Bart’s shoulders relaxed, a sense of relief washing over him. “But what if being honest feels too risky?”

He followed Max into the kitchen. The consistent rumbling in his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since he phased through the front door and into his bedroom that afternoon.

Yet, it appeared that Max had already tended to dinner. While seated at the dining table, Bart’s attention was drawn to Max setting down a plateful of fried chicken steak, complemented by a serving of crunchy green beans and a tempting slice of cornbread, all wholesomely prepared and set aside for him.

“Sometimes, taking that risk is what opens the door to something beautiful,” Max continued. “And even if the feelings aren’t reciprocated, it’s better to know where you stand.”

Comfortable with expressing himself through actions rather than words, Bart wrapped Max in a tight hug, conveying his appreciation to the veteran speedster.

“You always know what to say and do the right things to make me feel better,” Bart admitted sincerely.

Max’s smile was warm. “You’re still young, and you have plenty of time to navigate life’s challenges. Just be patient with yourself,” he advised, affectionately ruffling Bart’s hair before leaving the kitchen. “Now, cheer up and finish your supper. Everything’s going to be fine.”

More on Ao3

[britneysice]

Lover, you should've come over

Author's Note: woah I got the fic out today. This is embarrassing to post but here goes nothing. Ignore any grammar. Let me know any mistakes I made by messaging me or sending it in my asks. This is my FIRST fic. the title is inspired by a Jeff Buckley song.

Warning: This part is just how they "meet". Some LIGHT swearing. Future chapters might contain smut.

 Y/N mostly found herself staring at the back of her classmate, Brian May’s head during long lectures. He had short loose curls in a Hendrix kind of style. His hair shook sometimes when he moved and Y/N thought it was adorable. Brian always had these tight sweaters (that never really covered his whole arm) that showed off his long veiny forearms, they made her drool just thinking about it. Brian almost silently whispered to his friend with a quiet chuckle. Y/N stifled a laugh at his laugh. God, he was so cute. Y/N was brought out of La-La land when her friend, Jo, pinched her arm. 

“What was that for?” Y/N whisper yelled, furrowing her eyebrows. Jo rolled her eyes, slumping back in her chair. 

“Too caught up in Mister Handsome over there. Haven’t heard a damn word I’ve said,” She huffs before glancing at Brian, “I don’t understand why you can’t just talk to Bri-” The teacher clears his throat and looks at Y/N and Jo with a disapproving look. 

“Girls.. Please wait till after class for the chit chat.” He shakes his head before turning to the chalkboard and beginning to carry on with the lesson. Brian looks back at Jo and Y/N and Y/N’s heart almost jumps out of her chest. She internally screams, jumps, and hugs Jo. She really would’ve if it was just Brian looking at her and no one else mattered. Jo looks at Y/N with a raised eyebrow before noticing Brian and sighing. 

Y/N’s mind immediately thinks about Brian noticing her again. What if he liked her back and didn’t have the courage to talk to her? No, that’s just being silly. Or is it? The thought of Brian never really knowing her stresses her out more than anything going on in her life right now. While Y/N is caught up in her thoughts, the loud bell rings and she and Jo pack up.

After class, Jo and Y/N head to their shared flat, taking off their coats. Y/N plops down on the couch, exhaling deeply. Jo walks over and sits beside her, looking down at her.

“What now?” Jo says, going to pet her hair.

“Nothing,” Y/N murmurs into a pillow, knowing that it really wasn’t nothing. She just couldn’t stop thinking about Brian. Usually she could take her mind off him easily if she really tried but this time it wasn’t working. “It’s just…” Y/N trails off, gripping the pillow she was talking into a few moments back. Jo just looks at her, not saying a word, just petting the younger woman’s hair.

Y/N thought it was stupid. The man didn’t even know her, I mean, even if he did know her name it wasn’t like they knew each other from being friends. It’s embarrassing to get all worked up just because he looked at you. She stayed silent, just looking at Jo. “Love” is embarrassing. 

_ _ _

Y/N is alone in the house. Jo has gone off onto a date with Roger, Brian’s best friend. All she can do is toss and turn, staring at the ceiling every once and a while. It wasn’t long before Y/N

got a phone call. She groaned softly and whispered to herself, “Who could it be at this hour?” To be fair, it was 12 AM. She steadily picked up the receiver and mumbled a ‘hello’ into the speaker before hearing a familiar and beloved voice. Brian. Y/N listens to Brian’s voice intently, her heart pounding.

“Hey, uh, is this Jo’s flatmate,YN?” he says into the phone softly. “Roger wanted to let you know that Jo won’t be coming back home tonight.” There’s a clear implication in between the lines of the last sentence. Really? On the second date? Damn, ok. Y/N thought. She takes a deep breath before speaking to Brian.

“Okay. Thanks for letting me know,” Y/N blushed profusely, tapping her fingertip on her nightstand. The silence was awkward and it made Y/N more uncomfortable every second. “Is this Brian May?”

He hummed a response before speaking again, “I tried to drive them to your flat but Roger was stubborn and drunk so it was no use.” He lightly chuckled nearing his last words. Y/N faked a laugh. 

“I’m guessing Jo gave you my number?” 

“Oh yes.” Brian says awkwardly.

Y/N attempts to drag on the conversation as long as she can, she just wanted to hear Brian talk,  “So how long have you and Roger been friends?” 

“About a year now. I met him when our band first started. You know the band Smile, right?” He asks. Y/N didn’t even know he had a band. Didn’t even know he could play an instrument or sing. It’s clear she had some catching up to do. 

“No. Not really. Sorry.” It’s only later into the conversation she realizes how bitchy that sounded. 

“Oh. Well it’s just a regular band. I play guitar, Rog drums and we have a lead singer who also plays bass. We’re obviously called Smile,” He snickers and continued his words, “We play here sometimes or at a random pub. You know actually we have a gig next Saturday on campus. I’d like it if you would be able to go. Are you free?” He hesitates when he asks. Y/N couldn’t believe anything that was going on in this moment was happening. Maybe he really did like her back. No, don’t be crazy. Y/N thinks to herself.

“Is Jo going?” Y/N asks in a curious tone. If Jo wasn't going, she wasn’t going.

“I think so. Roger never told me but I’m guessing she would.” Brian says, nervous, sensing her hesitation. 

Brian agrees, “Yeah. See you there, Y/N. Bye Bye.” Y/N mutters a ‘bye’ as well, nearly out of breath because of how he said her name. 

[derrick-starr]

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I rise again to bring you my own original blorbo.

I’ve been in such a slump lately, so I made my own D&December challenge to get back into drawing.

I’m going to make a new character portrait every 3 days of my original D&D characters. Messy rambles about my boy Raylin here under the cut :D

I've never actually gotten to play as this guy before, but I love coming up with new characters based on interesting dnd classes, backgrounds, or races.

This guy, Raylin Melviir, is a Drow Warlock (fiend) with the Haunted One background. While perusing different dnd backgrounds, the Haunted One really stuck out to me. I liked how vague and therefore versatile it was, and I was particularly interested in one of the offered Harrowing Events:

"A fiend possessed you as a child. You were locked away but escaped. The fiend is still inside you, but now you try to keep it locked away."

A fiend you say? Isn't that something you can make a warlock pact with?

So yeah, Raylin is a warlock who made a deal with the fiend who possessed him as a child and still haunts his mind. Having your patron, who you already don’t have a great relationship with, as a backseat driver in your head was such a compelling concept that I HAD to put it to paper. I’ve also always had a fascination with characters who share one body, I think Greed and Ling from Fullmetal Alchemist permanently changed my brain chemistry.

I'm still working out some of the backstory, but the idea is that the demon, Maldremon, was some big shot in the in hell, but was overthrown by a coup. To make sure he stayed down, they did some magic to separate his soul from his body and cast it away to the material plane. In his weakened state, he needed to possess the first person he saw or die, and that happened to be a young Raylin Melviir.

Living an idyllic little life, Raylin was a sweet boy with a kind soul who lived with his mother in a small village. When he was around eight years old (or the drow equivalent), he was possessed by this fiend and locked within his own mind.

Now, Mal couldn’t just start his revenge plot right away, so he had to bide his time until this body grew. In the meantime, he decided to have some fun. He became an absolute terror, getting into fights, sent to reform schools, and even getting in serious trouble with the law as he got older. Eventually he was arrested, but escaped, and started racking up arrest warrants and permanent banishments in every town he came across.

Raylin, this whole time, has been locked in his own mind, forced to just watch as this demon ruins his life. At first, he’s confused and scared and begs the demon to let him go and to stop hurting people, but to no avail. Slowly, over time, Raylin becomes more despondent and apathetic, slipping into a sort of sleep for weeks, months, or even years at a time.

After a long time, Ray decides to fight back. He spends months lying in wait, gathering strength, and looking for the perfect opportunity to fight for control, and somehow, he succeeds. Maldremon is none too happy about this, but Raylin stands strong, and is in control of himself again for the first time in decades. He's now the drow equivalent of about 21, but it's been about 45 years since he was first possessed.

Traveling around, out of touch in an unfamiliar body. He barely remembers what it was like to be in control, but this is a jarring change from what he does remember. Mal also didn't help with that, having acquired piercings, scars, and tattoos that he’s still finding.

Raylin is also wanted or banned from a good portion of the towns and cities around him. That, coupled with having basically no life experience or skills, does not bode well for starting a new life.

Raylin initially wants to go back home and find his mom, but he also knows that as long as the fiend is still in his head, it’s not safe to do so. So, his new mission is to exercise the fiend, but he woke up in the middle of nowhere, and finding someone skilled enough to help him hasn’t been working. Mal being a nuisance and trying to take back control also hinders his quest, as this can cause painful headaches. Some days, he has to concentrate so hard that he can’t even get out of bed, head aching and nose bleeding as Mal tries to tear his way to freedom.

One night, Raylin is cornered by bandits, and climbs a tree to escape, but it’s only a matter of time before they get him down. He’s going to die. And, though he’s scared, Raylin accepts this. At least if he dies, he takes the fiend with him.

Maldremon, unable to take back control, freaks the fuck out. He doesn’t know what will happen to him if Raylin dies. Will he die as well, or will his soul just be ejected out? Even if he was, he wouldn’t be strong enough to possess one of these men, and he’d die anyway without a host. Raylin is still holding strong against his attempts to take control, even when it would be to save their lives. Mal doesn’t want to die, so instead, he strikes a bargain.

Raylin at first is dead set on refusing, but Maldremon takes advantage of his fear and anger, though Raylin does the same. The deal is: Raylin receives power and boons from Maldremon to protect them and aid them on their journey. Raylin, in return, must help Maldremon find a new host, though they agree that it will be a completely blank vessel for him to inhabit. And finally, Maldremon can no longer attempt to take over Raylin’s body. With the deal struck, Raylin dispatches the bandits with guidance from Mal, and the two continue on with a shaky truce.

A mark like a scar appears on the back of his right hand as a symbol of their deal, the same symbol that Maldremon used to have on his forehead.

Now, for some of the visuals I added:

I dabbled with the idea that the symbol/scar on back of hand would glow when he casts spells, but I didn't want to deal with a second light source so I made a choice lol.

The random scar on his arm is meant to show that he's gotten in some tussles in his time, or at least Mal has. He definitely has a lot more hiding under his clothes, including two top surgery scars. Mal may be an evil demon ruining Ray's life, but he's not transphobic. I considered added a hint of a tattoo design, but it felt like it'd make everything too busy. I think he has one big tattoo on his back and maybe some on his chest? Upper arms maybe? Idk, thinking of tattoos for myself is already hard enough.

I included empty piercing spots because I love the idea that Mal got them a million different piercings so he could adorn himself in finery, but Ray hates drawing attention to himself so he never wears any.

The braided bracelet he has is actually something his mom made for him. I imagine the original material eventually got too small and old, so, several years into the possession, it broke. Raylin freaked out, nonstop crying for Mal to fix it. Usually Raylin has the backbone of a chocolate éclair, but he wouldn't stop and Mal thought it was annoying, so he found a bit of twine and added some extra length at the break. Now decades later, Raylin back in control, he noticed that the bracelet was still there with a new, longer extension to keep it secure. It must have broken when he was sunk into their subconscious, and Mal fixed it without prompting. Weird, bet that doesn't have any emotional implications or anything.

Drow have superior darkvision but also get disadvantage in direct sunlight, so that made me look into animals with really good night vision. In my search, I came across the tarsier that have these huge, buggy eyes with pupils that are like pinpricks in the daytime but become huge saucers at night.

And on the subject of eyes, Ray's eyes used to be a bright blue, but ever since he was possessed, they’ve become the same amber yellow as Mal's, even now that he has back control of his body.

I also chose that his spellcasting focus is an orb/crystal ball, hence the round satchel at his hip. I really like the idea that Mal can appear in the ball so they can talk to each other face to face. I'm toying with the idea that they can see each other as ghostly figures all the time, but either way, everyone is able to facetime with Mal through the orb.

And eventually when he can choose a boon, he'll get Pact of the Chain which let's him summon a familiar. Instead of a normal familiar though, it allows Mal to possess a small magic body and let's him go do any tasks necessary. The idea of this all powerful demon possessing something like a cat was too funny to me. It also opens up the door to him being obstinate and not wanting to help Raylin lol.

And finally, some personal character details:

One of the personality options for the Haunted One was "I like to read and memorize poetry. It keeps me calm and brings me fleeting moments of happiness," and I loved that so much that I started saving small poems that Raylin could read to make himself feel better. I also found one of my favorite poems in the process, I Heard a Bird Sing by Oliver Herford.

I've since decided that Raylin writes his own poetry as well, since there's not much else to entertain yourself with when you're (literally) stuck in your own head.

Initial characterization was very scared and docile, similar to the expression in this illustration, but as I think about and develop him more, I want to give him more of a backbone and maybe even a bitchy attitude. Maybe that'll come later on as he develops through whatever story he finds himself in.

Also, I decided he writes in a journal to sort out his thoughts about everything that's happened to him, as well as to keep a record of his own existence in case he dies or gets taken over again. I love the idea of playing as a character and having genuine entries for you or fellow players to read, so I have some written out because I'm so extra. I think I'd have to change some based on how his characterization and story line have changed, but the basics are the same. This also supports the idea that he writes his own poetry, maybe I can make some drafts and sprinkle into the journal entries.

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

tti episode 25 - version 2

“For the past eight weeks, you have been watching Fren, Joner, Peter, Kitty, Mal, O, Sha-Mod, Frollo, Caesar, Austin, Scruffy, Kelly, Courtney, Scary, Max, Staci, Patrick, Bonnie, Ass, and Julia compete in the most heinous, disgusting, dangerous challenges reality TV has seen since 2007. You have watched them laugh, cry, love and receive various injuries, and it’s all come down to this! Two campers remain, and by sundown, only one will be left standing! That winner will go home with a check for one million dollars and the pride of having survived this crummy camp. Our two final campers are about to fight it out in a battle of the exes here on Total! Takes! Island!”

“Welcome back to the island. It's been a grueling past two months for our finalists, so we asked them to record their thoughts before the final challenge,” Chris smiles, pacing around the currently-empty mess hall. 

---

MCLOVIN: “I guess I had a good time. I made a lot of new friends,”

---

MICHAEL: “Now people hate my existence and want to kill me! Great job at making new friends, Michela!"

---

MCLOVIN: “I’m not too surprised I made it this far. It’s like my mom always says, a positive attitude can get you anywhere!”

---

MICHAEL: “I’m honestly shocked I haven’t given up yet. I mean, I was so sure I’d be a mid-season boot and now I’m a finalist!”

---

MCLOVIN: “The food? It was okay... when it wasn’t trying to kill me,”

---

MICHAEL: “Don’t even get me started on the supposed “food” we had to eat. It’d probably be inhumane to serve that stuff to dogs,”

---

MCLOVIN: “The rats in the kitchen wouldn’t even touch it,”

---

MICHAEL: “And the people?”

---

MCLOVIN: “The people were awesome! Sure, there were some fights, but I’ve never met so many amazing friends than on this island!”

---

MICHAEL: “-a bunch of lazy, stubborn, self-centered jerks who only cared about themselves,”

---

MCLOVIN: “Sha-Mod and I share a psychic bond! We’re soulmates- bromates! I meant bromates!”

---

MICHAEL: “Max is probably one of the most stubborn, rude, unapologetically mean people I’ve ever met, and… I am so glad I met him. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.”

---

MCLOVIN: “Courtney has the coolest hair ever, Julia is super smart…”

---

MICHAEL: “I guess that’s about it, really,”

---

MCLOVIN: “What will I be remembered for?” he pauses to think. “My personality!”

---

MICHAEL: “Um… my hair?”

---

MCLOVIN: “Or maybe these!” he stands on the toilet and stomps, his light-up Sketchers blinking.

---

Chris leaves the mess hall after announcing the final curtain call will be in thirty minutes. Michael sighs and slumps forward. 

“What’s the matter?” McLovin asks, spooning their final crummy camp meal. 

“I guess I’m just kind of disappointed I didn’t accomplish anything I came here for,” 

“What do you mean? We did lots of awesome stuff and met tons of awesome people!”

“No,” Michael frowns at him. “You did tons of awesome stuff and met tons of awesome people. I just made a bunch of enemies and humiliated myself on national television hundreds of times.”

McLovin’s smile drops and he looks at her. “That’s kind of a depressing way to look at it,”

“That’s reality, dude,”

A silence falls over the two McLovin sighs. 

“Do you think anything’s gonna be the same after we go home?”

“Honestly? Not at all. I just don’t know if I can stay friends with you and Joner after everything. I’ll be alone, but maybe that won't be such a bad thing,” she says, kicking back and putting her feet on the table. “I’ll be putting myself first for once, anyway.”

“Well… I kinda understand. If that’s what you want, then that’s cool. I respect that,” McLovin says, saluting her. “I just wish we could’ve made up.”

“Sometimes that’s too much to ask. I wish you would’ve shown you’ve changed instead of just apologizing,” she stands, leaving her bowl behind half-empty and her former friend with a contemplative look on his face.

---

“Alright, campers!” Chris says, leading the two between a pair of wooden bleachers out in the forest. Michael and McLovin can see a track extending into the woods, and both know without saying that that’s where they’re heading next. “Time to welcome back the twenty losers who did not make it here with you today!”

The former competitors walk from the docks. McLovin waves to his friends, who merrily wave back. No one even looks at Michael as they pass to the bleachers. 

“Everyone who is not competing, please take a seat in the peanut gallery of failure! The side you choose should represent who you’re rooting for in the finale,” Chris says, directing the crowd to the bleachers behind him. Each has a large banner with either contestant's face on it. 

Sha-Mod and Courtney are the first to sit on McLovin’s side, followed shortly by just about everyone else. Only one person is sitting in Michael’s gallery. 

Max waves from the empty bleachers. Michael smiles and waves back. 

“Okay, a little surprising, but wow,” Chris says. “Can we get a few more volunteers to pity-join? Makes it more suspenseful.”

“Come on, guys!” McLovin yells to his supporters. “Michael is really… cool and nice and stuff!”

A few contestants raise eyebrows. He sighs. “Staci, Scruffy- um, the tall one- Peter, Kelly,”

Much to their annoyance (and McLovin’s surprise at having people actually listen to him) all of the selected losers get up and move without complaint. Michael rolls her eyes, but she still gives McLovin a slightly grateful look. 

Max hops down from the bleachers and runs over to her, ducking under Chef before he can stop him. “You got this, okay?” he says, holding her hands. 

Chris rolls his eyes and jabs a thumb in their direction, sending Chef over to collect him. Chef grabs Max by the back of his collar and drags him back to the stands. “I believe in you!” he yells before he’s promptly sat down. 

Frollo sits in the middle space between the bleachers on the ground, eternally reading his Bible. 

Chris walks over. “Um, dude, you gotta pick a side,”

He rolls his eyes. “Both of these players are sinners, and-”

Chef walks over, picks him up, and tosses him onto Michael’s side, the few losers already there ducking to avoid him as he shrieks and flies across the screen. 

“Go, MC!” Courtney shouts. 

“Yeah, go support the endless cog of capitalism!” Ass says sarcastically. Courtney smacks them upside the head. 

“McLovin, this is your chance to tell the peanut gallery what you would do with the money if you won,” Chris says, pointing at him. He smiles. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I finally chose just two things I’d want to do with the money,” he says. “First, I’d save half of it for art school and my future living expenses.”

Joner and Michael both raise an eyebrow. 

“And then with everything I have left, I would give everyone who competed on this show an even portion of the money. Including Michael!” 

Everyone aws at that, and everyone on Michael’s side aside from Max silently gets up and walks back over to McLovin’s. Even Frollo’s unconscious body slumps off the stands and rolls over to the other bleachers. Max groans and smacks his forehead. 

“Michael?”

“I would probably save most of it in a secure bank account for my future. And maybe get new skates,”

Everyone stares at her blankly. She sighs. 

“Alright, it’s time for the final challenge: the rejected Olympic relay race!” Chris shouts. “There are three parts: first, each of you has to put on one of these,” he smiles, holding a chicken hat in his right hand and a cow hat in his left. He hands one to each. “Dressed in your very special uniforms, you will run to the first location and shimmy up the pole to grab your flag. Next, you’ll cross a 300m balance beam suspended across a massive gorge while carrying an eagles egg. After is a long distance run back to this location. Whoever gets here first wins!”

The peanut galleries cheer as Michael and McLovin look at each other. 

“Good luck,” he says, adjusting his chicken hat. “You deserve to win.”

Michael stares. “I don’t need your pity,”

“Go, McLovin!” Sha-Mod shouts from the stands. 

“Kick her ass, MC!” Julia yells before a large rock from Michael’s bleachers hits her in the back of the head. She slumps onto Scruffy in the row below, unconscious. 

“Anyone else?!” Max yells from offscreen. 

“Ready!” Chris shouts, waving around a checkered flag. “Set? Go!”

McLovin and Michael start off, the latter in the lead. Michael reaches the flagpole first and takes a leaping jump to the base, scaling it with ease. 

The pencil arrives next and attempts to inch his way up the pole like a worm. “Use your freakishly long limbs!” Ass yells from the stands, still dizzy from Courtney's blow. 

McLovin whimpers and extends his arms higher, grabbing the flag at the same time Michael hops off. 

“How do I get down?!” he yells. 

“Figure it out! You got this!” Courtney yells back. 

McLovin frowns and jumps down, landing on his butt. The crowd winces. 

“Get up, dude!” Sha-Mod yells. “She’s not far ahead!”

Michael approaches the gorge and peers over the edge, where sharks are swimming in the water below the thin, rickety planks of wood. She swallows nervously but runs back around to the eagles nest behind her, grabbing an egg and hiding it in her parka before she begins to cross. 

McLovin follows, snatching an egg and holding it above his head while closing his eyes and screaming, running across the thin plank of wood. 

“You might wanna look where you’re going, dude!” Chris shouts. “Those eggs weren’t for nothing!”

A few campers catch up to the players, stopping behind Chris and looking around the skies nervously. 

Scruffy yells from the edge of the gorge. “McLovin, there are eagles! Huge eagles! And-” another rock hits them square in the temple and they fall backwards. Max tosses another stone from one hand to the other while glaring at the other losers. 

“What did they mean by-” Michael starts before a massive eagle swoops down and lunges for McLovin's exposed egg, talons extended. 

He barely manages to duck, but is thrown off-balance and wobbles around on one foot. The peanut gallery (now on their feet) gasps and watches in terror as he falls to his butt on the plank, but manages to keep himself out of the shark infested waters. 

Michael reaches the other side, pulling the egg out of its hiding place and setting in the nest on stable ground. She starts running again, McLovin (still shaking) not far behind. 

The track takes the two right through camp. “Almost there!” Max yells, one of the campers running behind the contestants. 

“Come on, MC, you got this!” Sha-Mod shouts, a few steps behind Max. “This part is the easiest!”

As he says that, McLovin steps over a suspiciously elevated dirt mound and a huge explosion lets off behind him. 

“What was that?!” Michael shouts as another explosion sounds. 

“Oh, yeah, we had some leftover landmines!” Chris shouts into his megaphone from a safe distance. “Enjoy!”

“Jerk!” Michael snaps, narrowly dodging another massive landmine explosion that takes out the confessional booth.

"Watch out!" McLovin yells, pointing out various lumps of dirt ahead of her.

"I don't need your help!" she snaps back. "I'm not your pity case!"

"What is it gonna take for you to forgive me?!"

"Move. ON!" she shouts, speeding up ahead and jumping over every landmine visible. Another one explodes, sending McLovin backwards.

He screams in terror, covering his eyes and running blindly when he gets up. 

“Get a grip!” Ass yells from behind. “Stop being such a coward!”

“No!” he shouts back. 

Scary scoffs. “Why don’t you just let her win then, nice guy?!”

McLovin frowns and whimpers, standing and stumbling forward. "I can do this!" he affirms himself, a few cheers sounding from the sidelines.

He runs up to Michael, shoving her out of the way as the finish line comes into sight. She falls on her butt and yelps.

"This is pointless!" she yells, refusing to stand. "Who even cares!"

A voice from the sidelines sounds out. "Chel!"

She turns. "Max?"

He waves from off the course, avoiding the landmine-covered track. "You can't give up! Remember what I told you! You didn't come here to make friends!"

Michael sighs. She closes her eyes and stands shakily, clenching her fists. "I want to win,"

"More enthusiasm!"

"I want to win!" she starts off running.

"Yes!"

"I WANT TO WIN!" she yells, catching up to McLovin and shoving him.

"There's my girl!"

His thin body shudders like a piece of paper in the wind and he flies backwards from the force of the push as she crosses the finish line seconds before him.

The peanut gallery cheers, abandoning McLovin on the dirt trail and surrounding Michael.

Max forces everyone in the crowd out of the way, throwing his arms around her and kissing her. The peanut gallery oohs and he glares.

"Mind your own business!"

"And Michael is the winner of Total Takes Island!" Chris says, walking over with a huge check. "Congratulations, camper!"

Chef nods. "Could've seen that one coming,"

Sha-Mod manages to squeeze through the crowd and run over to McLovin, still flat on the ground. He helps him up and hugs him.

"You did good!"

"Yeah, but not good enough," McLovin coughs, wiping the dirt off his pants.

Sha-Mod shrugs. "So? We'll have to work a little harder for our dream house. But we're still getting one, there's no way I'm giving up on a mansion with my boyfriend,"

McLovin blushes and looks over. “Did you mean bromate? Cause I made the same-”

“Nah,” Sha-Mod says, leaning on McLovin’s shoulder. “Bromate’s platonic.”

The crowd continues stirring with excitement as Michael walks past, hand-in-hand with Max. She smiles and gives one last wave to McLovin, who waves back, before the two part ways. 

---

“Here we are at the last TTI bonfire ceremony ever,” Chris says, smiling at the entire cast as they sit around the pit. “After eight brutal weeks of torture, infections, and drama, our season winner is Michael!”

The campers cheer, congratulating Michael as she sits near the center of the group, Max leaning his head on her shoulder.

“Michael, the final marshmallow,” Chris grins, tossing her the treat. She catches it and smiles. “A symbol of prosperity. Treasure it for the rest of your life.”

“Sure," she says, tossing it into the fire seconds later. Max laughs.

The crowd returns to talking amongst each other as Chef comes out of the mess hall with more marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers for s'mores.

“I don't think I did so bad for last place,” Fren says, kicking back. 

Staci (now bleach blonde, thanks to Kelly’s handiwork) shrugs as she sits between their two friends. “You survived, at least,”

“And we got a right groovy finale, baby!” Austin says, patting her on the back. “Great season, baby!”

“Thank you, Austin,” Chris says smugly. “And to all you viewers at home- thank you for supporting us here at Total Takes Island! We all hope you had a good time watching these teens fight to the death, and we can’t wait to see you next season!”

Everyone turns to him. “NEXT SEASON?!”

[darkandstormydolls]

In honor of national siblings day, here’s Leonora and Alexander being siblings! This scene occurs several years before the actual main story, when they’re both still dealing with the aftermath of their parents’ deaths

Leonora eased the door to the living room open. “Moo? I heard you were in here.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.” Alexander was sitting in the middle of the loveseat. Leonora thought he looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulder; he was slumped in on himself, head resting in his hands.

She settled into place next to him. “Are you alright?”

Alexander laughed bitterly. “Alright? Leo, I just lost my parents and now they’re asking me to take on the task of being responsible for the safety of the entire. Damn. Magical. World. I’m flippin’ fantastic.”

“You don’t have to be angry about it. I’m trying to help.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m having a rough time, okay?”

“You think I’m not? I lost just as much as you did.”

“Yeah, well, you’re…”

“I’m what?”

“I don’t know! You’re ‘Leonora Lamia, youngest necromancer the world has ever seen’ . I’m ‘Jacob and Camille’s kid’. And now you’re off in the Hollow doing whatever it is you do and I’m here with the weight of the Fires hanging over my head.”

Leonora was quiet for a moment. “That was uncalled for. We’re both struggling.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to go through this.”

“Yes, well, let’s take it one step at a time.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing! I ‘one step at at time’ed my way through the funeral and I don’t know how much more I can handle!” Alexander buried his face deeper into his hands. “I keep thinking that I’m feeling overwhelmed and I want to talk to Mama about it but she’s not here.”

“I know. I know it’s hard. But I’m here. I know I’m not the same, but I’m here.”

“I just don’t know what to do! There’s so much.”

“Well, let’s break it down. You need to choose your circle, right?”

Alexander nodded.

“Alright, that’s one thing. And then we need to go through Mama and Daddy’s things. That’s one other thing. And that’s really just two things, right?”

“I guess. But two really big things.”

“They’ll seem smaller once you get started. Now, first things first; you don’t need to pick twenty people out of thin air. There’s still nine left over from before. And you know them. They’ll help. And you know more about the procedures for this kind of stuff than you think.”

“Will you be one of them?” Alexander asked hesitantly. Leonora shook her head.

“No. I belong at the Hollow.”

“Please? Leo, I need someone I can trust.”

“You can trust Lyx and Aino, right? They’d be better at this kind of thing. And I know you want necromancers to be involved again, but I’m not going to be one of those people. Someone who doesn’t share our last name deserves to be involved.”

“But I don’t know what to do.”

“Would it help if I made you a list? Of some of the people I think might be a good fit?”

“Yes please.

“And I’ll help you clean everything out. Can’t have you getting sentimental over every old dish towel or something anyways.”

“Really? You sure you don’t have too much to do back with your necromancy and things?”

“You know how seriously they take death there. Neither of us will be expected back at the Hollow for a month at the least. And besides, you’re my baby brother. I’d do anything for you.” Leonora paused and considered this for a moment. “In the ‘murder’ or ‘giving up an organ’ sense, of course. Not letting you finish my dessert.”

Alexander gave her a half smile. “Still your ‘baby’ brother? Really? Haven’t been updated to ‘younger’ yet? Or even ‘little’?”

“Never. You’re just a little baby.” She ruffled his hair affectionately.

“I’m a fully grown adult. Soon I’ll be the holder of what just may be the most powerful object in the Fires.”

“Still a baby. Forever and ever.” Leonora stood up. “Now, can we try and get at least one thing done? Look through one bookshelf?”

“Alright, fine. Maybe I can manage one.”

[iamwritingsanders]

Inherited Mess Pt. 5

First: Link Previous: Link Next: Link

Exhausted Plans

Roman flopped down on the floor, sprawled out in the middle of the main lobby. His face was a bright red, and he panted like he never knew what air in his lungs felt like. Virgil sat down on the couch, slumping a little and resting an elbow on the armrest, resting his cheek to his closed fist as he looked down at Roman. 

“I’m…dying…” Roman had wanted to work out his anger, but he regretted that choice already. 

“Have you never run a mile before?” Virgil asked. 

“Back in…high school.” 

“Do you do any exercise outside of walking around a mall?” 

“You’re not funny.” Roman didn’t even need to look at Virgil to know that he was smirking with his comment. “I’m surprised someone like you likes running and all that. You give off, ‘I just want to sleep in bed all day’ energy.” He had lifted his hands to make the quotes with his fingers before letting them flop back down. 

“You can blame your brother for getting me into running. He was the one to suggest I start doing it when I first joined since I was too much in my head.” Virgil watched Roman sit up and turn to look at him. 

“Too much in your head?”

“Our line of work requires a clear head. It’s not safe to be an overthinker out in the field. Remus figured out my shit almost instantly and helped me figure it out. Now I’m one of the best.” 

“You’re being really vague. What shit? What’s the field? The best as what?” Roman was getting frustrated again. 

“I’ve said too much already. Remus doesn’t want me to give the details. He wants to do it himself.” Virgil couldn’t blame the annoyed grunt Roman made. 

“You mean like how he’s told me about getting shot or all of those other injuries he’s gotten? He’s amazing at sharing details.” 

“I’ll admit it’s kind of shocking you don’t know about those things. Remus loves to give plenty of information about himself. The things I know about his sex life.” Virgil rubbed at his face.

“I know I want to know things, but I do not want to know about that.” Roman scrunched his face up, and they both started laughing at that.

“I’m sure there’s some reason behind it. Remus only holds back if he’s worried about someone he cares about getting hurt.” Virgil said as he stood back up. “But that’s for you two to hash out. Let’s get to the gym before it gets crowded.” 

“What? I thought the running was today’s training.” 

“That was the warm-up.” 

“Nope. I am done.” Roman flopped himself back down, limbs spread out like a starfish. “You’ve done your job. I’m staying here.” 

“You’re going to at least come with me and learn the machines.” Virgil went over to Roman and nudged his side with his foot. 

“I’m not moving,” Roman stated. 

“Fine. Then I’ll move you.” Virgil shrugged.

“You are not picking me up again,” Roman said as Virgil went down to his feet. 

“Alright, I won’t pick you up.” Virgil grabbed Roman’s ankles and lifted them. “I’ll drag you.” 

“Wait-!” Roman yelped as Virgil pulled and was, as he said he would, dragging him across the floor. “I am going to kick you!” He shouted as he tried to free himself. 

“Oh!” Patton stepped out of the kitchen and moved back out of the way so he didn’t get run over. “Is this a trust exercise?” He added with a giggle as he walked with the two. 

“Virgil’s being a dick,” Roman grunted, going limp and giving up on trying to free himself. 

“He didn’t want to get up, so I’m helping.” Virgil chuckled. 

“If it works.” Patton giggled some more. “I’m planning on going on a shopping trip this afternoon for some spices. Would you two like to join?”

“Sure. Gets this one out of the house.” Virgil said.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.” Roman scoffed. 

“I’ll let you guys know what time after I talk with Remus. You know how he gets when it comes to me going out.” 

“Sounds good, Pat,” Virgil said with a smile.

“Have fun!” Patton waved as he turned down a different hall. 

“I don’t get a say in this?” Roman asked.

“Are you going to complain about a shopping trip?” Virgil chuckled as he used his foot to open the gym door. 

“Shut up,” Roman muttered. 

x~x~x

“It's me.” Patton sang as he knocked on Remus' door. He hummed to himself as he waited and chuckled when Remus cracked open the door and peeked, checking that Patton was alone. 

“We're finishing getting dressed,” Remus explained before opening the door enough for Patton to come in. 

“Did you two sleep in or something?” Patton asked. 

“You could say that.” Remus softly laughed as he went to get a shirt. 

“It's been an…interesting morning,” Logan said, looking in the mirror to check his tie. 

“I'll say. I just walked with Virgil, who was dragging Roman across the floor.” Patton went over to Logan and helped fix the back of his collar. 

“Why was he dragging him?” Remus asked, slipping a shirt over his head.

“Not sure. Roman was conscious and pouting, so he wasn’t hurt or anything like that.” Patton said. 

“Probably means Virgil's still doing his training for the day, and Roman doesn't want to.” Remus started ruffling his hair to poof it back up. 

“Janus did tell me he saw them running earlier.” Patton looked at Remus and clicked his tongue in disapproval. “That shirt has a hole in it.” 

“It's got at least four,” Remus said with a cheeky smile.

“You know that's not what I meant. You need to look a little more professional as the boss.” Patton walked over to where Remus' clothing was and dug around. 

“We should get him a suit,” Logan suggested with a grin.

“Logan wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off me if I got one of those.” Remus winked at Logan through the mirror.

“Logan’s got a little more control than that.” Patton giggled, giving Remus a new shirt. It was a nice black shirt with a collar, nothing too fancy but a lot more formal than his worn-down metal band shirt. 

“He’d drag me away.” Remus looked at the shirt and sighed in defeat as he took off his shirt and put on the new one. 

“That reminds me! I need more spices.” Patton noticed the look Remus made and spoke again before he could. “I already asked Virgil and Roman to join me, and you know Janus isn’t going to let me go out on my own.”

“Maybe have Remy join you so you have another set of eyes.” Remus chewed the inside of his cheek. 

“Remy’s out for the day on a job,” Logan said. “You could go with them. It’d be a good time to talk with Roman.” 

“Shopping does put him in a better mood, regardless of what he’s buying. Yeah, I’ll join you guys.” Remus looked down at himself. “Am I supposed to tuck this in? It looks weird.” 

“We’ll head out when Virgil finishes with Roman.” Patton did a little happy clap. “And yes, you’re supposed to tuck it in.” He added as he went for the door. “I’ll let them know!” Patton slipped out of the room. 

“I might come back with a literal knife in my back.” Remus joked as he tucked his shirt into his jeans.

“I’m sure it will be fine.” Logan chuckled, helping Remus with his collar since he knew Remus would leave it uneven and partially unfolded. He hummed as he slid his hands down Remus’ chest and looked at him in the slightly more formal shirt. “Maybe you had a point about me not being able to keep my hands off you if you wore a suit.” 

“I can be right, sometimes.” Remus placed his hands on top of Logan’s. 

“Sometimes.” Logan echoed with a playful grin. 

“Rude.” Remus winked before giving Logan a quick kiss. 

[janelley-fish]

Im starting a fic 😬 I’ve never done anything like this so please be gentle. Writers, I would love any tips and feedback. Please please please. The first 2 chapters are short; but chapters will get longer as I become more comfortable. Be kind please. I’m not a writer, but this story has been in my heart and I just want to share it in hopes that at least one person enjoys it. 💜

Story warnings: angst, very slow burn (mostly Eddie has feelings), friends to lovers, eventual smut, eventual violence and gore, language, some fluff eventually. Think that’s it but overall 18+ so get outta here babies

Unspoken

-Eddie!andoriginalcharacterreader.-

Eddie was your person, in that stereotype kind of way that everyone talks about. You were pretty sure that even if you and Eddie never met in this life, never knew each other, that your soul would search for him, ache for him. You loved him, more than any person could love someone else. More than anyone should. Beyond the meaning of the word, you loved Eddie. And it took one of the most terrible things to happen to make you realize it.

Part 1

Dee, come on. How long does it take to put on lip gloss?” Eddie was standing in the doorway of your bedroom with this arms crossed, leaned against the frame. Honestly, he was being dramatic. He had already made a point of looking at his empty wrist, counting down the minutes out loud until the time you had agreed to leave. He blew his bangs from his eyes and gave you a his most condescending smile, which was still so beautiful. His brows raised high as you scoffed at him.

“It’s called lip stick, and would you calm down? I’m almost done.” You paused to turn around and glare at him. “And if you make one more comment I’m going to make sure you’re wearing some too.” You turned back around to finish with a playful smile and a wink in his direction. Eddie sighed dramatically and walked over to your bed, slumping down into it with a loud huff. You didn’t notice, but his eyes watched your every move as you finished applying your lipstick, his mind wondering what it would be like if you used your painted lips on him, which he was sure was not what you meant, but it was nice to daydream for just a second.

“What are you smirking about?” You had finished your make up and were walking across the room to grab your bag and pull your boots on. Eddie wasn’t aware that he had been smiling to himself at the thought of your lips on his. His cheeks burned red for a moment before he quickly recovered, clearing his throat loudly.

“Just the fact that you’re getting all dolled up for the guys. You know Gareth is going to be flirting with you the whole time, right?” Eddie quirked one brow at you as he stood from your bed, walking over to you so he could lace your boots up. It was probably a weird thing for friends to do, but this kind of stuff was just normal with Eddie. Mundane things that he made special.

He motioned for you to rest your foot on his knee as he bent down. You decided to kick him in the shin instead and he hissed at the sudden contact.

“Jesus Dee; what the hell was that for!?” He scowled at you, but still moved his hands away from rubbing at his black denim covered leg soothingly to tie up your laces.

“Don’t make jokes, Edward Munson, you’re the one who begged me to come to band practice. Claimed you needed my ‘expertise in words’ remember?” The band had been experimenting with new music and Eddie wanted your opinion on his lyrics. He had practically begged on his knees for you to come listen. You almost smacked him for it, because it reminded you of the time he snuck a peak of your journal when you had accidentally left it on your bed.

September 10th, 1981

You and Eddie were heading to meet Steve and Robin to check out the new arcade, but you had demanded that Eddie drive you home first so you could change into shorts, the cool morning air had disappeared and the afternoon had turned hot and sticky. Begrudgingly he drove you home but insisted he come in, because however short you would be, he would not wait in his van. While you rushed to your dresser, you hadn’t noticed the notebook flipped open on top of your smooth purple comforter, and Eddie took it upon himself to snoop. He was looking for something juicy. Maybe embarrassing words about a crush, secretly hoping it was him, but instead found something unexpected and utterly breathtaking. He knew you were into books and poetry, but never knew you wrote your own. And you had planned to keep it that way. Your words were vulnerable, but that’s not what scared you. You couldn’t stand the thought that you could be terrible at something you loved to do so much. It was too terrifying to possibly face a reality where the things you wrote flat out sucked. So you planned to keep all of that part of yourself locked away until someone worth it had discovered that part of you. You weren’t expecting it to be so soon, and you definitely weren’t expecting it to be Eddie fucking Munson.

He was completely lost in your words. Drowning in the beauty of the deep dive into your mind that no one had seen before. The details in the way you explained normal, every day feelings. The way your words made the white paper and black ink ignite into an array of colors in Eddie’s mind as he continued reading. It was like your words had opened an entirely new universe. You stood there frozen; fuming, and he hadn’t noticed. It took you stomping over to him with your hands balled into fists, snatching your notebook from his hands, and shoving him onto the bed before he came back to earth. He saw the heat in your face, but didn’t take it as the anger it was until your eyes burned holes into his and tears started streaming down your cheeks.

“Dee, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting it to be—I just thought… but it’s beautiful and, wow I-“

“Stop.” You were shaking with embarrassment and anger, maybe slightly at the compliment he gave but you wouldn’t admit that. He could see how much it upset you, he could sense that he went too far. He took your hand in his and stood up, but crouched his head down so he was eye level with you.

“I’m so sorry. Truly. I fucked up and crossed a line. It’ll never happen again.” He blurted the words out, and you could see the look in his eyes. He was meant it.

You stood there holding his hand in one of yours while the other clung your journal to your chest. You let out a sigh and looked up to the ceiling.

“Just promise me you won’t tell anyone. And please, for the love of all that is holy, DO NOT bring this up again or so help me Munson I will drive that precious van of yours straight into Lovers Lake without a second thought.” Eddie winced but let out a small huff of a laugh at the way you joked, relieved at the small sign that you didn’t hate him. He let your hand go and made a dramatic show of drawing a very crooked plus sign over his chest.

“Cross my heart. I would never. And even if I would, that threat would stop me. I could never let anything happen to my girl. We’ve been through too much together.” You let out a chuckle at the thought of him referring to his van as his girl, knowing full well his girl was that guitar hanging so neatly on his bedroom wall. He slumped back down into your bed while you rushed to the bathroom to change, desperate to read more of your words but not wanting to ever risk hurting you again. So he mentally reminded himself of his promise to never bring it up.

February 16, 1983

Until 3 days ago when he begged you to come with him to practice to listen to his new song, babbling about how there was no one better at words than you and how he needed your expert opinion. He was about to keep going when he realized his mistake and snapped his mouth shut, giving you a pleading look that was begging for forgiveness the moment the words slipped out. If it hadn’t been for his big beautiful chocolate eyes, you would have kept on your promise. But you knew he didn’t mean it, and you actually really liked tagging along for practice, so you agreed.

Eddie smirked at your words while he finished lacing your boots up.

“Oh please, sweetheart. I know you just have a thing for rockstars.” He stood up straight and pretended to play his guitar while whipping his long curls around and winking at you. You in turn pretended to fan yourself at his show, and both of you burst into giggles and you stepped out of the room. One of your favorite things about your friendship with Eddie is that it always came natural, every part of it. Nothing was ever weird for you, even after the journal incident, it was just so easy being his friend. Joking and teasing, but also sharing in the dark moments, like when Jason beat the shit out of Eddie just for looking at him wrong, and Eddie got into his feelings too deep about being an outcast. Or when you found your now ex-boyfriend Scott making out with a cheerleader in the woods, and Eddie let you camp at his trailer and made you nachos while you cried into his chest. It was just unspoken, how much you cared for each other. Best friends didn’t cover it, it was more than that.

To Eddie it was much, much more than that.

End of chapter 1

*thanks for reading! Chapter 2 will be up soon.😉

[snowflowers-ffxiv]

FFxivWrite2024 - #30: Two Heads Are Better Than One

idiom — it is easier for two people who help each other to solve a problem than it is for one person to solve a problem alone

“Wuk Lamat?”

She hadn’t meant to cause the Third Promise alarm, but the Xbr'aal nevertheless yelped as she spun around, hiding something behind her back.

“E-Estrild? What are you doing here?”

Estrild blinked. “My… tent is here?” She nodded in the direction of the one she shared with Alisaie. “I was on my way back from… well, you know. Then I saw you making your way to… Is everything alright?”

Wuk Lamart sighed, shoulders slumping as she held out the item she had been holding. Her travelling bag. While Erenville’s gleaner knapsack held the majority of their shared supplies, each of them also carried their own—especially for items that would be expected to see use in battle such as potions and ethers. “I’m afraid I… must’ve torn this at some point. I didn’t notice it until now…”

Estrild examined the torn cloth. Not a large tear, but…

“…and I don’t want Erenville to see it and comment on my carelessness again is all, but…”

Estrild had a feeling she knew where this was going, but nonetheless waited patiently.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” Wuk Lamat finished miserably. “Namikka would usually help me with something like this, but she’s not here.”

“But I am,” Estrild replied kindly, “I can fix this for you. It won’t take long. Erenville won’t even notice.”

Wuk Lamat’s eyes lit up. “Really? You would do that for me?”

“Of course,” Estrild smiled. “Remember what I said about learning to lean on others?” She nodded at the aetheryte of Many Fires. “Wait for me there. I need to get my sewing kit.”

Before long, the two of them were settled down on the ground over a blanket Estrild had also brought with her. Wuk Lamat watched with a small amount of fascination as Estrild threaded her needle and went to work. Snitch after snitch after snitch, it was easy to fall into a semi-meditative state as she worked, but this time, she took care to remain alert.

So when she heard her companion sigh, she paused and looked up. “Is there something else that’s bothering you?”

Wuk Lamat mumbled under her breath and fidgeted for a time before she spoke again. “Stranding strong in a fight is one thing, but I’m starting to realize, I don’t know how to do much outside of that.”

Estrild had to think. “Sewing, you mean?” she replied mildly.

“Mmhm. As mentioned before, I’ve never really been outside of Tuliyollal, ill-fated forest wanderings aside. So I’ve never had much cause or reason to learn the sort of things one would need to get by on a journey. I’ve always had access to people who could… do things for me. Because I am an adopted child of the Dawnservant.”

“There is nothing wrong with that,” Estrild said carefully. “Especially since you are the kind of person who treats your staff and servants kindly.”

“I never thought to treat them unkindly.”

If my mother worked for someone like you, she likely would have lived longer. She didn’t say that out loud, however. She hadn’t though about her mother’s employers in years. “Well, you did not know how to tame a wild alpaca until recently either. Nor how to turn turn a hundred pel into ten thousand with basket of wool, but you did. It’s never too late to learn.”

Estrild made another stich, the last one. “There,” she said, holding it up closer to the aetheryte, so it would be easier to see the newly made-seam. “As good as new.” She handed the bag back to Wuk Lamat. “If this happens again, I would be happy to teach you.”

The Xbr'aal accepted the offering and rose to her feet. “Thank you so much, Estrild.”

“Remember, we’re here to help.” Estrild collected her supplies, tucking them under am arm as she stood up as well. “Self-sufficiency is important, yes, but take it from someone who had to learn it the hard way. Its better to have trustworthy allies to rely on than waste time being upset about not having the skills to do everything on your own.”

Wuk Lamat nodded. “I understand.” Before Estrild could do so, she knelt and rolled up the blanket the two of them had been sitting on. “Let me. This is the least I can do.”

See? You’re already learning.

[7-minutes-only]

Ember [F]

Spice Level: Fluff Dangers: None Word Count: 1,032 Character/s: Ember Reader: Female Planet: Kalsi Timeline: Main

The slip of paper you pull from the clown woman’s hat is slightly charred around the edges, and has the word “Ember” written on it.

Not an entirely unheard of name. It brings to mind a quieter sort of burn, warm and gentle. The woman who comes forwards as you call out matches it well.

With black hair in an asymmetrical cut, and bright orange eyes, she certainly fits the fire portion of her name. There are ram’s horns on her head, smaller and keeping close to her skull. Her gentle smile and somewhat awkward fidgeting hint at an aloof personality, too. You smile at her, trying to make her feel less nervous.

Before you can speak, though, you’re both ushered into the closet by the clown-dressed woman.

“You both know the rules – seven minutes! Don’t waste them!” she teases, before locking the door, sealing you both inside.

Ember fidgets, and you could almost swear she’s...sort of glowing. There’s a faint white light in her eyes. As her eyes glance around, you end up catching each other’s gaze for a moment, and a mix of emotions settle in your stomach – it feels like butterflies.

“U-Um-” you mumble, quickly averting your eyes away. “Ember is...a nice name. It suits you really well.”

She laughs a little, awkwardly.

“You think so?” she asks. “Well, it isn’t exactly my name...we were all given these slips of paper with fake names on them, for the party. Didn’t you get one?”

No, you didn’t. You shake your head, and she sort of slumps a little in confusion.

“Huh...well, I’m sure it’s nothing. Uh, here, you can-”

She rummages around in her pockets, and hands you a piece of paper. Your fingers brush hers, and they’re...warm. Very warm. On the paper, a small message is written;

“Congratulations on this one-in-a-lifetime chance! For the evening, consider your name Ember. Please refrain from sharing any other name until the event ends.”

“So, Ember isn’t your real name?” you ask, handing the paper back.

“No, it’s not. It’s pretty, though – and would probably get a lot fewer questions about where it comes from.” she answers, chuckling.

You sit in an awkward, though somehow comfortable, silence. It only lasts a few seconds before Ember shifts in place, picking at her fingers.

“Y’know, this...isn’t really the kind of game I’d play normally.” she confesses. “I only agreed to come because I thought maybe I’d end up with-”

She catches herself, and you can feel more warmth in the room. It’s a little suffocating in the tiny space, but you’ll manage.

“S-Sorry, um...that’s a bit rude, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so.” you assure her. “So, then, if we’re not gonna have heaven in here…”

You place a hand on her leg, further down. She gets even warmer towards her core, it feels like.

“What do you wanna have?”

She thinks for a long moment, debating with herself. Finally, she feels around for your arm, and tugs it gently.

“We could still...get close. If you wanted, I mean. I...I’m a little curious about where you came from.” she offers.

You sit next to her, cuddled up in the small space. Sitting together like this, you have enough room to stretch your legs. Hers are...kind of fuzzy, actually. Very fuzzy. Her feet don’t feel much like feet at all – hard and blocky. Wait, does she-

“Are you...some kind of satyr, or something?” you ask. Between the horns, and the strange legs you can’t see in the dark...maybe.

“Sort of. I’m a bit of a mixed thing, though. Goat, elf...demon.” she confesses. The last word is uneasy, like she’s not sure how you’ll take it.

“Is...uh...is this a good demon world or…?” you ask.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, back home, we...we had a lot of stories. Fictions. Some worlds had evil demons, monsters. Other stories had tragic demons, misunderstood people. Others were pretty much just humans with horns and wings, and sometimes immortality.” you explain. She sort of stiffens.

“Oh. Hmm...a mixed bag, I guess? I’ve heard that my mom was a pretty bad person, but I never met her. I know lots of nicer Demons, though, and my little sister’s...well, she’s not evil, I don’t think.”

“Little sister? Is she at the party?” you ask, not quite understanding how awkward it might be if she was.

Ember sort of shrugs.

“She seems to be coming and going. Not one for social stuff, you know?? Especially not…” she gestures to the closet, to the two of you crammed together. “...this kinda thing. I kinda worry she’s gonna outright refuse to play if somebody pulls her name.” she laughs.

You grin at her. She relaxes a little, and grips your hand. She thinks for a moment, squeezing. Finally, she turns to you, her eyes glowing a little more steadily.

“Y’know...we probably don’t have long left. It would be a waste if we didn’t do anything, wouldn’t it?” she asks.

“You don’t have to.” you assure her. Besides, just talking with her is kind of fun. She shakes her head.

“I kind of...want to. Just a little. Can I ask you to close your eyes, and trust me?” she asks.

You oblige, closing your eyes and relaxing. Warmth spreads across you, like a hug. Ember kisses you, and you feel her hold you, like you’re...precious, in a way. The heat seeps into your skin, your bones. But you don’t feel overheated – in anything, you feel...empowered.

When she pulls away, she pecks your forehead gently, and the overwhelming heat settles into comforting warmth.

“Thanks. I hope I get to see you again.” she says, and you steal a kiss from her as she pulls back.

You both sit for a moment, processing the feelings. Ember laughs, and goes to speak, but is interrupted by the knocking on the door.

“Time’s up! Awful quiet in there…” the clown woman says, and you hear the door click.

Ember smiles at you as the light bathes you both. She helps you up, and exits. As she walks off, she turns back to you.

“I mean it – come find me!” she requests.

You nod, and she smiles before disappearing into the crowd.

[stunted-boars]

Tumblr deletes content under a cut when someone deletes, shoutout to the wayback machine! Doing this on my phone this time, as per usual if i-am-the-altman is out there somewhere and wants this taken down my inbox is open!

Edit: ok so on my end this post is completely out of order, I tried editing the post to no avail. Will take another look at this in the morning/on my PC-_-

ThAshe Fluff that took way longer to write then I thought it would

Transcription under the cut! Lmk if anyone catches any mistakes, it is not easy doing this on a phone

Some SFW ThAshe fluff that @wolfcat-hybrid kind of requested. I hope it was worth the wait! It probably isn’t

Spoilers for like every arc of TI. 

Ashe was exhausted. There was no other way to put it. The ache of bone deep weariness had become all too familiar during her time in the Ban village… From learning the language with Iggy, to the occasional sparing session with Horaven (and sometimes the Bat-masked Ban), her personal time had been severely neglected.

It didn’t help that the only bar in town was somehow staffed by Old Inny. She had little inclination to put up with Old Inny’s senility for alcohol.

With the sun beginning to kiss the horizon, Ashe let out a sigh. Where am I going to get a drink in this place?

As if to answer her question, a commotion outside of a house caught her attention. I wonder what’s going on…

As Ashe drew closer to a crowd of Ban that was growing by the second, the indistinct noise grew clearer, and she recognised Thog’s raised voice. Gods know, I’ve heard it often enough.

“I can’t deal with you when you’re like this!” A pause, and then, “Oh yeah, real mature.” Again, silence. “You know what, fuck you too!” Parting aside the crowd, Thog stalked forward, and Ashe caught a flash of pure Menace. I guess that solves the question of who he was arguing with. She stepped forward, and raised a hand, “Hey, Thog. Rough day?”

“Ashe, you don’t know the half of it. That bat-masked jerk has been pissed at me about something all day, and won’t tell me what the fuck I did…” His shoulders slumped as he fell into step beside Ashe.

“Sounds like you need a drink.” Ashe said, gently elbowing him in the side.

“I need several…” They lapsed into a companionable silence that suited the quiet village and their footsteps lead them Thog’s door. “Speaking of drinks, Ashe, I… uh, liberated a nice vintage from Old Inny and I was wondering if you’d like to… share it with me…” Thog looked at the ground and fidgeted nervously.

“That’s really nice of you, Thog, but you’d just be wasting your ‘vintage’… I can’t get drunk, remember?”

“Ashe, there’s more to drinking than just ‘getting drunk’. Sometimes, it’s about sharing a moment with friends, or remembering those we’ve lost.”

“OK, Thog, but I’m warning you, if you do anything embarrassing, I will remember.”

Entering Thog’s temporary dwelling, Ashe was struck by a bolt of nostalgia. “Hey, Thog, do you remember the last time we got drinks together? Back at Meadshire?”

“Ashe, that period of my life was a constant haze of regret and booze. You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

Getting comfortable on the low sofa (It was nice, and fit the room very well. Whichever Ban Thog had kicked out of here clearly had good taste) Ashe spoke again, “Well, it was shortly after the disappearances started, but before things got too bad. The tavern had closed up early, and we scrounged up a barrel that wasn’t all paint thinner. It actually looked like ale. Or at least, the idea of ale.”

“Oh, fuck, I completely forgot about that!” Thog stopped rummaging through a drawer, and turned around, a bottle in his hand, “We were shit-talking everything in Meadshire!”

“Haha, yeah!” Ashe’s face brightened at the memory. It was one of her only non-depressing ones from her time there.

“Huh. Interesting…” Thog was peering quizzically at Ashe, one eye brow raised slightly.

“What is it? Do I have something on my face?” Frantically scrubbing at her cheeks, Ashe could feel herself beginning to blush. It’s not my fault Xin is always in the hot springs!

“What? Nah, it’s just… That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile in a while. Not to mention how long it’s been since you’ve laughed like that.”

Thinking about it, Ashe realised she had been pretty serious lately. I guess I’ve been so busy trying to figure out what I am, I forgot to be myself… “Well, thanks for pointing that one out Thog. I’ll keep that in mind…”

“It wasn’t a rebuke, Ashe. Unlike some of our friends-” With a cough that sounded suspiciously the name “Inien”, Thog set the bottle and two small glasses on the table “-I can observe without criticising. Besides, you aren’t someone who needs to smile to…” Thog’s voice abruptly cut off.

“Needs to smile to what, Thog?” Ashe crossed her arms, her brow creasing.

“Ugh, I’ll tell you later, can we just start drinking already?” Thog said, as he poured two glasses. Picking them up, he offered one to Ashe.

“Fine, but I consider that a promise. I expect an explanation.”

“And you’ll get one. Don’t sweat it.” Raising his glass, he proclaimed “To absent friends, I guess.” The alcohol swiftly disappeared down his throat.

“To absent friends.” Ashe echoed, following suit.  “Woah, that’s some strong stuff! I think I almost felt something.”

4 drinks…

“Well, I don’t know how Markus keeps his hair so shiny.” Ashe accompanied her statement with a burst of laughter. “I’ve asked, but he just throws a hand-full of glitter into the air and walks away.”

“Is that so… No wonder the bar floor’s always covered with the stuff. I’ll have to have a talk with him sometime…” Thog frowned slightly, “But that’s a worry for later. Pour me another drink, would you?”

7 drinks…

“… and that, Asheling, is why cutlery is so important in Alarani culture.” Thog was not inebriated enough to start slurring his words, but it was a close thing. His shoulders had begun to slump, and his hand shook slightly as he refilled their glasses.

“Interesting. Is that why the bar doesn’t have any?”

“Shut up and drink.”

11 drinks…

“So there I was, elbow deep in a vat of magic potion, Gregor bleeding out on a table-’ Ashe gestured wildly as she recounted the tale of their time under contract in Altreia “-and for all I knew, Markus was being torn to shreds by rabid golems outside.”

“Well, I’m… sorry you had to go through that…” The drinks were clearly catching up to Thog, as he chose his words extremely carefully. “I wish I had done more…”

“Thog, you were responsible for securing us our freedom. You’ve more than made up for it.”

“I guess, but I still feel bad…”

“Would another drink help?”

16 drinks…

The bottle fell to the table, empty. Thog was really out of it, reclining on the couch right next to Ashe. She knew she wasn’t drunk, but Thog’s exhaustion was contagious… I don’t even want to get up. Though she had to admit, there was something comforting about his firmiliar presence beside her. Leaning her head onto his shoulder, she felt herself beginning to drift off to sleep. Right before she slipped away completely, Ashe heard a voice, quiet and far away.

“You aren’t someone who needs to smile to be beautiful, Asheling.” She felt an arm wrap around her shoulder and pull her close. “I hope you know that.”

“Thank you, Thog. For everything.” Ashe mumbled, returning his hug, as she felt her consciousness slip away.

Originally posted August 6th 2016 #Thrilling Intent #I wrote a thing #ThAshe #Alcohol use #Sorry it took so long!

ThAshe Fluff that took way longer to write then I thought it would

Some SFW ThAshe fluff that @wolfcat-hybrid kind of requested. I hope it was worth the wait! It probably isn’t

Spoilers for like every arc of TI. 

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