#i tried to pierce my own ears and it failed so i ended up just going to claires

[your-stranger-halfblood-things]

That time when Nico wanted ear piercings, so Leo offered to do it because, you know, he knows how to sew with needles. It can't be that differed, right? So Leo takes one of his sewing needles and sanitizes it with his firey hands and sticks it in Nico's ear

Nico doesn't flinch but when Leo starts trying to get the earring in, he realizes there's a problem. The earring isn't going through the hole and Leo just keeps trying to re-pierce the whole with the needle, so it goes in one hole and makes like 30 holes on the other side

Will walks in on them. He is beyond confused and then frustrated because he knows Leo doesn't wash his hands after dealing with grease (Leo claims his heat and fire cleans all the bacteria off his skin), so Will gets his first aid kit and starts cleaning Nico's ear

He then brings Nico to Claire's to get his first ear piercings

Nico did get to hold a stuffed animal (Will has pictures)

[shotmrmiller]

Tormented by a Ghost

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

TW: small mention of smut and simon being kinda mean

TY TO MY BETA FOR MAKING THIS 10X BETTER @c-h-a-r-n-i-k

Tired of living with your family, you decide to move out. There's just one problem— Rent is too costly to afford on your own. You complain about it to your friend, and they tell you that they know someone who's also looking for a roommate and preferably another female. Fantastic!

Your friend gives you her number and ya'll are moving in together by the end of the month. It was great. No nagging parents, no micromanagement, nothing. You loved it. Until your roommate brings her man over. And he's a fucking bully.

--

You're crawling home from a hard day at work, and you want nothing more than some wine on a quiet night. Unlocking the door, you step into the flat. The lights aren't turned on so you assume your roommate isn't home.

Dumping your bag in your room, you make a beeline towards the kitchen. As you're bent over in the fridge, your roommate's door opens.

"Hey,” you call out, "I'm pourin' myself a glass of wine if you're interested!"

Then an assertive, baritone voice speaks from behind you.

"You must be the roommate."

You give an ear-piercing scream as you jump, whipping around to face him with a hand over your racing heart.

"Fuckin' hell! No, it's okay, I don't need my hearin' er nothin'." he scolds.

"What the fuck! I almost flat-lined with my head in the fridge because of you!"

Then you get a good look at him. This monster of a man is a minimum 6'3, with a black balaclava covering his face, a black long-sleeve shirt, and grey sweats. You tried real hard to not ogle the tattoo that stains his exposed left arm. And the grey sweats, we all know why. Cursed be your fetish for thick forearms and big hands.

He leans his head back, looking down his nose at you.

"I think it'd be an improvement," he says, "You face down, I mean," and your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline as he chuckles.

You don't know who he thinks he is, talking to you—a complete stranger— like that but you aren't about to take his shit.

You sneer. "Fuck you. Yeah, I bet that's the view you get the most. Women willingly turn away to not get a look at your mug. Did my roommate ask you to put that mask on so she could face you during sex?"

He steps forward, his height allowing him to tower over you, and growls out, "You callin' me ugly?"

Smirking, you roll your eyes. Of course.

"I don't see any other reason for you to hide your face. Not that it matters to me— I'm not the one that has to tolerate it."

His eyes squint at you as he retorts, "I'm quite the opposite."

Opening your mouth, you're about to tell him that he can say whatever helps him sleep at night when your roommate calls out to the big brute in front of you.

"Ghost? What's taking so long?" she asks.

You tried and failed miserably to hide your mocking giggle at hearing his name, and he leers at you in response. "Go on, Ghost. You're being called back into the realm of the dead."

As he steps away, he says with contempt, "Dumb little bird doesn't know what she's talking about," before walking over to your roommate, looping his arm around her shoulders and going into her room.

He probably doesn't even know your name and he laid into you like he's hated you his whole life. After pouring yourself a glass of wine, you shake your head and walk towards your bedroom. Freak.

--

One day, after having your friend with benefits over in the morning for some nice stress relief, you walk him out. And fucking Ghost is sitting on the couch with his arms crossed. You quickly shuffle your friend out the door, face glowing with embarrassment.

Why was he here? Jesus Christ, now he's going to watch you do the walk of shame around the flat. Hopefully, he won't say anything. As you walk away from the door to the kitchen to get a bottle of water, Ghost speaks up.

"Well, that was pathetic."

You hang your head and close your eyes in resignation. Should've known someone as toxic as he wouldn't mind his own goddamn business.

"What now, Ghost?"

He sounds oddly smug as he says, "I've been here for a couple of hours, and I didn't hear anything coming out of your room. Sounds like he doesn't know what to do with a cunt."

Behind gritted teeth, you grind out, "Don't worry about my pussy, bud. You've got yours coming in," and you hold the n as you look at your watch, "30 minutes. Now piss off."

As you stomp away towards your room, the bottle of water all but forgotten, you hear him let out a deep chuckle. He's an asshole. A physically attractive one, sans the face, but still an asshole. You're going to have to get your friend to come over more often if Ghost is going to continue being around with those jacked arms and deliciously tight grey sweats.

Sucking your teeth, you make a mental note to ask your roommate why she gave him a key to your shared flat without asking.

--

A week later, your roommate has Ghost over and you figure it'd be a good time to get some action yourself. You send him a text and in less than 20 minutes, you're letting him in. Hugging him, you tell him to go to the bedroom. But he's not paying attention to you— he's looking directly behind you.

Turning around to look, it's Ghost. Goddamn it. And this time he's shirtless with his arms crossed and a skull mask on. God fucking damn it. Pulling the arm of your friend, he looks down at you and you tell him to go on, that you'll be there soon.

He nods, walking away with one last look at the phantom leaning against your roommate's door. Exhaling a ragged sigh, you turn back to Ghost.

"Can I help you?"

He shakes his head mutely before responding, "No, lovie, but I can help you." You shake your head at his nonsense.

"No. I'm not doing this with you."

You turn to walk away when he speaks again.

"Yer really gonna let him touch you again? He clearly doesn't know what he's doing— Bedroom's silent as a crypt. Even with those glasses he's got on, he can't find what he should be lookin' for."

Insulted for your friend, you face Ghost with a disbelieving look on your face.

"You're not seriously standing here trying to cockblock me. You—" his audacity has you stammering, "You have no idea what I'm like. Maybe I'm just naturally quiet in bed."

Ghost stares at you for a solid minute before he shrugs and goes back to your roommate.

Unbelievable asshole. Why does he have to look so good shirtless, the berk.

--

You start noticing that Ghost is there a couple of hours before your roommate gets there and you'd think it's weird if you weren't too busy being distracted by the fact that he's always taunting you one way or the other. And then one day, you question him on it.

"You do know your girlfriend won't be home until the evening? It's barely 3."

Ghost turns his head from the TV to look at you and grunts.

"Not my girlfriend." That's news to you.

"Then why you spendin' so much time over here? You're gonna have me thinkin' you like spending time in my delightful presence." you banter with a teasing smile.

Ghost continues to stare at you and the heated look in his eyes confuses you but then he turns back to the TV.

"I can't stand ya, ya daft bint."

You pretend you don't hear the muted tenderness in his voice.

--

And on a sunny day, it all comes crashing down. The boys are over again, but this time Ghost is boring holes into the back of your head as you both go into your respective rooms. You're straddling your boy's hips shirtless when you hear your roommate's furious yelling from the other side of the flat and then stomping towards the front door before it slams closed.

After your bedroom door is busted open, the bolt being broken out of the faceplate from the brutal strength behind the force— and you're jumping off the bed and crossing your arms over your exposed chest.

It's Ghost and he's staring directly at your friend on the bed.

"No." He stomps over to grab your friend by his shirt and drags him off the bed and towards the front door before tossing him against it with a nasty-sounding slam.

"Get the fuck out."

Your friend is spluttering when Ghost cuts him off.

"If I see you here again, I'm turnin’ those silly little glasses," and he taps a lens with his finger, "into contacts. Now get the fuck out. I won't repeat myself." And with that, he trips over his own feet running out the door.

You're standing in the living room. eyes are wide in disbelief. What just happened? There's a moment of silence before Ghost breaks it.

"Your roommate won't be coming back today." He walks over to you picks you up to sit you on the kitchen countertop and lifts his mask over his mouth.

"Now. You're going to come on my tongue before I fuck you and personally test out this 'I'm quiet' theory, pet." You look down at him and sigh.

"I think I'm gonna need a new roommate," you lament.

Pulling the gusset of your knickers to the side, he says, "Don't worry your pretty little head over that. I'll be moving in with you. Also, no. You don't have a choice."

He digs his fingers into your thigh and purrs against your skin, “If you find it in you to scream, my real name’s Simon.” 

And with the way his usually sharp tongue delicately rubs against your clit, you can't find it in you to argue.

A/N: dreamt of this and it had me in a chokehold.

[swallowtail-lotus]

Hades x Goddess!Reader {NSFW!}

Repost

I'll still do NSFW stuff, just not as much!

Warning/s: 18+, I guess overstimulation???, Consensual.

______________________

The sounds of skin slapping against skin, moans of pleasure and the creaks from the bed filled the room. There were clothes, torn to shreds scattered all over the floor, the sheets slowly getting wrinkled from the grip of a young goddess.

"Remember why we're here, my raven?" Hades licked the shell of your ear, his breath hitting your neck when he lowered it down. You opened one of your eyes, trying to spill out your answer but failed. The God smirked down, his hands harshly grabbing your wrists and pulled them up above your head.

"You got awfully close with that boastful idiot." Each thrust went deep with each word, hitting your womb each time. You curled your fingers in, gasping out in sync with his thrusting.

"He- ah! meant nothing!" You cried out, your throat gradually getting sore from the near constant moans escaping your mouth. His hips bucked forward with more force at your words.

"I don't believe those words. Care to repeat that?" He hissed out, his hand holding your chin. His eye pierced your soul, his lips curling into a smirk. You were shaking from his harsh thrusts. You could barely make any words from the pleasure flowing through your body.

"Ah, I see. Too much for you to handle, love?" His smirk grew wider seeing you squirm under him. You wanted to deny it, but he was right. Your body couldn't handle anymore of his relentless bucking. He had kept thrusting into you for hours on end.

"Ahh- um-" You tried to sit up, but Hades pushed you back down, this time his hands on both sides of your head. You breath grew shaky, your mind going blank when Hades suddenly bucked his hips again, this time with low grunts coming from him.

"Go faster..." Your words were barely audible over his hips slapping against your thighs, but he somehow heard you.

"Couldn't hear you." Hades grunted, his fingers gripping the sheets. Your walls felt too good around his length that he couldn't stop.

"Faster! Please!" You yelled out, feeling frustrated at the decreasing speed of his hips. Hades raised his eyebrow, chuckling at your sudden repetition of your request. He happily obliged, his hips speeding up more than before. Your eyes shot open, your hands quickly grabbing his shoulders. Hades started to groan close to your ear, feeling his lower region tighten.

"Fuck. I'm close-" The god feels his seed spilling out into your womb. You let out a loud and raspy moan, his load filling up until you couldn't take anymore. Hades stared into your (E/c) eyes, breathing slowly to calm down. He moved his hand to caress your face lovingly.

"So beautiful. My Nightingale." He pressed his lips against your own, removing some of your (h/c) strands from your face. Pulling away slowly, he took in all the features he came to adore.

"As you are, my Lord." You sighed out, cupping his cheek. Hades moved from you, giving you enough space to sit up from laying down for so long. You watched your beloved cleaning himself up after that intense session.

So this is what he's like when he's jealous...

[nyarumie]

Ruined Flowers, Beautiful Flowers.

hoshina soshiro x f!reader — 3.6k words. Mentions of stabbing, reader had an outburst, attempt at angst, established friendship, extreme fluff at the end because i cant stand making my characters suffer. Not proofread!

Author's Note: It's my first time writing something involving drama, feedbacks are highly appreciated! I tried my best and got carried away with the length. 💔

Author's Reply: A request from anon here. Kinda hit way too close to home when you said reader is afraid of falling in love 😭 (also guys pls send me Narumi stuff too I want to make more content for my guy)

Ask box is open! Also cross-posted on ao3.

Cheers erupted from your platoon, exhausted strength from the fight seemingly replenished as you dealt the final blow to the Honju once again. Their eyes sparkled with victory, anticipation filling the air as they immediately chatter to plan another celebration for your win. Familiar words of praise reach your ears, but none of them truly reach your heart. What's there to praise about when you're just doing work as expected?

You offer a soft smile to your platoon who is now approaching you, finally engaging yourself in chatter. You were never one for loud occasions, but you have a reputation to keep. They went on about your elegant strikes in battle, your speed and agility that beats even the fastest of lightning, and the reputable “silent, but deadly” strides you have.

“Man, I sure would always keep my distance from our platoon leader! Might get caught up in her Kaiju kill with how silent she attacks, y'know?” one of them joked, a series of awed agreements emerging from the others.

That's right, keep your distance. Getting too close… might just kill anyone.

You close your eyes as you listen, basking in the enthusiasm exuding from your officers. To them, the hushed strides you've perfected in battle is nothing more than a technique. To you, it's just the one thing that keeps your peace, and no one will be able to understand it the way you do.

Except, there's this one person—too persistent for your liking, so much more than your comrades asking you to mentor them. Scratch that, he's not persistent; he's simply way too highly attentive, it scares you just how much about you he already had figured out.

From a distance stands Hoshina Soshiro, the esteemed Vice Captain of the division you belong to. His watchful eyes never miss anything. You fail to ignore his all too familiar peering gaze even as you try to indulge yourself in the antics of your platoon. You don't understand, you never will. Why does he desperately want to unravel you? Closing your eyes really was the best option. That way, you'll avoid making eye contact with him lest he sees through you again, as if he's starting to pick up the puzzle pieces bit by bit. Curiosity getting the best of you, you peeked one eye open to see what he's up to.

Ah, he's now making his way to you. Well, damn him.

Concluding that you have no escape from what's about to come, you sighed and bid your platoon a (short) farewell, leaving them the promise of a celebratory feast tonight. You walked and met him halfway.

Vice Captain Hoshina was already grinning from ear to ear when you neared him, as if he wasn't mentally piercing through your own mind moments ago. You pouted. In an instant, his arm is heavily draped over your shoulder, his other hand playfully ruffling your hair. 

A series of complaints were heard from you, only causing him to let out devilish laughs and made an even more mess of your hair. 

“Vice Captain! It took me almost an hour to fix and style my hair, and we have a celebration to attend later!” you complained, begging him to stop.

“Fine, fine! Ya did another excellent job today. No wonder Captain Ashiro always trusts you a hella bunch.” he said, satisfied with today's operation. “However…” 

And there he goes.

He stood too near you, still hearing clearly enough despite how hushed his voice became. “You're a lot worse today. Still not spillin' the beans? I'm your closest friend here, ya know?”

You looked away from him, finding a car ruined to smithereens apparently far more interesting than whatever this is right now. “Must be your imagination. The Honju just so happened to be tougher today.”

Lie. Today's Honju had a lower fortitude compared to last time. You both know that. And you both know there's no fooling him from what he saw.

You stood atop the Kaiju's corpse after neutralizing it. Back facing everyone, holding your head up high. To the rest of the Division, you were basking in your victory, trying to keep your breath steady after all the action that took place. But there was no fooling Soshiro's eyes.

His keen gaze traveled over your entire figure. Breath ragged, chest heaving as if deprived of oxygen, a clenched grip on your thin, sharp sword forged akin to that of a rapier—in contrast with your lax hand holding your pistol, careful to not fire a shot. You looked like you were in complete agony and exasperation. Soshiro knows that you were heavily sobbing. Silently. Alone. Exactly how you do things your way.

You were only snapped out of your unrest when cheers finally erupted from your platoon. The smile you offer, to a stranger's eyes, is soft and gentle. To him, it's sad��as if it was a struggle for you to smile wide without hesitancy. Your deadly silence in battle wasn't so silent today at all. He can hear it far too well, that each slash of your blade and each shot of your pistol is accompanied with restlessness, each attack heavier than the last.

The Honju has been reported to have no vitals detected, but you kept slashing and shooting, ‘just in case’. Outrageous. You were literally taking out whatever storm is in your head to the Honju's corpse. Not that he minded the Honju, but he cared for you. He is your friend, you can pour your heart and mind out on him instead of a corpse of a monster. Why won't you? Why is the inside of your mind much more different from what you show others? How do you do it?

He doesn't understand. Or maybe he does, but you won't let him in. He wants to be with you, even at your lowest. And he's already failing.

“I see. If the Honju is indeed tougher today,” he started, “then report to me later, Platoon Leader. Post-celebratory report will do. Take it easy for now.” 

Was he upset? He rarely addresses you by your position. You carefully turned your head back to him, afraid that he's finally fed up with your bullshit. You're insufferable. Maybe one day he'll ask you to serve another Division. But instead, you see him grace you with a real, soft smile. It makes you want to cry.

'Take it easy for now.' You wish you could unhear it. You hate how easy his words always go through you. How can you take it easy when you try so hard to not be a burden? You don't want him to know any more than he already does.

“...I've no need for rest. But thank you.” You finally feel the tiredness creeping its way through your system.

Post-neutralization banquets are rare, happening annually at most. Somehow, your platoon members managed to smooth talk their way in securing an approval for tonight's celebration. For what, you don't know.

Everyone had their eyes on you when you entered the hall, bright smiles and expectant faces greeting you. This unnerved you, knowing full well what they're requesting with their doe, puppy eyes.

“Ahem. If you're expecting a heartwarming speech, I'm not the person for the job. You all should wait for the Vice Captain for that.” you said, earning a handful of groans from your members.

A hand suddenly lightly ruffled your hair, an action you’ve grown quite accustomed to. “Wait no more! Allow me to handle things, then!” the Vice Captain cheerfully said. Taking this as your cue to sit down, you excused yourself from him, feeling his slightly disappointed gaze trailing you as you sit.

Cheers echoed from the team as he finished his short spiel, everyone’s hunger evident as they hurriedly fill their plates with food. Your tablemates are no different, they're rushing here and there to get the best pieces of meat and pour each other some drinks. You decided to wait, not wanting to contribute to the mess the hall has become.

A plate filled with juicy meat and a bowl of your favorite stew was placed in front of you. Now someone is also taking up your space? About to reprimand whoever placed them in your eating area, you looked up to see that it was just the Vice Captain.

“Eat up. Keep waitin’ for the chaos to calm down and ya will be left with nothin’ to munch on.” He sat beside you, carrying his own set of food.

“Thanks. But I can grab my own fill just fine.” That's what you said, but still started eating what he gave you.

“Mhm… Just accept it in earnest. You never happily accepted any help I offered ya.”

“That’s because no one can give me the help I need.” you absentmindedly said, almost mumbling to yourself. Soshiro remained silent, now looking at you instead of his food. Maybe you shouldn't have said that. “... Let's just eat.” 

As the end of the celebration approached, he wanted to test the waters; he got up and collected the plastic flowers adorning the tables, wrapping them around a ribbon he miraculously spotted somewhere—his own version of a small, makeshift bouquet. 

He sat down beside you again, earning your attention. You raised your brow at him upon seeing the makeshift bouquet in his hand, a silent question about what he's up to.

“Ta-da! They aren't the real deal, but I did a pretty good job, won't ya say? This one's yours, ya look good with it.” He made a gesture for you to take the flowers, which you did, studying it closely for a while.

“Vice Captain, you shouldn't be taking the establishment’s props.” you said, frowning. “We should get back to your office. Let's get today's report over with.” 

Internally sighing, he doesn't know if you're purposely acting dense or just straight up ignoring his subtle advances. Maybe he needs to tell you outright. You once told him that words and actions come hand-in-hand.

It's surprisingly cold tonight even through the heat of the celebrations. He went outside the hall, leaning against the corridor’s wall to wait for you. You told him you have unfinished business to take care of, which is scolding your far too drunk officers who took their drinking competition to another level. Groans and wails from the inside resounded through the door, probably from officers begging you to lighten their punishment. 

Finally, he saw you stepping out of the hall. No makeshift bouquet in hand spotted. “Where’d ya put it?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Oh, the flowers? I told you we’re not supposed to take them. So I kinda dismantled the ribbon and put them back in place…” you said, looking away guiltily.

That surprisingly stung, despite knowing you didn't want to intentionally hurt him. He knows you’d leave it there, but dismantling them is another. He struggled putting it all together, after all.

“Makes sense. Let's get the report done.” he smiled, ruffling your hair again. This time, it's his way of saying ‘it’s okay, don't feel guilty about it’.

You threw him a look of concern, the playfulness absent from his smile. “I didn't—” 

“Are ya cold?” he suddenly asked. Before you can even answer, he removed his work jacket and draped it over your shoulders. “Please put the sleeves on. Yer hands are shakin’ so bad.”

Oh, you didn't even notice. Silently, you put them on as he asked. It's so… large. And oddly comforting. You hated it, somehow. The sleeves extend way beyond your hands and it would look like a mini dress if zipped up.

Satisfied with this, the Vice Captain started walking, pace slow. You followed suit, opting to walk behind him. You looked confused. You feel overwhelmed. Why is he always doing so much? You prefer your friendly banters, the idiotic laughter you share with each other after stupid musings; you dislike the foreign feeling and lingering intention in each action he does towards you. You don't understand.

He once gave you a poetry book about flowers, saying it was like a reflection of yourself. It wasn't. You told him to stop mocking you.

You never asked for company on boring work days, but he was somehow finding his way towards you, offering an invitation to train new recruits. He knew you loved helping others, imparting your knowledge and watching them grow. You turned him down, saying he's more than capable of mentoring them himself.

Once, you were feeling a bit too competitive. Your platoon urged you on, daring you to make a bet with the Vice Captain. The losing platoon must prepare a banquet according to the winning platoon’s wishes. He can hit you in your sword sparring as many times as he can, but hit him once in the given time limit and you win. But you just so happen to miraculously strike him at the last second. He lost on purpose. But you didn't attend the banquet.

Then a tragedy occured. A citizen hiding from the Honju was left undetected, causing you to accidentally inflict a fatal wound on them as you attacked the Honju. Had you known, you would've prioritized their safety. He didn't have to cover this up. He was there. He should be reprimanding you. You were at a loss then.

You bump into his figure, letting out a sound of surprise. You were already inside his office? Perhaps your mind has been too occupied all the way here, you don't even know if he said something on the way here or when he opened the door for you.

Soshiro looked too serious at the moment. You shouldn't have agreed to report to him, because the Honju being tougher today is bullshit. This leaves you with nothing to report, and god you want to miraculously vanish into thin air at this instant.

“What's goin’ on in that li’l head of yours? It's unlike ya to get so out of focus.” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Vice Captain. I’d like to proceed with the report, please.”

“But ya don't have anything to report. I saw it well with my own two eyes.”

He can barely hear you, your voice only a mere whisper. “...Then report to me instead, Soshiro.”

He walked closer to you, your breath almost stopping. Why is it like this?

"What do ya want to know? I'll give you everything." 

Your fists clenched in frustration at his words. He's doing this on purpose, saying something that totally means another.

“Why… Why do you insist on staying by my side? Why do you care so much? I don't understand. You're my friend, but you're doing so much for just a friend. Why do you do these things? The book—the poetry book you once gave me, saying it reminded you of me—it doesn't make sense! It's full of flowery words, it speaks of beauty, but none of those are me. You’ve seen what mess of a person I am. You say you’d give me everything, but I can't even give you a single thing, Soshiro!”

You grabbed the front of his shirt, lowering your head as you failed to stop the tears from flowing.

“You should've let me rot in bed when you found me in a sickly state. Should've reported me to the higher ups for making a careless mistake. Should've distanced yourself from me, I did nothing but unintentionally hurt you when all you wanted was to look out for me.” 

You bit your lip, not wanting to spill more than you should've. A warm pair of arms went around you, causing you to cry harder, your body relaxing against your wishes.

“I see. Do my actions confuse you?” he softly asked. 

“...I can't accept them.” 

“That doesn't answer my question.” 

Still sobbing, you answered, “I don't know. You confuse me. I don't want to rely on anyone. I don't know what to make of them. I hate the lingering, unspoken intentions. I hate not understanding. I hate pushing you away, but it feels overwhelming when you're too close. I hate the comforting feeling you give me. Please don't waste your energy on me. I’m filled with dirt, my hands are covered in more blood than you know about.”

You’ve never spilled this much before, Soshiro noted. He thinks that's a lot to unpack, but he has all the time in his hands to walk you through it. You were a ticking time bomb, the impending explosion only delayed by taking out your anguish on all the Kaiju you’ve slayed. 

Soshiro caressed the back of your head, speaking. “Then I’ll help ya understand. I like you and I like bein’ with ya, even if you think otherwise. If you don't wanna rely on me, then don't. But I’ll be here when ya need me. I’ll walk you through everythin’ slowly if you’ll allow me. And I still think you're as beautiful as the flowers I keep tellin’ you about.” 

He tried holding your hand. You pulled it away when you felt his, but he insisted. “And these bloodied hands ya speak of, tell me more, please? The stains might be impossible for you to wash away, but I’ll gladly hold ‘em still.” 

He isn't the type to deliberately fool others, even if he humors himself with being a menace to others. You looked at him and was met with surprise as you were met with the soft pair of red eyes and gentle smile you’ve deniably always found comfort in. Were you deserving of this, even after unintentionally turning him away?

You let out a shaky breath, bracing yourself to recall a scenario that has haunted your mind for years. 

“A Kaiju attack. Was a yonju. It was small, but I can tell it's dangerous. Grabbed anything sharp, anything heavy I can get my hands on. I closed my eyes and kept swaying my makeshift weapon around, in hopes of defending myself. I know my sister was hiding somewhere, but it all happened too fast. I heard a piercing scream right in front of me. The yonju had found her somewhere and used her as its shield. I didn't know that even a yonju could think of that. I… accidentally stabbed my sister. She died. I should’ve kept my eyes open. I was weak and was only 14 then. Today's neutralization location is the exact same spot where it happened.”

Tears filled your eyes again. “The day… when I accidentally hit a hiding civilian. I felt my mind shut down. The same scenario replayed over and over again. Had it not been for you, both I and the civilian would've been long gone now. I was only able to take a breath when they got stabilized by the medical team.”

“I’m sorry. I understand if you don't want to involve yourself with me anymore. But thank you for… being my friend.” 

Instead of letting you go, you felt his arm wrap even tighter. “I told ya, didn't I? I’ll walk with ya through everythin'. What happened then doesn't make you any less of a person in my eyes. You’ve saved more lives than any of us can count. I’m sure yer sister will be immensely proud of ya.” 

"And! I haven't kept my end of the deal for our bet. Ya didn't attend the banquet for it." 

How persistent. But he's always been like this. It comforts you, how he's still being Soshiro even after your heavy outburst.

You cleared your throat. “You said you like me.”

“Mhm? And what about it?” 

“...I’m sorry for unintentionally pushing you away, or if I was rude sometimes. I didn't know how to handle it.” 

He let out a laugh of relief. “Dear, that was nothin’ at all! Ya don't have to reciprocate, I only wanted to do what I can for ya. That won't change anytime soon.”

Back to his playful self, he let you go and squished your tear-stained cheeks. “I’ll go with ya anywhere, even if it's straight to hell.” 

What a fast turnaround of mood. You don't mind it, though. There's no use drowning in your anguish. You wanted to get better.

You frowned. “Don't want you to go to hell, ‘Shiro.” 

“Was kiddin’. Get some rest?” 

You tiredly nodded at him, eyes heavy. “Vice Captain. I’m officially giving you a chance. At the same time, I’ll start getting better.”

He shot you an incredulous look. “My title? Really now? Fine then, Platoon Leader, as a reward for taking your first step, let me bestow this upon ya. Close your eyes.”

What is he up to now? You’ll punch him with no hesitation if he kisses you on your lips.

You felt something cold wrap around your wrist, his own hand gripping the back of yours.

“Open up.” He held up your hand to your face level. It's a floral bracelet. He always loves associating you with flowers. You don't understand why, but someday you know you will.

“Perfect match, ain’t it? Now, for the cherry on top…”

His next move took you by surprise. With no hesitation, he kissed your palm. “There. I hope that wasn't too much?”

Receiving no reply, his eyes snapped to your face, worried if he overstepped his newly established boundary.

The sight that greeted him was something to behold. You were looking at anything but him, unable to control the redness of your face. Ah, so that was quite the shot to your heart then?

“Hello? Earth to you?”

“I’m fine! It's okay! Just… not used to it. Do give me a warning next time for my sake, please. And we're not yet in a relationship, mind you.” you said, shyness still evident.

He heartily laughed, still not letting go of your hand. “I’ll walk ya back to your room now. The princess needs her long needed quality sleep.”

And sure enough, it was indeed the most peaceful night you’ve ever had.

[malleleothreesome]

Fellow Honest Drunken Confession Feat. Playful Land Cast

(Ch.1 & Ch.2)

🌟 summary: Rewriting the end of Playful Land event where instead of Fellow Honest running away, he tries to convince you and your classmates to go out drinking with him. Cause he's super into you. ༶༶༶ 🌟 warnings: gender neutral reader, SFW so far (undecided on the end), fluff, romance. This is a slice of life comedy. You're just gonna have to go into it blind. Take my word for it. You're gonna love it. If you don't, don't tell me. All characters assumed to be of legal drinking age besides Gidel. ༶༶༶ 🌟 inspired by: this ask from @omo-kitty thank you! ♡✧*:･ﾟ

🌟 song: Trust Fund "Oh, where, oh, where is my trust fund? Why can't I get ahead? 'Cause I have to work My daddy's such a jerk For not givin' me all his cash" ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 4.7k

Fellow Honest lets out an exasperated sigh, perched next to you and your classmates as the massive cruise ship that housed Playfulland amusement park sinks into the ocean’s abyss. With his hands clasped behind his head, a carefree grin lights up his face. 

"You know what?" He asks, turning to you. 

His fox ears twitch atop his head as a salty breeze sifts through his orange hair. Night was encroaching, a half moon suspended in the starry sky, pale and glowing. You stare back into his face, noting the visible points of his fangs, and the tip of his curly orange tail swishing happily. 

Fellow winks as he laughs his signature haughty cackle. "Do you want to grab a drink sometime?"

Ace Trappola perks up at the mention of alcohol and barrels forward, face beaming with naivety. "Hey, free drinks? You're talking to the right person, Man. You gonna let us drink free? I mean, it's like, the least you could do for trying to traffic us, am I right?" 

Trey Clover hisses, “Ace!!!” in a desperate (and failed) attempt to shut him up. 

Fellow regards the spectacle with the blankest of stares, his ear flicking as a whisper of a wince flickers across his visage.

The monster of a man tilts his head and smiles slyly to you—and only you. 

His eyes sweep you up and down as he croons, "just you and me, Hot Stuff. We're talking romantic, steamy even. We’re connected… don't deny it. Whaddaya say?" 

Fellow steps closer, tongue running along his canines as he looks you up and down with a cheeky grin and a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "You, me, alone, drinking, talking... I'll be real good to you—I'm an honest guy! All my business is legit now!" 

He throws his head back, and with a flourish of his arms, roars with a particularly raucous laughter. Upon composing himself, his piercing orange eyes turn sharp, and he flashes you another lecherous look. A smirk plays on the corner of his lips, an eyebrow rises suggestively. Fellow leans to whisper in your ear, lingering in the electricity of your aura a bit too long before speaking. You shiver. 

His voice drops to a low, suggestive purr as hot breath grazes your neck, "but, if you like, a little bit naughty ain't out of the question... "

Before you can respond, Ace—unable to be subdued by Trey—makes his way back over and elbows you in the arm. As clueless as ever, his freckled cheeks flush bright pink from excitement. 

"Free drinks, Bro! He's an underworld mobster, Dude—a high ranking one—we'll be VIPs anywhere we go. We’ll be sipping absolute top shelf… not that gross, warm piss from a barrel everyone else gets!" 

Ace is giving the performance of his lifetime, gripping his heart and holding out his arms in utter theatrics, then leaning heavily on your shoulder. 

"Free… top shelf… liquor!" Ace shouts to the rest of your classmates, waving them over.

Fellow's eyebrow elevates further, threatening to leave the confines of his forehead. His eyes remain dead, cold. His tail, for once, stays perfectly still, frozen in an upright arch. When his lips part in a rigid smile and his shoulders begin to shake, a venomous displeasure radiates from him, palpable enough for you to feel on your own skin. Out of his mouth spills a jumble of fragmented curse words and giggles. You look at him in mild alarm, unsure if he has finally reached a state of losing his goddamn mind, or if he's about to commit a violent murder—starting with Ace.

Fellow holds up both gloved palms, covering his face. Slowly shaking his head, he doubles over, wiping away tears of hysteria in an uproarious guffaw. You are stunned, staring as Fellow wheezes and struggles to get ahold of his faculties. 

Catching his breath, he throws back his head and bellows with unrestrained joy, "The sheer audacity! The unmitigated gumption of this fool—oh my GOD.”

In a valiant effort to calm himself, he holds up his hands, as if praying, a wicked grin plastered across his face. Ace squints suspiciously at his antics, still totally clueless to Fellow's intent. Trey shakes his head slowly, rubbing his face in abject defeat, looking as if he's willing his brain to purge the trauma of ever coming to this place. 

Fellow breathes deeply. "Sorry, sorry, it's just funny, oh my God. Wow. He has some balls on him, I'll give him that! I really admire the gall. You know what? This brat might have a career in the biz." The fox beastman reaches out and condescendingly ruffles Ace's head of red hair.

"Alright, tough guy. Yeah, let's go get boozed. And hey, little Bastard—" his fiendish grin takes a more sinister tone, fangs slightly exposed. "Just so you know, if your pathetic college didn't send that sweetheart…” He winks suggestively at you, before his eyes wander across the crowd of students, utterly unimpressed, “I'd never be letting any of you idiots go. No way! I’d have dragged each of you back to my boss by force. Don't test my generosity or my kindness." 

Smirking, he shoves his finger into Ace's face, leaning towards him with intent to intimidate.

Fellow takes a sharp inhale and clasps his hands shut. "Now, just for fun, let's get liquored up on the highest rooftop bar, play some poker, do a little dancing..." His eyes flit back over to you— "...maybe some smooches, hey?" A foxy yip punctuates his sentence. His eyes return back to Ace, whose lips are pressed in a firm, disapproving line. Fellow's eyebrow twitches with delight as he takes in Ace's defiance, biting his lip for a second so as not to cackle.

"There isn't going to be any 'VIP treatment,' 'free drinks,’ or 'top shelf.' Is that clear? Who do you think I am? You think I like doing that type of shit?" 

He points to the water, gesturing to the decimated remnants of the amusement park. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Kid, people don't do those types of jobs because they're loaded.” 

He leans down to get eye level with Ace, using expressive jazz hands and a pompous voice. “'Oh, man, my yacht's all paid off and ready, better become a goddamn kidnapping organ trafficker—oh, the glamor! The luxury!' Do you understand what I'm saying, you dinky little shit?"

You can't help it—you burst out laughing. His grin returns full force, and he winks at you knowingly. He looks back to your classmates, and you consider his movements. The pure self-assurance in his stride, his careless and brazen attitude, his cheeky cockiness—intricate pieces of exactly what drew you to him initially. While his irreverence for any societal construct has both scared and enamored you, the sheer madness he exhibits on a regular basis is so addictive. How could you deny a guy with this level of audacity? You really, really want to give it a whirl—experiment with what might be if you throw caution to the wind.

His smile grows, noting the chagrin across your classmate's faces. Fellow gestures dramatically once more, his gloved hands clawing through the air, his gesticulations growing increasingly overzealous as he waxes poetic on the harsh realities of adult life. 

"So, listen up. Listen very carefully. Picture this: I'm poor. I'm scrappy. I was homeless. I don't even own the suit you're seeing right now! My clothes are stolen off the street." His expression darkens, ears and tail drooping, shoulders slumped, and head lowered. For a fleeting, transitory instant, there's an indiscernible emotion that flickers through his eyes—something genuine that betrays his frivolity. "That boy is the only family I have, and we've got nothing to our name."

He stares forward at something only he can see, his gaze boring a hole into the horizon. It is a wistful, haunted gaze, a longing and lost memory in his eyes, a sad sigh that drifts on a gentle summer breeze, lost within its dreams. "Not a single thing. Just the two of us, struggling and barely making ends meet, scraping by in this horrible, unforgiving, greedy world that cares not for the innocent and goodhearted folk. We need to be greedy. Selfish, if we want to keep each other safe. So, excuse me for being just a tad on the offensive side, you entitled fucking brats! I had to be the strongest so I could support the both of us. You truly know nothing about suffering—this isn't a pretty life to have and it isn't fair, yet, what can you do? Adapt, or die. There is no romanticism about hunger, about living like animals, constantly scrambling for scraps of food like the world is a bottomless garbage can and you are its filthiest dog." The sardonic chuckle he gives isn't unkind, merely tinged with bittersweet longing. You reach a hand out, resting it on his shoulder, and his fingers close over it with a soft caress.

There's a touch of vulnerability in his eyes, and his words strike a cord that resonates deeply within your soul. Though it hurts and grieves you, his explanation was enough for you—a starting point of understanding, as you accept him exactly for who he is. You see beyond the facade—the sheer intensity of the desperation that underlines his words and actions, that hollowness within him that yearns for more than the world can provide. 

Fellow seemed to awaken with greater purpose when you looked into his soul and told him he didn't have to do bad things. Something shifts in his eyes as he considers new paths. You see the stitches holding his tattered spirit together loosen slightly, revealing glimpses of his raw wounds, the aches and scars that he buries with sarcasm and callousness. His vibrant, intelligent, playful nature deserves more—his life isn't meant to be wasted, yet he feels as if that's precisely what he has done, resigning himself to this existence of bitter hatred against the world. When you meet his gaze, you feel a tenderness blooming in the chilly winter frost of his chest, like the first glimpse of spring. At last, you can sense the farce crumble, and the real Fellow taking shape underneath. You wish you could spend the rest of the evening talking to him. 

Fellow's fingers remain intertwined with yours as the moment passes and his flirtation returns. There is an uncanny ease with which the man is able to keep his expression blank while swapping personalities, as if each identity is a costume he wears as long as it suits him. A fleeting look of sadness drifts over him before being replaced by his cheeky, foxy smirk. He reasserts the cocky, irreverent demeanor—his favorite cloak. His orange eyes flit towards yours before gazing into the crowd of your classmates. You squeeze his palm reassuringly, and he beams down at you with gratitude. His finger swipes across your cheek, gently brushing it.

Fellow smiles his carefree smile, but there's a warmth and gentleness behind his orange gaze now. 

"All that being said,'' the beastman claps his hands together, grinning widely and putting on another showman's performance, "I bet I could do a little persuading to get us some free booze. We're going drinking, my new friends!" He throws his hands up jovially. 

A chorus of voices in front of him ring out in dissonance at the thought, except for Ace—who is whooping and hollering triumphantly, and Kalim, who is cheering in earnest. Before the rest of your classmates have time to voice their objections, Fellow shouts out, pointing at everyone, a finger dramatically extending in the air.

"Ah, ah ah—none of your whining and sniveling bullshit, you snot-nosed punklings. We're all getting our rocks off tonight and it's on me. Consider this the apology tour for almost making you all... well, go into involuntary servitude, to put it lightly." 

The corner of his lips twitch as his orange eyes scan the crowd for recognition, yet remain friendly despite his teasing. 

"Besides, a celebration is due! What I learned tonight was so startling to me—I did not foresee myself going down an honest path, a career in helping the helpless. This is truly life-altering, and it's all thanks to you folks." 

Another moment of vulnerability flickers in his eyes and his mouth is slack, letting the raw honesty and realization of change settle. A stunned silence from the crowd ensues.

Flailing his arms wildly to keep up and air of lightheartedness, Fellow huffs, the first signs of exertion finally showing. He was beaten up pretty badly while trying to detain your classmates, after all. He continues his pitch. 

"Of course, no hard feelings or anything. Just a nice fun night, free drinks, music, laughter—how could any of you possibly turn down such a gift?" 

With a grin and a gesture to the amusement park's busted entrance gate, he declares his final verdict. 

"It is your final day off before a lifetime of school, study, stress and commitment to society—your youth is ending, friends. Embrace this wonderful last sunset of freedom—because by tomorrow, we will all be under the yoke of labor, spending our lives slaving away to pay rent while we deal with taxes and the true horror of capitalism! At least, those without trust funds, right? Hah." 

Once more, your classmates all clamor with protests. 

"Like Hell I’m goin’ out drinking with that guy! Don't take orders from that shady jackass," Leona roars through the crowd.

Fellow’s scowls, tail swishing vehemently back and forth. 

"Ya just met him yesterday and he was about to sell us all off! Does a sociopath's Nice Guy act not make you the least bit suspicious or even nervous? Don't fall for it. No one's that forgivin' or stupid." Leona stares coldly at the conman with an indignant sniff as he crosses his arms over his broad chest.

Vil stands with his arms crossed as well, but his posture and expression exude boredom as he blows out an annoyed exhale, visibly judging his idiot classmates. "Unfortunately, I have to agree with Leona once again," he chimes in, ignoring the aggravated huff from the Savanaclaw dorm leader. "Our kidnapper is insistent on buying us drinks? Who does that?! Clearly, this guy has something up his sleeve." Vil clicks his tongue derisively, and flicks his purple hair over his shoulder in dismission.

Floyd, ignoring the forewarnings entirely, throws his arms up happily. He bellows, "hell yeah! What's better than a night of heavy partying to lighten up the mood, right? Bring it on. There's alcohol involved? It’s free? I’m in." He giggles maniacally, wrapping an arm around Fellow to pull him in for an enthusiastic noogie (and completely ignoring the pained squeaks coming out of the conman's mouth). Floyd’s twin brother, Jade, grins in agreement to the proposal.

Trey adjusts his glasses nervously, brows knitting and mouth stuck in a grimace. He opens mouth and closes his mouth a few times before suggesting, with trepidation, “it is... quite unusual for him to take us out drinking all of a sudden... are we sure this isn't some sort of trap, or a game, or—"

Trey is cut off by a loud groan from Ace. "Weren't you guys paying attention?!" Ace shakes his head rapidly and scoffs with derision. "He's obviously trying to get into Y/n's pants! The guy's totally thirsty! How are you not seeing this? He was checking Y/n out when he was doing all that crazy shit in the amusement park." 

A tense moment of silence falls across your class as they turn their heads towards you, eyeing you with surprise. "He's been hitting on the prefect this entire time! His weird-ass obsession is for real—no joke or scam. He's interested, I know it when I see it. He knows Y/n's not gonna go unless he takes all of us. So, like... yes, of course I'm into free beer!" 

Ace's red eyes gleam like he's just discovered the polio vaccine, proud of his insightfulness and intellect. The other students look back and forth between you and the notorious criminal fox beastman, noting his nonplussed smirk, calm tail wagging, and the way in which his ears prick up in excitement at the conversation about you.

Another uncomfortable moment passes. Your cheeks feel warm, knowing everyone's eyes are still on you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet them. 

Kalim claps his hands together and chirps, "oh yeah, come to think of it, he does seem like he's super fond of you! All his cute talk and that sparkle he gets in his eyes when he looks at you and listens to your every word—he clearly really, really likes you, Y/n! That's totally awesome you found someone special in such a dark place!" 

Kalim is—almost comically—unaffected by Fellow's unsavory reputation. "And isn't it great if he's truly starting down a righteous path instead of being a bad criminal who hurts and steals from people? We've got to support him, this could be his fresh start! We're his friends, and that's what friends are for—they help each other out. We'll save him from evil!" 

Kalim is positively beaming now, his energy infectiously reassuring and radiant. "I’m looking forward to a fun night, count me in!" 

Leona scrunches up his face and screws his eyes shut before looking into the distance. It’s as if his consciousness has departed, from the sheer idiocy of this conversation. 

“How much has that fuckin' clown got you brainwashed already to make you spout such delusions of grandeur?!" He gapes at Kalim's relentless positivity. "C'mon Jack, we're goin' back. They can handle themselves." Without a backward glance, he walks away, trusting that the freshman will follow suit.

With a short sigh of resignation and a brief incline of his head, Jack follows along in his dorm leader's wake. "Sorry, guys," he murmurs. "I gotta agree with my Housewarden. Something doesn't feel right. Hope to see you all later." The wolf man turns his back and trots to catch up with Leona.

Fellow wears an indecipherable expression as he watches them leave. The muscles around his eye twitch slightly and an ear has flattened against his hair in annoyance. Though Fellow is doing his level best to remain unaffected by the sour reactions, a tiny tendril of disappointment wavers briefly over his features. His resolve steels, yet he keeps his smile, resolutely ignoring their mutterings as his fox tail sweeps side to side. His body language remains relatively casual and open, save for a subtle defensive set in his posture and shoulders. He stands a little taller in an attempt to maintain his cool.

Vil scoffs and walks over to the gate, holding up his perfectly manicured hands in mock surrender. "There's no amount of liquor on the planet worth suffering his disgusting presence or getting tangled in whatever diabolic schemes he's attempting. He's a repugnant vagabond with nothing but deceit and manipulation oozing from his vile, malicious tongue. Y/n, you can do far better—really, anyone with a proper background and education instead of someone from the fringes of society who can't even feed himself." 

With a flip of his hair, Vil sniffs dismissively. He gives you one last look of disapproval before strolling away in search of a less irritating place to be.

Ace begins to panic, feeling his chance at free drinks slipping through his fingers. "Wai- Wait- wait, WAIT—everybody STOP," Ace frantically exclaims in desperation. "Come back, you can't just leave! Come on! There’s free alcohol at stake here! Please?! Dammit. UGH!" 

Vil's words seemed to hit home. Fellow's unbreakable poker face crumbles as his ears pull down flat against his scalp. His tail stiffens, lowering between his legs in utter humiliation. The fox beastman swallows thickly as the tides of his happiness drain. Gidel scurries up to Fellow and places a hand gently on his back to console his guardian. Fellow tries to plaster a makeshift grin back on, but his pain bleeds through, brow furrowed and eyes darting, suddenly unable to meet your gaze.

Ace blinks and smiles awkwardly before muttering, "Well, now I actually feel pretty bad." His freckled face reddens slightly, cheeks taking on a darker tinge of rose as the color creeps out to his ears. A soft, self-conscious laugh tumbles from his mouth. He runs a hand through his copper-red hair, clearly caught somewhere between guilt and shame—internal conflict is evident. 

Despite all the flippant, disrespectful comments, teasing and general disregard Ace has shown Fellow, this complete and public emotional breakdown appears to hit Ace harder than he'd care to admit, and perhaps—just maybe—a faint sense of kinship forms at the connection he sees between himself and the conman. Two jovial and clownish individuals—born entertainers. Suddenly, this moment strikes Ace more so than anything else Fellow has said or done thus far, leaving the redhead oddly touched. It’s as if his own heart was personally struck by the kind, selfless soul Fellow seems to be deep down, no matter how hard the foxman tries to keep it buried.

"Listen, man," Ace smiles shyly, shifting from foot to foot with his thumbs stuck in his belt loops. "You know, even if nobody else says it, I, uh... Well... If you're going straight," Ace chuckles, clearing his throat, "like you say, then you're pretty cool. Besides, all your antics are pretty funny. And... The way you really care for him..." Ace stares with admiration, nodding his head towards Gidel, voice low with reverence. His cheeks are completely red now, unable to formulate words, just awkwardly shuffling around trying to escape his own embarrassment. 

"You're a... a really good big brother. You know," He sputters, blinking and glancing to the side before slowly looking back at Fellow, and then you. "So... Just forget about Vil's stupid bullshit and move on. Because..." He pauses for a second before nodding assuredly, his confidence growing. "Because you've got plenty to give! It might not feel like it, and sometimes there will be a moment where all seems lost..."

You shake your head in disbelief. Had Ace just openly spoken words of wisdom? Such kind words, too—from him of all people! That, surely, is the sign of an actual miracle happening, since Ace, your dearest friend, is not typically one for… sincerity. ‘Shocking’ would be an understatement. Ace's friendly gaze causes Fellow's orange eyes to grow glassy. Your classmates, equally as stunned, stare at Ace in open astonishment.

Ace presses on with his impromptu speech, conveying the utmost sincerity, "You've got to be strong and push past your misfortune, and not allow yourself to think you're not worthy of love or care." His smile grows warmer and he turns his face to you, making brief eye contact before casting his gaze back towards Fellow. "I just know that somewhere out there, a happy life awaits you... and maybe... there's someone wonderful to share it with."

Now why would Ace allude to you when you haven't even decided your feelings yet? You quickly turn around to conceal the rising flush in your cheeks. You’re somewhere between mortified and thrilled for Ace to publicly express his support of your romance. Nerves flood your stomach—the anticipation, the prospect of falling in love has made you equal parts anxious and giddy. A mixture of euphoria and despair hits you all at once—how beautiful to acknowledge your affections for the fox man—yet, can you commit?

You look over at Cater and mouth with abject horror: 'What the fuck is going on?'

Cater looks thoroughly entertained by the entire event, flashing you a thumbs up. He bites his lower lip, silently giggling to himself. He snaps a picture of you on his phone—the audacity.

Cater mouths back, “looks like someone has a cru-ush.” 

Your face displays all of your confusion. “Stop—shh—be serious, this is real,” you whisper, stifling a tiny, strained giggle and putting an end to the banter by sternly holding out your index finger.

This is too much—too fast—you feel helpless, swept up in the stormy waves of fate and romance. One single day has dragged on and on, as if stretched forever by the overwhelming events of your trip. Even Fellow's unexpected change of heart is but a fleeting part of some fever dream—it couldn’t have all been real. An insane whirlwind romance, a kidnapping, a deadly amusement park, and a desperate con artist—who you’ve become increasingly drawn to. This has been one of the strangest experiences of your entire life.

Glancing quickly over your shoulder, you catch Gidel grinning and bouncing happily, his eyes bright with energy, seemingly thrilled at the idea of you and Fellow becoming partners. His excitement is contagious, and it only adds fuel to the fire in your heart. To know the little boy holds high hopes for the two of you—maybe something is already blooming? Blood pounds in your veins and a tightness builds in your chest, causing your heartbeat to drum ever faster as Fellow takes a step toward you.

He gently turns you to face him. His grip is strong, yet soft. A twinge of hope tugs at the corners of his lips, though his posture betrays his vulnerability and fear of rejection. His interest in you is palpable, and the seriousness of the impending moment makes you want to run away. As hesitant as you are to admit it, you definitely feel a connection to this man—one beyond lust. A deeper bond transcends physical attraction, as if your hearts are bound, stitched with a million red puppet strings of fate. With each pump of blood, another thread pulls taut, drawing the two of you closer together.

You're nervous, embarrassed, and entirely unsure of what you want. In an attempt to stall, you address your remaining classmates. "Well, I sure could use a drink right now! How about it?" Slight panic italicizes your statement.

Ace raises his hands in the air with triumph. "Fuck yeah," he laughs, looking around eagerly. Cater looks relieved to have the perfect excuse to drink a ridiculous amount of booze without getting nagged by Riddle for acting inappropriate. Trey sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in a strained manner, as if resisting another stress-related aneurysm. He nods with resignation that he won't be back at Heartslabyul any time soon, committing himself to making sure none of the trouble-making underclassmen get up to their usual antics of havoc, mayhem and chaos. You catch Trey mutter, "I will definitely regret this," to himself, but you still allow a surge of gratitude wash over your anxious heart at his kind gesture.

Lilia's laughter rings out, the night breeze sweeping back his hair to reveal a playful grin. "The Pop Music Club is always down for a fun time. This will be the perfect opportunity for me to show Kalim and Cater how to really party! Oh, what a splendid evening this will be," he gleams, patting his clubmates heartily on the shoulders. They both gulp, nervous about his declaration.

The gentle moonlight reflecting off the ocean catches Lilia's irises in a breathtaking display of shimmering crimson. In a flash, he materializes in front of Fellow, nearly scaring the poor fox out of his skin. Lilia's lips are curled in a wide, sly smile and he stares deep into his soul. 

After a moment of silence, he narrows his eyes and clicks his tongue, stepping forward and speaking conspiratorially. "But tell me the truth. What really is the score on this entire set-up?" The sinister, terrifying nature Lilia exhibits makes Fellow's ears tremble and tail swish madly in defense, eyes large and alert. Fellow lets out a nervous yelp, frozen as the staring contest commences. After what appears to be some type of mental standoff, the vampire's demeanor eases. 

Lilia puts a comforting arm around Fellow and hugs him to his side, eyes glowing brighter. "Ah, young love! So fun to watch! You two have my blessing," Lilia beams at the stupefied Fellow, whose ears still lay flat against his scalp in terror. His tail is tucked tightly between his legs in an act of submission, a concession of defeat.

With that, your classmates trail out of the boardwalk, away from the ruins of the defunct Amusement Park. Their loud banter fills the night air, a jovial cacophony of nonsense and delirium. Fellow places one hand between Gidel's shoulder blades to gently guide him along, and he extends his other to you, silently inviting you to interlace your fingers with his. His expression is relaxed and expectant—but his eyes show his nerves. His smooth, gloved palm envelops your hand and together, the three of you follow your classmates.

🌟 song: Violence (Club Mix) - Grimes ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 1.8k

The dark streets of the city are lit in an amber glow from the many shops that stay open late, with neon signs boasting special deals and hot food creating a gorgeous rainbow of flashing colors in the night. Bustling crowds move briskly, pouring in from all directions. They mill around, eager to engage in the nightlife of the entertainment district, excited to partake in their desired sins. You follow a group of partygoers through an arching entranceway that has the phrase 'Hell's Den' lit above the metalwork in garish crimson lights. Passing underneath the grand entrance and entering the gaudy exterior is another world of sound, color and light—a vibrancy not meant for the meek. The entirety of the complex is covered with glowing tiles, casting a radiant aura in such a dazzling fashion it reminds you of a place in your home world: Las Vegas.

Welcoming aromas of cigarettes, alcohol, and cheap cologne, and the buzzing, neon atmosphere draws a content sigh from Fellow. The wide array of faces passing by—all of them new and shining with happiness, seeking to escape their own respective realities. There is something inspiring about this bustling den of iniquity. The electricity that percolates within the underground is like a shot of adrenalin. It's pure magic. It is no wonder all of this serves as an irresistible lure for those craving freedom. In this night-city, any sinner can find solace.

As you pass the main foyer of Hell's Den, an enormous set of double doors lies ahead. Three large, burly bouncers loiter at the entrance and peer closely at you all.

"Now what do we have here?" the bouncer booms, zeroing in on Gidel. The bouncer points towards the kid, accusatory. "Ain't he a little young for this joint?"

All heads turn towards Gidel, who stands proud and fearless in the face of these mountainous men. While most everyone else shifts nervously, Gidel plants his little hands on his hips and looks up at the bouncers unabashed, pursing his lips in an indignant pout and giving an extra little sassy bob of his head. He stands his ground with the cold, fierce and commanding presence of someone much older. The way his stance radiates authority, even in the face of danger, is both admirable and comical. The usual slouching and youthfulness of his mannerisms and body language are totally eradicated as the imperious stare he fixes on the bouncers bears down. Gidel is a fearless soldier—a fiercely determined, stalwart pillar in the face of adversity, daring the guards to deny him passage.

"You wound me, good sir," Fellow puts a gloved hand to his heart in a mock sign of hurt. "Of course, he is of drinking age. How insulting!" He levels them with his withering orange gaze. The muscle men shift uneasily at his silent challenge—the cocky facade is his customary tactic for warding off hostilities before they could grow and take root. "This here," he grabs the glowering Gidel, patting the child proudly on the head, "is the eldest of our party." The bouncers look at each other, then at the boy, then back to Fellow. The sheer absurdity of Fellow's statement is undeniable—no reasonable person would buy it.

Fellow goes on. "Cater, are you seeing this shit? Discrimination, in this day and age? Put these nitwits on blast," Fellow gestures to Cater's phone, and Cater begins filming. Gidel points aggressively at the bouncer, shaking his little index finger with the might of his wrath, as Fellow declares loudly, "I want everyone to know—this place is not welcome to those of different social stations, based on age or appearance. This is preposterous!" He turns his attention back to the bouncers, widening his arms to the gathering crowd.

"Bigotry, ageism, it's so awful! No wonder Gidel hides the fact that he's over 2,000 years old. Now I see why the man refuses to share the wisdom he's collected, the amazing anecdotes and experiences, and the undeniable brilliance he could impart upon the world—instead, he hides, ashamed, all due to the abuse he receives on a daily basis from these types of buffoons!" 

The surrounding individuals stare in stunned silence. "It's not Gidel who is the child here, but all of you. People should not be judged so harshly due to their appearance. Everyone should be accepted—their ideas, actions, and experiences embraced with respect, despite physical differences that set them apart. Everyone must be loved and appreciated, for there are precious gems everywhere we look in this beautiful world. The rich, diverse community of people who inhabit this planet should be able to share with all, learn from one another and work together in unity, free to be who they are without harassment!"

The neon light catches fresh tears running down various faces in the crowd. To add further insult to the bouncers’ injuries, Royal Sword Academy's Seven Dwarves—who happened to be waiting to get into the same bar—stare daggers at the gatekeepers and gather near Gidel in solidarity. Their angry, diminutive stature radiates powerful force when unified against a common enemy—it is truly a frightening sight to behold.

In one single swoop, Fellow swings public opinion in Gidel’s favor, inciting rage to right the wrong. The fervor of the crowd continues to rise. "Please, show our precious elder the respect he deserves. Do not look at him and see a mere child—look into his eyes to the aged visage beneath." His orange gaze bores into the guards. "Can you not sense his inner radiance, the power and splendor of his soul, and the treasures locked away within? Don't allow your prejudices and expectations to hold him back. Or you, for that matter. The sheer fact of his youthful appearance is no obstacle to greatness! And as long as you carry this narrow-minded sentiment, you will forever be barred from ever knowing the greatest secrets of the universe. Remember, folks! In the end, it isn't your status, money, or popularity that ultimately leads to a better future! It's our kindness, compassion, and tolerance." The conman punctuates his powerful speech with a satisfied swish of his fluffy tail, and the crowd cheers wildly in approval.

Cater is eating this up. His thumbs frantically type out a lengthy post that ends with his signature sparkling diamond hashtags, creating the most glorious online discourse. 

Trey is lost in thought, muttering to himself, "he does have the right idea, maybe he'd make a good Headmage after all." 

Kalim stares intently, with a faraway gleam in his eye, utterly entranced by Fellow. He’s just about ready to sign up for a personal tutoring session on the topic of the Universal Principles. 

The rest of your classmates have the most deadpan expression on their faces, looking at each other and silently communicating how deeply uninterested they all are at witnessing this bizarre, disturbing spectacle for the umpteenth time.

The guards can’t hide their bewilderment, and they reluctantly backpedal to let your group inside. You and Cater share a mischievous smile, impressed at Fellow's antics. 

Your devious fox pulls you flush to his body, ushering you into the club with a sly wink. "Shall we, dearest Y/n? Let’s make our debut, hmm?" He smirks in the direction of his brother as he spins you around, all while moving backwards into the bar. He bows deeply and gestures elegantly, indicating you should head inside first. You can't help giggling, covering your mouth to conceal the toothy grin that betrays your giddiness as you make your way inside. His eyes travel up and down your frame, marveling at your swaying hips, devouring every curve. His suggestive tongue wets his bottom lip before he bites it, fangs now visible. You're almost ashamed of how attracted you are to him.

Your classmates follow like ducklings trailing a parent, curious to see where the night will take them and if any of it will be blackmail-worthy. How amusing. They muffle laughter at Fellow's narcissistic flamboyance and over-exaggerated antics, taking note of every ridiculous attempt to woo you. A few pretend to gag, exchanging distressed, strained expressions—a theatrical attempt to shove down the raw, unbridled horror they feel at the thought of having to live through another performance of the clown show.

You're not even sure if he wears a persona—a true entertainer, for the thrill of it all—or if he's trying on sincerity for once. You suspect he's a walking caricature of his own making. Even so, the raw energy and manicured showmanship are alluring. His penchant for high-pitched laughter and dramatized emotion adds levity to an otherwise dark situation—something about it really tickles you. His potentially-feigned amusement lights up his impossibly expressive face in a manner that is genuinely contagious.

Slowly taking in your surroundings, your mouth falls slightly open. This was no ordinary dive bar—this was a full on club. A disco ball hangs from the ceiling, dispersing kaleidoscopic beams of color and light throughout the space. The rhythm throbs, perfectly synced with the strobe—each flash of luminescence reveals a slightly new scene. Sweaty bodies bend and sway to the thumping, seductive beat—you’re so ready to join them. Every face around you morphs into carefree bliss. From behind you, Fellow's presence is electrifying, playfully tracing his fingertips across the curve of your lower back as he leads you to the bar. His hand lightly smacks your ass, as if in approval, and your face warms. The effervescent air and residual excitement of escaping death creates an aphrodisiac unlike anything you’ve experienced. The pulsing bass, Fellow's slightly-territorial hand on your hip, and his sensual gaze makes your heart thump erratically. An aching want—no, need—simmers beneath your skin.

"May I get you a drink?" 

Fellow's soft words pull you from your daze, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes appraises your dilated pupils. His toothy grin widens. 

"You prefer sweet, don’t you? I know just the thing." 

He studies you lasciviously. 

"Freshly-squeezed juices and top shelf liqueurs always do the trick. I just love the taste of cherries." 

He brings his hand up to your cheek, the pads of his fingers hovering over the shell of your ear before landing around a stray tendril of hair. He twirls the silky strand between his gloved fingers and tucks it gently behind your ear. Tantalizing.

"Yes, please. That sounds delicious."

You giggle nervously, unable to break eye contact. You hadn’t noticed how full his lips were—the bottom pout most inviting. You hope he doesn't notice you gulp.

Somehow, the man's smile grows even bigger. He takes your hand in his, clasping it tightly and bringing it up to his mouth to plant a soft, chaste kiss. 

"Wait right here for me, won't you, my dear? I'll be back in a heartbeat." 

With a spin, he dances his way through the crowd towards the bartender, expertly navigating the chaos. You stand there dumbfounded, unable to keep the affection from blossoming in your chest; full, red, and so tight that you're afraid it might burst.

Hi, it's me again. Erica. The girl who said "my goal for 2024 is to spend the whole year writing!" Yeah. Sorry about that. Turns out that life sucks and writing is hard. I'm doing my best out here, though. I hope y'all enjoy this one! This shit really makes me laugh, so I hope you laughed too. If you want to create any art based on a scene from this, PLEASE do. I've already started working on chapter 3. I hope it won't take me forever to finish this story but, I'm really just taking my time with it. By "it" I mean, you know, getting to the whole point of this request, which is where Fellow Honest drunkenly confesses to you. But as you can see, we are going on a whole journey, here. I hope you love it! That's why I'm calling it a slice of life. I hope I get to talk to you all again really soon, in my next writing, which I hope... will be... soon. Love you all dearly, ❤️ Erica Malleleothreesome. P.S. I'll be at Anime Expo at the beginning of July. Come say hi!

[ch6sos]

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ teen!nanami headcanons

love my emo king so i decided to make headcanons for him because love himso sosooo MUCH <3 I am obsessed with nanami I am sorry guys for the amount of nanami but he is my beloved and my hyperfixation wooooooooooo

lmk if i should make an emo teen nanami as ur bf headcanon ill gladly do it sweetie pies

He is much quieter as a child and rarely speaks. I believe he will be more reserved as a teenager, not because he is shy, but because he dislikes talking to strangers. He is distant, but not unfriendly.

Haibara is the only person who is allowed in his room, and I do not make the rules. 

Owned an iPod/iPod touch (even though Nanami is the Samsung king) and he would stream his little emo bands.

As a teenager, he appears to be more immature and irrational, displaying difficulty in controlling his emotions sometimes. Despite his calm exterior, he is still a teenage boy so he has regular outbursts here and there.

HATED IT when he tried one of Shoko’s cigarettes; he most likely took one puff and began to cough as though he was going to die.

Sassy king who rolls his eyes and emo hair flips at least 7 times per second, 24/7.

“Nanami, can you do that thing?”

"Do not bother me at this time, Gojo." 

“OH MY GOD YOU DID IT.”

"What did I do."

"The hair flip thing... hahaha you need to cut your bangs."

"I prefer to keep it this way so I can focus on you with one eye and spare the other from seeing more of your face."

Haibara is an extrovert who encourages him to attend events and socialize with others. 

His backpack is tidy. His books are neatly organized, and his papers are not crammed together.

 He was forced to go to karaoke rooms with Shoko, Geto, Gojo, and Haibara, where he would sit and listen to them sing loudly.

"C'mon, Nanami... sing!" 

"..."

“Please?"

"..."

It turns out he was singing all along, albeit softly and quietly, while they sang along loudly to the screen lyrics.

He spaces out a lot when people talk to him because he just wants to go home.

Haibara is subtly affectionate towards him, wrapping his arm around his shoulder like many guys do. He doesn't push him off, but the other guy freezes and maintains some distance.

He once woke up from a nap and found himself wearing eyeliner, black nail polish, and eyeshadow. He immediately ran out to scold Gojo (it wasn't just him) (but he secretly liked it).

"Gojo, what the fuck is this?"

"This is your culture!" 

"Please refrain from touching me while I am sleeping."

“Hey! Who said it was only me?”

“Jesus Christ.”

Probably got a double helix piercing (that eventually healed when he became an adult) (sorry guys).

(Though he still has his earlobe piercings as an adult, he just never really wears earrings anymore. Though you can see the various holes.)

Geto accompanied him to get piercings, and despite feeling nervous at first, he ended up loving the experience and feeling badass.

"It feels good, right?"

"Oh, yeah, I suppose," he mumbled, trying to suppress a broad smile. As he arrived at his dorm, a dorky grin spread across his face. He stood in front of the mirror for several hours, hyping himself up.

Listens to My Chemical Romance, Nirvana, Van Halen, Metallica, Guns N' Roses, AC/DC, Linkin Park, Green Day, Foo Fighters, The Strokes, and Paramore. And more. :)

He would probably like gothic characters from cartoons or shows, like Raven from Teen Titans.

If you quietly make your way into his dorm room while he's listening to music, you'll catch him singing out the lyrics to his beloved emo songs. As the music moves him, he'll start air guitaring and air drumming with fervor. However, if he catches you witnessing his private performance, you'll see a flicker of embarrassment cross his face.

Gojo once tried to dye one of his hair strands purple or blue, but he failed. Instead of turning the strand the desired color, it only lightened his hair slightly, resulting in a lighter shade of blonde that looked like gray hair.

"Gojo, you made me look like a grandfather. I should've done it myself.”

"Looks great on you, Nanami! Fits you too since you kind of act like a grandpa.”

"Oh you, son of a—"

He secretly owns a Tamagotchi named Helena after remembering it is a My Chemical Romance song.

Wept when they split up.

Has secretly attended several concerts, raves, and gatherings, enjoying the kindness and energy of the events.

Has previously used an Ouija board with Gojo, Geto, and Haibara, and the "spirit" liked him.

He goes to the Japanese equivalent of a Hot Topic to get his clothes.

He smells earthy and musky because he is emo, and he probably has a cologne fragrance bottle shaped like a skull.

He rarely posted on MySpace, and when he did, it was only about his music and book reviews.

Likely wore a fake lip piercing, a silver skull necklace, and one of those spikey emo bracelets.

Read Scott Pilgrim comics for a while. 

He was not too dry, so he used emoticons like "-_-" "-.-" "._. ".-." "^_^"

In his spare time, he enjoys reading books about horror and mystery. 

Owned a black Nintendo DS and always handed it to Haibara so he could play with it. Was not upset when Haibara accidentally dropped it in the water, but was sad that he lost his Pokemon progress.

Never had a genuine crush on someone, though when he does he becomes shy and awkward around the person he has a crush on, often finding himself avoiding them like the plague. Whenever he catches sight of them, uncertainty clouds his mind, nerves all over the place.

Despite his efforts to suppress his feelings, they only seem to intensify. This is his first experience with a serious crush, and his initial reaction is to try to shake off the emotions, but he soon realizes that he can't - he's simply head over heels in love.

Whenever he sees them, he does a cute, dorky thing - he goes to his mirror, fixes his bangs, and hypes himself up. He sprayed more cologne than usual, coughed a little, and made sure his skull necklace, helix piercings, and slight eyeshadow looked good. He gives himself several minutes for a pep talk because he still gets so nervous.

He fidgets a lot, constantly finding ways to occupy his hands even when he appears outwardly calm. It's as if he can't help but engage in some form of repetitive movement, whether it's tapping his fingers, twirling a pen, or adjusting his sleeves.

He also stammers a bit sometimes especially when talking to someone he likes.

Talks to Haibara about how he feels most of the time. Out of everyone he trusts Haibara.

He draws on himself when he is bored. He intended to get a tattoo, so he drew on himself to see how it would look.

He has a journal, emphasizing that it's not a diary, where he writes down his emotions. He finds solace in jotting down his innermost feelings as he often struggles to express them verbally.

In his journal, not a diary, he vents a lot. He is frustrated with himself because he is so bad at expressing his emotions. When he wants to, he can't, and he just pushes people away, which he despises.

"Sometimes I wonder why. Why do I have to be like this? I do want to talk to people and express my emotions to them, but I could never. It genuinely scares me, and that is something I want to fix about myself."

Owns several band shirts and wears them to bed. When he is older, they're smaller on him. I wonder why.

When he's out with Haibara and the group, he always wears his headphones and drifts off while listening to music.

“NA-NA-MIIIII!”

*pretends not to hear gojo*

In the modern world, he would be the quiet student who consistently gets top grades, sits at the back of the class, and rarely participates.

When someone shares the same interests as him he tries not to look too excited but ultimately fails.

As a teenager, he adamantly refuses to pursue a romantic relationship but secretly desires one to fulfill his need for affection.

Thus, he spends his time reading romantic novels, gaining insights into how the male protagonists treat their significant others. This newfound knowledge inspires him to learn how to treat his future significant other.

Even though he is mature for his age, he sometimes wishes he had been raised differently. He genuinely feels like he is wasting his youth by not spending more time being a teenager.

Converse + Vans are his specialty and they’re all beat up.

He sees Geto as a fashion inspiration because he is another emo king.

When he's not in uniform, he enjoys wearing oversized, tucked-in T-shirts paired with sleek black pants and a studded belt. His fingers are adorned with multiple rings, and he complements this look with a sleek black watch.

He always spends an extra dollar to buy someone something from the vending machine. Need a soda? He gotcha.

He always seems to be munching on something, whether it's the crunch of Doritos or potato chips. However, he doesn't seem to have as much of a sweet tooth.

an emo king who deserves the world

a/n: i love my goat

[ballerinarina]

LOVE ON SUBWAYS AND TAGETES

FIVE HARGREEVES X Fem!OC

Synopsis: On Christmas, Five and Lila manage to return to their timeline after seven years of living together, lost. Izabela notices that something is strange, but it is only when Diego and Five engage in a discussion with confessions that she realizes that she has been betrayed. While everyone heads to the van to prevent the end of the world, Izabela asks for a few minutes alone with Five to settle things, dot the i's and cross the t's; Word Count: 3.2k Tags: spoilers, angst, cheating, fluff, slightly canon divergence (but Lila x Five/end of S4 still happened)

Note: It's been years since I tried to write something (and I never tried to do it in English before), but I hope it worked out! You can listen to the FANFIC PLAYLIST HERE and here you can read about my OC, but it's perfectly enjoyable to read it knowing nothing about her, or imagining youself in her place! I wrote thinking that they both look ± 20 years old. Please enjoy and tell me what you think! ♡

CLICK TO PORTUGUESE VERSION

Something was off, Izabela could tell as soon as her eyes fell on Five. The boy had never been the really outgoing, smiling or affectionate type, but at that moment he didn't even seem present in Diego's living room. His unstable and lost look, the worried wrinkle on his forehead and a tense and insincere return of affection when Izabela welcomed him into the kitchen with a hug put her on alert.

It had always been easy for her to read him, but a hint of confusion seemed to be beeping in her mind now. Keeping her distance and giving him space — at least until he could organize his own thoughts —Izabela was sitting on the arm of the sofa next to her husband, without touching him, just with her senses attentive and worried as she observed him like an enigma.

A tired sigh escapes her mouth as she foresees that Five's anxious restlessness combined with Luther's comments about the apocalypse could only result in nothing good. It was Christmas Day and, from the bottom of her heart, as unlikely as it was, Izabela was wishing that the end-of-the-world problems had magically resolved themselves — or at least been paused, as the previous moments of tranquility seemed to suggest. Not unexpectedly, they were not, so sure enough: as soon as she gets up and heads to the kitchen, mentally using the excuse of taking the Brazilian mayonnaise salad out of the fridge to get away from the depressing subject, she hears Five's stressed voice picking a fight with his brothers.

Escaping the realization of the apocalypse as an existence in her mind (for the fourth time) was her goal as she grabbed the tray and the dishes, trying to distract herself from Diego and Five's argument. With the kitchen right in the next room, the attempt was naive and failed: Izabela could feel the anxiety rising up her spine. She had never seen her husband so hopeless, but not even for a second found this behavior strange among the others. She herself couldn't take it anymore and, good heavens, she hated loud noises, hated missing Christmas, hated her brothers fighting — even though she wasn't much less temperamental than them —, hated not understanding what was happening to Five, and, most of all, hated the end of the world.

She opened and closed the drawers of that house that wasn't hers on impulse, more as an outlet than really interested in finding cutlery to serve the mayonnaise, when she felt her body freeze at the sound of Diego's voice cutting through the air.

“Is something going on between you two?”

Below her, the sought-after steel spoons and forks gleamed, reflecting her pale face and no longer showed interest in any meal.

“Diego…”

“Holy shit!”

In her ears, Five's silence pierces more than any of those sharp knives could. Refusal is the modus operandi that Izabela's mind immediately activates, only retaining strength amidst the shock to slightly shake her head in denial to herself. She thinks she must have misunderstood, sharpens her ears, holds back her despair. But no.

Five and Lila were having an affair.

To Izabela's anguish, Diego and his wife's voices were the last things she wanted to hear, but they were the ones talking, talking, talking amidst the suffocating silence that settled over the house like a funeral, squeezing her chest and leaving her breathless. Five and Lila were together.

Why? Was that why Five was acting strange? How had she not noticed before? When had she lost her husband? At what point had Five stopped being the person she trusted most in the world? In what world had she stopped being the person he trusted most? Why hadn’t he told her himself? Had she done something wrong?

“Yeah. You think I’m gonna buy that bullshit?”

Not even noticing when it began a state of near hyperventilation, Izabela's breathing only catches when Five's voice finally silences her thoughts:

“She’s telling the truth, all right? We got lost. We couldn’t find our way back.”

“We were searching for seven years, Diego…”

A gasp. No. No, no, no — it is horror what gradually fills every cell of Izabela's body, like blood spreading across a carpet.

Seven years. The pieces fit together almost in slow motion in her head, with her mouth half open, wanting to cry, but unable to emit even a single sob. It is towards the open door that her body turns without even needing an order, but it is her own steps that seem to weigh a thousand tons, and it is on the threshold that she stops once again. Leaning on the doorpost, without the courage to step outside and face her husband. Her husband, from whom she had lost seven whole years.

“We were chased, attacked, shot at…”

Each of Lila's words of explanation numbs her from afar as they settle into her diaphragm like stones. As if 45 years without Five hadn't been enough. As if the imminent end of times wasn't enough. It all sets up a scenario so desperate that it turns all sadness into apathetic disgust on her tongue.

Claire’s interruption comes like a ghost that straightens her posture and wipes away the moisture that escaped as it pooled in her eyes. Pursing the lips in bitterness, the information of Ben’s location is an almost physical reminder to Izabela that, whether she likes it or not, she will have to be part of the Umbrella Academy once again, so repressing all this futile conflict is her only option at the moment.

Swallowing the feelings, however, doesn't take away the agony in her heart and, with a shaky sigh trying to regain her composure, she fails to maintain the cool when her eyes meet the back of Five's figure as she enters the room. More than ever, Izabela wants to be practical, to go prevent the end of the world once and for all while stifling any thoughts about this terrifying situation playing with her head, but she knows she would never be able to win any fight like that. In a mirror of her unconscious distress, she exchanges glances with Klaus, the only one on the couch who noticed her in the corner of the room. "I just need a few minutes. Please." he doesn't need words to understand and, with a certain pity, he doesn't hesitate to stand up and encourage the rest of the family towards the van, distracting them with some Klaus-style comment that Izabela honestly can't process.

Feeling her presence as he had for so many years in his past, Five turns around, meeting Izabela's gaze, who mentally catalogues the worst nausea she has ever been condemned to feel when looking at her husband and wondering if she finds a stranger there. The eyes trying not to run over every detail of that face only now notice how much sadder and tired it seems compared to the last time she outlined his features. The silence traps them in a trance in which she finds herself unable to think of anything to say, until she hears the living room door slam, looking away at it and noticing that it was closed. The boy sighs and purses his lips; they were alone.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Is it true? Everything Lila said?” going back to stare at him, the words slip through her mouth, almost like an escape “Did I miss seven years of you?”

“All this time I tried to come back, Izabela…”

A quick shake of her head, Izabela crosses her arms in a tic. What he tries to justify, with such a cautious voice, had never been the question for her.

“I believe you.” pause “And… even if it’s not true, Five. It’s been seven years.”

“Yeah.”

That wasn't the tightness in her chest. She knows Five well, she knows her brother and husband well, and knows how he had spent decades trying to return to his family before. Even if, at any time in these seven years, he had hesitated, Izabela would never have the arrogance to judge his willpower in the face of emptiness. No, her cholera is another. Trying to keep her voice serious, she feels that what she wants is not to fight, that unlike her brother Diego, her anger is not against Five but against everything in essence. She finds herself unable to rid herself of a deep desire to slit her throat, she bites her lip.

“Do you love her?”

“Bela…”

“Please.”

After so many years of the tradition of emotional constipation that has branched out in the family with half-truths and poorly spoken subjects, when Five holds his wife's gaze, he already knows that she would not accept him doing the same thing that Lila did to Diego. Avoiding the subject is the easiest thing to do, but Izabela, so emotional, has also always been the most logical Hargreeves in dealing with emotion, so he knows very well that she, while staring at his green irises so dejected and hesitant, prays for an honest answer.

“I do. I love her a lot, Bela.”

It is no less painful to hear what she already imagined she would hear: the mind seems to be in standby mode, slowly assimilating what so quickly pierced her heart. Trying hard to accept the new reality rationally, the only disturbance on her face is her eyebrows furrowing for just a second, struggling to suppress the urge to cry that rises in her throat, her gaze scanning the wall in the background and then turning back down.

“So you don’t love me anymore?”

Five perceives more of a statement than a question. He opens his mouth to try to answer, but then closes it, his face saddened and his voice not found before himself. It is when she does not hear a response that the so-called new reality hits Izabela, surrounding her in fear, making her look at him with a neutral voice and expression contrasting with her trembling pupils.

“Five… you don’t love me anymore?”

“That’s not fair to you…”

“No… Look.” her voice is dually firm, but by a thread, shivering him “Don't lie, but don't let me die without having that answer.”

If before the tension between the two could be described as funereal, it becomes even more so. The prospect of an imminent death coming out of Izabela's mouth is so strange to Five's ears that it hurts as if he were the one who lost seven years of his wife. Even in the midst of all the daily hopelessness in her life, when finding herself facing the end of times Izabela used to at least pretend to have faith. The lack of such works as a disillusionment for him. Despite having lost his own a few years ago, he only embodies this in himself when he realizes that not even Izabela thinks it is worth believing that she will have another chance to say what was not said.

“I couldn't.” the answer simply comes out of him due to the disturbance of perception “I couldn't stop loving you, even if it were a centenary, Bella. I've never stopped thinking about you, not for a single minute of these seven years.” Five shakes his head, lowering it, scared to finally verbalize anything at all about the subject, especially to the person he was most afraid of doing. He barely feels room to hate how he stutters, lost like just a boy. How he hesitates. “But… when…. when my heart started loving Lila… I had so much fear of coming back to you, precisely because not even for a moment I stopped loving you too.” his cheeks begin to get wet with the tears that throughout his life he has always repressed, but that only ever escaped in the presence of the girl in front of him “Coming back to you meant concretize it, and that's not fair to you, you... you know I'd rather rip my heart out with my own hands than hurt you. But I couldn't help myself…”

His greenish eyes, now so moist, return to Izabela and are surprised to notice what Five identifies as tenderness amidst the restrained and painful crying that accompanied his. Not that his wife wasn't towards him the most tender human being he had ever had the fortune to live with, but precisely because he had failed her so much, he knew he deserved her anger. What he receives, however, is the anguish in his chest intensifying when Izabela approaches and puts her forehead to his, cupping Five's cheeks in her hands and sighing a lament:

“Please. Tell me you still wanna stay with me.”

Silence, he gasps in agony.

“I don’t mind, Five.” Izabela feels as if she is short of breath, so much she longs for confirmation of her request. Any attempted neutrality was lost when the words of the husband, who's always so strong, made it clear how exhausted he seemed in the face of his own feelings. Five had been her weak point for as long as she could remember, and, knowing every comma of what once shaped his pain, being able to see it now makes her desperate, above all and any problem. “I lost seven years of you, Five, I… I almost lost you forever… Please. Maybe the world will end today, but if it doesn’t… Stay with me.

It shouldn’t be Izabela the one asking for anything in this scenario. But if Five still loves her — and, God, she can see that he does —, she finds herself willing to fight the feeling of humiliation tingling in every part of her body. More than anyone, she knows how much the boy believes in his core that he doesn’t deserve any mercy or love as payment for his countless past sins. Izabela sees his affliction before her and, as she has done all her life, she could never give up on her husband like that. He gasps with his brows furrowed, trying to hold back his tears, when a sudden flash illuminates the girl’s mind, that finally sees the edge of the inevitable abyss in which she finds herself.

“Even if… even if you stay with her too… Just… don’t leave me…”

Such insensate words being uttered set up the exact moment when Five breaks, nodding his head in despair and wrapping Izabela's waist in a frightening fragility — which she herself would never have expected to witness in him on a day and in a mood like the one they were experiencing —, marking the beginning of a salty, bereft and hasty kiss, with neither having any idea on who did it.

The bodies of each spouse, once accustomed to kissing for hours on end, this time witnessed an emotional suffocation that soon left them short of breath. Five finds his reason trapped in Izabela's incongruity, who even facing a scenario like the apocalypse and the most logical devastation of what she should feel for him, still thinks and utters such an altruistic and utopian possibility. It is uncomfortable. Hiding his wet face in the girl's shoulder, he hugs her tightly and she immediately clings to him, wrapping her arms around his nape and trying to find in the fingers that intertwine in his locks any physical difference that would mark the years that have passed in him.

“I shouldn't do this to you.”

“No. No. Five.”

“Izabela, it's not fair” he tries to repeat it for the third time, but she interrupts him and repeats herself too:

“And I don’t mind. Damn, Five... You survived. You came back to me. And if loving her kept you alive... That’s… that’s okay with me.” If Izabela is honest with herself, she admits how every word she utters never fails to sound absurd to her. Jealous since she was a child, she deeply hates finding herself in this scenario and, yes, she wants to at least scream in rage. The truth, however, is still intrinsic to every sentence she is saying, no matter how strange it may sound to herself. Faced with this situation, greater than all the rage she feels is the memory of her husband alone for 45 years with the only trace of what he believed to be love coming from deliriums about a broken mannequin — this is what makes her sicker than any unusual situation of infidelity. The realization that Five saw himself once again in front of the horror that has endured his entire life fades any absurdity in the impulsive words she has been speaking, because it is replaced with the relief that at least this time he was not alone. He, in reflex, hugs her tighter, fearing this being a lie. It is with the man she loves most so fragile in her arms that she reaches the certainty that, if in order to survive in the midst of despondment, Five needed to find love — human, real —, her love for him can indeed overcome any other feeling she may feel in the face of it. Izabela pulls away from the hug, connecting her eyes with his and guiding her hand from his hair to his cheek, in a sweet caress accompanied by the melancholy of a weak smile. “When we save the world… Tell me about her. Tell me about you both.” in immediate reaction he frowns, a slight protest as if he assumes that this would only hurt her, but she continues “Five, I love your heart. And this… is part of it now… Let me know. We'll find a way.”

Five hesitates. Izabela is very good to him, always has been. He sees in the affectionate look she gives him the pain his wife is feeling, but he also sees how genuine she is in everything she says. The suffocating dilemma makes him want to die, hating to cause such displeasure to someone he loves so much, but it also makes him wonder if he has gone mad and is just trapped in a dream, so Kafkaesque was the dread he has felt of this moment for the last few years. He kisses her, briefly, leaning in with a sigh and praying in gratitude before joining their foreheads, nodding in agreement, agonized.

“Fuck, I missed you so much…”

“Good to have you back, Five.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Like the misfortune of flowers burning in a fire, Izabela, however, never gets to have Five lying with his head on her lap in a moment of affection, reciting about how much he loved her even from a distance. She also doesn't hear her husband's cautious voice telling her about the dangers that left his life hanging by a thread countless times during those years away, or about the unplanned feelings he experienced. She never had to get used to how their marriage would adapt when he sorted out his pending love with Lila, because such plans never came to fruition, just like the ones to sort out with his brother Diego.

The existence of this love, — of these loves — intertwined by the knots that constituted its universe, was eternally erased in two marigolds that, I like to believe, only survived the rebirth, the wind and the storm due to the hope and lull watered shortly before the end on the vestige of cherish that fought in the hearts of the two lovers.

Five and Izabela Hargreeves.

N/A: What do you think? I'd love to read your opinion!

[lostalioth]

Could you make Sam, Dean, or Cas(one or all whatever you feel like but I love Sam🫶) with like an alternative/goth person? I can describe me as an example, real short with fluffy purple mid-length hair, tons of piercings and genderfluid(uses all pronouns), with a slim thick but still more of a slim thick/chubby/muscular with great humor like Deadpool as you loved animals and horror games. I love going to concerts and art, anything creative and going to college for marine biology/zoology!

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘩/𝘢𝘭𝘵!𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘳

warnings: gender neutral!reader (or i did my best to), goth/alt!reader (if i failed at describing that im sorry as well), reader described to wear eyeliner/makeup and jewelry and piercings mentioned, short sweet fluff with sammy boy.

a/n: a couple things i did my best to write this as gender neutral as i could? i may have failed as i tpcially write x female reader but i tried and i didnt know exactly what you wanted me to write besides one of the supernatural boys with an alt/goth person so sorry its just a short headcannon :) also this is my frist time writing for any of the supernatural boys so im sorry if he is out of character.

Sam loves to do your eyeliner for you on the days when you just don't feel up to it, your full makeup look often takes you a minute to complete. Of course as with everything Sam gets very dedicated to it and so he only does it after he has perfected it, not wanting to ruin your look with imperfect liner. Meaning sometimes it may just take longer in the end than if you did it on your own. You could care less though because as Sam does it, he will have a very soft grasp on your face and or neck the whole time. Softly caressing your skin with his thumb mindlessly in focus. The small action always makes your heart swell.

Plus: after almost 2 weeks of begging and endlessly promising to never show or tell Dean, he lets you do your signature eyeliner look on him. He wouldn't let you do your full regular makeup look on him but you were happy he even agreed to the eyeliner.

“Babe I promise you're gonna look so cool once I'm done” you gush with a small smile on your face. You had a hold on his chin to force his head still. You were currently sat on his lap in your shared room at the bunker, Him being sat on your vanity chair.

“You're lucky i love you princess” he chuckled softly and rubs his hands over your thighs, giving them a small squeeze as continue working on your masterpiece.

Speaking of your shared bedroom in the bunker, with your and Sam's combined wardrobes there was a severe lack of color. The both of you favoring black and darker colors.

You require attention from San often even when he is on one of his research deepdives. So Sam doing whatever he can to keep his girl happy worked it out that he will do his researching on the couch. That way you can lay out next to him with your head in his lap. He often finds himself playing and fidgeting with your necklaces or ear piercings, facial piercings, etc.

You have a darker sense of humor that tends to come out at inopportune moments on hunts. It never fails to break tension however and get a small laugh out of both the brothers.

Sam isn't all that big on PDA but loves giving you small random shows of affection, his hand rubbing your shoulder, a small squeeze of your hip in passing. His favorite though being small kisses of appreciation, reassurance, etc. though after a small and not entirely compliant of him messing up your makeup when he'd kiss your face and how it took you a long time. He began turning the small kissing habit into kissing your hand, the top of your head, your shoulder, anywhere but your face when you had your full makeup look on.

When you’d tag along on hunts with the boys Sam bought you a small vial necklace that matched all your other jewelry for you to wear and fill with holy water. Just in case you needed it.

The brothers also found out the hard way that when you're fully dressed up in your gothic/alternative look on hunts the three of you are often turned away at churches. You learned to pack a more normal outfit to switch into if it's necessary to step foot in church. You also easily overheat with your all black clothing. Sam started always keeping the AC on in the impala, at least when he's in the driver's seat that is.

Sam finds himself tracing or kissing your anti-possession tattoo that you had gotten alongside them. You don't often go on hunts with them, Sam being far too worried and nervous about your well being. He's concerned you'll get hurt even not out on hunts so he was relieved when you agreed to get the tattoo when they did. He wants nothing more than for you to be safe and happy.

“I will always protect you baby you know that right?” Sam questions softly as his finger traces around your shared tattoo and any others you have.

“I know that sweet boy” you smile fondly at your boyfriend and snuggle closer in his arms.

→ a/n: PLEASE LEAVE ME FEEDBACK AND HOPE YOU ENJOYED BABES AND SORRY FOR ANY TYPOS THIS WASNT PROOF READ :)

[green-sky-smoke]

Reader asks Husk about his ideal date. (~1300 words)

"My ideal date, huh? The one where i win all your money in poker." He laughs, and smiles at you firmly, his eyes pierce at you warmly, like he was looking at nostalgic show, on old, thick tv screen, in worst quality possible. "Bring me cards, hun, i shall do a little," he waves palms happily, "magic! Watch future, how good your chances are." He laughs purringly. Then his smile and cheerful look dissolves. He's never like this for long. "But if you don't plan it... Honestly, i'm not really used to dates. I'm not interested in flowers and fancy dinners, i saw enough of them. I am a man of simple pleasures. I have booze here, why don't just stay where we are?" he tilts his head a little, with catlike grace and elegance, expecting you to nod. And then you both hear something heavy, loudly falling on the floor, and a lot of swears and arguing. His ears press on his head from the sudden noise.

"Well. That's why. We may go somewhere." He sights, annoyed. Husk is frowning, looking in almost empty bottle, like lines of light and reflections on emerald glass will say something his drunk brain stubbornly refuses. He tries very hard to think it out, but he got solid brain fog.

"How about... Well..." he is really lost in his own thoughts. You can almost see how his neurons try to reach one another, but fail miserably, and pain gently swipes them away. "How about... About..."

No. Date isn't a game, it's when you entertained enough being with someone. Not a game. You did games everyday, Husk, what make date unique if it just another playful robbery? Date is not another gambling game, loss of big money and property. Especially not of someone who you like. Maybe you can both play and share loss, or win, playing together and not against each other... But against anyone else? Hm. Would be nice to offer it later, if he won't forget.

He hasn't had any sugarcoated romantic fantasies in a long time, and his brain rejected him creating some now, when he got someone interesting enough. The most interesting thing was just looking at your confused, annoyed face, and just any negative emotion. He felt better sometimes, seeing unhappy faces, when he is himself aren't happy at all about where it all ended for him. Husk hunched over the table, puzzled. Looks like he completely zoned out.

Most of all, he enjoys spending time together, calmly, not in a fight. Table games where he can bluff and laugh at someone's bad strategies and skill, or hand motorics. Magic tricks and spectacular shows. Gently massages and some cuddling. Sleeping and resting, doing nothing. He doesn't like very pricy places, or sports. He isn't most complex person, so it's quite a mystery for him why you would have interest in alcoholic with ludomania who likes to mock you lovingly, or insult. It's kinda easy when he presented with people insecurities every day, every year, when they can't shut up about it, and any anecdotes happening. He could write dissertation about it.

"Cheap, and funny." He chuckled, as your face becomes a little disappointed. "What? Not the answer you wanted?" He smiled, a bit smug. He enjoys your confusion, and how you try to think of questions to to clarify exactly what he wants, when you know that he won't reply long, he mostly gives you very vague answers that tells nothing at most.

"Let me tell you a thing, boo... Planning perfect dates is the most useless thing to do. Life is always unpredictable, chaotic, troubled and hard in hell. Situations always change, your mood, your tastes, you never the same person as day, or hour ago. You never know. If you hunt perfection, perfect place, perfect person, perfect reaction, day and time, you will end up miserable. And... You can try small things and be happy with surprises from this chaotic universe we live in, being constantly amazed how bad you are at fortune-telling!" He spreads his arms with enthusiasm, and then puts them down, waving one. He takes an indifferent sip of alcohol. "Or whatever. I don't care." He for a moment forgets what he wanted to add. Seems like he forgets that you're here too, too entertained with looking at same bottles, as if he was in an elite art gallery. His head migraine felt as if brain is expanding like the universe, right in his skull, and it is about to crack, while he won't be able to say anything intelligible or catch a coherent thought. He needs time to frown. You just look at him, wanting to stroke him. He looks so soft and fluffy, but you can't tell a moment you can do it.

"There isn't such a thing i would call a 'perfect date'. But there is 'it wasn't so bad as i expected'." he says before another long pause. He is clearly thinking hard, trying to scratch words off the walls of the skull, that hit him with an electric shock for any touch. His body was sometimes a real prison, making him worse person, who can really, really never leave for long.

"There may be all things i can enjoy to a point of addiction, but i would just act as grumpy ass until you take me there, waving booze, fists, threats, and i would know how enjoyable this is only after." He smiles and cackles, a bit annoyed and a bit self-ironic. He knows his brain and mood tricks pretty well, but believes he don't really need or can change a thing. He hates it, but he wouldn't wish to be anyone else. "It all seem too boring, overrated, overpriced and annoying to me when i think about it. I can find all reasons to not go anywhere and not move at all. Im in the point of life where it's really hard to find joy and eagerly seek things. You know?" He shrugs. "Go on, i don't mind, if you can bear with me constantly rejecting anything im not used to, and being grumpy old growler. It may at some point end as perfect date i would be sad to forget." He looks at you, like he doesn't really believe it, but willing to let you try. It doesn't matter to him, he will suffer each way in same amount, you wouldn't make it much worse than Alastor. " ...Or not. Who the hell knows. Maybe you will have patience to make some use of such boring, forever grudging and mean demon. Im not the best choice, and it will only make you pathetic to try make impossible work." You smile, finally out of confusion. He just invited you to annoy him, how sweet. You bend over to him and hold out your hand. He doesn't understand your gesture, so he just hand you some heavy bottle of some sweet, sparkling tonic for cocktails. You move the bottle to the table, and you put your hand on his. It suprised him, but he smiled at this micro-miscommunication, and places other hand over your. Old cats are playful too. And no cat will reject some good, pricy food and quiet place to see all things, not just hear behind the bar table. "Well, you are the strongest creative source of new things in my life for now." He smiles faintly. Maybe he was completely sarcastic. "So, take care of yourself. I can't appreciate you most times, but it would be loss for all hell. And i think you didn't drink in a while, so you need some liquid more than hold my hand, dumdum." He gets his hand out of your warm touch, and moves the bottle almost in your face. "Or shall I shake it for you?" He laughs. Husk believes you totally can use some foam of wrath in your face too.

[sorrowsofsilence]

Burning Out • VIII

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

I was lost, but now I'm found Under the lights and in the sounds So let us sing and sing it loud That we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are.

Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.

Words: 5.4k

General Fanfic Warnings: 18+, explicit language, smut, alcohol, drugs, violence, mentions murder/suicide, panic attacks/anxiety, nightmares

Authors note: Chapter Eight - Fool Myself (EDITED: 09-03-24)

new? start from chapter one here

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY, IN REAL LIFE! IT IS SIMPLY FICTION, AND JUST FOR FUN! THINK OF THEM AS ACTORS LOL.

+

Noah turned away from us, shaking his head. “It's none of your business.”

“It is my business now.” Nicholas stood up, positioning himself next to me in a protective manner.

I furrowed my brow and took a step back from Ruffilo. “Can someone please explain what's going on?”

A cynical smirk appeared on Ruffilo's face as he let out a quick laugh, scoffing at the brunette in front of him. “You didn't ask her where you really wanted to take her out, did you?”

Noah ran a hand over his face. “I was getting there.”

I looked between them again before turning my head towards Noah. “Where were you planning to take me?”

Noah licked his lips thoughtfully before turning to me. “I need your help.”

+++++

“Y/N hurry up!” Kiean yelled, his blonde curls bouncing underneath his black hood as he threw the canvas duffle bag towards me, placing his gun between his waistband. He ran behind the counter, typing on the keyboard of the desk computer frantically.

The alarms blared between the walls as I hastily tried to listen to the clicks of the safe, my heart racing as adrenaline rushed through me, my hands sweating beneath the leather gloves.

My breath quickened beneath the full white masquerade mask, the moisture building between the plastic and my skin, causing my chest to heave.

In a matter of minutes, the police would arrive and a shoot-out would begin.

‘k-12 to k-11’, Kean screamed over his walkie, my senses completely overloaded as the mixture of sounds rang through my ears.

‘k-11 to k-12, over.’

‘status of the doors?’

I looked away from the safe briefly towards the glass front doors, watching as the other masked figures held the rifles pointed towards the blocked exterior. I turned back as I anxiously flicked between the code, seconds being wasted the longer I failed to open it.

‘blocked.’ the voice responded.

‘hostages?’ Kiean asked.

‘detained.’

My gaze fell upon the huddled figures crouched on the ground, their bodies curled up in a defensive posture as they trembled with terror. A second group of armed men loomed over them, pressing the barrel of a rifle against the skin of a woman who fought back with her words, resulting in a deafening chorus of screams as one of the men fired his gun.

I closed my eyes, wishing to wake up from this nightmare.

But it was real.

“Is that fucking safe open yet?”

My blood ran cold as a shiver ran through my spine, the voice of my bad decision stopping my fingers mid-turn.

A gloved hand gripped the back of my neck and I looked up at the mask that mirrored my own, the only skin was his piercing green eyes that glared at me, filled with outrage. My lungs could no longer suck in oxygen as I gasped for a breath, desperate.

“You have ten fucking seconds to open that door, or I'll blow your brains out, you pathetic piece of shit.”

His fingers tightened around my neck, and I fought back tears as I watched in horror, trying to nod beneath his grip.

"Kade!" Kiean barked. "Leave her alone!"

Kade glared at me with disgust for a moment longer before releasing me, allowing me to gasp for air.

I used to be captivated by his green eyes.

+++++

Y/N

I perched on the edge of my bed, ending my phone call with my boss by blaming a bout of food poisoning. It was a classic excuse. I picked up the plastic mask and ran my fingers over the years of shame it represented, causing memories from my past to resurface in my mind. Noah was aware of some parts of my story, but not the whole reason why I had left my old life behind. Even though I knew he would most likely still accept me, I was too scared to tell him. The thought of sharing my full story with him made me anxious, and for now, I couldn't bring myself to do it.

I think I lost my mind Everything I knew came falling down Anything I build comes crashing down

I was trying to leave my old life behind…but I knew I was experienced enough to help him.

However, I knew that this was going to tie me right back to those I left. If I helped him, I would be stuck in the never-ending loop again. They would find me.

I'm pleading, "God, not now" Save me from my sins before I leave Free me from the weight so I can breathe

But for some reason, I was willing to do anything for Noah.

Why?

I was clearly fucking crazy.

The more I fool myself The more I feel it creeping in I think I lost my mind again

+++++

NOAH

Y/N and I agreed to go tonight.

I was scared to ask her, especially after Ruffilo confronted us. I did genuinely want to take her out on a date. I wanted to spend time with her.

But I did need her help.

I outlined the heist plan and to my surprise, she agreed without hesitation. The look on her face left me puzzled. I was anticipating some resistance, but she simply took a deep breath and seemed lost in thought for a moment before nodding and saying she needed to gather a few items.

Her reaction was peculiar; it almost seemed like she was struggling with conflicting thoughts. Was she torn between her morals, knowing that what we were doing was wrong? Or was there something else going on?

I quickly sent a text to Vincent informing him that I would meet him immediately after the heist to sell the drugs, around midnight.

“See you then, Sebastian. Same spot.”

Hope coursed through my veins as the plans fell perfectly into place. I quickly grabbed my backpack and gear before rushing up the stairs to Y/N's room. I knocked on the door as I pushed it open, revealing Y/N sitting with a party mask in her hands. It was a simple white plastic mask with a beautiful black masquerade design spiralling around the eyes. I studied her expression as she continued to stare at the mask, flipping it around in her hands. Something about it seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite place where I had seen it before.

“Do you want one of my masks?” I asked, sitting next to her on the mattress, assessing the plastic she traced her fingers with as if recalling a memory.

She took a shaky breath as she declined, turning to face me and giving me a curt smile, “This one works fine.”

I watched as Y/N’s shoulders began to shake in what I assumed was nervousness, and I placed a hand on hers that held the mask, “You don’t have to do this with me.”

She jumped lightly at my touch, leaving me confused before pulling away.

“I promised I would help you, Noah,” she said, getting up from her seat and grabbing her backpack.

Y/N pulled out a walkie-talkie from the bag, tossing one to me. I raised an eyebrow as I caught it, surprised to see such a high-tech radio in her possession.

“When did you get these?” I asked, almost laughing at the old-school equipment.

She shrugged nonchalantly, zipping up her backpack as she eyed me once more, “A long time ago. I'll give one to the boys too so we can stay connected. They can keep track of what's happening on the sidelines.”

I nodded as I placed the device in my cargo pants pocket. Y/N moved around the room, gathering various items before turning back to face me.

“Do you have extra clothes underneath your black outfit?” She asked with a serious expression that sent chills down my spine.

I turned my head to look at her, standing up from the bed, “No... should I?”

She nodded, raising an eyebrow as if it was obvious, “Yes, and grab another hat too.”

I gave her a curious look and followed her command, heading to the spare bedroom to grab some fresh clothes. Once we had everything we needed, we stood at the front door, ready to leave. Ruffilo was waiting for us by the stairs, his arms folded as he analyzed us before giving Y/N a tight hug and then turning to me.

"Stay safe out there. I'll be tracking you," he said with a nod, his concern evident in his gaze toward Y/N.

"Don't forget to keep your phone and my laptop on, with the password being Juice," Y/N reminded Nicholas, who nodded and gave her a thumbs up in response.

"Why?" I asked Y/N, surprised by their close relationship.

"You never know when you might need backup," she replied with a smile, but I could see the worry behind her eyes, which only heightened my own anxiety.

We exchanged nods before waving goodbye to Nicholas and leaving through the front door. The cool air hit my face, reminding me that this was happening - Y/N was coming with me. Was this truly a good idea?

We got into the van, with me in the driver's seat and Y/N in the passenger's seat.

"So," Y/N started as I pulled away from the curb and drove down the street, "I've never been to this pharmacy before and I have no idea how many cameras there are."

"Folio said there shouldn't be any inside since it's an old place, but there are probably two outside," I replied as I turned down the music in the car.

Y/N nodded in understanding, "Then we should park on Twelfth Ave so we're far enough away from any cameras near the pharmacy."

I hummed in agreement as I took a deep breath. Her knowledge and strategic thinking impressed me. "You seem to know what you're doing."

She briefly glanced at me before looking out the window, watching the city pass by. "I've seen enough movies."

I chuckled, my fingers tightening around the steering wheel. "I guess so."

We rode in silence for most of the trip, with soft music from the radio filling the void. As we approached Twelfth Ave, I parked on the side of the road.

"Ready?" I asked Y/N.

She hummed as she peered out the window, looking for cameras before giving me a nod.

“We’re good. Masks on before we get out.”

I laughed, cocking my head to the side, “Isn’t this my mission?”

She smiled at me, “Of course; but you asked for my help.”

“Touche,” I slipped the fabric over my head as I pulled my hood over. The car doors slammed shut and we began walking down the sidewalk, Y/N’s hands now governed with gloves.

“Walkie is set to channel 14?” She asked me, double-checking hers before clipping it to her belt.

“Yes,” I chuckled, reassuring her with a glance.

Y/N nodded, walking ahead of me quickly, “Ok. Before we hit the 13th street we need to check for more cameras, especially on the buildings across the street. Then scope out a place we can hide behind to change once we’re done.”

I blinked rapidly, surprised by her knowledge and instantly curious. I followed closely behind her, obeying her every command. As we reached 13th Ave, my eyes followed hers as she scanned the surrounding brick buildings, pointing out a camera across the street.

"That one has probably already seen us," she said, her voice hitching in her throat.

I instinctively pulled her back and turned her to face me. "What-"

"Let me finish," she cut me off, breathing heavily from behind her mask. "I need to call Nicholas."

The woman next to me dialled Ruffilo's number on her phone. Y/N grabbed my arm and led me to the side, between two buildings where we were sheltered by bricks.

"Hey, Ruffles," she whispered into the phone. "Yeah, everything's okay. I need your help with the cameras, can you get my laptop?"

I watched with curiosity as she spoke quietly into the phone.

"Log in to my computer and click on the blue app on my desktop, the one with an eye icon- yes- that one."

She glanced at me before looking down at the ground. "Password is Kade. K-A-D-E. All capitals."

Kade?

I felt my heart skip a beat at the mention of that name. Kade. Why did Y/N have a password with that name? And why did she seem so hesitant to say it out loud?

Y/N continued her hushed conversation with Nicholas, giving him instructions on how to access some kind of surveillance system. I tried to piece together what was happening, but my mind kept circling back to that name. Kade. It stirred something in my memory, but I couldn't quite place it.

Y/N held the phone closer to her ear, frantically beginning to pace, “OK, now I need you to type the address of Noah’s tracker into the box on the bottom. Grey box.”

My brows furrowed in confusion as I watched her actions. It was some serious spy-level stuff, and I couldn't understand how she knew about it or why she was doing it. It was making me question how well I actually knew Y/N. "Type in the IP address, including the zeros. Then click on the red icon that appears on the right."

“It’s asking for another password.” I could hear Nicholas on the other side of Y/N’s phone faintly.

“Try Kiean. K-I-E-A-N.”

“Nope.”

Y/N was silent for a moment, and I watched as her chest heaved beneath her black zip-up. She hesitated for a moment, as if the words were unable to escape her lips, “Try- try my name and the date 06-13.”

“Yeah, that worked. Now what?”

June 13?

I gazed into Y/N's eyes, trying to gauge her reaction behind her mask. Her eyelids were starting to glaze over with tears. "Okay, now click on the box that should have appeared," I instructed, my voice shaking slightly. "You'll need to enter this code... are you ready?"

I heard Nick hum and Y/N began spitting out random letters and numbers, “qqp;//0-0-0:879230/live.”

“Then put in Noah’s IP, and then continue with ‘.off/GO113MODULE=shutdown.”

What the fuck?

“Ok. That did something?”

“Did a timer pop up?” Y/N asked hastily, before eying me.

“Yeah- it says 7 minutes and it’s counting down.”

"Perfect. Thanks, Ruffles. Call me when two minutes are remaining.” Y/N hung up the phone before grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the ally towards the pharmacy.

“The cameras are down. We only have seven minutes to pull this off before the alarms alert the police.”

I had so many questions, but I could only stare at her in confusion and admiration.

We arrived at the pharmacy door, and I reached for my crowbar from its place on my back. I struggled for a moment, gritting my teeth as I pulled on the door.

Y/N mumbled, “Push instead of pulling. It's faster.” So I followed her instructions, and the door swung open within seconds.

“How did you know-”

But she paid no attention to my question and walked past me as the piercing sound of the alarm filled the street from inside the pharmacy. Adrenaline surged through me as we dove into action, quickly scanning shelves and frantically grabbing items to stuff into our extra backpacks. Heading towards the back of the store where the prescriptions were kept, I could feel my heart racing with every second that ticked by on the alarm clock.

Y/N followed my lead and quickly vaulted over the counter, squeezing herself between the tightly packed shelves. She scooped up different bottles and packets of pills, throwing them into her bag with practiced speed.

"You know what you're doing," I yelled over the blaring alarm, flinging bottles in every direction, trying to be as efficient as possible.

Y/N glanced at me but focused on her task, ignoring my question.

I leaned closer, grabbing her arm as she went for a bubble pack of pills. "How do you know all this from movies? The camera hack? What the hell?" I knew it was probably not the best time to interrogate her, but I couldn't help myself.

"Can you please shut up?" She seethed between gritted teeth, narrowing her eyes at me in frustration. "Right now, Noah, the cops could show up any minute. Focus on getting the money instead of worrying about me."

She snatched her arm away from my grip and moved to the other side of the counter, making her way to the cash register. I watched in amazement as she used a crowbar to pry open the drawer and gather the cash inside.

I shook my head in a mixture of disbelief and respect. Maybe taking Y/N along on this heist was a good idea after all.

Her phone rang and we both looked at each other, our eyes meeting through our masks. "Two minutes until the cameras turn on, we need to go!" She shouted over the blaring alarm.

I nodded in agreement before remembering one of the main reasons we were here: to grab her medication.

"Wait!" I called out, turning around. Diazepam, Adderall, Zolpidem.

My eyes scanned frantically through the shelves, searching for the specific medications. Adderall. Check. Diazepam. Check.

“Noah!” Y/N screamed, her arms raised as she stood at the door. The store alarm beeped in the background, accompanied by distant sirens that signalled their impending arrival.

“Wait- shit!” I bellowed, frantically searching through the last section. My gloved hand slid along the shelf as my heart raced with anticipation until I finally found what I was looking for: Zolpidem. Check. Y/N hovered near the door, her head swivelling between me and the outside world, peeking around the corner to see if any cops were approaching.

Snatching my bag from behind the counter, I stumbled slightly over the mess we had created but quickly caught myself. We sprinted out of the store and I grabbed Y/N’s arm, pulling her along with me.

My ears continued to ring as we ran and Y/N started pushing into me.

“Here,” she urged, pressing into my side as she led us down an alleyway further down the street.

“Take off your clothes,” she commanded with a heavy exhale, throwing her hood back and ripping off her mask as if it were a disgusting layer of skin.

“Can't it wait until we get home?” I tried to joke, but she glared at me without amusement given our current predicament. As my attempted smile faded, I barely registered the tears streaming down her cheeks as she took off her hoodie and pulled a pink one out of her bag. She threw on a pair of sweatpants over her shorts that were hidden beneath her jeans and knelt to put on a pair of white Converse.

I followed suit, quickly shedding my clothes before slipping into black and white shorts and a white hoodie. As I struggled to put on my vans, I hastily shoved everything back into my bag.

The sirens grew louder, the flashing lights bouncing off the surrounding buildings. We were filled with panic and as soon as Y/N was ready, I grabbed her hand and we ran down the alley together. I scanned the walls for a way out and my eyes landed on a ladder. I tugged at it to make sure it wouldn't collapse before starting to climb.

Y/N followed behind me and once we reached the top of the building, we paused for a moment to catch our breath. She watched me closely before I took off running again. The rocks and debris on the rooftop crunched under my feet as I sprinted, checking over my shoulder frequently to make sure Y/N was still with me and unharmed.

We reached the edge of the roof and surveyed our options. We were surrounded by tall buildings with no clear escape route. The wailing sirens from below urged us to make a decision quickly. My eyes landed on another nearby building with a ladder and ledge attached to it, but we would have to jump to reach it. It seemed risky, but it was our only option.

"Do you trust me?" I asked Y/N, catching my breath, as I looked into her mesmerizing E/C eyes illuminated by moonlight. She gave me a determined look and held out her hand in complete trust.

"Always," she whispered back, squeezing my hand firmly. Feeling reassured, I turned back to face the building ahead of us.

"Follow me," I said, giving her hand a final squeeze before letting go and preparing myself to jump.

With a deep breath, I leaped off the edge of the building, feeling the air rush past me before grabbing onto the ladder and pulling myself up. Once I was secure, I looked up at Y/N and gave her a thumbs up.

She hesitated for a moment, surveying the drop below us. But then she made up her mind and with determination, she followed my lead.

We cautiously made our way across the narrow ledge before reaching the end. I looked down and assessed our next move.

"Okay, we can swing off that pipe over there and onto the top of the dumpster. Then we run," I instructed Y/N, preparing myself for another jump.

She let out a small laugh, "Parkour?"

"Piece of cake," I matched her tone, trying to hide my nerves. "Just watch me." I took a deep breath and launched myself off the edge towards the pipe, landing safely on top of the dumpster. Y/N followed suit, laughing and out of breath but still determined to escape. We ran as fast as we could, adrenaline pumping through our veins as we fled from the approaching danger.

I gingerly walked across the narrow pipe, carefully distributing my weight and using my hands to maintain my balance as I made my way over the dumpster below. Once I was directly above it, I knelt and tested my grip before letting go of the pipe and dropping onto the plastic lid on top of the dumpster.

Y/N followed suit, but her fear showed as she hesitated while hanging onto the pipe with her eyes squeezed shut. "C'mon princess," I encouraged, "I'll catch you."

After a brief moment of consideration, she let go and I caught her in my arms, pulling her close to me. I held on for a moment longer than necessary, feeling grateful to have her by my side, but we still had a mission to complete.

We slid off the dumpster and landed on the cold pavement with a thud. Without hesitation, I grabbed Y/N's hand and we sprinted towards our getaway van. Adrenaline pulsed through my veins more powerfully than any caffeine rush ever could, making me feel truly alive with Y/N at my side.

As we reached the van and climbed inside, locking the doors behind us, we both sat silently catching our breath. My eyes flickered over to Y/N and she turned to face me with a wide grin plastered on her face.

"Damn," she exclaimed, "we did it."

I couldn't help but laugh along with her, feeling proud of what we had accomplished together.

"I can't believe that worked," I chuckled, my throat dry from exertion.

Our laughter died down and I turned to fully face her.

"Yeah..." She trailed off, her smile fading slightly as she seemed lost in thought.

"How did you-" I started to ask before she cut me off abruptly.

"I don't want to talk about it." Her response was curt and dismissive as she began to shut down once again now that the adrenaline had worn off. Her eyes remained fixed straight ahead and I watched her with confusion and concern, a million questions racing through my mind.

What was wrong? And how does she know so much?

As I started the car and gently revved the engine, I knew Y/N didn't want to talk about what had just happened. But I couldn't help but comment on her actions, "What you did back there was beyond impressive. Even I wouldn't have been able to do it."

Y/N remained silent, turning her body away from me.

"You've done this before," I stated with certainty.

Y/N's head snapped towards me, "Noah," she said my name angrily.

I licked my lips in annoyance, dropping the subject for now, "We need to visit someone before we head back."

She swallowed hard and nodded in silence.

As I drove, my mind raced with thoughts. Y/N clearly wasn't being truthful about her past. I recognized that mask from somewhere before. And I could tell by her skills that she must have pulled off some kind of heist before. Who was Kiean, anyway?

Thoughts consumed me until we finally reached the pier. I abruptly stopped the car near an alleyway and turned off the engine, grabbing my mask.

“Put your mask on,” I said, and she nodded, reaching into her bag. I watched as she placed the mask on top of her face and I followed with my own before we pulled the hoodies over our heads once again. I waited for Y/N to get out of the car, watching carefully as she closed the door.

I quickly grabbed her replacement meds from my bag, sliding them into the glovebox before grabbing both our backpacks. I slid out of the car, and walked next to her.

I leaned over, whispering, “Stay behind me, don’t say anything,” and Y/N nodded, trailing behind me as we walked down into the alleyway.

It was quiet, the only sound was our footsteps and distant traffic. I stopped Y/N with my arm before we walked any further down the cement, waiting.

Y/N breathed heavily, and seconds later we heard him.

“Sebastian!” Vincent’s voice boomed through the brick walls.

I cautiously kept my distance as he turned the corner, exposing himself. He walked towards us and flipped a coin between his fingers, tilting his head slightly as his eyes immediately latched onto Y/N. She stood behind me, almost hidden.

“a friend?” His voice raised slightly in question.

I instinctively held out my arm to shield Y/N from danger, but she pushed past me and stood by my side. Vincent immediately stopped flipping his coin when he saw her, a look of recognition in his eyes as he focused on the masked girl standing beside me. He seemed completely entranced by her, and I felt a pang of unease in my stomach at the way he stared. Y/N and I exchanged glances, both of us visibly shaken. A deep chuckle rumbled from Vincent's chest before he spoke, leaving me confused by his words.

“We live in a twilight world.”

Y/N stiffened beside me, silent for a moment before responding.

“And there are no friends at dusk.”

I turned to her, my mind racing in confusion. The tension between them was palpable, almost suffocating. It was clear that there was some sort of connection between them.

She recognized him. He recognized her.

But how? How could they know each other?

Then it hit me - the mask.

Vincent looked away from their eye contest first, the shine of his grillz radiating once he smiled at me.

“What do you have for me? Other than an oh-so-riveting friend.”

I brushed off his question about Y/N and swung my backpack off my shoulders. I unzipped it in front of him, exposing the numerous bottles of pills inside.

“Looks like quite a score,” Vincent chuckled, letting out a low whistle, “But I don't have enough money on me for all that.”

I tried to hide my disappointment, “Then what can I get you?”

“I brought the same amount as last time,” He gestured towards the bag, “Do you have any more Adderall? And maybe some zolpidem and diazepam?”

Don't worry, I'll be lost in echoes Be laughing on my own It's tragic, but it's the only life I know (Only life I know)

My breath caught in my throat as my eyes began to widen, and I stared at him.

“From whatever that name was- Y-N? Something?”

My body froze, immediately afraid to look in her direction. From my peripheral, I saw her remain perfectly still. Too still.

What should I do, what should I be? (I'm at a turning point right now) I'm so full of rage, too blind to see

“Uh- n-no.” I stammered, taking a step back as I avoided Y/N’s gaze,  “I have a few opioids.”

Vincent shrugged, smiling, “Ah sounds good.”

I looked at the bag as my hands began to shake.

“I’ll take those today for twenty-five hundred. But uh, bring the others next time. They sold great. I’ll offer thirty-five hundred,” Vincent said, reaching into the bag to assess some of the bottles.

I swallowed harshly as I nodded, “Yeah- I’ll get some of those.”

Vincent whipped out his testing kid, assessing each of the bags and bottles before pulling out the cash.

“Thanks for the transaction, Sebastian,” he said with a nod as he handed the bundle to me. He then turned to Y/N with a taunting smile and licked his lips before saying, "I'll see you at the beginning, friend."

Y/N nodded back at him before quickly turning away and heading towards the car.

As she walked away, I stole one last glance at Vincent who was watching curiously.

"Take care," I said in a conflicted tone before jogging after Y/N, who had disappeared from view in the alleyway.

She was already sitting in the car, her mask tossed onto the dashboard as she stared blankly at her lap.

I sat down in the driver's seat, too afraid to say anything when I saw how defeated she looked.

The words that escaped her lips sounded broken and strained. "I trusted you."

My heart pounding in agony as she fixated on her lap with disappointed eyes. I swallowed harshly, panicking. As my heart hammered the only question that left my mouth was Why.

I wanted to blame her as if it was her fault for trusting me. As if she’s the one who made me steal her drugs. Part of me wanted to grab her shoulders and shake some sense into her, my body fighting the urge to shame her for being so kind.

The more I fool myself The more I feel it creeping in I think I lost my mind again

“Why would you trust a criminal like me?”

As soon as the question left my lips I had sunk into the seat of the car, shame taking over. I was never meant to be the good guy.

The more I start to fall The more I don't see me at all I think I lost my mind again

Her eyes lowered, suddenly feeling small and unsure. "B-because?" She stuttered, "You're not a bad person, Noah."

But I am. It's my fault for taking advantage of her.

"Why did you do it?" She asked, still fixated on her hands.

"Why else?" My hands ran over my face in frustration, "I need the damn money. It's not like I do this for fun."

I keep seeing myself at the end of a yellow rose, consumed by guilt and regret. This feeling is unfamiliar to me, like a seed planted deep in my bones.

My soul turned its back on me as I burned bridges with my actions. Just another wasted human burdening this skin.

"I tried giving you other options - like the bar or a job at the cafe," she rambled, gesturing wildly as she explained.

"And I'm grateful," I reached out towards her arm, but she pulled away and pressed herself against the window defensively.

My hand fell back in shame, "but it's still not enough. It's hard to make money when it's just me doing these jobs."

"I understand that," she said, crossing her arms and hugging herself, "but I told you I would help."

And it pulls me further from the point that I belong And all you wanna do is take me, break me, hide me away Or you can shame me, blame me, burn me at the stake on a lie 'Cause my own mind wilts at the thought of being alive And that I'd like it if I tried

Whispering, she said, “You didn’t have to go behind my back. You could have just asked me.”

“I- the reason I did this specific robbery,” I explained, opening the glovebox in front of her to reveal the plastic bottles, “was to get your medications. That’s why I’ve been so distant.”

She looked at the orange bottles with a detached expression.

“I’ve been consumed by guilt ever since, barely able to even look at you,” my voice began to rise, “How messed up am I? To do something like that to you, knowing that those meds are supposed to help you?”

I shook my head in frustration and slammed the glovebox shut, causing Y/N to jump.

The more I fool myself The more I feel it creeping in I think I lost my mind again

“Y/N,” I whispered now, “I am so sorry I did this to you. I am so sorry I dragged you into this.”

The more I start to fall The more I don't see me at all I think I lost my mind again

Chapter 9

Tags: @crimson-calligraphyx @lma1986 @spicywhenspeaking @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken

@princessmarshmallowx @laurpartyprogram @cookiesupplier @nojoyontheburn @lacktoesandtoddlerant

@veronicaphoenix @er3nslovergirl @cncohshit @scrumptiousfestivalpost @melcchs

@flowery-mess @mentallynot-here @judging-from-afar @darkmxgician @badomensls

@hoe-for-daddywise @philomenie @xxkittenkissesxx @venturethroughtheveil @thefallennightmare

@blend-in-with-the-madness @reyadawn @deathblacksmoke @anameunmusical @sitkowski

@anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @rumoured-whispers @artificialbreezy

[angeart]

hhau vex arc part I bonus: mating marks, vexes, and not being enough

a small ramble [860 words] about that one time kane talked to grian about mating marks. this is early on, once grian is growing more comfortable in the vex commune, enough to tentatively spend time with others, but far from him feeling understood or accepted. back when kane still doesn’t understand a thing about avians. (he’s trying. in his own ways.) 

the topic of mating marks comes up because, well, grian has one! he has a bite from scar, and now thanks to nico and kane (and them having matching marks from each other), he understands what it really is. and once they learn he has one too— well. that shows that scar really means it with his little avian! he's serious about him! but... it bothers kane.

and he speaks up about it, mostly just baffled. he's not trying to be mean or anything!

he makes a thoughtless comment to grian—when scar isn't around—about how he wouldn't want to not have a mating mark if his partner had one. he just finds it weird! placing a lot of importance on that level of trust that lets you bite and be bitten.

he continues digging the hole underneath grian's feet by asking, "is it unrequited or something?" he doesn't understand it at all, and in his confusion, struggling with the idea itself, he tacks on: "i'd think my mate doesn't love me if he didn't want to mark me."

because that's how it works with vexes! the bite marks are mutual, and intimate, and they play into their instincts, both ways! kane considers them integral for a mated vex pair, and some other vexes around echo this sentiment.

scar has a feather earring from grian, which is an avian mating ritual, but it's one that doesn't translate to other vexes. they have no idea about things like that! it doesn't make sense to them!

so when grian stammers that he gave scar a feather, nobody takes it seriously. kane doesn't get the gravity of that action at all, and anyway, scar isn't an avian!

kane insists that a feather isn't going to cut it with a vex. he tries to encourage grian to just bite, his advice coming from a place of good intentions. he's seen scar and grian interact plenty by now—including that one time grian jumped in harm's way to defend scar—and he really wants this to work out for them! he's well-meaning!

but grian can't do that. (regardless of some memories we're not going to mention here <3) he doesn't have fangs to smoothly pierce skin and leave a mark like that; doesn't even have the drive, doesn't want to hurt scar in any way.

he stresses about it plenty, though. it worms its way inside his head and now he's Worried about being a failure and a bad partner! because— well, he will always fail scar in this regard, won't he? (that's a thought that terrifies him to no end.)

he can't give him a mating mark. he'll never satisfy that instinct.

scar is honestly perfectly happy with how things are; he treasures the feather immensely and understands what it means. but grian's mind still spirals about this, nitpicks and pokes and prods until it feels wretched and awful.

because sure, scar is happy enough with the feather, but isn't that just a compromise? his vex instincts are a separate thing, and this doesn't touch them at all. it doesn't satisfy them.

and scar's doing so much for grian and his avian instincts! he tries to get high places for them, and helps making nests. he's careful around his wings, and on a rare occasion, preens them with so much gentle care. he tries to coo back when grian makes bird noises, even if it's a bit silly and awkward. basically, he caters to grian's instincts at every step, and... scar needs vex things, doesn't he?

he needs vex things, and grian can't bridge that gap and provide.

no matter how many avian things scar gives him, grian can't give anything back.

grian doesn't really know how to articulate all this. he just gets very upset and stressed, thinking he's doing things wrong, and scar will always be left with some innate longing for more.

but, even though scar spent time learning more deeply about his vex side at the commune, these things were never something he's needed. he went his whole life not knowing anything about vexes. now he knows, and he still wants to be just scar, first and foremost.

of course grian and scar settle this, eventually. they have a broken mess of a talk, and then a couple more, just to really drive the point home. scar understands the avian mating ritual for what it is, the way grian understands what the bite mark on his neck is. and it's enough! they don't need anything more! scar can't exactly give grian a feather either, so what?

as long as the two of them know what they have and are happy with it, who cares what the others think?

there’s one point in particular that scar makes, when grian expresses worrying about not being enough for scar’s vex instincts. softly, he reminds him that he gave grian that mark long before he had any idea it was a vex ritual. 

it was a them thing first and foremost, before it was anything else.

(and he’d like a bruised ring from a hickey just as much as a bite. he’s a smitten fool.)

[cirqosmos]

Hiiiiii!

AHHHHH I'm so ready for all the &team requests to come through!

So my first request is for our beautiful boy K. Can I please request a one-shot kinda vibe where he tries to teach you one of their choreos (whatever your favourite one is) and you struggle a bit but he is so patient with you? Like he reassures you and shows you again. Just a fluffy ending where you are just crazy in love ♡

Thank youuuuuu!

THAT'S MY GIRL ! | KOGA YUDAI (K) &TEAM

warning : a little suggestive ig but it's all fluff lol

wc : 1.2k

author's note : i srsly dunno what to name this oneshot but bc of my 'desperation' to name each oneshot for aesthetic purposes for the masterlist, so yea 🗿

A series of panting left your mouth as you tried to execute the dance part in Firework’s chorus, which was apparently Kei’s part and the choreo he contributed for it. Well, it’s safe to say that the jumping part itself was the hardest to execute as every time you tried to do it, your feet proceeded to betray you by pointing in the other way. Mind you, you haven’t even learn past the jumping part despite flawlessly learning the intro’s choreo.

It feels as if your earlier petty arrogance got in the back of your head, and causing you to eat your own words eventually.

A breath of giggle echoes right through your ear, one that drips in honey, one that you’re very well familiar of. “You can do it, babe.”

“Seriously, how did you even came up with this choreo?” gripping your knees as you panted hard, your heart skipped a thousand thumps against your ribs in a millisecond—threatening to fly out at any moment.

Kei hummed in response, his eyes darting around the space as he leaned against the large mirror. “Just something I think would fit the chorus a lot, plus it screams desperation so I thought why not.”

“Yeah right, so much desperation that I couldn’t even execute this damn jump.”

“I just showed you the execution about maybe.. A thousand times?” His doe eyes pierce right through your soul, holding traces of playfulness.

“Shut up.”

Another audible giggle squeezes it way out of his mouth, a slight smirk with traces of grin adorned his plump lips. “C’mon babe, don’t you think you can do better than this? I’m rooting for you.”

“Stop teasing me.”

“Teasing you is my daily pleasure.”

You scoffed in return, turning your head in the other side with your arms crossed. Your little action itself had Kei shaking his head in amusement, approaching you ever so fast despite the small amount of steps he took, something that you very well know obviously rooted from his humongous height. Damn dude, just what did his parents fed him?

His large palms flattened above your head, ruffling your hair in tender motion as he lowers his head to compensate for his height. “Look at me, love.” You pouted with another inner scoff, audible enough for him to hear. To your surprise, something poke against your cheek and you realise it was his index finger paired with his adorable features contorting in his familiar mischievousness. “Dinner, later. Your reward, if you can get past the choreo I made. Sounds good?”

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion with your mouth protruding in a slight pout, “You sure?”

“Did I ever lie, though?”

“Last time you did, with that goddamn Yuma. Stealing my candy bars.”

“You’ve been eating way too much, that’s for your own good—” you tried to protest but he interrupted you quickly by leaning even closer to your face, his lips pulling up in a growing smirk. “Just listen to me, I’ve never failed to reward you anyways.”

That alone had your ears heating up, his choices of words held a thousand meanings in it yet his expression confirms which exactly he meant. Yet you held the need to question him or whatnot, pulling away in attempts to soothe your rampant heart. “Alright, alright.”

You mentally slap yourself in your imaginary space, that even though you’ve dated Kei for at least six months—his choices of words, the way his doe eyes softened at your appearance, his hands touching you in utmost tender way as if you were such a fragile thing paired with his ungodly vibes—still wreck your mind in numerous ways possible, just like when your eyes first laid on him back then.

“Let’s try again, I’ll show you one more time.” Kei pulls up a supportive grin despite his earlier mischievousness, opting to press the play button for the speaker, in which the nerve-wracking song you’ve heard a thousand times today bled out and consumed the entire dance room in it’s booming retro synth pop.

The impact of his foot landing on the dance floor paired with his fast execution had your mind boggled despite already seeing it for numerous times from the music shows, live performance, and dance practices. The way he pushed himself up with extra detail with those miniscule movements hidden in the edges of his form had you admiring just how dedicated he was in perfecting his craft. It had the deception of zero to no difficulty yet when you perform it yourself, it dawned on you and made you wonder just how many times did Kei practise this in order to show to his teammates and the choreographer.

Such little things had your heartstrings pulled even closer and tighter around his hands.

“Did you got it? You just have to push your foot and spring upwards, like running you know but in the air—” Kei repeated each miniscule section of the choreo in the best way possible, as slow as he can for you to understand. Despite his playfulness and jokes, he never actually pick on your dancing skills nor complain about how many times it had take for you, as if he was truly attentive in what to say and what not to say.

With full-blown determination paired with your fists tightening, the speaker returned back to a few seconds in the song before proceeding with the booming chorus.

“One, two, three—” your feet slided down the floor resulting in a squeak of your rubber shoes as you executed the jump, the vocals of Kei soon followed after Nicholas’ which had your heart churning of what if’s yet you pushed through, ending it with by brushing your hand against your neck and raising it up in the air.

A series of claps emitted after the chorus, turning it down a few volumes down for you to realise it was from Kei who was leaning against the wall with a proud smile on his lips, and his pretty eyes curling in crescents—his dark grey orbs exudes satisfaction and yet infatuation—all for you. “Now that’s my girl.”

‘My girl.’ that particular sentence rang in your mind akin to a church’s booming bell, one that resembles a silent vow engrained in the words—that you are his girl, his one and only. An emergency light rang inside you as a grin threatens to squeezes it was out of your lips, but eventually you gave it up, crossing your arms. “Of course, I do. Now where’s my reward?”

Your eyes softened as it lingered on the way his tender black strands bouncing on top of his fluttering eyelashes, the ever so proud grin never ceases to exists in the corners of his lips as the audible sound of his shoes approached you. Halting his steps after enclosing the distance between the two of you showcases his towering height in a stark contrast of yours, you look up to him with a sentence repeating in a traces of disbelief—the fact that this man was all yours had you melting like a butter at this point.

“Your reward,” His palms met the side of your cheeks, caressing it in a way that had you closing your eyes in order to sense it in your swelling heart. “Can wait later, what if I teach you another choreo?”

Your breath hitched down your throat and your mind immediately processed the information with a manifestation down the veins of your hands, launching midway in the air as you slammed it down his chest—causing him to yelp in slight pain.

“I’m done, look at me, I’m all drenched.” You scoffed, “Learn it by yourself, Koga Yudai! I want my food!”

Kei shakes his head in amusement, following after you by swinging his arms around your shoulder. “Alright, alright. Food is it, gonna treat you so well then.”

「 © talesofyuan on tumblr 2023 」 all rights reserved. do not copy or post without permission.

[bcbdrums]

[sorry not sorry]

The cool of the lair was welcome against Drakken's sweat-dampened skin as he and Shego walked through the cave in near-darkness. He could have turned the lights up, but his exhaustion demanded only that he fall into bed as swiftly as possible, if his sore limbs could even bring him that far; seeing his way there was a secondary concern.

"I get the shower," Shego said unnecessarily as they approached their room, a sharp edge to her tone borne of the frustration of their defeat coupled with just how tired they were. Having Possible blow up the hover-car with their own laser had been humiliating, but running from the teen and the cops for miles had been the sour cherry on top of the sticky, melted sundae of their failed plot.

Drakken gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgement as they approached the doors, and his muscles ached as he quickened his pace, the promise of soft oblivion motivating him. But then as he reached the automatic doors...they didn't open.

"Dr. D., what gives?" Shego asked, pushing her frizzed hair back before setting her hands on her hips.

Drakken was already reaching for the keypad to input the code to unlock the door, scowling at the delay. It should have opened at their presence, but he was too eager for bed to consider that he hadn't in fact locked the door when they left that day.

The door didn't respond to the code.

"Could you hurry up already?" Shego said.

"It's...broken," Drakken said, feeling his every nerve ending tingle with the desperation to lie down.

"How is it broken? Move," Shego said, shouldering Drakken aside to try the code herself.

When two tries from her yielded nothing, Drakken started looking the door up and down as if it were an enemy he was sizing up.

"Did you change the code?"

"No, why would I—"

"Wait. Dr. D.... Did you hear something?"

Drakken had paused, leaned against the door in his exhaustion as Shego started in, but now he turned and pressed his ear against the cold metal as Shego's brow furrowed.

His eyes widened. There was sound within their bedroom. He closed his eyes tightly and focused, trying to bring the rise and fall of different pitches into something recognizable.

And then, his eyes popped open as it did.

"Onh, seriously Ames... You're a better ride than my Harley."

"Call me...DNAmy... Eddie-Bear."

Drakken felt the heat of Shego's glow before he heard it crackle, and turned to see her face changing color as a combination of fury and disbelief overtook her features as rapidly as he knew disgust was claiming his.

"Is that...your cousin...and that geneticist...!?"

"In...our bed," Drakken finished in a whisper, his mouth having gone dry.

He couldn't begin to form another thought as combined shouts of ecstasy, one piercing in pitch and the other guttural and triumphant sounded from within their bedroom.

Shego's hands flared. Drakken whirled and pounded his fist against the door.

"Eddie!" he shouted. "What are you doing in my lair!?"

"Sheesh, 'Cous, at least give us some time in the afterglow, seriously."

"Eddie!"

Silence was the reply, except for muttered soft cooings that made Drakken's hair stand on end. He opened his mouth to tell Shego to break the door down, but then thought better of it. He wanted to see his cousin in bed with DNAmy even less than he'd wanted to hear them.

"Ugh, forget it Dr. D. Let's...just go to my room."

The call to rest was more tempting in the moment than dealing with his cousin, and so Drakken acquiesced, took her hand after the glow diminished to follow her down the hall. But before they were out of earshot, one final blow left Drakken in doubt of getting any peace that evening:

"Oh, and 'Cous? You might want to have Green burn these sheets later. This was only round three and I've still got plenty of gas to fuel my babe, seriously!"

---------

[all this because @legendary-guest said Eddie won't do it in Amy's frilly pink bed, and she won't do it in his race car bed (with actual race car), so they compromised on...Drakgo's bed. nicknames Ames and Eddie-Bear belong to Legendary, haha. this one's for you, friend!]

[melkyt]

When you're so deep into hyperfixation, you want to make spin-offs from your own fic xd

I might post like little tidbits of fluff on ao3 for my reincarnation au

Like Law getting his first halloween costume with Lami and Cora, you know they are going to match and go all out and drag Law along into it

Law starting school and being really nervous at the idea of being around new people and teachers. He gets into a few fights. The first time Cora gets called into the office to bring him home, he tries to smile and be polite but scares the teachers when he first enters, tall and brooding in a dark coat that hide his colorful outfit underneath xd

Doflamingo being in a seperate school because he is not allowed near Law on the daily, this does not stop him to go bug the kid. Somehow the two of them end up burning part of the school down during their back and forth bickering. Which is why Cora was called into the office in the first place. He is struggling trying to parent his older brother turned teen xd.

Shanks teaching Law how to drive as nobody else in the compound either A: can drive or B: Wants to teach him, C: He would drop dead before he asks them (ie Doflamingo). Cora is in the back seat giving the most unhelpful advice and they end up driving into a ditch, and Law gets the fuck out to go 'cry' in frustration of failing.

He just wants to be useful when Luffy wakes up so they dont have to keep leaning on the adults. Robin is the one who ends up teaching him.

Lami's first birthday since she came back, the biggest party on the block. Law seeing her smile, really smile for the first time and getting emotional that she is here.

Law's first piercing. He sneaks out with some money he and Ace saved up to go to this place Yamato shared with them. Their guardians would let them get a piercings & tattoo's but they dont think that. This is two teens rebelling! He laughs and teases Ace about being a baby about picking a tiny tattoo. Ace never to back down from a challenge is like "Oh yeah!?"

They bicker about it but end up just getting their ears pierced. They are both a little scared about getting a tattoo at all, and the srtist doesnt let them as that needs a parents permission. Tells them to comeback when they are older.

Law gets his first tattoo when Luffy wakes up again. Just to mark it that he came back at all.

All the kids that are over seven missed most of their coming of age ceremonies & birthdays, so Shanks' crew sets up a festival just to do it for all of them in a week long celebration. Law and Lami buying their first kimono/yukata and getting all dressed up and celebrated

(The adults doing everything to give the kids a childhood and distract them from everything going on, just little slice of life situation between the main fic drama *tasty* xd)

[daetko]

mutual headcanons . . .

talia note ; you guys … i wrote this at 4am so this is 100% half yapping but my mutuals on twt did this for me and i was like. omg . tumblr oomfs ur next. also math is kicking my ass so im bringing up multiplication hcs for everyone

@miyamoratsumuu — top of the class & class pres/have some major rule in school. you probably have a really cute smile like the one where ur lips don’t shut fully there’s like space that shows ur teeth a lil & i hc u have chest length hair too ,, you REALLY love youtube video essays probably, lego enjoyer & u 101% like/d kpop, i can see u liking nct and cravity so vividly,,, you also carry chapstick around with you everywhere though you don’t need it but u always end up finishing it somerhow. you’re OKAY at multiplication like you’re not the best but 100% not the worst. Biochem have to be ur favorite subjects (after art) i refuse to believe otherwise. u LOVE white shirts, u dress so nice and have those shirts w the little girl drawings on them, u also are somehow SOMEHOW the type of kid to fake cough infront of a smoking stranger to make them feel bad. squint & you’ll see the vision i’m implying n you 100% have perspective glasses ur supposed to wear but u never wear them, & lastly you have a tiktok account with you lip syncing

@rueclfer — ouhhhh rue i hc ur such a smartass at school like no one expects it but u get SUCH GREAT grades holy shit also ur a SMOKER. Oomf smokes (possibly weed and very rarely cigs) smoker. or u own atleast two dispos trust i know. also you really liked the tooth fairy as a kid and somehow she disappointed you and that’s where ur villain arc started . Atleast 3 dead pet fishes. u also really like zootopia. also probably tried getting into kpop at some point and failed miserably… you are willing to defend cheese sandwiches with your life too. human multiplication machine somehow, or really bad at it. you owe atleast 2 pairs of jorts & those baggy brown/black colored overly comfy oversized jackets that have these little doodles / stars on them & wire headphones, atleast 2 ear piercings and a septum , your screen time is 50% pinterest or twittwe

@loveriotss — lighting mcqueen defender ( i think u probably wanted the car bed / had it at some point) & car enjoyer … you’d love f1 . you watch sam and colby religiously (same) and u LOVEEEE old katy perry songs. u had a marshmallow / selena gomez phase in middle school & you used to have braces in elementary/middle school. you’re either ginger or a really light brown haired person, if u say black or dark brown i will actually be surprised. your aura color is 100% green with a hint of purple (i don’t know much about this but u just give that vibe) you play sims 4 too and really REALLY enjoy lasagna & multiplication (though you’re not the best at it). you’re also like REALLY scared of sneaking your phone in to school (let’s say it’s not allowed) and you were brave enough to do that for once and boom it’s like a cr4ck addiction you can’t stop bringing it to school w u until one day u get caught and they call your mum to school ,,, also u either violate the dress code or dress modestly no inbetween— and did i mention u have SO MANY racer jackets holy shit even if it’s those basic bershka ones

@poetlus / @lunatiqez — mina ashido and bokuto kotaro if they had a fusion of both of their personalities. oomf you LOVE LOOOVEE dresses so much like i wouldn’t be surprised if that’s half ur closet & u also have a bookshelf in your room probably with so many books you haven’t touched since u bought. probably got a scooter for christmas at some point. one of your many pillows on your bed probably has a floral print & your room is BIG LIKE HUGE there’s so much space left despite your huge ass closet. u probably own merch of stuff you USED to like and don’t anymore ,, you also enjoy ramen from restaurants like no tomorrow & you stick ur tongue out at every minor inconvenience (twin ). you also cannot do multiplication, you really hate math but you like to write in the notebook. you’re BLONDE. that’s BLONDE OOMF. or atleast light brunette. you’re like 5”4 too shit maybe 5”3 aswell.. you also LOVE raves and parties & u can fuck up cake like a n expert especially vanilla & red velvet cake . Rip liv you would’ve loved dress to impress

@sepptember — ok so first of all you LOVE shrimp. and i mean LOVE LOVE and you’re okay w other seafood. u also like to add thinly sliced carrot to ramen which is actually goated btw and you’d k1ll someone if a bowl of katsu curry was on the line,, your fav subject is PROBABLY science ,, perhaps geology? maybe? i feel like you have too many stuffed animals and you probably collect those glass drinks lids too, you had a monster energy drink phase & kinned hitoka yachi at some point. you update your letterboxed multiple times a week & you do NOT play about true crime podcasts. bro, please, im begging you to get out your room and see your family. also i think u have a rlly nice room … like it’s either rlly acubi-ish or brown green & some dark colors and veins hanging from the ceiling, both ways aesthetically pleasing to look at !!!! multiplication goat btw

ib this tweet

[headfullof-ideas]

All right, i decided on a whim to share a rough reference i use in my head of what teenage Ant looks like. Depending on what story or AU I’m writing a teenage Ant for, his appearance changes, but for this one we’ll say it’s my ‘canon’ version of him. Rather, the teenage Ant I have in my head following my internal interpretation of the canon timeline as it takes forever for new seasons to come out, but that I make sure to update as we get new seasons. Also involving a lot of my headcanons for him, most of which explain certain things about either his appearance or mental health, cause our boy is TRAUMATIZED.

Ant is about sixteen to seventeen here, the typical age for teenage main heroes. Except he has already been through being the main hero and is a little sick of it. Or maybe a lot sick of it. A few years prior to where he is in the drawing, the prophecy ends. After defeating the Monumentials and saving the earth from what would have been a devastating rampage, Ant tried to pretend that everything was okay and normal for a while. You know, blocking all of his trauma and acting like nothing’s wrong as is the norm from teenage protagonists. After a while though, Ant realizes that his lifestyle was never really normal to begin with. Ant has a bit of a metal breakdown, not on par with the one Alpheus had or anything, but he has a meltdown when trying to go back to his normal life fails and he realizes he wants a break from everything. From all the families missions and all the adrenaline they experience on a weekly basis and all the danger he hasn’t realized he’s experienced for a majority of his childhood. Fontaine feels guilty for being so proud of her little brother wanting to do normal, not-submarine things, and so Ant starts his own little journey of doing things beyond the titanium hull of the Aronnax.

Now that I’ve gotten the mini bio, or whatever that was, done, time for the headcanons!

- Ant joined his sister in begging their parents to let them try land school, and ultimately Kaiko and Will caved, due to everything the family had just been through. Fontaine went straight to high school while Ant did a year of middle school due to age before moving to high school, with both kids using Kaiko’s maiden name at Ants request. This was because while Ant didn’t hate being a Nekton and was proud of his name, he didn’t want to attract any sort of attention at all. Fontaine wasn’t immediately thrilled by it, but didn’t complain either.

- Ant ended up growing his hair out a bit, and started wearing a beanie as well. He’d alternate how he wore his hair, sometimes keeping it back but usually having it in a sort of half-up half-down style. Mostly because he didn’t want to try to hard with his appearance, and wanted to try something a little different to what he used to wear all the time. (I usually draw adult Ant with longer hair too)

- Ant got his ears pierced when he was fifteen, deciding on a whim that he wanted to. Fontaine was the one who ultimately took him, leaping at the opportunity. He still wears his communicator all the time, but Fontaine convinced him to try a few other bracelets as well.

- After Ants meltdown, he decided to try and separate himself from most of his childhood as much as possible. Not necessarily in a negative way, but more in a manner of trying to find stuff outside of submarine life. Ant felt he didn’t have too many hobbies outside of anything that came in handy with working and living on a submarine, and so started trying out all sorts of activities to find other things he liked to do. This was another thing Fontaine was eager to jump on board with. He still goes out in the Shadow Knight, and he still loves swimming and working on the Aronnax with Kaiko, but he doesn’t spend nearly as much time doing these things as he did when he was younger.

- Another aspect about Ant trying to branch away from submarine life is his clothing. He didn’t wear casual clothes too much as a kid, almost always wearing a wetsuit. As an older teenager, Ant doesn’t wear his wetsuit too much anymore. He has one, and he does use it, but not nearly as often as a kid. He tries to focus on finding a style he likes, which Fontaine is also ecstatic about. Doesn’t always agree with what he picks out, but she’s super excited nonetheless

-As Ant gets older, he starts to develop some more of Kaiko’s features. Ant always felt, to me, like someone where you knew he was Kaiko and Wills kid, but you never saw any similarities until you put him right in between his parents. As Ant gets older though, he starts to lose baby fat and looks a little more discernibly like his parents, especially Kaiko whom he subtly looks more like in regard to facial structure. (Fontaine is, like, a perfect blend of her parents in my opinion. Ant somehow looks exactly like and nothing like either of his parents in the show)

- Ant starts to develop a bit of muscle as a teenager. He’s not Will, and never does get that muscular, but he’s a teenage boy and that sort of thing just tends to happen to teenage boys. He’s still fairly active as well, which helps. His hair also gets a bit thicker because of puberty, and a tiny bit wavy. Not enough to be actually noticeably though, at least until it gets humid out.

- Ant didn’t grow too much between the ages of twelve and fourteen, but then started shooting straight up at fifteen. Will jokes that it’s all the growth spurts he missed in his early teenage years hitting him all at once. This however leads to Ants usual perfect balance due to life on sea being royally screwed up as his center of balance continues to change makes him abnormally clumsy over the next few years until he stops growing so fast at eighteen/nineteen. Being so clumsy leads to a few accidents, like the one that gave him a scar in his eyebrow. Ant usually doesn’t tell people how he got the scar, cause it’s embarrassing to him after spending so long on the ocean. During a summer between school years, the Nektons were on the Aronnax, and Kaiko just gently tipped the Aronnax into a dive. Nothing Ant shouldn’t have been unable to adjust to with ease. Instead, he slid on the floor, lost his balance, and went tumbling down the hall and crashing into a random room with an unfortunate door open where he wound up twisting his ankle, breaking his nose, and cutting his eyebrow deep enough to scar.

- In line with the prior note, Ant has some scars from all the adventures his family has been on. Fontaine does as well, and these only drive home how desperately they want to experience some sort of normalcy, despite still loving their life on the Aronnax.

- Ants clothing style tends to reflect his mental state; how well he’s doing, if anything’s bothering him, that sort of thing.

I’m sure i have plenty other headcanons, but my brain’s struggling to focus on anything new, so here ya go.