#if she also were not so breakable about it going wrong

[milfbrainrot]

the wilds would've been better if gretchen were like. smarter or somehow less ethical. the only way the show would still happen if she were smarter is if she were also less ethical. but also how do you get less ethical than dropping a bunch of kids on deserted islands and making them think their planes crashed to study them like bugs.

[bamboozledbird]

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU (Reader's Version) // Prev. / Chapter 3 / Next

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, omc, ofc Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 6.2k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, parental death (rip to your fake mom), depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. Four years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because most days you feel like a shadow, some horrifically sad creature caught halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter. 

You can’t scrub the bitter smell of hospital from your memories, not even with denial. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Scott’s new-found abilities and the murky world they’ve been dragged into is making it pretty damn hard to keep his promise. 

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real and old family skeletons rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive? 

Maybe, the real question is: How long will they want to? Chapter Summary: More information about the animal attack comes to light. You can’t decide if you're more scared of the monster or becoming friends with someone new. 

A/N: You can also check me out on ao3 (dork_knight) for the full lore version!

You were surprised to see your dad’s car in the garage. He wasn’t supposed to be off work for hours, and he certainly never came home early on weekdays. You would be more nervous if there was anyone left in your life to grieve. It was just the two of you now. Your mom hadn’t ever talked about her family; you weren't even sure if she ever had one, and Grandma and Papa Dickinson died before you even had the chance to remember them. You wished, sometimes, that there was someone else in the house. Someone who could fill the cold silence and closed doors. Someone who might chase away the ghosts lingering in the long halls and photographs on the walls. It was a futile dream. You were going to die in this house, and someday a new family would chase your family’s shadows away with laughter.

You felt a bittersweet sense of déjà vu when you walked into the house and saw your dad sitting at the kitchen table. The kitchen was his spot before everything went wrong. He puttered around the island in the mornings with his thermos of coffee and tablet, somehow knowing exactly when to flip the bubbling pancakes on the griddle without glancing up from whatever NPR article he was reading. He only looked up from the screen to kiss your mom on the cheek and give you a side-squeeze until you whined about your inability to breathe. 

That was a long time ago, you reminded yourself as your dad looked up from his iPad. It’d been four years, but he still hadn’t quite figured out how to hug you and the kitchen never smelled like pancakes and cinnamon syrup anymore. “How was school?” your dad finally said after a long moment of uneasy eye-contact. 

Your brow wrinkled, and your head canted slightly, “You really want to talk about my day?”

“Of course,” your dad paused and rubbed his hands over his face, “but there is something important I wanted to talk to you about.” His stubble had grown out enough that you could see where the brown was starting to gray. He looked so old for a moment, and you weren't quite sure how to feel. You never did around him. 

Frowning, you sat down in the chair across from him, “Did someone die?”

“No,” your dad quickly replied, and then he sighed, “well, yes.” He set his iPad to the side and took his thick reading glasses off, “You know about the animal attacks.” It wasn’t a question. You figured that was how this would go; it was easier to pretend you didn’t exist if he monologued to the spot on the wall just over your shoulder. “Sheriff Stilinski and I agree that a curfew is the best course of action, considering the situation we’re in.”

Best course of action. You chewed on what was left of your nails and resisted the sigh budding in your chest. So, this was a council meeting too. You just didn’t get a vote. “Okay.” 

“Okay.” Your dad blinked a few times and rubbed at his jaw, like he’d been expecting you to fight him on it. Most of the fight fizzled out in you a long time ago; it was just easier to pretend. You got that from him, you thought. You inherited your dad’s love for mystery novels and his ability to deny reality straight to its face, and that was where the similarity ended. Your face, your skin, your heart—your exhausting curiosity—that was all your mom. It must be why your dad couldn’t keep his gaze on you for long. He ran his fingers through his short crop of dark hair and said, “Anyone under the age of 18 needs to be home by 9:00 every night.” 

“Fine.” It wasn’t like you had much of a social life anyway, and the curio shop you worked for closed long before dark. “So,” you fiddled with the edge of a decorative bamboo placemat that hadn’t seen a plate in years, “do the police have any idea what kind of animal’s going all Pac-Man on people?”

Your dad stared at you for a moment, a deep divot developing above the crooked bridge of his nose. You looked down at your hands and mumbled, “The vampire Pomeranian, not the wimpyass circle.”

His mouth tugged a little, and you would’ve sworn he was fighting a smile if everything else in the world didn’t directly contradict the theory. “Not exactly.”

“Which means…” you shook your head a little and tugged your fingers through your unruly hair, grimacing a bit as they snagged on a few knots where your hair had frizzed together, “they’ve ruled out tiny bloodsucking dogs, or they’ve narrowed it down to a few probable options?” 

He paused for a long moment, and you pulled your shins to your chest, focusing on the tips of your sneakers hanging off the edge of the wooden seat. You turned your cheek into your kneecaps and waited for your dad to make an excuse and leave. You’d pushed. You always had to push. 

“There were wolf fibers on the girl.”

You whipped your head up from your knees, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. You were a little embarrassed that you were more stunned by your dad sharing confidential information with you than a wolf migrating to central California for the first time in over a hundred years. “And the bus driver?”

“He’s still…unresponsive. Stilinski is looking into the possibility that he was attacked by the same animal.” 

“Huh,” you said quietly, eyes glazing over as you considered the possibility.

“Regardless, you need to be home before dark until they catch the damn thing,” he leaned back against his chair, tipping his head back with his bottle of Miller High life. The golden liquid sloshed back and forth with the strength of his swallow. It was the first time you’d seen him drink since the funeral, but you knew about the empty bottles he threw away in the trash outside. Over the years, the number varied; you noticed a significant increase around anniversaries, birthdays, and Christmas. You left extra take-out in the fridge during those weeks, always his favorites, and they were gone in the morning. You twisted the pendant on your necklace and made a note to order Little India’s tandoori chicken after your shift.

“I have to work tonight.” You said quietly, nibbling the bed of your thumbnail, “I’m off at 8:00.” 

You both dreaded and longed for your boss’s absurd take on the situation—though boss wasn’t quite the right word for Maggie Sinclair. Despite the fact that she owned Curio Killed the Cat and approved your paychecks, Maggie was the least authoritative person you knew. You’d say Mags was like an older sister, but older sisters generally didn’t require so much supervision around open flames and sangria—and anything else sparkling enough to distract her sporadic focus. Your mom used to look out for her before she died; you supposed Maggie was just another thing you inherited from her. Your favorite thing probably, but that was something you’d most likely take to your grave.

Your dad’s face went blank for a moment, as it always did when he was reminded of anything remotely related to your mom. It was easier for him, you thought, to pretend that she never existed. You couldn’t even be bitter about it; you hadn’t even cried at the funeral. You cried much later, of course, but by then the pity well had run dry. Nobody cared how you coped, so long as you coped quickly. You’d wasted those precious first few months of constant consolations with numbness, with monotonous, 'Thank you,’s and, 'It’s sad, but I’m okay,'s and then, eventually, everyone stopped asking if you were okay. Time passed. You didn’t touch any of the casseroles in the fridge. People moved on. You lived in the wake and pushed people away with an acrid bite that would disappoint the resurrection right out of your mother. Your dad was just coping. You both were. 

“Right,” he cleared his throat, “come straight home after.”

You shouldered your backpack and stood up, “Always do.”

You still didn’t know how Maggie met your mom, given the 15-year age gap and their vastly different…everything, but Maggie had been in your life for as long as you could remember. You spent so much time in Maggie’s store after your mom died that you figured you might as well get paid for shelving spell books and grimoires while you were there—even if you did think that most of Maggie’s customers were totally off their rocker. Of course, in-person customers were a rare oddity in Curio Killed the Cat.

The store was always slow on weekdays, weekends too actually. Most of Maggie’s business was online; she shipped ‘haunted’ and ‘magical’ artifacts all across the globe to e-goths with bad backs and Wicca wannabes. Truthfully, Maggie didn’t really need your help running the storefront, but she claimed she enjoyed the company—even if said company was bitterly sarcastic and hypercritical of the product she was stocking. 

“Hey, Mags,” you called. The bell on the front door tinkled in the background as you shoved it open with your shoulder. You paused to scratch under Maggie’s ancient tabby’s chin until he let out a sawing purr. You weren't exactly sure how old Gizmo was, but he behaved more like the taxidermied animals on the walls than the stray cats that lived in the small alley behind the store. 

“Maggie’s head popped up from the circle of book-stack pillars surrounding her. A few of her black curls frizzed out from her bun like a chaotic springy bow and her sweater swallowed her whole despite the relatively warm evening. “Babe,” Maggie placed her hands on your shoulders and grinned at you with a little too much teeth, “thorn in my side, light of my life.”

You lifted the large pair of acrylic glasses from Maggie’s nest of curls and then slipped them over her rounded nose with a reluctant sigh, “What?”

“Glasses. That was next on the agenda.” Maggie blinked owlishly behind her lenses as her eyes adjusted, and then they lit up with whatever it was she’d miraculously remembered, “I am so delighted to see you.”

“It’s Monday.” Gizmo curled around your leg and meowed pathetically until you bent down and lifted him onto you shoulder, “I work Mondays.”

Maggie rolled her eyes, “I’m aware; I made the schedule. The Concerta isn’t completely defective.”

You grinned a little, and Gizmo kneaded your chest in agreement, “So: You’re delighted to see me.”

Nodding rapidly, Maggie picked up a lavishly bound book from one of the stacks of new inventory. It was so tall that it reached her chin, and there were four more just like it in the back. “I need these stocked for realsies,” Maggie said, blowing off the thin layer of dust that had started to gather on the cover. She dropped the book back on top of the pile with a loud thump and carefully avoided knocking anything over on her way to the front of the store, “And I’m currently in the middle of a bidding war.”

“Haunted or historical?” you grabbed the clunky price gun off of the tarot card display.

“A little of both actually,” Maggie hummed, fiercely focused on the computer screen. Her nose was almost smashed against the monitor.

You set Gizmo down on the floor, patting his head tenderly when he let out a disgruntled whine and clawed at your thin knee socks. Eventually, the effort became too much for his poor paws to bear, and he waddled off towards one of his many nesting spots. “For you or for the store?” you pulled the stepladder away from the wall of stone runes and protection charms and plopped yourself down on the top step.

“For you, actually,” Maggie grinned a little and winked, “don’t say I never gave ya’ nothing.”

“Wonderful,” you dropped your chin into your cupped hands, “a poltergeist bonus.”

Maggie huffed and shoved the sleeves of her hand-knitted cardigan up to her elbows, “It’s not actually haunted. Not really. It’s like…a spirit router, basically. Whatever. It’ll make me feel better about you walking around with a rabid Cujo on the loose.”

“Aw,” you smirked good-naturedly and slapped a price tag on a book entitled ‘Heal the Witch Wound Inside’—$35.99, and for what? You were too amused to point out the redundancy of rabid Cujo. “You got me a guardian angel.”

“Trying to,” Maggie corrected her under her breath, “but MagikMike9917 is a persistent little bitch.”

You laughed and slid ‘Witch Wound’ into the self-help section, “Just get me a mini-taser; they come in some real cute cases now.”

“Mhm.” Maggie briefly glanced over in your direction and then abruptly whirled her head back towards the thick book in your hands, “Not that one.”

You narrowed your gaze as you examined the cover of the book more closely. You had to admit, it was beautiful. The leather was a deep burgundy, and the spine was hand stitched together with gold thread—but it was the carving on the front that really caught your attention. There were two wolves etched into the leather. Their howling snouts pointed towards the full moon above their heads, and their tails entwined around the roots of a large tree sprouting into the sky. Ornate symbols framed the borders of the scene, and a few scattered jewels glinted in the light. It must have taken at least a week to finish. 

You held up the book, your brow curved into a high arch, “This for me too? ‘Cause I’ve already seen The Witcher; pretty sure I got the gist.”

Rolling her eyes, Maggie reached blindly for her soup mug of passionflower and mugwort tea. The smell of it was truly rank, but you had grown accustomed to the musky bitterness over the years. “That one’s already sold. They should be dropping by to pick it up anytime now.” She raised her cup towards you, “I told you bestiaries are essential reading.”

“For dungeon masters, maybe,” you hummed as you studied the cover again. The red and citrine jewels in the wolves’ eyes seemed to be winking at you when the light hit them at the just right angle. 

“Which is an essential contribution to society,” Maggie punctuated her sentence with a loud slurp. 

Your lips gave way to a small grin as you set the book to the side. You’d stocked around half the stacks of books when the front door chimed for the first time since your shift started. You looked towards the door and squinted at the increasingly familiar smattering of freckles and moles, “Are you stalking me now? I will tell your dad; I’m not above snitching or stitches.” 

Stiles blinked a few times and then shook his head, holding up his hands, “I swear on my jeep this time it’s a coincidence. I ordered something here like a week ago.”

You folded your arms over your chest, “And your jeep is sacred, is it?”

Stiles nodded solemnly and rested his hand over his chest, “The sacredest.” 

If the muttered cursing and aggressive sipping was anything to go by, Maggie was too busy with her eBay war to be of any help with inventory. Stocking would have to wait. You stood up and glanced over Stiles’s shoulder, “Where’s your sidekick?”

Stiles squeezed one eye almost completely shut and looked off into the void with the other until realization dawned over his face, “You mean Scott?” He snorted and shot you a grin that was loaded with self-pity, “I’m usually the sidekick reference. Always, actually.” 

You nodded and looked down, searching for the culprit of the little head butting into your shin. Gizmo was probably the most ineffective, geriatric guard dog in the entire animal kingdom, but you appreciated the effort. You scooped him up into your arms so that he could better inspect the strange boy who’d invaded his den and nuzzled your nose against the black stripe on top of his head. “They do tend to never shut up.” 

Stiles looked like he wanted to argue—a frequent expression of you were beginning to realize—and then his shoulders slumped in defeat, “Holy shit, I’ve been type-casted.”

“You could do an arthouse film,” you tilted your head, “show people you’ve got range.”

Stiles nodded, considering the idea, “My charming wit and boyish good looks are really holding me back.” He stooped down to scratch behind Gizmo’s ears. Gizmo bristled for a moment, eyeing his hand suspiciously, but he eventually flopped back in your arms after a few curious sniffs. “No one takes me seriously.”

“Uh huh.” You watched Stiles pet Gizmo and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, trying to remember the last man Gizmo hadn’t bit. You couldn’t recall a single one. Warmth enveloped your face when Stiles looked up and met your gaze. He didn’t appear to think much of it, just turned his eyes towards the ground and stroked Gizmo’s little gray toes. 

You set Giz down, despite his pathetic protests, and turned towards the stockpile of inventory, fighting the urge to bite your nails to the quick, “So, what’d you order, boy wonder?” You looked over your shoulder when Stiles didn’t answer. He was smiling a little, mostly to himself, with his hands shoved in his pockets. Your brows quirked, “What?”

“Nothing.” He groaned a little when you kept looking at him, your brows still cocked, and then shrugged with his hands still fisted in his jacket pockets, “It’s just not so bad, the sidekick thing. It’s not so pathetic when you say it like that.”

You swallowed, a little startled by his honesty even though you were the one who’d insisted upon it. “Order?”

“Right,” he nodded a few times and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s a thickass book, wolves on the front, about yea big,” Stiles held his palms almost six inches apart from each other. “Please don’t make me say the name; I’m pretty sure it’s Latin.”

You grabbed the bestiary you’d set aside earlier and looked at the cover again; there was a small inscription just below the tree roots. “It’s Greek, actually.” You brushed your fingers over the indented letters, “φυσιολόγος.”

Stiles shook his head and took his frustration out on the air with a dramatic jerk of his hands, “In English?”

“The Naturalist,” your lips curled into a shrewd smile, “so sorry we don’t carry it in Japanese.”

Stiles pursed his lips and snatched the book out of your hands. “Hilarious. Truly. I don’t just watch anime, y’know. I also like…” he trailed off and scratched at the nape of his neck, “very cool, normal things.”

“Such as?” 

He pulled a face that was distinctly reminiscent of a little kid sticking their tongue out, “Such as shut your face.”

“Wow.” Shaking your head, you returned to your task of shelving books—this one was about the spiritual properties of mushrooms—and made a popping noise with your tongue against the top of your mouth, “You better hope there’s an English translation in there ‘cause consider my mouth officially shut.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Stiles continued quickly, words almost overlapping with the speed of his tongue, before you could take advantage of such low-hanging fruit, “I made sure I could read it before I bought it—being comprehensible is literally the least it can do for 50 bucks plus shipping.” He shook his head and held up the book, “Can you believe the library wouldn’t order it for me?”

“Imagine that,” you chided, “and with all the demand for vintage bestiaries too.”

He dropped his order on top of a rickety writing desk that supposedly belonged to a Beacon Hills’ heretic who died in the 1800s—at least, according to the tag hanging from one of the drawers and Maggie’s generous interpretation of her family history. “D&D is coming back in a big, big way,” Stiles pointed at you and winked with obnoxious flourish, “just you wait.”

You smirked, pointedly ignoring your recurrent childhood obsession with Egyptian and Roman mythology, and smacked the side of the price gun until the sticker tape unjammed, “My instinct is to make fun of you, but I’m afraid the hypocrisy will catch up with me.”

“What?” Stiles glanced around the store and smirked, “Are you one of those new-agey astrology, crystal nerds? How many fingers is my aura holding up right now?”

You gave him a flat look and reached for another book. “We don’t sell crystals, actually. They aren’t that common in ritualistic spell-casting.”

Stiles blinked slowly, “You’re joking.”

“Wish I was.” You still weren't entirely sure if Maggie actually believed in all this spiritualist-mythical bullshit. She contradicted herself constantly, and often said things just to make your face pinch in disbelief, but at the same time she still insisted that you keep a protection charm bundle under your bed. The smell of the divination tea, at the very least, was great at warding off unwanted chitchat. “Animal blood is the main ingredient in most of ‘em.”

“That’s…repulsive,” Stiles cringed, restless fingers meandering towards the shelves of books next to you. He pulled out a small illuminated grimoire and flipped through the yellowing pages, pulling a face every so often at some of the more unsavory hex materials. 

You pried the book from his fingers and slid it back into its correct slot. Maggie didn’t actually ask you to organize them; her exact words were, ‘Slap a sticker on ‘em and stick ‘em on a shelf,’ but the idea of such a chaotic setup haunted you until you finally reshelved them all with a revised, occult-specific Dewey Decimal System. “It’s actually just corn syrup and—”

“100% authentic dove juice,” Maggie interrupted from behind the front counter without removing her face from her monitor.

Stiles jerked his head to the side, evidently just realizing that there was someone else in the room with you, and then swiveled back to you with his face stretched out in a toothy grin, “That dove juice discount must save you, like, so much money.”

You watched Stiles, warily and wearily, reach for a meditation journal from one of the heaps by your legs, “I have to stock that.”

Stiles turned the journal over in his hands, “Lemme help.”

You huffed deeply and gestured to the diligently organized bookshelves, “I have a system.”

He gave a staunch shake of his head and hunched down so that he could read the small stickers on the spines, “I owe you—for covering for me.”

You took the journal from his hands and squatted down to the bottom shelf. You quickly found the guided meditation section and managed to squeeze the bulky notebook between ‘Walking the Pagan Path’ and ‘Warding Your Mind' with some aggressive wiggling. You looked up briefly and met Stiles’s eyeline. He was especially lanky from this angle. Lanky and soft, with his layers of sleeves and rounded features. You tucked a loose curl behind your ear and looked back at the line of jewel-toned spines, “How is he? Scott?”

“Better.” He tapped his fingers against the top of the bookshelf to a rhythmic beat that felt familiar, “Exposure therapy is a real pain in the ass.”

“I thought it was ‘low blood sugar.’”

“That too.” Stiles leaned over your head and grabbed another book, and you shivered the soft cotton hem of his jacket skimmed over your face. “He’s hemophobic and breakfastphobic,” he said as he handed you the book. You hummed softly in appreciation as he continued, “It’s a vicious cycle, actually. Dude would totally fall apart without me.”

“That’s nice.” You tipped your chin up towards him and grinned, “Totally bogus, but still nice.”

“I told you.” His smile was smug, but somehow still dopey enough to be charming, “I’m a nice guy.”

Your thighs started to ache from squatting in the same position for so long, so you dropped onto your knees, shivering as your bare skin pressed against the cold hardwood floor. “I’m still not sharing my sacrificial blood discount with you.”

“Guess I have to get a job here, then,” Stiles shrugged and leaned against the bookcase, jerking back a bit when he turned his head and came face-to-face with a yellow-eyed taxidermied owl. He turned it around until the glass eyes were safely pointed in the opposite direction and said, “That way I can drive you nuts all day long and become a master wizard.”

You clicked your tongue; the cluck rang with saccharinely sweet pity, “Sucks that you’re only qualified for the first part.”

“Yeah? How’d you get the job, then? You clearly don’t respect the craft.” Stiles ran his spindly fingers along a row of spines, and you wondered if he could play the piano. He certainly had the hands for it. 

“Mags knew my mom, so…” you chewed on your lip until the metallic tang of copper burst on the tip of your tongue. You abruptly returned your attention to shelving the Wicca section and fiddled with the spines until they were all perfectly in line with each other, “It’s more nepotism than anything else, but I do take the history books home sometimes.”

Stiles looked at you, and the prickling sensation of being seen started slithering through your nervous system again. It took you a few tries to get Greek and Roman Necromancy to slip into the small gap on the shelf in front of you. Stiles crouched down next to you. His mouth was twisted around a sly smile, but you could see the earnestness in his eyes, “Witch training?”

You grinned a little, grateful for the out, “Hardly. I just like the lore.”

“Yeah,” Stiles’ gaze drifted towards the book he ordered; the wolves’ gleaming eyes were almost hypnotic, “me too.” 

“I’d hope so, for 50 bucks.” you nudged his knee with your elbow, and he swayed precariously on his perched toes and then shot you a glare that lacked any actual malice. “There are cheaper D&D monster manuals, y’know.”

He snickered and elbowed you in the ribs, gently but his bony limbs were sharp and unforgiving, “I knew you were a nerd.”

You were tempted to rebut the accusation, but he already had far too much evidence to the contrary. At least, he didn’t know about your Data/Geordi fanfiction phase—and no one ever would, you thought darkly. You’d have to kill them, probably, or at the very least flee the country.

“At least I’m not a sucker.” You stood up and brushed off your socks, though there was nothing to be done about the red indentations on your kneecaps from kneeling on oak flooring for so long, “Just how easy would it be to convince you to drop another 50 on a replica Byzantine amulet?”

Stiles held out his hand, shaking it in the air incessantly for far too long. You tilted your head and tried not to smirk at his predicament. The longer you watched him struggle, the more pathetic his pleading became. Eventually, Stiles groaned and pushed himself onto his feet with exaggerated effort, “Obviously not very. Evil spirit didn’t even crack the top 20 on my suspect pool.”

“Got it.” You propped your arm on top of an antique guillotine, bent elbow crooked along the wooden pillory. Stiles stared at the rusted blade and then gawked at your arm. He looked like he was a few seconds away from shoving you out of the way, even though the edge was dull with age and safely secured to the iron frame with thick rope. Rolling your eyes, you stepped away from the antique and trailed your fingers over a less forbidding oddity. 

You spun the brass globe a few times and said, “So silver bullets, then? I’m sure there’s some kind of bulk-discount we can work out.”

Stiles’ eyes snapped to your face, “What?”

“You know,” you gestured towards the order he abandoned while buzzing after you like an especially tenacious mosquito, “for all the werewolves running around town. Thought you’d already know that, being a wannabe wizard n’all.” 

“Right.” Stiles’s jaw shut with a click as he ran his hand over his head, “Duh.” He rubbed at his bicep and swallowed a few times before clearing his throat, “Didn’t get to that chapter yet. Clearly, I’ve got a lot of studying to do before I graduate from apprentice to master.” 

You squinted at him, mulling over if you should call him out on his odd behavior or just chalk it up to his usual weirdness. Maggie materialized behind you before you could do either. She placed her hands on your shoulders, squeezing softly, and then shuffled you to the side so that she could join your little circle, “I’m strictly anti-gun violence; the NRA hates me—but we do carry wolfsbane essence.”

“Don’t say essence,” you grimaced.

“We have some wolfsbane goo in the back.” Maggie pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and pivoted back to you, “Happy?”

“Not even remotely.” You turned towards Stiles, finally grateful for his presence. Usually, you were on your own in your never-ending believer versus non-believer disputes, and Maggie was somehow under the impression that she wasn’t massively outnumbered beyond these four spooky walls. Oddly, Stiles looked lost in thought. The one time you needed his dismissive snark, and he just had to actually consider the opposing side.

“Is this like the dove juice thing?” Stiles watched Maggie’s face closely, astute eyes tracking every minute twitch and flicker in her expression. It was easy to make out all the different pieces of Sheriff Stilinski in his face like this. You could see the calculations running behind his eyes, the strings coming together, the chess pieces moving. The effect was startlingly piercing. “Or is this actually the real deal?”

You stared at him, face scrunched in bewilderment, but Maggie was undeterred, “We only sell the real deal in the back, to the honored few.”

Stiles looked towards you, his right brow raised. You sighed, folding your arms over your chest and flicking your hair over your shoulder, “Real useless, but…yeah. The plants are real I guess.”

Maggie winked, “I’ll even give you the friends and family discount.”

You scoffed, “We aren’t friends.”

Stiles frowned, momentarily distracted from his intense investigation of Maggie’s body language, “We aren’t?”

You licked your rapidly drying lips and shook your head slightly, more confused than indignant. Truth be told, you’d expected him to agree with you. You hadn’t known each other for long, and he seemed to be more interested in your connection to Lydia than forming one with you. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that he wanted to talk to you about anything else. It’d been a long time since anyone wanted to, that’s all. The friends who hugged you at the funeral, they stopped coming around a long time ago, and they still avoided you at school—like you were contagious, like you’d leak radiation and your misery would metastasize in their bone marrow. You still woke up crying sometimes, throat claggy with stubborn shadows, choking on the hollow bones of picked-apart memories—too busy shoveling dirt to consider tomorrow. 

You scratched at your arm absently and rolled your eyes, slowly, so that everyone could see how utterly unaffected you were, “It’s a couple hundred bucks for a few millimeters of emulsified weeds. If we were friends, I wouldn’t even let you buy something so stupid.”

Stiles’s frown quickly curved into a crooked grin, boyishly charming and vexingly sure, “Sounds like that’s exactly what you’re trying to do.”

Maggie reappeared through the door to the back room, locking it with one of the many keys dangling from her strawberry lanyard. You didn’t have a clue when she’d disappeared to begin with, but the vial clutched in her hand was far more interesting. It was filled with a thick purple liquid, so dark it was almost black. Maggie held it out to Stiles and laughed at his inquisitive stare, “It’s on the house this time, ‘cause you’re such good friends with my darlingest girl.”

Eventually, Stiles took the vial from her hand. “Yeah, darling,” Stiles smirked and rolled the vial between his long fingers, “‘cause we’re such good friends.” The liquid sloshed slowly, a little like a lava lamp, and you kind of wanted to stuff it down his throat.

“Careful with that,” Maggie blinked at you behind her thick lenses. She wasn’t grinning or winking. It was a little eerie to see her so still, like her body had been snatched by a pod person and it was trying to mimic casual human behavior. “It's potent stuff. Shish-kebab a were with that, and they’ll be dead by sunrise—humans too, obviously, so please don’t stick it in your mouth.”

“If you can even get that close,” Stiles muttered to himself as he held the vial up to his pinched gaze.

“To a werewolf,” you deadpanned, looking between the two of them, searching their faces for any indication of irony. Bat-shit. Your grand total of two friends were both certifiably batty.

Stiles was too busy looking at the back of Maggie’s head to absorb your mockery. Your brow furrowed at the intensity of his stare until your attention was diverted to the dusky orange cast over his skin. You glanced out the window; daylight was rapidly fading. Was it really already almost 8:30? “You should probably head home,” you raised your chin towards the door, “if you don’t want to run into the big bad wolf with a purple goo heavy arsenal.” 

He let out a little laugh, more like a breath really, and muttered, “You have no idea.” Your forehead crinkled as you parsed over whatever the hell that meant, and Stiles shoved the book he ordered into his already overcrowded backpack. “I’ll see you at school.”

Your chin bobbed as you gave him a little nod. You lifted Gizmo from his bed of tasseled meditation cushions, for your own comfort this time, and nosed into his matted fur. Maybe, Stiles was just…really into larping, or maybe he was just…a really dedicated collector of supernatural keepsakes—because there was absolutely no way that you just naturally attracted delusional conspiracy theorists. You’d already met your quota of one the moment you were born. 

“Get home safe.” Stiles’s voice pulled your face from Gizmo’s neck. He lingered against the doorframe, clutching his backpack strap. The corner of his mouth cocked into a tight smile, “No more dead batteries after dark, okay? I’ll kick your ass if you get eaten.”

You took a moment to smile, but once you did, it unfurled over your entire face like sunset coating the store in a golden glow. The corners of your eyes crinkled as you shook your head a little, “I’ll try to restrain myself from killing any more cars.”

“Friends,” Stiles grinned and pointed at you, “we’re totally friends.” He ducked out the door before you had the chance to disagree, but you couldn’t decide if you really wanted to this time. 

You almost dropped Gizmo when Maggie bumped you with your hip. “Who the hell was that?” 

“Stiles. He’s…” you waved your hand in the air and eventually settled on, “a friend.”

Maggie stroked the gray fluff on Gizmo’s cheek, cooed when he rubbed his face against her palm, and then pursed her lips, “Uh huh.”

You shrugged and buried your nose in Gizmo’s neck again, taking solace in the fact that at least half of your face was hidden by silver fur, “So he’s more like a fungus in my life.”

Maggie’s grin was insufferable. Her cheeks dimpled, and her eyes nearly disappeared into happy little crescent moons, “Uh huh.”

You glowered at a stuffed crow perched on top of a water-logged armoire; there was a shine in its beaded eyes that appeared a lot like laughter. “You are the single most irritating person I have ever met.”

It was an admirable trait, never getting upset, never getting offended—but at the moment you wished that Maggie wasn’t so idealistic. She simply gave you a smile that was annoyingly wrought with meaning and took Gizmo from your arms. “Whoever the hell he is, he’s right. Get your ass home before the Wolf Man bites it.”

Maggie wiggled her fingers in the air, and you shoved them away from your face. “I’m going. I’m going.” You paused at the door, gave the store one last look and Gizmo a little good-bye wave, “Seriously, mini-taser, Mags. Prime shipping’s gotta be faster than the spirit realm.” At the very least, a taser might actually have a chance against whatever carnivore was hell-bent on ruining your sophomore year.

[propertyofhenrywinter]

Long live all the mountains we moved

Max Verstappen x driver!reader

Summary: the aftermath of a crash equals more hurt comfort (can be read as a second part to Long live the walls we crashed through, but also on its own. This ofc isn’t proofread)

WC: 3.2k

Max knew you would be cross with him is you knew he was blaming himself, but he just really felt the need to whelm in his self-pity for a while. For a second he justified this by thinking that you would feel the same if the roles where reversed. That thought however was soon discarded because he knew that if it had been him getting hurt on track you would’ve stood your ground firmer and insisted he’d get checked out. ‘It really is my fault,’ he thought. ‘It is my job to protect her. I should have listened to my gut.’

If max was honest with himself, he had realized something was wrong. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint what, but something in the way you had caried yourself while talking to the team and other drivers made him feel uneasy. By the time you had chatted with everyone who had wanted to see were okay with their own eyes none of them had thought to have a medic make sure you were completely fine. He didn’t understand their exact reasoning, maybe it had just slipped their mind or maybe they had genuinely believed you were fine, but he had thought about it almost immediately after he had let you go from his side, and he hadn’t stopped think about it while you had been driving away from the track. Now he wished he would’ve been more persistent about bringing you to a hospital, because he had known well enough that you weren’t fine, no matter how hard you had tried to convince him otherwise.

“I just want to go home, Max. Please.” You looked at him pleading and your voice sounded defeated. “I want to take a shower with you, just a shower,” a pointed look was added, “and then I want to cuddle up with you in bed while watching one of my comfort movies and eat ice cream right out the tub. And then fall asleep before the movie ends. And tomorrow we will do the same thing or maybe you could read a bit to me if I’m feeling to soar to do it myself,” she rattled off. “If your feeling soar you should see a doctor,” Max responded sharply, but he had known that the matter was settled and you two would do exactly as you had said.

Of course, it hadn’t gone as you planned. Max had already noticed you had looked worse when you got home than you had at the track, but he shrugged it off, thinking you were probably just tired, and your body need some rest after undergoing the G-forces it did during the crash. By the time you two had made your way to the bathroom he noticed you really weren’t walk normally. “Love,” he started soft, trying one last time to talk some sense into you. “No, please, Max,” you had sounded so breakable with your voice no louder than a whisper. It broke him to see you hurt, so he had let it go although he knew he shouldn’t have.

All hell broke lose when you had tried to take your shirt off. You had only wanted to lift your arm over your head before you had crumbled to the ground, letting out a blood-curdling scream. Max had been next to you in less than a second. He had been trying to figure out what was wrong precisely, but when he had noticed you were on the verge of unconsciousness he had just scooped you up in his arms and put you in his car to speed off to the hospital.

He had no regard for the traffic rules on his way, and although he had thought of calling an ambulance he had known that that would take way longer. While you were drifting in and out of consciousness he thought that he should talk to you. Tell you something encouraging maybe, but he just couldn't bring himself to open his mouth, afraid that any sound but the roaring of the engine and the struggle of your breath would make all of this too real.

When the hospital was less than two minutes away you awoke once again, but instead of the almost inaudible wail of pain he expected to hear again, this time you started coughing like crazy. Max had sworn his heart stopped when he saw you were coughing up blood.

The bright lights in the hospital made the contrast between the dark roads outside even more striking. In the car it had been quiet, just you and him. At the hospital it had been bustling with sounds and people, and you had been ripped out of his arms almost the second he walked trough the double swing doors. In a way he was sad he had reached the hospital, because as long as you were driving he could tell himself that he was doing what he could, while also having you at arm’s length next to him.

As soon as you were pried away by the emergency room staff members a doctor had started asking him more questions than he had believed could be necessary. He had answered them in a haze and before he good and well realized it the doctor had disappeared into the operation room where he had been told you also would be. That’s how he found himself sitting in a waiting area a nurse with dark skin, but light hair had brought him to. There he sat spiralling down in his own guilt.

He doesn’t know how long he sat there when the doctor who had asked him all those questions walked up to him. ‘How is she,’ he almost heard himself ask it, but he couldn’t’ bring himself to actually form the words, too afraid of what the answer might be. Before the silence reached a significant amount of time he heard the doctor. “Your partner will be alright, Mr. Verstappen. I assume her rib was fractured during the crash and when she tried to lift her arm a splinter moved and punctured her lung causing the worst of the damage she suffers. We fixed that during the operation. We also ran a full body x-ray and constated she also broke her left wrist and fibula and of course two of her ribs.” Max listened to the long list of injuries and despite the feeling of despair for your hurt he wondered just how stubborn you had to be not to get check by a medic, because he knew that all those breaks must have been hurting every time you moved. That was before the doctor saw the confusion in is eyes and added: ‘I also assume that an extreme amount of adrenaline was released right before and after the crash. That would explain why she hadn’t felt anything before her rib moved.” After that was clarified only one question rested him: “When can I see her?”

On his way to your room doctor questions, as Max had been calling him in his head, explained that you were still asleep and probably would be for the next hours, maybe even a full day, but that once you were awake and had done a couple of simple short test you would be allowed to go home quickly. “I don’t expect her to have to stay more than two full days,” he had concluded.

When he entered the room it felt like his long got puncture as well, seeing you so pale in bed with your foot and arm in a cast and a bag with clear liquid attached to your arm with an IV. He looked at the clock and saw it was almost morning. He wondered just how long it would take you to open your eyes, because he doesn’t want to wait a full day.

A nurse, an older woman with grey hair this time, came in to check your vitals and also informed Max that he was allowed to stay with you. Once she left he felt in his pocket to see if he had brought his phone with him. To his delight he had. He opened it so he could start informing everyone who needed to know, but the moment his screen lit up he could see he had a ton of missed calls and messages. It took him a while to figure out what was going on, but when he opened a text message from Charles it became clear. Turns out someone had seen him speeding down the streets to the hospital. Max felt a sliver of relieve when he saw your face wasn’t visible in any of the pictures of his car or when he was carrying you inside, but that didn’t change the fact it was disgusting people took and shared those pictures or that it was clear it was you. Some trashy news sites had even already wrote articles. He didn’t bother opening them. There was probably nothing true in them anyway.

He responded to Charles, explaining what had happened. Afterwards he simply copied and pasted that text and send it to everyone who he felt deserved to know. Almost exactly when he was finished his phone rang. It was Charles. Max contemplated picking up, but ultimately decided that since he would be stuck here for a while it couldn’t hurt to hear him out before he returned to the bottom of the mental ditch he had been digging himself in the waiting room.

If Max had thought the doctor had asked him a lot of questions, Charles must have simply impressed him by how long his list was. The Dutchman was tired mentally and physically, so he didn’t put up a fight answering him. Only when the questions were about how he was doing he resorted to one-word answers. Without giving Max a chance to protest, and he really wanted to protest, he had decided he was going to call the hospital to see when visiting hours were and come over as soon as he could.

He didn’t have to wait to long before the man who he had had on the phone only a few hours ago strode into the room as if he was coming to visit them to celebrate a birthday. Much to his dismay Charles seemed to have brought half of all the people he knew. “The more the merrier,” Charles had exclaimed a little to cheery. “It’s a hospital it’s not supposed to be ‘merry,’” Max growled.

He won’t ever admit it, but it helped that there were a lot of people around. Firstly, because that meant he could be mad at them instead of himself and secondly because it distracted him from your seemingly lifeless body in the bed, although you had regained a little colour since he first walked in. Out of everyone he might have been most grateful for George’s presence. He definitely didn’t think that would be the case, but because it was clear that he was blaming himself as well it gave Max the feeling there was someone who understood, even though only a little, what he was going through. They didn’t dare to look at each other the first half hour or so they were in the room together, but once they did see the looks on each other’s faces they grew compassionate towards the other and Max realized casting blame was stupid and so it became a little easier to forgive himself.

People left at various time and to Max’ surprise there were also people who came in, apparently Charles has informed the whole entire world about when and where they had to be to visit you. He wondered how so many people could fit inside such a tiny room and how the hospital even allowed this many visitors.

Considering max hadn’t slept for too long, something else you could berate him for once you woke up, he was pretty glad when visitor hours came to an end and the people in the hospital room started to make themselves scarce. Right when Charles was saying his goodbyes a thought crossed max’ mind. “Could you maybe go to our place and check if I closed the door properly? I left in such a rush, and I don’t remember pulling it shut,” he asked the Monegasque. “Yes, of course. I’ll text you, okay?” To which Max simply responded with a thank you, and for the first time since the hole roller-coaster of events took place he allowed himself to worry about other things than you. He hoped nobody broke in if he left the door open, but that was unlikely considering the whole building had strict security. He hated to admit is but what he actually had wanted to ask Charles was to check on his cats. You would be furious if anything had happened to them, and he really didn’t need anther reason added to the list of things he did that he knew would piss you off.

His eyes and mind returned to you, and he was thankful that you hadn’t woken up while all the people were there. He much rather had you open your eyes to only him and a calm, silent room. You had given a few signs you were closer to consciousness while your friends were here. Things like slightly moving a finger or a squint in an eyelid. He was pretty sure no one else noticed these things, probably because they simply weren’t playing attention to them. However, it had almost been 24 hours and you really should be waking up, which made him worry something was wrong. In the end his tiredness won from the worry, and he dosed off sitting in a position that would make his neck hurt more than the nastiest turns in F1 could under the highest possible G-forces.

He might have fallen asleep, but he wasn’t asleep deep, and so the quietest “Max” ever spoken is what woke him up. When he opened his eyes they were immediately staring into yours. “Hey,” he said as he moved closer to you, “you gave me quite the scare.” He put his hand on the side of your face and his thumb started stroking your cheek. “I’m sorry,” you murmured. “It’s all good now,” Max replied and before he could help himself he added: “I love you.” “I love you too.” The reply came natural to you. Sooner than he wanted the older nurse came back, and when she saw you were awake she went to get the doctor.

While you were out doing all sorts of tests and scans Max waited in your room. His phone screen lit up alerting him that someone texted him. ‘Door was open, but everything seems ok.’ Immediately a second message followed, ‘Also fed the cats theyre mad you guys left them I think.’ He had added a picture of the animals.

Once your bed was wheeled back into the room the doctor explained to you both how the next few weeks would look for you. It started with the endless list of check-ups you would have to go to and ended with the most dreadful news you had ever hurt. “No physical demanding activities for at least six weeks, so no sporting, don’t go long distances on foot and try to avoid stairs.” For the only time ever Max was glad about your bedridden state because he knew that you would have fought the doctor for keeping you from racing if you could. The look on your face however probably also made him wish he could crawl away into the nearest closet.

After this little briefing you were allowed to go home. You believed Max was happier about this than you were because Max had been there for almost two days. So had you but you couldn’t really remember anything between enter the bathroom and waking up at the hospital. “You shouldn’t blame yourself for whatever stupid reason you are,” you said to your boyfriend when you saw how tight he was clamping the steering wheel. “I’m no,” he responded, “I mean, I did at first, but not anymore.” “Good,” you sight, “than why are you driving like that?” you added with an over-the-top judgemental tone. “Like what,” he retorted fake offended. “Like that steering wheel is the root of all your problems.” He relaxed his hands “Not all of them but there probably are waiting some fines in our mailbox from our trip to the hospital.” You exaggerated a sigh “It’s a shame not everyone is as good a driver as I am.” Max gave you a side-eye. “you’re lucky that crash wasn’t your fault, because I would have held that over your head eventually.” You gasped “You brute.” But secretly you enjoyed that the topic didn’t weigh to heavy between you two. “Also,” Max continued, “remind me who was leading that race again before George so rudely interrupted it?” You supressed a giggle “Oh, I don’t pay attention to that sort of things. All people care about is who is first in the driver standings.”

 Suddenly it hit you; six weeks of no racing meant you would lose your first place, enormously diminishing your chances of winning your first championship. Max noticed the mood change and he could guess what this was about “Look there are only three races in those weeks, and the last one is even all the way at the end of your recovery period. We might convince the doctor to let you participate in that one if you recover well. The only way that’s going to happen is if you don’t spend to much time worrying that pretty head of yours and actually relax. Am I clear?” he looked at you while asking that. “Yes,” you said surely. “And also,” he continued, “it will make our fight for the title even more entertaining.” This time you really let out a giggle, which made you wince due to your soar ribs. “We are the Katniss and Peeta of the racing world.” You spoke. “Who?” Max asked. “Max, please say your joking,” you said, shocked by this discovery, “you don’t know the Hunger Games?” your moth almost hung agape. “Of course, I know of the Hunger Hames,” he said sharply, “I’ve just never watched it.” You decided this was unacceptable and you were going binge-watch all the movies when you were home, witch you were while you ended your scolding to your uneducated boyfriend who had been amused, but more relieved, by how lively you were acting. As you entered the elevator Max finally got a chance to speak. “If I remember correctly there was a showered planned before or movie in bed.” You hadn’t thought about it but suddenly you felt dirty. You hadn’t showered after the race which was two days ago. Suddenly you felt relieved there was no one else in the elevator to smell the odour you and Max, who you assumed also hadn’t showered, were spreading. “A shower is probably a good idea for both of us,” you concluded. Max looked at you and it was clear what he was thinking about. “No Max, remember no physical demanding activities for six weeks,” you laughed.

[stargirlie25]

Make it make sense..

I just don´t understand some e/riels logic.....

Like one day, Azriel is Elains mate because he figured out her power and cleared the murky realm she was in.

Another day he is a good protective boyfriend for saying the whole ´´There is an innate darkness that Elain should not be exposed to´´'and that was previously because she got kidnapped due to her powers.

Another day Lucien is a horrible man for saying ´´good´´ after feyre mentioned there has been no sign of her powers even though he originally asked how she was doing not anything to do with her powers.

Apparently that´s bad behavior because Elain should embrace that power. Although when someone mentions how Elain can get uneasy because of it, they say ´´Well she´s going to be stuck with it forever so its best to embrace it´´

BUT Azriel should forever hide his power because he apparently feels better without it?

One day its ´´The bonus chapter isnt even important because not everybody has access to it!´´

Although another day, the bonus chapter thats so useless reveals lightsinger powers for one of the key people in ACOSF? The optional bonus reveals that a character lured in Azriel and has a dangerous spell on him?!

One day its, oh my gosh forbidden love!

Another day its Elain has a choice and she should not be forced into anything!

But she should be Azriels hidden f-toy? She should be forced to that position even though he isnt ever going to be satisfied with her because he wants a mate?

Or its, Elain does not owe Lucien anything! BUTTTT she deserves to give Azriel her time and hide in the darkness with him and play out his fantasies (only thing he wants) even though he refers to her as ´´The thrid´´. Even though SHE HERSELF gave back the necklace out of her own choice. (something e/riels always disrespect and never notice)

Ugh mates are boring! We want rejected mates!

Or its, E/riel are actually mates because Az can smell the bond.

They are mates because Azriel thought so!

Like Elain is literally a conspiracy theory to Azriel miss maam

Or, Elain made a deal with koschei to be Azriels mate.

Its forbidden love!

No its the whole ´´The boy who never got chosen and the girl who never had the option to chose´´

Elain is the light to Azriels darkness!

Wait no Elain is the light IN the darkness!

(Azriels shadows shy away from light and he trains at night and Elain is a light who needs light and chases away darkness)

Death and life!

(Makes sense because the NC sucks the LIFE from her and obviously death can restore it?)

Elain can´t be highlady of the day court!

Yeah because shes totally going to be High lady of the dusk court with Az..

There is nothing wrong with Elains hobbies! (gardening and baking)

Elains going to be the spymaster of the night court because she keeps secrets about a pregnancy and she will wield a dagger it all times!

She will be the savior of Illyria! (Never trained a day in her life)

Stop trying to change Gwyn for a man and try to say shes a spy (even though she literally was spying in the BR like Az was doing at the same time) However Elain can be a spy because she is foreshadowed to be!

Also Elain is foreshadowed to be taking private lessons with Azriel (Gwyn already does. Canon)\

Luciens gifts to Elain prove that he views her as a breakable docile flower but Azriel basic necklace proves that he sees her for the bada$$ she is? (got that from @lorcanisdabest thought it was funny haha)

Azriel feeling insecure and unworthy of being near Elain because of his TRAUMA means nothing! Elain can fix him! Although Gwynriel isnt happening because they were reminded of Gwyns past (which they were both present for) for a HEARTBEAT WHICH IS LITERALLY 0.8 SECONDS AND THAT MEANS THEY CANT THINK OF ANYTHING OTHER THAN THAT AND THAT´S TOXIC!!!!!!

E/riel are mates because a smile bloomed on Azriels face in regards to Elain.

Although its just normal that a smile bloomed on elain face (AFTER HER DAD DIED WHO SHE WAS CLOSEST to) in regards to Lucien. Like thats just clown sh!t.

Amren said Az was underestimating Elain but we should not take her word for it because it was not Azriels (even though thats the only canon piece of what sjm provided on what Azriel could have been doing) BUT we should take feyres word on Elain and Azriel everytime!

There is so much more crap E/riels say but that would take FOREVER. All im saying is that to make your content consistent. Stick to one plot and make it make sense.

Something i have seen with Eluciens and gwynriels is that we have a solid idea on the romantic part for our ships and it stays consistent.

[toon-topaz]

HIII so basically i am obsessed with your vampire if. I've never even had a specific fixation on vampires lol but i LOVE the idea of giving subaru even more reason to be paranoid of the people around him!!! :D ALSO ALSO the trauma of being killed by vampires?? beings he idolises?? Something else he'll probably have a breakdown about yay!!! ^^ ANYWAY if you don't mind me asking how do you think him being human would affect his relationships with others who know/don't know?? Like in canon he's already an incomprehensible weirdo but now that he's ACTIVELY trying to hide something do those not in the know suspect/distrust him even more?? For those that DO know how do they feel about it?? Do they have to like. Actively cover up for him when he slips up?? Does the shared secret bring them closer?? e.g., in Pristella haha what do you mean its suspicious that you've never seen Natsuki eat?? Now that i think about it since Emilia's been established as a subpar liar its probably Otto who has to save Subarus human ass lol assuming he's eventually told as a part of his camp. Sorry for the uncomfortably detailed ask lmao ur au just grabbed me by the throat and wouldn't let go!!

Oh please don't apologize, I am absolutely delighted to be getting interest in my silly little au :D

I’ll try my best to answer all your questions but feel free to ask more or just throw in some ideas of your own hehe, either in reblogs or DMs I don’t mind.

So yes absolutely he will be having many breakdowns about it on top of your usual “stuck in a timeloop of death” breakdowns lol. He learns very quick why being in a world full of vampires is absolutely not fun, and to be fair he did sort of assume he’d get turned at some point and get to live as one. Alas, he’s simply too fragile to withstand the process, if he even gets that far before just dying of blood loss. He’s very tasty.

His relationships with everyone are made even more complex than they already are by the fact that they could straight up kill him if they pick him up wrong. He has to walk on eggshells and he hates it, and so do they. He’s trying so hard to be a tough masculine man like his father, hell he likes being all rough and tumble and play fighting and all that, but he just can’t. Back home he was at least fairly fit and resilient but here, in comparison to everyone else (even the village children)? He feels utterly worthless, and it absolutely starts to skew his sense of self. Was he ever even that athletic? Has he always been so breakable, or is it just that everyone here is superhuman? It’s not even limited to just Reinhard or Garfiel anymore, it’s everyone, including random thugs. The malnutrition from a lack of a balanced diet in the first few months aren’t helping his physical state, nor is the insomnia.

It isn’t helped by the fact that after just a couple loops, he’s legitimately quite afraid of his friends and enemies alike. He doesn’t hold a candle to them, and if any of them were so inclined to harm him, if they suddenly became hostile (he’s carrying a LOT of miasma, AND his human blood is like ambrosia to pretty much every vampire), there would be quite literally nothing he could do to stop him. And the only failsafe he has is rewinding time a bit to try and stop whatever happened from happening this time.

His developing brain is pretty much fucked, because while he’s terrified of his friends he still loves them all so very much, even the ones who have actually killed, maimed, tortured and/or eaten him. The idea of love in his mind goes hand in hand with fear and pain, and there’s no separating it at this point, which leaves him at once incredibly wary and paranoid, and paradoxically very susceptible to manipulation. He can’t hold it against them, if they get a whiff of his blood they can’t help it, no matter how many nights he spends awake and trembling under his covers. The only one he doesn’t fear like this is Beatrice, because she isn’t a vampire. Once they form their contract he at least has someone to hold onto and keep an eye on the door for him. Beatrice swears she won’t let anything get him in his sleep, and she means it.

The one boon all this has given him, if you can call it that, is that it’s turned him into a VERY good liar. He’s much better at improvising a cover story than his canon counterpart, even able to keep track of multiple lies at once. He allows himself to be a bit more open with his own camp, who all are informed eventually, and with a little bit of help from resident fraud expert Otto, he’s able to have a fully crafted and rehearsed backstory, paperwork and all. He’s only this weak because he’s afflicted with a chronic sickness that stunts his vampiric powers. Yes, it’s permanent, it’s a family curse. Don’t worry about how there’s no records of such a disease existing outside of this one certificate that definitely wasn’t forged.

The constant lying is isolating, but at least this secret is one he keeps on purpose, for a very good reason. At least it’s not something he physically cannot talk about lest he and his loved ones be violently punished, like that other thing. Thanks Satella.

As for how everyone else feels about this, I’ve mostly detailed it in that other post (that I have a followup reblog to in the works I promise), I can link it in the replies if you haven’t seen it.

The whole Priestella thing would be VERY funny though, and by funny I mean horrifying, because these damned Archbishops are even scarier now. I haven’t yet thought about how Dragon’s Blood would affect him differently but man it sure is fun to think about.

Anyways yea that’s my brain dump for now uwu, hope you enjoyed and again, don’t be afraid to start a conversation I love to chat

[eddiemunsonw]

It takes one kiss

CHAPTER 1 - Stupid party games

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

Steddie Fanfic

Summary: Steve hosts a party and ends up suffering through the consequences of humoring Tommy.

OR

Steve Harrington kisses Eddie Munson by accident and that sucked. Right?

CW / Disclaimer: Some mild overlap with S4 scenes (barely) - But (!!) Eddie lives - Mention of F-slur once.

Author’s note: My first Steddie fic! Another first woop. Let's hope you like. It has five parts that I'll be posting both on here and on my ao3: eddiemunsons. Enjoy!

Words: (of current chapter) 3695 / (complete fic) 15381

Steve’s POV

Would it really be a Saturday night if Steve Harrington wasn’t hosting a party at his parentless house right before break? Exactly. Steve had counted more heads than he could remember and barely recognized half of them. It didn’t matter. He put the breakable stuff away in his parents’ room, locked it. All was good. At least, until Tommy decided everyone had to join in these stupid party games. They played spin the bottle for a while, which Steve gleefully avoided because Tammy Thompson was in the circle and he did not want to kiss her. She had been making eyes at him more and more lately and he was not ready for accidentally dropping wrong clues in her direction. He didn’t care much about the others either, but he wouldn’t mind making out a bit if he was honest.

Apparently, Tommy could read thoughts nowadays, because one minute Steve was enjoying some spiked mixture that Carol had made in his father’s favorite armchair (that still looked good as new considering he never sat in it) and the next he got hauled up by Tommy.

“Who wants their kissing skills rated by King Steve?!”

“Tommy, what—”

“Watch, this is gonna be great. You might get a nice hookup out of this and if not, at least you made out with a bunch of hot chicks. We line ‘em all up and you give them a number one to ten. Easy peasy.”

“No T—”

“Tammy, yeah, I know. Alright, you just stand here, I’m gonna steal someone’s tie for a blindfold. There’s always some fucker walking around like he’s on the way to a funeral.”

Steve stood there, still swaying a bit unsteady as he had just downed the pretty strong drink a little too quickly before Tommy pulled him on his feet. So he was going to kiss a bunch of girls. Alright, whatever. He glanced around and was met with several eager, several nervous faces.

Not much later, Tommy returned with someone’s scarf instead of a tie and wasted no time tying it around Steve’s head.

“Careful for the hair, man. You’re gonna make it look all loopy,” Steve complained softly as Tommy sniggered and tugged the scarf a bit tighter.

“Can you see anything?” If Tommy was waving his hand in front of Steve, which he was pretty sure he was doing right now, Steve couldn’t see.

“Nope. Dark as the night.”

Tommy sounded like he was holding a sales pitch. It probably would have worked for a kissing booth or something, except people were supposed to pay for that, for charity or something. Right now, it felt like Steve was the one giving out charity. He realized a little too late that he actually didn’t feel like making out with people at all. Backing down now, however, meant being questioned. And he was way too drunk and honest for that right now. Which in turn also worried him a little if he was supposed to rate these girls. This was going to be brutal. He had to remind himself to give some decent numbers at least.

“Alright ladies, form a line.” Tommy’s broad hands grasped onto Steve’s shoulders and pulled him to the start of the line. “Do you wanna rate them at the end or in between?” he asked him.

“At the end, otherwise I can’t compare.”

“Makes sense. I thought you were too drunk already to still have some logic inside that pretty little brain of yours,” Tommy said mockingly, laughing as he nudged Steve forward.

“Contestant number one! And for the record everyone, no one gives away who he’s kissing. This has to be fair and square.”

“Right. Uh, hi,” Steve said awkwardly, feeling awfully vulnerable now that the majority of the people in the living room seemed to be watching the spectacle, if the hushed conversations were anything to go by. Someone turned the music up a bit and Steve could feel himself relax a little. He wanted to lift his hands to grab her face but assumed that might be counted as cheating as well, so instead he just leaned in and hoped she would do the same. The first kiss was no more than a lengthy peck on the lips which was fine but a little boring. Tommy moved him to the next girl, who wrestled with his tongue as if she wanted to take it out of his mouth and swallow it whole. Unpleasant. The third was actually kind of nice, with just enough tongue and her lips were soft too. After that, everything seemed to blend together apart from the eighth girl who bit his lip a little too hard. He had no idea how many girls Tommy had rounded up for him to kiss and he lost count after ten. His lips started to become sore when he got to what he later came to realize was his thirteenth kiss.

Eddie’s POV

Harrington’s parties were always the best for selling. Lots of people, often people whose pockets were spilling over with their parent’s gracious allowance and he could easily get his deals done without authorities noticing. That was a little trickier at a high school. After he was done dealing he decided to make use of the free food and drinks that were displayed and spent quite some time outside with a bottle of liquor he had found in the cabinet below the sink. He realized he was probably unfit to drive with the amount of alcohol in his system and decided it might be a good idea to sleep it off near the pool until a couple started stripping off their clothes right next to him.

He jumped up, stumbling forward towards the house as he rested a tired hand on the sliding door until he realized that he was pressing against nothing. How he managed to not completely trip, he had no clue. He also had no idea how he managed to halt in front of a blindfolded Steve Harrington, who suddenly leaned in and kissed him full on the lips.

The faint arguing of Tommy and Tammy right next to him was easily drowned out by the slaughtering beating his heart was getting as he not only felt Harrington’s lips against his, but he felt them move. This was no clumsy stumbling forward action like Eddie had done, this was deliberately kissing him. Eddie gasped unwillingly, his lips parting slightly as he did so. Which was either the best or the worst thing he could have done, because now Harrington was slipping his tongue inside his mouth and Christ it felt good.

All that had ever made sense in his life flew out the window and he focused on what he felt only. Listened to what his body wanted. And man, if there was anything his body wanted right now like a lost man in the desert wanted water, it was kissing Steve Harrington.

With some hesitation he let his own tongue join in on the fun, gliding across the other boy’s. He reveled in the fact that a soft noise escaped Steve’s lips when he nipped at his lip and soothed it with his tongue before diving in again, his head angled slightly to deepen the kiss. If either boy had paid any mind to their surroundings, they would have noticed the silence. People had stopped talking mid sentence to witness what was going on. Even Tammy forgot to argue with Tommy about being pushed aside just as Steve wanted to kiss her. Some watched with curiosity, others with pure disgust. When Tommy finally interrupted them, Steve seemed reluctant to move away, licking his lips in the aftermath. Eddie was brought back to reality as he watched Tommy’s disgusted expression, which matched a lot of other people that were currently staring at him in silence. Eddie quickly backed away towards the kitchen and was ready to leave entirely when Steve spoke up, making him linger. Him and his stupid curiosity.

Steve’s POV

“Am I done now?”

“Y-Yeah man. Here.” Tommy helped Steve with his blindfold and the latter blinked a few times to adjust to the light. Still a little high on the feeling that last kiss had given him, he looked around the room oblivious to the weird stares. Maybe they were just jealous, or something. Or maybe it had been a little too wild. He suppressed a grin by biting down on his lip and looked at Tommy.

“How many girls did I kiss? I lost count.”

Carol giggled drunkenly and opened her mouth but Tommy elbowed her.

“Thirteen.”

“Shit, okay,” he chuckled, trying to recall them separately. It was impossible. Rating them at the end without making notes in between was impossible. So instead, he went for decent ratings. He remembered a few numbers vaguely enough to know what to rate them with. Ultimately he left people with 6’s, 7’s and even one 8. The girl he had scored an 8 happened to be kind of pretty, so that was fortunate.

“So… that leaves the last one,” Steve said, eager to find out who he had been kissing last. He hoped she was pretty. Looks weren’t everything, but they were a pretty fucking great bonus. Steve noticed that the crowd died down again, which was unusual for his parties. It had only been a kiss, so why were they being so weird about it? There hadn’t been any weird silences in between his other kisses. He decided he couldn’t care less. He just wanted to know who it was.

“Number thirteen I rate 9.5 out of 10,” Steve started, hearing a few gasps and giggles as he stated the number. “I would have given her a ten if our kiss wasn’t cut short by Tommy,” he said while glaring at Tommy who wore an expression he couldn’t decipher even if he had been sober. Weird. “So… Who was it?”

Steve looked around the room, silently taking hopeful guesses at a few pretty faces until his eyes landed on Tommy. “Well?”

“Uh—”

Carol started giggling again, her eyes nearly closed as she snorted and spilled a bit of her drink on the floor. Nothing new. Steve did wonder what was so funny.

“Steeeeve,” she giggled, then hiccupped and Tommy gave her a worried glance. Again, nothing new, right? Carol was drunk more often than not at parties. Tommy avoided his gaze but Steve didn’t miss a flicker of disgust crossing his eyes. What the fuck was going on? Was she ugly or something?

“Steve,” Carol giggled again, catching his attention once more, “you kissed the freak!”

Cold dread filled him instantly and his eyes snapped up towards the kitchen, following Carol’s gesture, where no other than Eddie Munson had just let his red cup slip from his fingers, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. Eddie Munson?!

Eddie’s POV

Oh fuck. Oh shit. Shit shit shit. This wasn’t good. This was bad, very bad. He glanced down at his shoes, his laces now soaked with the sticky punch he had filled himself a cup with when Carol had slipped out that it had been him. Steve Harrington, his goonies and basically everyone else at the party were staring at him. And what he did next, truly made him wonder whether he had a death wish or something. Unprovoked, not a thought crossing his mind other than sheer panic, and yet he did it anyway. He looked Steve Harrington straight in the eyes and fucking winked.

He knew he shouldn’t have done that, he did. But what made him really fucking certain that it had been a bad idea was when Harrington charged towards him and grabbed him by his shirt, roughly shaking him up.

“Why did you kiss me?! Wasn’t it obvious what was going on?” Harrington practically yelled at him, startling even himself by the look on his face. Eddie lifted his hands up in defense while his brain worked hard to create sentences in his head.

“First of all, you kissed me. Secondly, I literally stumbled inside because I tripped over your goddamn door sill and happened to land in front of you. I didn’t know what was going on until we were already doing it,” Eddie explained exasperatedly. Feeling Harrington’s rapid breathing teasing his throat was not helping him to think straight. Eddie noticed how the other boy’s eyes quickly darted to the people gaping at their interaction and he lowered his voice a little. 

“You could have stopped it, stepped back or something!”

“I could, but… I didn’t,” Eddie sighed and licked his lips as his eyes accidentally flicked down to Steve’s mouth. What was there to say? They kissed, it wasn’t the end of the world. Clearly, Steve had liked it too. Wait. Steve had liked it too. Shit. Before he knew it, his mouth was running again. 

“Besides… you literally rated me a 9.5. You were clearly enjoying yourself, as much as the reveal of who it was disappointed you.”

Anger, panic and the slightest flicker of disgust flashed in Steve’s eyes and he pushed Eddie backwards with force. The unexpected push caused him to stumble backwards and land his back on the counter painfully, a grunt escaping his lips.

“Just stay the fuck away from me, freak!” Steve seethed, his eyes blazing as he furiously rubbed his mouth on his sleeve.

Okay��� dramatic much. Eddie straightened his back, briefly glancing over at the rest of the crowd who all had negative expressions on their faces reserved specifically for him. He couldn’t care less about those, he was used to it. Hell, most of those people had looked at him like that at some point throughout this evening. Never Steve Harrington though. While ‘The King’ never acknowledged him, he at the very least didn’t go out of his way to taunt him. Never stuck up for him either, but that was okay. Eddie knew being a popular kid basically stripped you from being able to act out human decency. However, it still hurt like a bitch when he of all people called him a freak. Tommy had, loads of times. He never let the opportunity slide in fact. Carol too, whenever she wanted to be extra cool around Tommy. But Steve? Never. Not once. It didn’t help that Eddie had a silly little crush on the guy either. He knew it was impossible, but still. This shit hurt.

He knew when to take his leave though. It wouldn’t be the first time he had gotten a beating, but he really wasn’t feeling one tonight. Today had been good overall. It would have continued to be good had he not stumbled right in front of Steve Harrington, who had then kissed him. During the few times he had allowed himself to fantasize about him, their first kiss had never gone like this. He wished he could forget about all of it, but as fucked up as the whole situation was, kissing Steve Harrington had felt fucking amazing. It would be impossible to forget in his lifetime.

All eyes were on him as he quietly made his way through the crowd towards the front door and he received a couple shoves from jocks, the other f-word being slung to his head as well. The front door closed behind him with a bang and he walked to his van without looking back. Listening to the deafening silence around him save from the crunch of his shoes on the asphalt. As soon as he closed the door of his van and drove off, he only felt a little annoyed about the tears spilling on his cheeks.

Steve’s POV

“What are you all looking at? Go party or get lost already,” he grunted as he stepped on a red cup on the ground. After some awkward shuffling, one person had the brains to turn the music back on at a decent volume and slowly everyone continued what they were doing before the whole thing happened. Tommy approached him cautiously and leaned on the kitchen island with his arm, facing him.

“Did you mean it?” he asked, a question way too vague for Steve’s jumbled thoughts at the moment. He reached for the bottle in the cabinet below the sink and found it missing, much to his annoyance. Which person would snoop around the cabinets when there was a table filled of shit? Rude. He could have used some stronger stuff right now.

“Did I mean what?” Steve responded impatiently when Tommy failed to give any context. The other guy awkwardly gestured towards the living room near the spot where Steve had walked away from earlier and shrugged.

“You know. The 9.5 you gave to the freak.”

Steve froze in his movement for only a second before he frowned at his friend. He noticed Tommy looked quite uncomfortable and he hated it. Hated that he had been betrayed so hard by everyone around him. It wasn’t just Munson who had let it happen. It was Tommy, Carol and everyone else too. They had all seen him kiss someone he wasn’t supposed to kiss, and how could he have known? He had been blindfolded! Sure, he had smelled cologne and tasted smoke and they had been the tiniest bit taller than him but… All of that didn’t necessarily scream “guy” or something. It could have just been a slightly taller girl that liked to smoke and used her dads cologne for whatever weird reason. Who cares? But no. Tommy had watched him make out with… him, for god knows how long. It was awful. He had never hated anything more in his life. Steve scoffed.

“Are you kidding me? I was totally joking. I was gonna tell them it was actually a 1.5 and that they should get some more practice. As a joke.” He sincerely hoped his lie was believable enough for Tommy because he sure as hell couldn’t convince himself. Unfortunately, Tommy didn’t buy it.

“Doesn’t really sound like something you would do,” Tommy said quietly, almost accusingly. As if not being a dickhead was the worst thing in the world. He wanted to be the biggest dickhead. Anything was better than being the guy who kissed the freak and rated him a near tenner.

“Yeah? Well. Standing by and letting that freak kiss your friend doesn’t really sound like good old Tommy either. What the actual fuck, dude?! You let me down, man! This was all your idea and look what happened! The fact that you’re even asking me this is really fucked up.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t looked like you were into it that much I wouldn’t have to ask, Steve,” Tommy seethed, visibly angry. “You were literally sucking each other's faces off. I have never seen you kiss Nancy like that. Or any girl for that matter.”

“Sounds like you enjoy watching me kiss a lot. Is that it? Did it awaken something in you?” Steve bit back. Tommy seemed ready to punch him but Steve didn’t care. He wasn’t in the wrong here, Tommy was.

“Are you calling me a fag, dude?” Tommy’s eyes were blazing by now, his fists clenched at his sides as he straightened his back. Steve shrugged carelessly.

“I’m not calling you anything, but if the shoe fits…”

“You take that back. You fucking take that back right now or I’ll—”

“COPS!! EVERYONE OUT!”

Oh, great. More drama. Tommy gave him one last venomous look and then made a run towards Carol, grabbed her hand and left through the back door. Steve watched as people left his house through the windows, heard them jump from the first floor onto the roof before jumping down on the lawn and the most impatient line was starting to form at the front door. His parents were going to love this. 

After humoring Hopper for a little while, he went back inside with a warning and cleaned up most of the mess everyone had left around until he noticed that the sun was coming up. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway. Not with that goddamn kiss lingering in his mind, lips tingling from the mere afterthought of it. 

He hated everything about it, but most of all the fact that he had liked it. There was probably a logical explanation for it. He thought he had been kissing a girl after all. Eddie had full lips. Girls often had full lips. Did guys often have full lips? He sure didn’t. And then there was the wink and the staring at his lips that Munson had so carelessly done in front of everyone. He had heard the rumors about Munson being gay but always assumed it was bullshit because he had seen him trying to flirt and fail at it with girls often enough. He didn’t look gay. But being gay didn’t really have to do with looks, did it? Anyone could be gay. Or straight. You weren’t straight by default if you looked like a jock or something. He passed a mirror on the way to his bedroom and halted, taking in his appearance. Peered at himself to see if he could spot telltale signs of any sexuality there.

He had a square jaw, that was manly. But his hair looked better than half the girls in his year. Not so manly? But again, did it really matter if you looked manly or not? What did it even fucking mean? His head hurt from overthinking combined with lack of sleep. This was all way too complicated.

Steve liked girls. Girls liked Steve. Those two statements made sense. He had to hold onto things that just made sense. Right? Yes. And he had to forget about the weird feeling that got sent straight to his groin when Eddie looked down at his lips. Yes. And he also had to forget about how soft his lips were. Yes. And forget about how a kiss had never felt this good before. Yes. He could do this. Steve. Liked. Girls. End of story.

Right?

[electricbluebutterflies]

Kabby + “ are you okay with me touching you? “

Post-s2 grayspace / turned into something of a spiral about ignoring chronic pain and I haven't actively projected through these babes in years but it's fun to know I still can. PG-ish and also on ao3.

This is getting awkward.

The fact that Abby even has a concept of awkward… would surprise most people who know her, she’s pretty sure, but she does occasionally acknowledge the existence of social boundaries even if she doesn’t cling to them unlike some people and-

She’s been in medical since she was old enough to qualify for training. She has seen everything and knows how to be calm about it even if the occasional image imprints itself in her mind for longer than it needs to stay. This is still awkward as hell.

It’s been a few weeks since the most recent blur of everything-that-could-possibly-go-wrong-went-spectacularly-wrong, which is to say that she has recovered from her recent physical damage and her counterpart has not because he’s the only person she’s ever met who’s more stubborn than she is and-

All her experience has not covered how to explain to someone with that particular flavor of charming personality that they’re probably going to have recurring pain in a bad spot for the rest of their natural life, and that might entail some difficulty moving around on an intermittent basis, and maybe they should alter their usual activities just a little bit, and-

This would be easier if it was literally anyone else she’s ever known. She’s not that lucky.

Recent… personality developments do not help the situation, and if anything make it worse. At least six months ago Marcus was a very, very consistent type of jerk. She could – and did, more than she’ll ever admit – plan around how precise and predictable all of his schemes were. They don’t have that anymore, and why is she in the position of wishing that the person who has become her main source of stability would just go back to being an asshole already because she knew how to work with that, and-

She’s managed to insist on weekly check-ins. Their communication style has improved – become existent, she thinks sometimes, become polite and more organized instead of their previous array of bad habits – and they don’t actually need these meetings for any reason having to do with herding around an entire civilization, and it always becomes just a little too personal and-

She has no one else left. She’s pretty sure he’s never had anyone else. Again the idea of might as well drive each other crazy so no one else has to deal with them sounds a lot like a reasonable justification.

“Are you okay with me touching you?”

If there’s one thing she’d keep out of recent developments, one new detail she deeply enjoys above all else, it’s how breakable Marcus has become. She’s made him speechless more times in the past three weeks than in the thirty or so years before that, and it’s so strange to watch, how easily she overwhelms him and-

“That depends on-“

“I just want to check some pressure points. Over clothes, not…”

And on the subject of things she’ll never unsee…

Look, boundaries are what they are and she did not do anything inappropriate, but there are… details she is now aware of due to the location of that particular injury, because of course that man went and took that much damage to his thigh, and she has done nothing she would not have done with anyone else but the goddamn visuals-

“Fine. I have nothing better to do than be a pincushion.”

Broken but not completely, she thinks – they still have the potential to spar at each other, rare as it is now, and-

“Nothing worse than my hands, don’t worry. And it’ll be easier if you stay standing up.”

“Has anyone suggested lately that you might be a sadist?”

Abby rolls her eyes. “Shut up, I haven’t even touched you yet. And if you weren’t so…”

He would’ve been bad enough just adapting to how time changes a body, she thinks. This whole development is just…

“What do you want?”

“You to admit you have a breaking point and you like to cross it.”

“Like you’re any better.”

Yeah, well, she’s done a little better on the major injuries front lately, but…

“I do not have as many physical tasks as you in the first place. And you could delegate once in a while and-“

“Like you’re any better,” he repeats.

“I do not have anywhere near as many possible alternates as you do. We are playing with different rules here and-“

Screw this, she thinks, putting her hand on his thigh like she’d intended. Lightest pressure, watching reactions, watching-

“Stop. Please.”

“Is that enough of a hint? Are you even aware-“

“I have to-“

“No. No you don’t. Your atonement is not going to be through your body, no matter what you-“

“Like you have any right to-“

“Have you even thought about what happens if you’re sidelined or-“

“We survived that, remember?”

“Yeah, you were running circles around me well before-“

“Someone had to-“

“Why is someone always you?!”

For a moment a flicker of something adrift in his eyes, answers not found to questions not formed and-

“Why shouldn’t it be? I have-“

“Who the fuck asked you to bleed for your mistakes?”

“Let’s see, I forget how many times you alone suggested it as a solution but it’s at least in the hundreds, maybe thousands, maybe-“

“Screw me for thinking that would be the first time you ever listened to me,” she mutters.

“Is doing better now really enough for you?”

“I haven’t even thought about how to get rid of your body since we landed. You do realize how weird that is for me.”

“You have always been very direct…”

“And that’s why I’m the only person who can get through to you, and that’s why as much as I want to give up completely sometimes…”

“You don’t have to-“

“I’m not trying to fix you. You’re doing an interesting enough job of that on your own. I just… think everything is a little easier if you’re around to deal with it with me.”

His hand covers hers, resting now on his leg, and they are not like this and maybe they are like this, and-

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“Not giving up.”

[mysterycharacterflowers]

Forget-me-not 1 VS A bouquet with begonia, carnations, anemones and snowdrops

First, let's talk about the forget-me-not 1

Meaning: true love memories, respect, do not forget me Description: Someone who's nott what they seem to be

Check this character post here

Now, let's talk about the bouquet with begonia, carnations, anemones and snowdrops

Meanings + why these flowers were chosen: Begonia, because it symbolizes caution and misfortune, and she not only meets with terrible misfortune but has an overwhelming and lifelong fear of causing things to go wrong, and she’s very cautious and on edge because of it. Carnations can symbolize unconditional love, including a mother’s love, which is accurate to her in a major way, but also painfully ironic. Anemones have been associated with fragility and with bad luck, a combination that cuts to the core of her internal troubles, as she grew up fearing she was basically cursed to break the things around her and whatever and whomever she valued, and she never grew out of it. They’re also associated with anticipation and new motherhood, and she’s always anticipating bad things, in particular bad things that could happen to her child. Snowdrops suit her because of their natural association with the cold, since she has ice magic. Description: The thought process that everything around her was more fragile for her being there impacted her tangibly, corrupting the joy she would have had, and it turned her a little too brittle inside to keep things together after all. The mistakes she made are ones she made out of her fear, not despite it, and the demands she made to try and drive her family’s story a way she can accept were shortsighted attempts clawing at an incomplete picture. In-story, this whole deal with fragility is symbolized by her ice magic, which isn’t very powerful but is notable nonetheless—not so much an impressive ability as her turning something unbreakable (liquid water) into something easily breakable. She’s a mother of two who can only bring herself to consistently love one of them, and in a severely questionable parenting tactic on behalf of her beloved child, she parentified the other one. Which ultimately did keep her preferred child safe, in a way, but certainly not in a way that let her feel secure about it, partly because not only would her unfavorite sacrifice their life for the other’s, but vice versa; that’s what she earned, though, her children outgrowing her both in love and in resilience.

Check her post here

[witchlingcirce]

I wanted to do a little character analysis for my favourite character …Isabelle Lightwood! I tried my best to cover everything I thought needed to be covered so here we go!!

Personality

Isabelle Lightwood is a very confident woman, she dresses nice and at one point she could’ve even been described as promiscuous. Isabelle can accusingly be vain, and even narcissistic at some points. Isabelle possesses a fiery temper, she at some points during the book would lock herself in her room when things would go wrong. Although Isabelle has her bad traits, she is fiercely loyal to those she loves and cares about and would do anything to keep them out of harm's way.

role in the book

While I don’t know if this is a popular belief, I firmly believe that Isabelle’s original role in the books was her being a contrast to Clary, as the series developed Isabelle later gained a prominent role as someone who learns to love and trust others but at the start, she was a contrast of Clary’s character. Clary was short, insecure, and didn’t dress the best, Clary doesn’t see herself as being gorgeous. While Isabelle is incredibly Tall, confident, stated to have a fantastic style, and Isabelle does see herself as pretty. I think it’s an interesting contrast, as we see in Clary’s point of view earlier, clary seems to dislike Isabelle for these qualities, much because at the time she didn’t have them. Later on in the book Clary starts to see Isabelle’s character more as a friend than someone she should be jealous of, and I think that’s when Isabelle’s character role in the book had begun to change. From simply being a contrast to Clary’s character we see Isabelle go through her hardships and see her develop from that.

Relationships with the other characters

I think Isabelle’s relationship is one of her biggest factors in the book, and I think I should cover everyone she has a relationship with somewhat separately here.

Parents

Isabelle has a loving and very close relationship with her mother, they both deeply care for each other. In Ghosts of the shadow market we see Alec describe Isabelle and Maryse (her mother) having a certain look that they give each other, Alec says he thinks it’s because they're the only girls in the family. When Isabelle has thirteen years old, Maryse told Isabelle that her father was having an affair. “I thought it made me special. I didn’t think about how it might have changed me.” - City of fallen angels. This conversation took a toll on Isabelle, it made Isabelle hold a grudge against her father and also impacted how she felt about love, making her think she couldn’t give her heart away without it being broken “I watch my brothers give their hearts away and I think, don't you know better? Hearts are breakable. And I think even when you heal, you're never what you were before.” - city of fallen angels. Isabelle and her father have long had a bad relationship, as I stated before, Maryse telling Isabelle about her father's affair made Isabelle hold a grudge against him. Throughout the series we never really see him or Isabelle truly getting along, the only time we ever see them even try and solve their problems is in the argument scene in Tales from the shadowhunter academy

Siblings

It’s easy enough to identify Isabelle's feelings for all her brothers, and that’s the fact that she loves them all so dearly and is completely loyal to them. Isabelle liked to date boys her parents wouldn’t approve of just to get attention off Alec, for the fact he was gay so their parents wouldn’t get suspicious. Isabelle and Jace have always had an incredibly loving relationship, Isabelle feels a similar way to Max as she does to all her other siblings, although we never really saw their relationship develop.

Friends

We sort of never see Isabelle interact with a lot of friends but I’m still putting it in here, Isabelle is friends with Aline and Helen and she has a friendly and good relationship with them, even attending Helen's relationship. Isabelle is also good friends with Magnus Bane, there are fun friends and care a lot about each other, especially because of Alec. Clary, now Clary is someone that Isabelle didn’t like at the start of the series. I don’t think ‘hate’ would be the right term but mostly ‘dislike’. Isabelle is jealous of Clary a little bit at the start of the series, while Izzy is mostly a confident woman she still has her insecurities, she was jealous of Clary’s small frame and Clary not being as tall as Izzy. At the start, they didn’t interact as friends but later on in the series their friendship and relationship started to develop into a loving and caring thing going and they did understand each other.

Lovers

I know Izzy had a fling with Meliorn but we never really got much information out of that so I’m just going to have to talk about Simon here. At first, Izzy just saw another boy that people wouldn’t like and that’s mostly the reason that she dated him, later on, we see Isabelle start to care for Simon. For example, at the end of the red scrolls of Magic, we see Isabelle say Simon was becoming one of her favourite boys. Their relationship was going decently until Isabelle found out that Simon had been dating Maia at the same time as Isabelle. Izzy was mad at this, even saying in City of fallen angels that she hated Simon, “Everyone’s off doing some secret thing with the Conclave, and I didn’t want to go, because Simon was going to be there, and I hate him now.” - City of fallen angels. Later on, we see Izzy start to forgive Simon, there’s deleted scene from City of lost souls where Izzy told Simon that the reason why she went to his apartment with Jordan was because she missed him, or something along those lines. “Look, I didn’t come by last night because you’re number six on some list and everyone else is unavailable. I came because — I like you. You make me feel better. Maybe it’s something about your face.” - City of lost souls - Chapter 7 Outtake. Simon plays an impactful role in Isabelle’s life, because of Simon the walls Isabelle had built around her heart began to crumble and was letter herself trust someone over then her family.

Major Conflicts

Okay, so I’m going to be talking about two conflicts Isabelle went through In the series.

Max’s death

Isabelle felt as if Max’s death was completely her fault. She locked herself in her room and refused to let anyone in. Isabelle didn’t even go to her brother's funeral, believing his death was completely her fault. I think the way Isabelle grieves is a very interesting thing, we technically only really see Isabelle ‘grieve’ max In the one scene in City of Glass, but later on in Isabelle’s POV we see more of her feelings, and even in some later conversations. Isabelle refuses to call Sebastian Jonathan, she tells Clary that Jonathan was Jace and that she wasn’t going to call someone who killed her brother her other brother's name, it’s heavily implied in a lot of the other scenes that Isabelle wants revenge for Max’s death, of course, we never got a lot of this (as I can remember, I believe we got a scene or two?) and on a similar note, we see that Isabelle has a lot of built up emotions about it, in the city of heavenly fire we see Isabelle yell at her dad, telling him she thinks he’s glad max is dead so that he could finally leave her mother. In tales from the Shadowhunter Academy, we see Izzy tell Simon that sometimes being in Alicante makes her feel closer to Max, while other times it makes her wish it was never there.

Simon’s demon amnesia

Izzy truly had begun to love Simon and finally let her guard down, until at the end of the city of heavenly fire where Simon sacrifices his memories for everyone to get out. We see throughout tales from the shadowhunter academy that Isabelle struggles with this, it was either after he had yelled at Izzy in the academy or when Simon yelled at her other the killer vampire, that Clary Porteled in to tell Simon that Izzy is more fragile then she seems. Even once Simon and Izzy finally ‘make up’ they still struggle to get back into the flow of how things used to be, they of course do end up making up and I want to talk about how different Izzy is once they make up (from what see from simons POV) at the start, it was almost as if Izzy was far away, most the times when we saw her before there make up she seemed a lot angrier, but once they do makeup she seems to have gotten a bit calmer and happier, and I think that is a very cute thing.

Overall Change

Izzy's overall change throughout the series was letting herself trust people who weren’t her family, we see Izzy grow and learn to love those who she might not have in the past. We also see Izzy’s heart begin to change, we see at the start of the series she has walls up, never actually dating anyone seriously and at the end of the series we see that those walls have been completely cut down and that Isabelle can truly love and trust people.

Bonus!

Okay, this is a little silly thing but I was looking through the deleted scene for a specific quote and I found this absolute gem from a deleted scene! “I am so hungover,” she announced, flipped her hair over one shoulder, and stalked off toward Simon’s bedroom. Simon looked over at Jordan, whose eyebrows had risen to his hairline.” IT HILARIOUS! In my opinion…I just thought people should see that….

okay, okay that was my first character analysis I apologise if it’s bad but…there it is! Okay uhm, enjoy? Have a good day.

[punkscowardschampions]

Mafi Pt.3

Fi: it’s infuriating how you managed to pick the ideal dress to tempt me without knowing I’d be there to be tempted

Mattie: but you were x2

Fi: but you just walk around looking like a figure from mythology or something, all the time

Fi: and I’m the rude one

Mattie: you’ve seen how real I am underneath

Fi: yeah, your skin resembles porcelain, but thankfully is nowhere near as breakable

Mattie: yours was so warm, and soft, how it looks 

Fi: I haven’t been cold since I met you

Mattie: I’m dying to touch you again, with impunity

Fi: when will that be?

Mattie: When I can make myself look presentable, get off of this bed and think of a valid excuse to leave my parents in note form

Fi: leaving my door unlocked waiting and hoping means I could be murdered, an extremely valid excuse

Mattie: as long as you don’t ACTUALLY do that

Fi: it’s adorable when you worry about me as though I don’t have a literal 🏹 or 🤺

Mattie: I also don’t want you to leave for prison

Fi: I am too pretty, but I’m not getting convicted, be serious

Mattie: 😏

Fi: I don’t need you to look presentable, I know what that means

Mattie: you underestimate the mess I had got myself into, I think

Fi: I got you into it, let me fix it without it being a character flaw

Mattie: I was so mean

Fi: I’m not a boy, you can’t terrify me with how you actually look

Mattie: I don’t want to terrify you, I want you to look at me how you did before

Fi: you didn’t let me clean you up before either

Mattie: because I would have insisted you got me in another mess

Fi: did you find all the 💋?

Mattie: I feel like that’s an impossibility

Mattie: and you’re going to have to check

Fi: it’s a shame I’m not doing an art degree, I could hang you on the wall and be done with lectures and deadlines

Mattie: It’s an awful bore how life doesn’t stop when you touch me and only start again once you have to stop

Fi: it felt like my heart was gonna stop

Mattie: you mean I didn’t die and go to heaven?

Fi: when you finish what I started

Fi: [and then talk about your fave ner historical burial practices like do this for me so I know it’s real, cos again, I don’t know enough history]

Fi: oh and empty my bedside drawer, either for your own keepsake of what you missed out by killing me prematurely, or to spare my blushes

Mattie: 0 consideration for my own blushes, I see 😳

Fi: I tried to tell you, you don’t even know what’s waiting for you 

Mattie: I want to know

Fi: you’ll see

Mattie: when?

Fi: get out of your bed and into mine

Mattie: It won’t take me long, you’re close

Fi: I am, take that into consideration if I’m supposed to survive this

Mattie: Oh

Mattie: fuck

Fi: she doesn’t know how lucky she is to be alive, our mysterious stranger, leaving me to just exist in a state of frustration like that

Mattie: the cruellest punishment for doing the most incredible job, you poor thing

Fi: I’m sorry I snapped at you though

Mattie: don’t apologise

Fi: I thought it was the end, the worst ending ever

Mattie: me too, me too

Mattie: it can’t be, it’s unacceptable

Fi: you have more to lose, but I can’t lose you, Mattie

Mattie: No one is losing anything, it’s okay, we can do this

Fi: if I start crying again, I swear

Fi: ridiculous

Mattie: Only how I did, no more of the bad kind tonight

Fi: it’s the first time I’ve made someone cry that way

Mattie: I haven’t done that before either

Mattie: hopefully it’s not a new thing I’m going to do all the time

Fi: it’s okay if it is, however you react to me is

Mattie: you will tell me, if I’m doing it wrong

Fi: you’re not going to do it wrong, there basically isn’t a wrong unless you’re really confused geographically

Mattie: I may take Physics, but I have that much Biology under my belt, thank you

Fi: that’s happened before, now that poor girl was mortified to seriously be in the wrong place, if it makes you feel better about how embarrassed you felt earlier

Mattie: Oh no, she must have been too nervous, bless her heart

Fi: at least her nails weren’t too long, at school that was a constant problem, I’m sure I do have ptsd, a little

Mattie: Did you have many girlfriends during school?

Fi: no, I don’t think we can call them girlfriends

Fi: more experiments performed on me than ever in the school labs, would be closer to accurate

Mattie: I get you

Fi: I was happy to be a safe place for that, until I wasn’t

Mattie: you wanted something realer, if not a ‘girlfriend’ exactly?

Fi: it took its toll

Mattie: I can imagine, whether consensual, you were still being used

Fi: but I did the same to boys sometimes, before I get too woeful about the hand I was dealt

Mattie: I think it’s a fairly standard part of adolescence all round

Mattie: we all get hurt and hurt others

Fi: I had to know, not just make an educated guess

Mattie: of course

Mattie: you can’t limit yourself 

Fi: no boxes, I remember saying so

Mattie: you did, you’ve always seemed so sure of yourself to me

Fi: I try, despite all my parental figures efforts to the contrary, at different eras of my life

Mattie: it’s admirable as well as attractive

Fi: I don’t have lots of year 7 girls to set an example for anymore, but it still matters, I think

Mattie: I agree, it makes life easier, I imagine

Fi: aren’t you sure of yourself?

Mattie: no, I don’t think so

Fi: because of your shitty ex boyfriend?

Mattie: possibly but I don’t think we can blame him entirely

Fi: don’t worry, I’ll be certain to include the caveat it wasn’t entirely his fault before I murder him

Mattie: you’re so protective

Fi: you look after everyone so well, you deserve to be given the same treatment

Mattie: I hope you’ve taken your knickers off now too, I was a little disappointed you had some on, you never do in my dreams

Fi: I rarely do in life, but I was attempting to be vaguely well behaved, hilarious as it is to admit, in hindsight

Mattie: how did I know, how badly behaved you are

Fi: because you do know me, really

Mattie: yes

Mattie: and I like you so much

Fi: I’m afraid to try and type any L words

Mattie: like you were afraid to tell me

Fi: yes

Mattie: I’m afraid of who I am and the things I want to do to you

Fi: it’ll get easier

Mattie: you don’t know what I’ve fantasized about, it’s so bad but 

Fi: I will, and when I find out I won’t be afraid of you

Mattie: I wanna be bad too, sometimes

Fi: I’ve always let you

Mattie: you’re too nice to me, always have been

Fi: you can’t limit yourself either, if you can’t be yourself around me then when are you supposed to?

Mattie: this is me, and I have wanted to kiss you since the day I met you

Fi: I know, you’ve been flirting with me since that same day

Mattie: yeah, you’re too pretty

Fi: and what would that make you?

Fi: you have no idea how pretty you are

Mattie: I’m yours

Fi: I want you to be

Mattie: be my girl, Fi

Fi: okay, but it’ll be the last thing I do, because I’m also going to die

Mattie: you have to let me kill you first, it’s only fair

Mattie: you have me doubting if anyone else has ever made me orgasm

Fi: any doubt means no, they absolutely have not

Mattie: I’ve never

Fi: it should feel like that all the time, it will

Mattie: you swear

Fi: trust me, I’ll take care of you, properly

Mattie: okay, and I promise right back

Fi: I don’t know what to say because I don’t want to say too much

Mattie: precarious feels right

Fi: I’m so used to walking a line with you and not quite crossing it, especially when we talk

Mattie: yeah

Mattie: I sort of feel like I do that with everyone

Fi: but we can stop doing it with each other, can’t we?

Mattie: that’d be nice, wouldn’t it 

Mattie: we can try

Fi: I’ll try really hard 

Mattie: I’ll believe that when I see it, Caldwell 😉

Fi: I don’t believe for a second you think everything I do is effortless, you, for sure, know me better than that, miss

Mattie: I was more questioning how often I really saw you applying yourself outside of a sports pitch but sure

Fi: a more relevant question is how long you’ve spent observing me, playing sports or otherwise

Mattie: Hmm, but I set the questions so 🤫

Fi: but I have the correct answer, I know when to apply myself

Fi: I wanna be your girl

Mattie: You are

Fi: you’re not seriously sending me away to [see her own father, the audacity lol], are you?

Mattie: It’s Christmas 🥺

Mattie: surely he was and still is expecting you?

Fi: he’ll get over the fact I didn’t go quicker than I will you wanting me to spend what’s left of the hols anywhere else

Mattie: You remember the whole bit where we talked about not messing up your life, right?

Mattie: I don’t want to get in the way of any plans you already had, or obligations

Fi: I don’t want anything to get in the way of this

Fi: if he’s adamant about seeing me, I’ll spend the week you’re back in school and I don’t yet have to be

Mattie: If you’re sure

Mattie: I can’t send you anywhere if it is so against your will

Fi: I am

Fi: we’re going to have enough hurdles in the way of us spending time together without unnecessary trips being added

Mattie: Undeniably true

Fi: and nothing makes me sadder than how our reunion was ultimately bittersweet after not seeing each other for so long, which I can’t change now

Fi: I’m determined to do better with everything else

Mattie: Your focus had to be and was Uni, the balance is hard to work out but I am not opposed to trying to help you with that task

Fi: I thought I had to move on, but that couldn’t be more against my will

Mattie: there was no way for you to think differently, no room for the possibility to be acknowledged, never were we that alone, in private

Fi: and there was some fun while it lasted, the issue was always nothing could last when my heart wasn’t truly in it

Mattie: of course, I wasn’t suggesting nor hoping you were pining tragically or anything of the sort

Fi: I just need you to know how hard I tried to fight this, so when I say I can’t, you also know I sincerely mean it

Mattie: I believe you

Mattie: I’ve seen what a student with a crush but no common sense looks like, it isn’t you

Fi: it isn’t a crush, however many times I’ve told myself to dismiss it as such

Mattie: to call it that would only be an attempt to delegitimize it, at this point

Mattie: and it is not a thing I feel the need to engage with, not right now

Fi: you should definitely tell me about all the other students with crushes on you though

Fi: wait, no, I bet I can guess

Fi: [drop students names you think fancy her because of course you know, they’d have to be new for you not to]

Mattie: In defence of my not-actually-massive ego, I swear I was talking about all the teachers and all the potential crushes 

Mattie: but [one of the most blatant and thus tragic boys] is still persisting 😶

Fi: of course he is, you poor thing

Mattie: You think you’re safe if you stay away from the arts, alas

Mattie: poor boy

Fi: I’m a little offended, but not surprised, he didn’t get the message when I [something you did during the school year to get him to back off, which I won’t commit us to, for going back in time purposes] 

Mattie: Your threat doesn’t loom large enough now 

Fi: don’t say that, it’s like I never even existed 👻

Mattie: I have to be slightly cutting, lest you think I condone your actions

Fi: it’s 💎 clear which of my actions you wholeheartedly condone, rest assured

Mattie: Shh, don’t tease 

Fi: if you were here, I’d follow through

Fi: you’re the tease, for your frankly cruel, at this point, absence

Mattie: You know this town and its traffic

Mattie: besides, it isn’t your turn

Fi: luckily, I’m aware which of my reactions you’re into as well

Mattie: I won’t call you a know-it-all for it

Fi: call me what you like

Mattie: where do you even begin?

Fi: where would you have me wait, other than behind this unlocked door that hopefully won’t lead to attempted murder or manslaughter charges being brought while you’re stuck in traffic?

Mattie: You want me in your bed, don’t you

Fi: it isn’t my turn, what do you want?

Mattie: I want to meet you at your door, like you’ve been waiting for me

Fi: I am waiting for you, that’s the reality

Mattie: I want real

Fi: real like I’ve paced every square foot of this place because I can’t stay still?

Fi: if the adhd experts could see me now

Mattie: I’m looking at the pictures of you from tonight

Fi: I don’t look like that anymore

Fi: [as a shameless excuse to send her a pic of how you look now, which I imagine is adorable, because like me atm you’re just wearing a big t-shirt and nothing else]

Mattie: you look so sweet

Mattie: and I am not so woefully straight I need you to play the ‘man’ for me

Fi: I only acted in the one play, remember, I wouldn’t be able to pull it off

Mattie: I don’t know, you did well for Dolly until neither of us did

Fi: I almost didn’t take her up on the invitation

Mattie: why?

Fi: I told you, I was scared it would be an unpleasant surprise, for both of us, you because you didn’t want to see me again and I, because I’d convinced myself you’d invite someone too, and I couldn’t bear the thought

Mattie: there’s no plus one, no time to imagine who it could even potentially be

Fi: you know me, a fan of horrific torture

Mattie: bravery that isn’t going to go unrewarded

Fi: I don’t feel brave right now

Mattie: how do you feel?

Fi: weak, like a single touch from you is gonna have me on the floor

Mattie: I wouldn’t mind having you on the floor

Fi: covered in bruises feels apt, you’re bound to be marked with so much lipstick, still

Mattie: you saw to that

Mattie: I’m seeing to it you beg me to stay

Fi: I’d do that this second, and you’re not even here yet

Mattie: you might feel I’ve overstayed my welcome when you can’t get up from that floor after all I’ve done to you

Fi: I’ll leave it to you, you can try living alone there once I’m dead and buried because of what you’ve done to me

Mattie: abuse of power is starting to sound right

Mattie: I just want to see you come undone, the perfect head girl

Fi: I just need you to be the one to do it

Mattie: Who else can ruin you like I can

Fi: it’s never enough, whoever, whatever

Mattie: you want my tongue, my fingers, my eyes on you as you fall apart

Fi: yes

Mattie: it’s me you think about, my face and my body

Fi: you don’t leave my thoughts

Mattie: it’s you I imagine keeping my bed warm, you I want to come back to and make cum until you pass out, your beautiful lips I want to press myself against

Fi: stay until you can’t, I mean it

Mattie: give me reason to stay, gorgeous girl

Fi: give me every last second you have and I’ll give you everything you ask, things you haven’t begun to consider asking for yet

Mattie: my mind is perverse despite my lack of history

Mattie: I’ve considered asking you to do some very fucked up things for me

Fi: when you say them out loud, I’ll act on them without the slightest hesitation

Mattie: oh I know that

Mattie: you’re mine

Fi: you have history with me, I didn’t pause before, I won’t in the future

Mattie: you don’t care if you’re caught, not for you

Fi: my life is uncomplicated, complicate it for me

Mattie: I want you to miss me, to wish you’d spent every day of last year letting me fuck you all over that school

Fi: I have the blown out candles to prove I did, two birthdays worth of them now

Mattie: there’s an idea

Fi: and the ⭐️ as a permanent reminder of where I first let you touch me, not to mention how much I miss it

Mattie: I will draw another star with the wax, where you want me to touch you most of all

Fi: I’d let you make a candle out of me like they did in Paris during the French Revolution

Mattie: you’re the hottest nerd

Mattie: I would do unspeakable things to candle you

Fi: to allow you to stay this beautiful, I insist

Mattie: how badly you want it makes it all the better

Mattie: beg me to use you

Fi: I do hope you realise it’ll be the first time I’ve begged anyone for anything in my entire life

Mattie: that’s why you need it so much

Fi: you truly are going to unravel me completely, I’ll have no clue who I am after this

Mattie: if the burn doesn’t suffice as a reminder, I can tell you who you are in so many ways

Fi: tell me I’m yours again

Mattie: you’re mine, completely, no one else can have you

Fi: this is real

Mattie: the way I am going to possess you and all your thoughts couldn’t be realer

Fi: perhaps not, but you’ve said similar things in my dreams

Mattie: you aren’t going to be able to deny my fingers deep inside you

Fi: true, it’s already obvious I’m not going to be able to deny you anything ever

Mattie: you don’t want to, you want to please me

Mattie: and nothing will please me more than having you obsessed with me and when and where you’re next getting fucked

Fi: you’ve achieved getting me to the point of obsession with the way you speak

Mattie: I wish I had told that girl to go, what we were busy doing

Fi: it’s okay, you telling her off would have actually been too much for me, the state I was in

Mattie: It made us waste more time

Mattie: and fight

Fi: we’ll make the time up

Fi: and we don’t have anything else to fight about, so we aren’t likely to again in a hurry

Mattie: I can’t be fighting, I don’t care if its Christmas, there’s too much else to be doing and feeling

Fi: no fighting, sweet pea, I surrender completely

Mattie: 🥰

Mattie: what I like to hear

Fi: But oh no, it’s a terrible rhyme, I’ve written you awful accidental poetry! 😬

Fi: thank god that’s a secret 🤫🔒

Mattie: Prose and verse are not my forte on any given day but I can assure you my head is far too foggy to think your words are anything but beautiful

Fi: mine either, I can barely string a sentence together at the best, or worst, of times

Fi: my head and heart both race too far past being capable

Fi: your support makes me feel like not a total dunce regardless, it has to be said, it always did

Mattie: that makes you passionate and engaged, you have thoughts on thoughts, that’s the opposite of anything even the bitchiest teacher could call a ‘dunce’

Fi: said bitchiest teacher let me know passion and intelligence are poles apart, in no uncertain terms, should I be in any danger of getting that twisted

Fi: but I’m fine with only indulging my passions, I have the luxury

Mattie: I don’t know how she could claim to have experience with either, honestly

Fi: it’s purely a job requirement in theory

Mattie: there’s no room for that outdated approach

Fi: keep inspiring students to become teachers and you’ll soon leave no room for it, she’ll be pushed out with the rest of her sort 🦕

Mattie: I think that’s any decent person's goal, see things move forward after you, not clinging on for dear life

Fi: agreed, hard as it is for me not to cling onto the school for dear life sometimes

Mattie: Give yourself some grace, it hasn’t been long enough to call you tragic quite yet

Fi: My new home is great, which helps

Mattie: You’ll have to give me the grand tour

Fi: you’ll have to stay long enough to be able to get out of bed

Mattie: you’ll be asleep before long

Fi: you’re shining such a telling spotlight onto everybody else you’ve slept with, no wonder you had those orgasm doubts

Fi: because I promise you, I won’t be considering sleep at all until you’ve gone

Mattie: 😏 well I will be, I love sleep, thank you

Fi: 🐻🍯🐯

Mattie: wouldn’t hibernating be glorious!

Fi: perhaps I’ll be a convert once you’re sleeping next to me, I’ve never gotten over how you looked or I felt when [a scenario whereby Mattie fell asleep lowkey on Fi, I pictured school trip again like on a coach, but it could be any opportunity for this during the school year tbh including travelling back from an away school match, the point is, Mattie falls asleep and Fi doesn’t move a single muscle the entire time so she won’t accidentally wake her and tells everyone to shh so they won’t either, because gay to show she managed to keep still even though she isn’t that bitch and important to show she is a well liked bitch who everyone listened to when she made them be quiet, students and other teachers too and Mattie eventually wakes up like oh you did all that]

Fi: either way, I surrendered, so if it’s hibernation you want, my best attempt at turning my bedroom into your own cosy bear cave is what you shall have

Mattie: [turn up and we know the vibe]

[petrovaaaae]

Winter White Wolf

CHAPTER 2

If there was one thing that was for certain, it was the fact that Bucky blamed Sam for absolutely everything that happened, or what went wrong in his life. Why? Because if it hadn't been for Sam, Bucky would be living in peace, in his apartment - alone with Alpine. But instead, Sam had to piss off the organisation that they were currently after by just being a down right asshole. Not that Bucky was anything less than an asshole, but he preferred to stay quiet. Which ultimately led to another shoot out, both Bucky and Sam being outnumbered and having to call in for backup.

Why were they here in the first place? Well, they were currently stuck in this damn run down airport because they were seeking out evidence. Low and behold, whilst Bucky helped the last civilians that somehow managed to wind up in the middle of this freakshow, out of the airport, reinforcement arrived. Natasha and Sam got to work, fighting those members of the organisation until Natasha was thrown through, what Bucky assumed, was a shop window.

It was then he saw that woman, Irina Petrova, come sliding in. He had to admit it looked pretty badass. She launched herself at the man who had thrown Natasha, easily subduing him by grabbing the back of his head, smashing his face into a run down water fountain. There was a difference in their style of fighting, both Irina and Natasha, but even Bucky could see that this small woman was a force to be reckoned with. And she took each blow like a god damn champion, she looked so fragile, easily breakable. He watched as she turned, taking a pocket knife out of one of her many pockets to throw at a man approaching Sam, hitting the person clean square in the chest.

"Thankyou!" Sam called, as he knocked someone else down with his wings "But damn girl, who trained you?"

'Director Fury." Irina told him, looping her foot round the ankle of a man who came behind her, making him fall to the ground.

"We should spar sometime." Sam suggested, as he swung at someone else.

"I personally wouldn't, Sam. There has been a few times she has knocked the breath out of me." Natasha admitted, as she stood up from the broken glass, to finally join the fight and shoot at one of the four men who tried to subdue Bucky.

Bucky believed that. His first meeting with Irina had......surprised him. She had knocked the wind out of him completely, not only with her fist but by that force thing she did with her hand. He was also given another reminder as she slid over on her knees, easily wrap herself round one of the men trying to subdue Bucky, wrapping her legs around his neck and using that force to bring him to the floor, before standing up. When the fight was over, Bucky hadn't even realised Torres was there. Of course, he would be doing damage control. As he approached, he informed them that there was in fact, no civilian casualties. Suddenly, Torres looked over at Irina, raising his brow.

"I feel as if I know you." Torress said suddenly, causing Irina to looked at him raising her brow.

"Irina Petrova." Irina offered, her gaze suddenly going round the room - she was staying on guard.

"Petrova....Petrova....Oh! You are one of the Agents...Well, you were an Agent under Director Fury, weren't you?" Torress asked, causing Irina's gaze to glance back at him as she gave him a firm nod "Joaquin Torres. I....I provided information for your mission in che-"

"You knocked over my coffee." Irina suddenly stated, tilting her head.

"Ah...Sorry about that." Torres said, lowering his head "I..I can always buy you another coffee?"

​"It won't be necessary." Irina quickly said, turning towards Natasha "We need to get out of here." She said.

Bucky couldn't have agreed more. Heck, he wanted home, he wanted to see alpine. What he didn't want was to be stuck here with three god damn annoying people. Nat wasn't annoying, or was she? She had her moments. So, they made their way back to the quinjet, only to be ambushed once again as they stepped out onto open ground.

"Any of that magic up your sleeve, Petrova?" Sam shouted as he ducked behind a car, Bucky leaned up, pointing his hand gun at one of them, shooting.

"You're the one with wings but you ask me for magic?" Irina countered, looking over at them "Don't worry, I got, Samuel."

"You got this?" Natasha shouted over at her, and Irina gave a firm nod, standing and raising her hand towards the approaching assault. When she did, they fell back. "Now, Let's go people." Natasha called, as they made their way towards the quinjet, each bullet that was fired was being thwarted away with each move of Irina's hand as she moved. Once they were safely onboard the quinjet, the doors shut behind them, protecting them from whatever the hell was after them.

"That was pretty awesome." Torres panted, looking over at Irina, who simply raised her brow at him. "It wasn't awesome?"

"It was normal." Irina offered, going to the cockpit as she flicked on a few of the switches. "Everyone buckle up." Did Bucky think it was normal? Heck, what is considered normal these days? He woke up from his brainwashed state and had to fight aliens, and made friends with a talking racoon and tree. Nothing that seemed normal was the norm for him now. His gaze passed over to the woman that was now in control of their flight, whilst Natasha sat beside her. Sam and Torres were having a conversation on how to upgrade Redwing. Bucky didn't feel like talking, no, he was still trying to piece together in his mind where he knew this woman from.

Did she make him feel uneasy? Hell yeah. That little woman was like a mini tornada, a pocket sized assassin with some kind of power when she lifted her hand. He had a fucking vibranium arm and she still managed to floor him. Did Sam have that on footage? Most likely. As the woman turned on autoflight once they were at a point to cruise, she twirled around in her chair, locking onto his gaze. Did he care that he was caught staring? No, he simply shifted in his seat, keeping his eyes locked on her own. Was this a staring contest? He was the best at them. Irina sat back in her chair, her brow arching slightly as she tilted her head.

"Do you always stare?" She asked, her gaze never faltering.

"You get used to it." Sam called, but if she was tempted to look at Sam, it didn't show - she held Bucky's gaze.

"Oh? So its a favourite pastime of yours, Sargeant Barnes?" Irina asked. Bucky almost felt his jaw clench.

"I know you from somewhere." Bucky said, running his tongue along his bottom lip "I can't find the memory, but I know you're in there somewhere."

"Oh?" Irina asked, folding one leg over the other. "I can refresh your memory if you want me to?" Bucky nodded his head at her words "It will cost you a cheeseburger and a shake."

"No." Bucky answered instantly, shaking his head.

"Too bad, good luck in finding that memory." Irina whispered as a smile pulled on her lips. Bucky rolled his eyes, his jaw clenching. He wanted to know. Heck, it was only a cheeseburger and a shake, he could pretend to agree to the deal.

"Fine. Ill do it." Bucky said, exhaling deeply.

"Payment first. I aint no sucker." Irina said, swinging the chair back round to face the front of the cockpit. Did that really just happen? Did he just agree to buy this girl a cheeseburger and shake to simply know how he knew her? That was ridiculous. But, it had been torturing him since he met her. Was it whilst he was brainwashed? Those memories came back piece by piece, not that he wanted to remember killing people.

"Your big cyborg brain still computing?" Sam called out, laughing. Obviously, he had seen and heard their words, and obviously he had witnessed Bucky being almost blackmailed. Wait, it was blackmail. Rolling hsi eyes, he looked away. Did he want to do it? No. He most certainly did not "Ah, she got you man!" Sam exclaimed. Yes. Irina most certainly did get him on that one. Well, two could play at the same - he would get the information and then leave. Was it rude to leave a gal at a cheeseburger joint by herself? Heck, yes. His sisters would smack the head of him for it, but - this was different times and this gal was a stranger to him.

Once they had landed, Irina swung round in her chair once more, staring at him. Exhaling deeply, Bucky stood up "Burger king does pretty good cheeseburgers, but I am more into a place called Shake Shack." Irina said, standing up as she walked towards the exit "Have you tried it, Sargeant?" Why was she still calling him that? Did it irritate him? Yes.

"No." Bucky replied firmly as he followed her out, and Irina turned around, dropping her jaw as she walked backwards.

"Sam, he hasn't tried Shake Shack?!" Irina exclaimed "That is criminal."

"He is an 106 year old man, Petrova. He barely knows what pizza is." Sam joked, causing Irina to look at Bucky. He did know what pizza was. Well, he was recently introduced to pizza.

"Criminal." Irina whispered, shaking her head dramatically. "Well, allow me to introduce you to the best burger and shakes you will ever have, Sargeant."

​"Don't let Stark hear you saying that. He will literally fight you to defend Burger King." Natasha joked, walking out of the quinjet.

​Irina laughed, shaking her head "Stark is the reason I am going to get high blood pressure." Irina cleared her throat, looking at Bucky "Are you coming, old man? Shall I get you a wheel chair? Also, I am driving."

"No you're not." Bucky said instantly, boy was this woman annoying.

"Yes I am. Its my car, I am driving." Irina said, walking into the compound as Bucky walked after her. Was she always this stubborn? Bucky couldn't work with someone this irritatingly stubborn.

"Then we aren't going." Bucky said shrugging, playing it as if he didn't care. He did. He wanted to know it had been annoying him. How did he know her?

"Then you don't get your answers," Irina said, turning to look at him with a smile. Bucky clenched his jaw, was he annoyed? Yes. This was obviously amusing to this woman. Exhaling deeply, he nodded.

"Where you going, frosty flakes?" Stark called, as Bucky looked over at him as they passed the kitchen area.

"Cold snap here is bringing me for burger and shakes." Irina said to Stark, amusement lacing her voice. Stark looked at Irina and then at Bucky with a raised brow. "He doesn't remember me. I am going to tell him how he knows me, once I get my god damn cheeseburger."

"I am being blackmailed." Bucky suddenly said, causing Stark to snort. Did he find this amusing too? Clearly he did.

"Yeah, good luck with that, Barnes. Let logan paul here finish her fries before you force any information out of here. She can be snappy when hungry," Stark said, offering a sarcastic smile. Great.

"Come along, old man," Irina exclaimed, turning around and walking out to the corridor. Begrudingly, Bucky followed. Once they reached the elevator, he turned his head to look at her. Did he feel like grabbing her head and smashing it off the elevator door? Yes. But he knew that she would most likely put up one hell of a fight, and from his last experience, he knew better. As the elevator reached his floor, they stepped in as she hit a button. He looked over at her again, watching as she leaned against the wall, humming to herself. Even the sound was annoying.

Suddenly she stopped humming, turning to look at him as she elevator came to the garage "Still want to drive?" Irina asked, holding the keys out to him. He took the keys from her, which one was her car? Walking out to the garage, he followed Irina until she came to a black car, it was a small black sports one. Unlocking it, Bucky got into the drivers side. Once Irina was in, he turned and looked at her.

"Where is it?" Bucky asked, clenching his jaw as he did. Irina cleared her throat, tapping on the screen that was in the middle of the car until a map came up with directions "Great, computers. Got to love them." Bucky whispered, starting the car up as he started on the journey.

"It must be so different for you." Irina suddenly said, turning her head to look at him "Waking up, being in this new age."

"I guess you could say that." Bucky mumbled, running his tongue along his bottom lip. Different? It was a whole fucking new world. He didn't have time to adjust, he was just thrown into the deep end. I mean, aliens? He fought aliens. How crazy was that? The impossible had become possible since he woke up. Sure, during his time tech was new and upcoming, but not like this. As Bucky was driving, he glanced over at Irina who was tapping on her phone in front of her, and he could tell that whatever she as doing, it had to be interesting by the way her expression changed every god damn second. Finally they arrived at the burger joint, it was like a little shack almost.

Suddenly, Irina turned and looked at him as she put her phone down "I actually feel really bad for making you do this." She said, did she? she should.

"You should." Bucky said instantly, and Irina nodded.

"I will tell you, okay?" Irina said, and Bucky switched the engine off, turning to look at her "When you were the winter soldier, you were sent to kill Nicholas Fury. I was with him in the car when you were..sent." Wait, she had met him? Bucky looked way, his mind reeling over that knowledge. If she had met him, how the hell was she still alive. More to the point, if she knew what he was capable off, why wasn't she afraid of him? Or was she?

"What happened?" Bucky asked, shifting in the seat. He remembered snippets of that day, but not all of it.

"It was an inside job. Well planned, I must admit. We were in traffic when they started chasing us, rammed us. Luckily Fury is very skilled in driving." Irina said, looking away "When we managed to at least get away from those who were disguised as cops, there he stood. In the middle of the road. He blew the car up, well sort of. Before he got to us, Nick had a mouse hole, it cuts through any material and we were able to get underground." Irina cleared her throat. Bucky noticed how she was using the word 'he'. Not, referencing to Bucky in general, but to the Winter soldier. Did he feel guilty? Heck, he felt guilt for all those he caused harm to and killed when he was brain washed.

"I am sorry." Bucky said, looking at her "My name is James Bucky Barnes, I am no longer the winter soldier." It ws part of his...rules. Of making amends.

"I know." Irina said, smiling at him "I don't blame you for any of it. How could anyone? It is so easy for others to blame you for what happened, but it was not you." No. It wasn't him. But he still felt responsible, it was his hands that were covered in that blood "Alright, we can go back now." Irina said as she moved to put her seat belt on.

"No. We came for burgers and shakes." Biucky replied slowly, looking at her. Irina looked at him, raising her brow before smiling and giving a nod of her head.

​When they sat eating, it was in a comfortable silence. He noticed how Irina hummed constantly. Was it because of the silence? Maybe. But Bucky enjoyed silence, so....he found it irritating. He also noticed how she didn't sit still, she fidgeted, moved constantly. Which led to him constantly telling her to stop. Did he regret in coming in? Mostly no because she was right, the cheeseburgers were awesome and Bucky swore he ate like 5 of them, and the shakes were fantastic too. 

[simpingforblackfire]

Platonic Yandere Dick Grayson x reader x Platonic Yandere Starfire Part 4: Dick Focused

A/N: If this chapter seems like it's neglecting my girl Starfire that's because it is. I had to split this chapter into two parts with this one focusing more on Dick and how he deals with you making him mad while the other chapter focuses on Starfire and how she deals with you making her mad. I'm posting both parts at the same time so dw about having to wait for that chapter because it's already up. 

Dick's anger came out whenever his patience ran dry.

Dick was convinced you were just a kid who never actually got to be a kid since you weren't raised in a good environment or shown enough love growing up so that's why you reacted as aggressively as you had to his kidnapping spontaneous adoption.

But sometimes kids needed discipline as a part of love.

He and Starfire were usually a good balance for each other as their emotions tended to linger in different places so they could usually reason with one another and influence each other for the better. Dick’s patience typically balanced out Starfires lack of but that doesn’t mean Dick never got mad. While Starfire’s anger usually wasn’t fierce when directed at you, Dick’s could be terrifying when it finally came out.

He had been enthusiastically going over the different room designs you could have as he wanted you to be able to have your own space to some degree since he understood the need for privacy to some degree. He would have a baby monitor in your room as well as security cameras but those were precautions in case something was wrong and he wanted to be able to trust you and let you have your own space.

He had been feeling particularly rough that day and he was so, so exhausted. He didn't know if it was his job and his habit of taking on too many cases too quickly to cope, the stress of his relationship with his family and the crazy abundance of baggage that came with everyone in it, sleep deprivation, keeping his emotions at bay for so long or just a random surge of an aching tiredness. But he was overwhelmed by it. 

But even still he had to get through the day and he couldn't leave you out of it, he wouldn't neglect you like that no matter how tired it was. The relationship he and Starfire were slowly building with you was tender and soft and so, so breakable. He wanted to be able to bond with you and he knew designing your room would be a nice experience for you both to share and it would let him get a little bit more insight on you.

But when you lashed out in anger at him, smacking his phone away shrieking that he was 'insane' and 'fucked in the head' he snapped.

"You think I want you to hate me! You think I want you to look at me like I terrify you!" Dicks hands tightened on your shoulders before he pushed you back slightly "Well I don't! Of course I don't!" Dick's face contorted into a disturbing pain that stung you into a shock. Dick's voice seem to break up a little in as he struggled to hold back his wavering rambles "I don't want you to- to hate or be scared of me or to look at me like I'm a threat to you because I promise you I'm not and I know you don't believe me but I promise you I'm not. You're just a kid- you're just a kid and I know you think and say you're not and maybe legally you're not but you are! You're just a kid who got lost and you need help." Dick's forceful hands gently grabbed you by the front of your shirt and pulled you closer to him "you need guidance" Dick looked at you, rage filled eyes now bleary with sadness. "you need me kiddo" Dick pulled you tight against him, making sure to let the moment of him squeezing you in an embrace sink into his mind and his memories securely. He didn't want to waste a moment. "You need me" his voice found a way to be steady and he spoke with assurance though you didn't know if it was for you or himself.

One thing was clear. You had a long road ahead of you all.

A/N: Hey I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, I have a few others that I plan to send out soon just about platonic yandere Dick and Starfire but I also have some ones in this little series that focus on some of the batfam and other characters and their relationship to the reader/ their progress of becoming platonic yanderes for the reader. Starfire and Dick will still be in these but they will be including characters like Jason Todd as well so expect that in the future. Dw I will stick that in the title if you don't want to read about those characters. These fics I've been making have been entirely self indulgent and I am aware of that. Will be posting soon!

[lolita-lollipop]

Royal siren erasermic family? They like adopt you after you hatch from an egg bc they found you or something idk and take you back to the castle and make you their little princess or something cute and fluffy like that.

YANDERE SIREN ERASERMIC FAMILY X BABY PRINCESS READER

Shinso was just out and about, swimming through some forbidden areas he wasn’t supposed to be in, avoiding sharks, when he found an iridescent little ball under some rubble of a shipwreck, it made his gills tingle at the sweet aura that it emmited, he knew, that this creature, was something to protect. It was up until he saw something moving inside that he thought it was just some ancient treasure that would’ve died with this ship, he examined it closer, squinting his eyes, that’s when he realized, it was a Siren. A baby one at that, usually they hatched out of boring white eggs, the royal family’s were gold, but a shiny color changing white that combated the finest of jewels? Never, this little pip was special, he could feel it.

So he brought it back home, through his “balcony window”, debating wether or not he should tell his parents. As you know, he was somewhere where he was not supposed to be, and they would throw a fit. Then again, whatever this thing was, he couldn’t just keep it to himself, something was living inside it, and he wouldn’t know if something was wrong, so he has too. When he did, it came as a suprise that his parents weren’t mad, they jsut kindof stared at the orb, inhaling the addictive scent it gave off, the three huddled around it, aizawa carefully picking the Small thing up, it was only about the size of a pumpkin, extremely easy to pick up, yet he could still feel the heartbeat of a creature inside, it just had to be one of the sirenfolk , there isn’t any other explanation. He stared at it in confusion, noticing the small cracks staring to form.

Then a little hand popped through, and scared the shit out of all of them.

———

As it turned out, you were in fact a siren, a rare subtype of them, thought to have gone extinct long, long ago. The opal-looking scales that littered your arms and tail showed proof of it, this species were intensely more fragile, and weaker, that’s why they went extinct, as they couldn’t hear, and a small crabs pinch could cause major bone breaks, they were just too weak, yet so beautiful. That’s why they were coveted among the royal family. It only helped their growing obsession taht you were so cute.

It might’ve been an act of I’mpulse, but they just needed to have you as their own, of course, their word is law, so they could’ve just kept you, but they felt the need to make it official, they’d already had two pips, you’re just their third! It was simple, of course, you specific species could be born into sirenfolk families, it was just so rare that it had only happened once. You were just so cute, so fragile, just something so breakable, they just

H a d

To protect this tiny lil thing, it was instinctual to feel a protective pull over their little pups, and boy were they feeling that right now, you were special, not just any baby, but you were theirs. Their special little pup, nothing would ever lay a hand on you, ever. It had only be a few days, and word spreads through the underwater kingdom like a wave, from the servant maid who showed them how to take care of you, to the head maid, to a citizen, to the fisher, and eventually, by the end of the week, the whole kingdom was eagerly waiting to get a glimpse of their new princess.

And boy were they shocked to find out it was an opalite, the most rare of rare sirens in the world. Immediately after they had shown you to the world, sitting in a large clam as it was pulled by sharks, the citizens fell in love with you, maybe it was the fact that you were related to their beloved royals, maybe because the royal family would intensely glare at anyone who made negative comments, maybe it was the fact that a few of those people went missing, but who knows right?

You still hadn’t been able to open your eyes yet, and you won’t be able to hear them for a very long time, your hands were about the size of aizawas eye, and you looked closer to a fish than a human, as you hadn’t even developed your face yet, another plus to being the endangered species, note the sarcasm. And guess what? They found it so adorable, just their cute little baby, their little pup who can’t even protect themselves from the water around them. They just loved every part of your little body, from your tails, to your tiny little hands, to your shiny gills. It was all just so perfect- you were so perfect, and you were theirs, they were gonna protect you at all costs.

So of course they did, you were just so tiny right now, they knows practically anything could hurt you, so they opted to be around you all the time, only leaving to hunt for humans that would suffice for their tastes, drawling them in, determined because of that little smile of yours. You motivated them to do it, they were doing this for you. It have them all a sense of pride to have you feel safe with them, to rite them you. On their own terms.

Eri was constantly around you, being that she was a young one just like you, and you were her little sister! So she wanted to always be around while you made those echoing gurgling noises, or flapped your hands around in the water, she didn’t have responsibility in the kingdom yet, unless being cute is a job, so she can be with you jsut as much as she wants. Always sitting with you while you played with the floating pearls that they had arranged over your play area, watching you feel new things, holding you while you dozed off with adorable little bubbles, she always was with you.

Like now, she’s been with you all day, giving you little snacks, glaring at the guards at the door who always had their eyes on you… creeps. The sun was almost setting, and when you’re low down in the ocean it goes pitch black after a little while, and that’s when the jellyfish come out, tonight was one of the most special days out of the year in the northern oceans, the jellyfish festival, the one night a year when the rare white jellyfish would come out to say hi, leaving trails of shimmering sparkle behind them, painting the upper levels of the ocean a shiny silver. It just so happened that it occurred on your first birthday, a very small increment to sirens, as they live almost a billion years, but still a big accomplishment in their eyes. Look! Their little baby girl is turning one! How amazing!

“Do you see them hon? Look, they’re just starting to appear” Aizawa asked both you and eri calmly, swishing his hand through the salty water to pint at the new appearance of white and purple blobs, slowly flouncing their way overhead. Eri smiled up at it, her pointed teeth displayed in full view, her eyes shined at the view, not only of the huge jellyfish, but also at you, who was placed delicately in mics lap, sat up against his chest. Little bubbles escaped your mouth as you blew raspberries into the water, just making the family laugh.

“Mm-hmmm! Look! Look! How pretty! I wanna touch em! Can I touch em!” She yelled at her parents, excitedly pointing towards the jelly’s floating towards the surface, her hair floated behind her as she swished around, shinsho just chuckled, knowing that she eventually would try to touch them, and get zapped, again, like last year, and the year before, and the year before.

“No hon. Don’t do that to us again, you wanna wish your sister a happy birthday? She’s probably really exited!” Mic cheered, distracting his daughter from touching the jellyfish, yet again, meanwhile, you were happily bouncing up and down on his lap, enjoying the freedom of your arms, swishing them all over the place, grabbing the beads around your neck, jsut anything.

“But dad! Why not! It’s not like it’s hurt me or anything I’ll be fi-“ she begged, throwing her hands up in a small tempter tantrum, clearly forgetting her previous events of pain, and idiocy.

“No- nope no no, we aren’t doing this again, please honey, just please, remember last time, we had to clean up your wounds OUTSIDE-of water, you hate going to the surface remember? “

“Yeah but-“ she started speaking, but was soon cut off with a loud giggle, resonating through your lips, kindof rare for you, you hadn’t been very vocal outside of a few gurgles here and there, so it had each and every ones heads turning. That’s when they saw it, your beautiful eyes, shin sing in reflection to the jellyfish. Those beautiful little eyes of yours mesmerized all of them, a pitch black (for protection from the salt), with a shiny silver-like pupal, immediately after they opened, a burst of color filled your vision. You giggled and clapped your hands together with a small toothless smile, watching as the floaty creates went overhead, glittering with the light.

The absolutely gorgeous splash above was admired by the family form their own viewing post, the blues and whites combined to make a heavenly display. You could feel the cool sprinkles of light they emmited hitting your skin, smiling at the feeling, you splayed your hands out and flailed them against the water.

“Ohhhhhh- oh wow. Honey! Honey look! Her eyes opened! Look at taht! Aren’t you just so magical! Look at you, my little pup.” Mic smacked Aizawa over the chest multiple times, pointing at your clearly opened eyes, you just remained oblivious, staring up at all the new things around you, like.. everything! He turned you around to face him, letting you actually see his face for the first time, taking in the long yellow hair, the (also) black eyes, the ethereal face dotted with shiny yellow gills, him, you could see him!

“She’s developing smoothly, I’m glad. Awww, that’s pretty cute.” Aizawa replied to him, holding in his emotions, as soon as he met those new eyes of yours it’s like everything else disappeared, like the world itself didn’t exist, outside of him, and his fmaily. You took his breath away, or what you could call breath, so cute and innocent, such a small thing, that brings so much joy. Your little tail swished back and forth as you stared up at them happily, taking in the features of the people you’d learned to recognize by touch. Blowing raspberries out of your lips with a stream of bubbles.

“Awwwww! I’m gonna cry, she’s growing so fast! Soon she’ll be swimming in her own! In like 200 years! Too soon, way too soon. Comers baby- mm hmmm” mic spoke, knowing full well that even if he did cry, his tears would get sucked in by the ocean. He pulled you close, moving your head I’ve this shoulde is it would rest in the crook of his neck while he hugged you, eventually, the others joined in, eri practically flopping ontop (with careful regard for you of course).

They all stared at you, while you stared up at the “sky”, oblivious to their stares, to the ways they would growl at anyone who came close, to how they kept you from seeing anyone other than what they personally approve. After all, you are jsut their little pup, of course you wouldn’t notice! Their little pup… feels right to say that, it isn’t like you have any family waiting, they aren’t ever gonna come here.

And if they ever did?

Then, well, a few mermaids are going missing

———————————————————————————————————

Thanks for requesting, this was fun to write!

Have a great day today! Goodbye.

[goldenmorningglory]

not to keep beating a dead horse but for me personally, Pat's realisation comes in ep4.

it starts, particularly, that night when he's with ink at that bar and ink spots pran. he sees pran, he knows instinctively that he did wrong and than pran is probably angry and/or disappointed. but this time pat feels that sting deeper somehow.

maybe it's because he's with ink. maybe it's because he remembers that shadow of a secretive smile he got when pran reminded him about coming to the bus stop via text. either way he feels worse than he usually would.

and pran's face isn't helping. his eyes look too shiny, his smile looks even more breakable and pran simply refusing to sit with him, wanting to keep up the pretense even when it's just the three of them hurts different from usual.

so instead of continuing his date with this girl he thinks he liked since high school, he gets take out and goes to pran. sees him hurt and is instantly offering to help.

every interaction in ep 4 is a slow beat of realisation. trying to help pran up then feeling anger at being refused. wanting to make sure no one tackles pran because he noticed that the shoulder was hurting. feeling frustrated that out there in the open, he couldn't help him or care for him like he did in their dorm.

then you see pran and ink talking and ink giving pran that bracelet and pran is smiling and apparently even ink gets to have that doesn't she? and pat hasn't reached there yet so he thinks he's just hurt that maybe pran likes ink too and didn't tell him.

what struck me was the way they both knew they wanted to know what the other felt about ink. we get pran because we already know his feelings and we know why he's so hesitant yet curious. but what about pat? there was nothing holding him back from simply asking pran. but he was hesitant about the answer too though he didn't have any reason to be.

if pran liked ink usual pat could've made it into a competition. if pran didn't then pat could just go ahead. but he was afraid of the answer.

the relief he shows is pretty disproportionate cause I think subconsciously, he was relieved that pran didn't like ink. he said yes because of course pat liked her right? and so he proceeds to ask if i k would like him, if pran would like him if he were ink.

but everything pat says are things pat did for pran not ink. so when faced with a pran who looks him in the eye and says that he hates him....he's super confused.

when ink says there's a lovey dovey aura around them he pauses for a second but doesn't hold the thought cause...no way right? but he's also not very disappointed when the four signs thing doesn't work on ink??? and then he finally ascends to the godhood of emotional intelligence and figures it out.

basically whole of ep 4 was pat subconsciously realising that he feels something for pran but without someone spelling out what he should look for, he keeps thinking he's doing and feeling things any old rival would. (oh lord my dumbass lovable boy).

[retrievablememories]

love thy neighbor | kun (m)

title: love thy neighbor pairing: kun x black reader genre: fluff, smut, neighbors to lovers request: “Hello again Rain! I hope you're doing well and I'm happy to see you're open for requests again. Your writing in general is a treat to look forward to. An idea for a fic I'd like to suggest is wayv kun/black oc where they're neighbors that secretly pine for another and do feel free get very nsfw lmao. TY!” word count: 5.7k warnings: alcohol use, protected sex, dirty talk, dry humping, riding a/n: i used a prompt from this list of ideas to help me create this fic.

i’m sorry, this fic could’ve theoretically been finished long ago but took me 3893 years because kun intimidates me (and i don’t know why) and that makes it hard to write for him l m f a o chile anyway...

--

Your neighbor might actually kill you one day—but only in the figurative sense.

Kun is too beautiful and kind for your sanity; he’s like one of those men out of a romantic novel who simply should not exist. In other words, the ideal guy. One who helps all the little old ladies in the building take their groceries up to their apartments, one who feeds all the stray cats that hang around the complex, one who helps new tenants move their things in without even being asked.

Your roommate Charlotte would probably be totally smitten over him just like you if she did not already have her own happy relationship with her girlfriend. But since she does, she has decided to spend her time instead teasing you about your crush on him and trying to persuade you into getting tangled up in a matchmaking mess.

“I’m sure he already has a girlfriend, I don’t know, trying to shoot my shot seems ridiculous,” you say to her, worrying the edge of your blanket in your hands. You toss and turn on the couch, flipping onto your stomach and sighing before shuffling onto your back again. “People like that can never stay single for long. Right? They get snapped up quick.”

“You’d know if you simply asked,” Charlotte points out. “Staring holes into his head won’t help you find out more about him.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, your fingers stumbling over the blanket as it momentarily slips from your hands. Still, the idea of asking him if he’s dating anyone, whether discreetly or more openly, makes you nervous. You’ve talked to Kun several times before, even hung out with him at those friendly get-togethers your apartment building always holds to get the residents mingling, but you’re still anxious around him. It makes you feel silly, like you’re back in high school; but you aren’t quite sure what to do with those emotions or how to form them into something coherent. “Easy to say all that when you already have the person you want, though.”

“Oh, girl. Love is not easy, but that’s why you have to fucking work for it. AKA, go for what—or who—the hell you want and stop pining over him like some lost Juliet on our couch. It’s better than watching you flop around like a dying fish.”

You stand up from the couch abruptly, leaving your blanket to the side and glaring at her. “You don’t get it, ugh.”

“I get it! But you refuse to let me help—”

“Yes, because if I did, you’d say something completely ridiculous and tell him I’m madly in love with him or something.” You head to the bathroom to check yourself in the mirror.

Charlotte throws her hands up in surrender. “Hey, maybe. But that wouldn’t be a lie.”

“Really? I don’t think—”

“I think so. The way you talk about this guy, it’s definitely sounding a little like love to me.”

Once you’re satisfied, you come back in the main room and grab your keys, wanting to end this conversation before Charlotte sets a world record for how many times she can make you feel embarrassed. “Whatever you say. I’m gonna go to the corner store, so...speak now if you need something or forever hold your peace.”

“You can’t run from it,” Charlotte sing-songs, going back to reading her magazine. “And no, I don’t need anything.”

Once you get out your front door, it’s just your luck when you see Kun’s door is also open. You are not dressed for running into him, of all people; your “corner store” clothes being just a T-shirt, leggings, and slides. You freeze in place and momentarily think about unlocking your door and bolting back inside, which you realize is utterly ridiculous. By then, it’s too late; he’s already coming out his door and closing it behind him. 

He perks up when he sees you outside, smiling at you with those deep dimples that make your insides melt. “Hey Y/N, good to see you.”

“Kun! Uh—great to see you too.”

“Are you going out somewhere?” he asks. Inwardly, he feels a bit silly for asking because you clearly are, keys in hand and everything.

“Yeah, just to the store to get a few things.” You wave your hand, and you almost have the urge to lean on your doorframe to appear more calm and collected than you are. Which could potentially end up looking sillier than you intended. “How about you?”

“Going to see a friend,” he answers, and he brushes his hand through his hair in a way that’s completely casual but somehow modelesque at the same time. This is unbelievable, you think to yourself. “We haven’t met up in a while, so…”

“Oh yeah, it’s always nice to go out with old friends,” you say, smiling at the thought of it. Kun nods his agreement, and then has an abrupt, wild idea to ask if you’d like to go out somewhere sometime. Too busy warring with himself over whether he should take the dive, he doesn’t notice you heading towards the stairs already. “I hope you two have a good time!”

“Oh—thanks. Hope you enjoy your trip.” He chuckles, following you down the steps to get to his car. Well, that moment has passed. Sure, he could probably still ask you now if he was bold enough about it, but it feels too awkward to randomly ask someone out in the middle of a stairwell.

You wave bye to him once you both get in the parking lot. He watches you walk to your car with a wistful smile on his face. He wants to say more to you, but the timing isn’t right and it’s best not to hold you up right now. Plus, Hendery’s probably already waiting for him.

It would’ve provided you with a lot of relief if you knew Kun was facing a similar dilemma to you. He’d never had much problem talking to women he liked in the past, but something about you made him feel clumsy and hesitant. But just like with your inability to move forward, there’s no way for you to know his feelings without him saying anything about it—which he has been hesitating over for the longest. 

Maybe he was also still cowering from the embarrassment of the time he’d tried to show you a magic trick that didn’t quite work out, but it was a convenient excuse. At least for him, anyway.

One day he’d get the courage to tell you how he felt, but he didn’t think today was that day.

–

Some strong shots and a few hours at the club was exactly what you needed to unravel your nerves after a long week. You and a few others from your work had decided to go out that Saturday night as a group effort to unwind from dealing with your overbearing boss. “Just a couple shots” eventually turned into more than that, though, but you weren’t complaining. As long as it gave you the opportunity to discard all your issues for a while, you didn’t mind losing yourself a little.

However, your night of fun quickly dissolves into frustration when you realize you’ve lost your keys and have no way to get back into your apartment. You’re not even sure where they might’ve disappeared—in the club, or in the rideshare back to your apartment?

Charlotte is out of the city for the week visiting her long-distance girlfriend, so there’s no way you’re getting back in your apartment tonight. The main office won’t be open at this hour, either; it’s the weekend, and nobody will be there regardless until Monday. And you’re definitely not drunk enough or desperate enough to try to bust the door down.

Though it pains you to do so, you knock on Kun’s door, your head throbbing and dizzy. You feel bad about this. He won’t even be awake at this hour and might not answer, but you don’t know what other options you have. You aren’t familiar enough with your other neighbors to ask this of them. Especially not the old lady living on the other side of you who has a perpetually judgmental aura towards everyone in the apartment building. The only person she seems marginally approving of is none other than the man himself—Qian Kun.

It takes a good minute or two, but you hear the latch unlock, and Kun is suddenly standing in front of you, a look of concern on his sleepy face. He is adorable like this, in his pajamas and his hair mussed and his eyes foggy with sleep. He’s so cute it makes you want to cry—and so you do. 

But your tears are mostly because you’re very tipsy and tired and currently locked out of your very comfortable apartment.

This awakens Kun immediately. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” He gently pulls you into his apartment, his tone quiet but panicked as you put your face in your hands and cry. You just shake your head for a few moments, crying too much to say anything to him. When you don’t reply, he doesn't try to press you for answers; he just puts his arms around you, a bit carefully as if you’re made of some easily breakable material, and lets you wet his T-shirt with your tears.

Finally, when you’ve collected yourself some, you abruptly feel foolish for crying over something like this. He probably thinks someone’s died, and you’ve gotten him all worked up for practically nothing. “I-I’m locked out,” you sigh heavily, and he has enough politeness not to outwardly react to your alcohol breath with your close proximity. “And my roommate is gone…forever.”

His eyebrows lift. “Forever?”

“The whole week, Kun...but it feels like...f-forever.”

“Ah...I see. Is that why you were crying?”

You put your head back in your hands. “Just kill me.”

“Don’t feel bad about it,” Kun says, and there is a tiny lift to his mouth like he wants to smile at your dramatics. “It’s fine. You can stay here tonight.”

“Kun, thank you.” You’re still loosely embracing each other, and you squeeze your arms more tightly around him. Maybe it’s just a reason to rest your head on his chest again and hear his heart beating strong against your cheek, but you wouldn’t admit that. Wait, why is his heart beating so fast? “Thank youuu, I love you so much, this means the world to me.”

Kun’s mind catches on the words I love you so much, and he knows you’re just drunk and need to sleep it off and aren’t really thinking about what you’re saying, but he cannot help lingering there for a moment. He’s glad the front room is still dim from the single lamp he turned on, otherwise you might notice the flush growing on his cheeks. “I...it’s no problem. We should get you comfortable, then.”

As it turns out, get you comfortable means he lets you sleep in his bed while he takes the couch. In another context you’d protest, not wanting to kick him out of his own space, but you are simply too smashed to think about it. You’re seconds away from falling asleep where you stand now that the adrenaline of discovering you’re locked out has worn off. Kun has the idea to make you drink some ice cold water, though, which wakes you up enough to take a proper shower.

By the time you get out of the shower and are wearing his clothes—his clothes—you are feeling a little more sober. You also feel like you’re going to have another small meltdown over all this. “This” being: wearing Kun’s clothes and standing in his bedroom, which is decorated with all his interests and treasured belongings. There’s a small studio setup in one corner, which interests you, but you don’t investigate it any further.

Now you have another little problem, though; what are you gonna do about the pillows? You don’t have anything to cover your hair with, with all your scarves and bonnets in your own apartment. One night of sleeping on a cotton pillow wouldn’t kill you, but that doesn’t make it any less distasteful to think about.

Kun comes into the bedroom to check on you and sees you puzzling around, sitting on the bed and looking awkward. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh. It’s nothing really,” you rush out, unsure if you should tell him about a problem he likely won’t even understand. It must be at least 4:00 a.m. by now, meaning you both desperately need to get some sleep.

“You can tell me, I won’t bite.”

I wouldn’t mind if you did pops into your head, but you immediately try to ignore that thought and are silently grateful that you do not blush visibly.

“Uh, my hair.”

“Your hair?”

“Okay, I need to cover it at night so it won’t get all broken off or anything—sleeping on cotton does wonders for destroying moisture—but I don’t have anything here to use. I mean—it’s...not a huge deal though, I can deal with it for a night?” You’re rambling now. Kun just nods, taking in all this information like he’s listening to something very important and very interesting.

“So then, what would you do to stop that?”

“Wear a scarf, or a bonnet, or using a silk pillowcase works, too. But you probably don’t have any of that stuff, you don’t have to bother with it—”

“Well, let me see.” Kun disappears into his closet and you pause, wondering for a moment if he actually does have a bonnet or something in there. Which would probably be a little hilarious to you.

He comes back out with not a bonnet of a scarf or even a pillowcase, but one of his own shirts. It’s just the right material though, being a pretty purple silk.

“Oh—Kun.” At this point, there are several emotions all trying to come to the forefront, though you have no clue which one to settle on. “Your shirt? You really don’t have to. I could…”

“It’s just a shirt, Y/N. There are a lot more where that comes from...I don’t mind.” He chuckles.

You sigh bashfully but take the shirt from him. “Thank you, it’s really thoughtful of you.” You cover the pillow with his shirt, and it works perfectly.

“Anyway, if you need anything else, just tell me,” he says, lingering by the door.

“I will...thank you,” you say, your voice quiet as you give him a nervous smile. Only when he shuts the door and his footsteps fade away do you allow yourself to bunch the comforter in your fists and scream into it. Everything in here smells just like him, which is probably more than enough to fuel all of your Qian Kun-related daydreams for the next 8 months.

It doesn’t take long for you to drift off when you finally do lie down, and your mind is blissfully empty of anything throughout the night.

--

The next day takes a bit of settling into. You’re momentarily alarmed when you wake up faced with a strange room until you remember last night’s events and recall where you are. There is also the smell of food, good food, which is also sadly unfamiliar to you. Charlotte can’t cook to save either of your lives, so you know you’d never be waking up to the smell of a professional chef-approved breakfast if you were still in your apartment with her.

Walking out of Kun’s room, you see that he’s in the kitchen, halfway finished with cooking breakfast for the both of you. It’s more like brunch at this hour, but what does that matter.

You linger at the doorway for a moment, allowing yourself to imagine that this is what things would be like if you were dating. Getting this view everyday? Life cannot be this unfair.

Maybe not too much, though, since you are standing in his kitchen.

“Oh, good morning,” he greets you, breaking your reverie. “Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning. I slept great. Thanks again for, you know, the shirt, haha…”

He grins, and his dimples come out. “Sure thing. Go ahead and sit! Breakfast will be ready soon.”

It’s the best breakfast you’ve eaten since living with Charlotte; maybe some of the best food you’ve ever had. “I had no idea you could cook this well,” you say. “I mean. I guess I wouldn’t since I haven’t—you know, uh—eaten here before, but—it’s great.” It’s just your luck that your thoughts come out in this fumbling mini-rant, but Kun only laughs good-naturedly.

“Thank you, I’m truly glad you like it.”

You both continue eating breakfast while making light conversation. This just might be the longest conversation you’ve had with each other, and that knowledge seems surreal. You’re almost a little glad you lost your key. Almost.

“So...today is Sunday. And the leasing office still won’t be open until Monday.” Kun says this over the remnants of breakfast. He speaks in a measured tone, like he’s trying to ensure he says the right thing. Whatever that could possibly be. “And you told me your roommate won’t be back until Monday.”

To your credit, you hadn’t exactly accounted for this when you first came over to his place in your distressed state. That means another night spent in his apartment though, which becomes very obvious to you now. “Ah. Sorry, am I imposing?”

“What—no, I-I just wanted to make sure you knew you can stay here tonight, or—however long you need.”

Relief floods through you, and you briefly wonder why you even worried about it; as far as you know, he’s not the kind of person to just kick someone out. “Ohh, of course—that’s good to know. Thank you for all this!”

“You’re welcome.” You miss the smile he gives to your response as you’re busy drinking your juice, but it’s one filled with a certain affection.

--

It feels a bit awkward to just sit around in his apartment all day, with nothing to do and all your belongings still locked out of your reach in your own place, so Kun shows you the studio in the corner of his room. He’d talked about being into music before, but you’d never heard anything of his until now.

When he plays the keyboard for you, it’s to the tune of a beautiful self-composed song. You almost pinch yourself to remind yourself this isn’t a hallucination or a fever dream. A man this appealing really exists, and you’ve stayed the night in his apartment and eaten his breakfast. You give a small round of applause when he finishes.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if you became a famous singer or something? I’d come to all your concerts,” you say lightly, kicking your legs on the edge of his bed.

“All? Really, all?” He laughs.

“Yes, all. A voice and talent like that deserves all the attention.” You lean back on his bed, stretching your legs out. “But all your venues would probably be sold out. Hopefully you’d remember me from your lil’ ole apartment building. I’m sure you’d be living in a penthouse by then.”

Kun smiles bashfully at your compliments, waving his hands as if it’s too much. “Thank you. But I don’t think I could ever forget you.” His voice grows a bit softer. His expression is more genuine than you expect for a conversation that was so playful only seconds ago, and you find it hard to hold eye contact all of a sudden.

It is your turn to be bashful, and you shrug in an effort to seem natural. “Well, I’m flattered.” Despite your unaffected demeanor, you don’t think those words will leave your mind for a good while, even if you wonder about the meaning of them. 

--

Later that evening, Kun makes dinner and you watch TV together, flipping to whatever channels have dramas or movies playing.

You two eventually fall into another conversation when you can’t find anything good to watch—one that does not make you overly nervous for once. During a lull in the talking, that big question pops up into your mind, and you wince internally at how Charlotte would’ve already told you to make a move. You aren't sure how to do that without making him uncomfortable or seeming too sudden, but you decide to make an attempt.

You edge into it with, “So, um, your place looks pretty nice for one guy. It’s just you here, right?”

“Ah yeah, just me. Thanks, I do try my best.”

“Haha, I’m used to my guy friends all having super messy apartments until they get a girlfriend and she teaches them how to clean a stove for the first time…”

“Oh really? That’s a bit sad for them, isn’t it?” He chuckles. “I’m not dating anyone right now, so it’s all me.”

Just the information you were looking for. You try not to show your elation. “Why not?” you blurt out. Then you cringe because this might sound too invasive or even judgmental, but Kun only grins. “It’s just, it’s a little surprising. You’re such a generous person. You seem to care about everyone, even those poor stray kitties that stay outside the apartments all the time.”

He smiles timidly in response to receiving more of your compliments. “I guess it seems curious when you put it like that.” Just like when you’d drunkenly said I love you so much, there’s suddenly heat on the back of his neck that he hopes won’t turn into another blush that’ll expose him. “I don’t really know, I haven’t thought much about it; life’s weird like that.” He isn’t really sure how to answer that question in a way that won’t be too big of a hint that he’s interested in you, though he’s also not entirely sure why he’s still trying to hide it. Wouldn’t now be the perfect opportunity? When will you two have this much time together again? Still, you staying in his apartment for two days doesn’t mean you like him, and maybe he’s jumping the gun.

“That’s true. Guess that’s the same reason why I’ve been alone for a while now.” You shake your head.

“You?” Kun is equally surprised to know this about you.

You laugh incredulously. “Does that shock you or something?”

“I...well.” He rubs the back of his neck as he searches for the words. “I just thought...you’re very pretty, and you’re always really kind when we speak, so...”

“Oh?” Your face heats up at that.

“Yeah, I…think anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

“Oh.” Your body’s first instinct is to freeze with nervousness, but you know Charlotte would be kicking your ass in gear right now if she were somehow here. So, you decide to stop stressing about it and just do it. “Well...wouldn’t it be nice if we both had a way to fix our problems at the same time?”

Kun pauses for a moment before replying. “What do you suggest?” He knows what you are proposing—you can see in his eyes and his slight grin and his posture that he knows—but maybe he wants to hear you say it out loud.

“Hm, well…I don’t know, what do you think?” You lean a bit closer to him, raising your eyebrows and trying your best to look innocent and unassuming. His smile turns into something different with your increased proximity. Something a little more sly.

Mirroring your actions, he inches nearer to you until there’s little space left between. “Well, I think…” Kun tentatively closes the remaining gap between the two of you, the rest of his sentence left to linger as his soft lips envelop yours.

Maybe it’s corny to say it, but it definitely feels like one of those fairytale kisses with the fireworks going off and streamers popping; even though you’re sitting on his couch wearing his pajamas, some movie in the background you’ve long forgotten the plot of, empty dinner plates sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

You aren’t sure how you end up in his lap—who made the first move? Was it his hand on your back or your hands on his shoulders? You straddle him on the couch, your arms slipping around his shoulders and his hands on your back but assuredly traveling farther down your body.

Kun’s hands come to rest on your thighs, pulling the fabric of his shorts up a few inches higher. “I never thought I’d see you wearing my clothes,” he says lowly, grinning against your mouth.

“I also never thought I’d be sitting in your lap like this, but maybe sometimes dreams do come true,” you say jokingly, your lips rubbing against his skin as you slowly kiss his jaw.

You can’t see his expression, but his eyebrows shoot up at that. “Dreams, huh? You think about me often?” His voice pitches lower when he asks this, aroused by the thought of you imagining anything quite so lewd about him. You’ve definitely incriminated yourself now and won’t be able to wiggle out of it without an answer.

“...Maybe.”

“What do you think about me?” Kun grips your hips, which quickly turns into him grabbing your ass—tentatively at first to test the waters, and then firmly enough to grind you against his hardening cock. Sensing him solid and warm underneath you sends a shockwave down your spine, and the sensation heightens when his voice caresses your ear, all low and tense with arousal. “It’s just the two of us here. No one else has to know.”

“I think about your...lips. How you might kiss me. Or what you might say to me. And...your hands.” You pause there, a quiet breath whispering past your lips. “You have really big hands, you know.”

“My hands…” Kun places one on your chest, spreading his fingers across and touching your collarbone. The heel of his palm glides on the top of your breast, and just that touch is enough to get you more worked up. “Hmm. Actually, I’ll admit I’m pretty good with my hands.” He smirks, and he’s possibly the finest thing you’ve ever seen. “What else, Y/N?”

“I thought about how you’d touch me.” His hand slides between your breasts now, down your sternum, and to your stomach. “Maybe I’d invite you into my apartment when Charlotte wasn’t there. We’d watch some stupid movie and pretend to be into it, but we’re really just thinking about each other. You’d eventually end up slipping your hand up my skirt...and making me cum all over your fingers.”

You aren’t sure how you’re saying all this to Kun right now, the dude you have a major crush on, without bursting into flames.

His shaft rubbing against your clit even through your layers of clothes makes you sigh dreamily, pressing your forehead to his and gripping at his shoulders and biceps. His bangs are soft against your forehead, and your breath stutters when he moves to kiss the side of your neck. He has to know how hard your heart is beating right now.

“And then what?” His voice is barely a whisper, then.

“And then you’d fuck me, of course.” There’s a slight laugh in your voice at the ticklish feeling of his lips kissing your skin.

“And then I’d fuck you...hm,” he echoes. “Sure, I can do that.”

The promise of it entices you, and more heat pools between your legs, amplified by the fabric rubbing against your sensitive parts. His hand that’s still on your stomach travels under your shirt then, and your hips falter in your rhythm against him when his fingers brush across your nipple. He brings his lips to your other breast, lapping his tongue against your nipple over the fabric.

You soon come like this, his shaft grinding against your clit and his clothes rubbing against your skin, his hands on your ass and his lips traveling across your breasts. The orgasm is sudden and surprises you, but it’s good, and you convulse as the waves of pleasure course through you. You weaken and slump against him, with him still teasing your breasts with his mouth and hands. Pushing your face into his hair, you moan into the black strands until the quivering stops.

You’re breathless when you speak again. “You haven’t come yet.”

“I’d rather do that when I’m inside you,” he replies. You giggle quietly.

“...What are you waiting for, then?”

“Hold on.” Kun carefully maneuvers you off his lap, and you already want to complain at the lack of his touch. “I have to get a condom.”

“Hurry, or you’ll miss all the fun,” you say as you pull your shirt off with your back to him. You look back over your shoulder at him and grin mischievously.

“You’re such a tease…”

Kun goes into his room to fetch a condom, and when he returns he’s already pulling his shirt off, leaving it on the floor somewhere. You’re fully naked now, your legs pulled up to your chest and your chin resting on your knees as you sit on the couch. Kun’s eyes drop between your legs, your inner thighs still glistening from your previous orgasm, and he swipes his tongue across his lips at the sight of you, wet and ready for him.

Likewise, your eyes drop to the dark trail of hair leading into his pants and his bulge just below it, the way his sweatpants cling to his length, and your pussy throbs with the desire to be filled.

“Please, hurry.”

Kun doesn’t waste any time in getting the rest of his clothes off, shoving his pants and underwear done in one swift move and rolling the condom over his shaft. He climbs onto the couch, grabbing your legs and guiding them around his waist, and you giggle at his eager but gentle touch as you recline on the couch pillows behind you.

He grabs his dick and lines it up with you, then pushes it in slowly at first. The stretch makes your toes curl, but it is a good kind of stretch, the kind that fills you to the brim. Like the missing element you needed.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice husky from the pleasure.

“Fuck, please,” is your answer as you shift your hips and try to get him all the way inside quicker. Noticing your urgency, he slides the rest of the way in until your hips are flush against each other and starts thrusting into you. His length dragging across your walls feels much better than you could’ve imagined on any given night, and you clasp your legs tighter around him to get ever closer.

After a point, he pushes your legs up with his hands behind your knees so he can get a deeper angle, and you both moan at the difference in sensation and how much tighter you get around him.

There is no ignoring the messy wet noises of your bodies colliding due to the slickness of your previous orgasm and the new wetness he’s continually fucking out of you. Each thrust reaches deep inside you, deep enough to make you nearly sob, your hands fumbling over your breasts and your clit all the while.

“Kun, god yes please,” you whimper, rocking your hips into the rhythm of his own. You fucking him back makes him groan deeply, his bangs hanging off his forehead as he dips his head to watch himself slide in and out of you. You could not control the urge or the motion of your body even if you wanted to; you want all of him, as close as he can get.

“I don’t want this to end,” he moans, and he pulls out without a warning. You gasp at the sudden emptiness, and your discontent comes out in a full whine. You’d be more embarrassed about it if you weren’t currently consumed with desire, but you presently do not care.

Kun sits back on the couch and pulls you on top of him again. “Ride me,” he says. So you grasp the base of his cock, him grunting as you do, and you press the tip against your entrance before pushing it in. He watches himself slip inside of you while fully enraptured, one hand tight on your hip.

Once you are full with him again, you experimentally grind against him to see how it’ll feel in this new position, and your arms tremble as his pelvis stimulates your clit.

“Go ahead,” he whispers, grasping the nape of your neck and kissing you hard once more, “fuck yourself on me.”

So you keep grinding your clit on him like that, your limbs shaking from the stimulation and your walls fluttering around his cock. You can barely catch a complete breath from him kissing you hard enough to make your lips swell, and your head is so fogged with lust that all you can concentrate on is getting yourself off just like he told you to do.

“Kun…” You roll your head onto his shoulder, pressing your forehead into his skin, your body tiring as you get closer to reaching that high. You’re so close to coming, but you’re not sure if you have enough strength left to get there on your own. Kun notices the state you’re in and grasps your hips to pull them into his, effortlessly sliding himself into you while making sure your clit gets stimulated at the same time.

The new friction of his dick rubbing against your g-spot in this position is enough to have you finally coming and crying out against his neck.

You continue babbling nonsense against his neck as he keeps fucking you, searching for his own end. His hands are hot on your body as he moves you up and down his length.

His climax comes soon after yours, his dick pulsing and his pace slowing. Your back arches at the sensation of him throbbing inside you and releasing his cum into the condom. The way he groans in your ear has your stomach clenching.

For a few minutes after, you both sit quietly and do nothing but cling to one another as you come down from the pleasure.

“So, does this mean we’re together now…?” Kun asks hopefully, running his hands over your back as you lie against him.

You smile against his skin. “Obviously. But if you still want to convince me, we can go a couple more rounds…”

[shootingstarwritings]

Couples Therapy

Marcus glanced at his client before going back to his notes. As usual, it was a young woman who looked as though she was on the verge of tears after giving him a mile-long list of grievances towards her husband. For the first few years, everything was like an eternal honeymoon until the two began to drive the other crazy. From the little info Marcus had, the blame seemed to rest on two personalities that didn't feel like compromising—as it usually was.

However, compromises didn’t put food on Marcus’ table, so it was in his best interest to pin the blame all on the husband. “Like my services advertise,” he told the wife, Julia, while sliding a sheet of his talents over to her, “I can fix your marriage to be as blissful as it was on your wedding night. All I need is your consent and I can shape your lover as you need him to be.”

The tears soon dried up. "Um, huh…?" Julia grew sheepish as her eyes skimmed over the sheet. Not good. "Shape him? My friend said your type of work was unique, but changing my husband…? I didn't hear anything about that."

Tilting his head, Marcus said, "Did you not notice how your friend's partner changed? He was happier, more agreeable, and far more pleasant overall. Always carried a strong conversation and had the manners of a perfect gentleman. Don't you want the same for your husband?"

“I-I thought you just gave them counseling!” Julia stood up from her chair, hands clasping her purse as though Marcus was a violent, money-hungry criminal. “This is crazy. A-And, honestly absurd. I'll have no part in this lunacy!"

“So you’re okay with your husband’s divorce?”

Julia stopped just before her hand reached the door. Though she didn't turn around, she said, "What do you mean?" Her voice was tinged with fear despite her attempts to hide it.

“When you made your appointment, I did a little digging on your husband,” said Marcus, lying as naturally as he breathed. “Digging into his soul, of course. My abilities allow me to do so.”

He stood up and strode over to Julia. “He’s growing increasingly dissatisfied with your union. Every little action, every little word, every little annoyance from you pushes him more and more towards the arms of another.” While Marcus remained stone-faced, he was smirking inside as beads of sweat cascaded down Julia’s brow. 

Perfect.

“A young woman your age already divorced? What will the neighbors think? Your friends? Your family? But,” he shrugged and made his way back to his desk, “if you insist that you don’t need my services, I can do nothing about that. I sincerely wish the two of you a happy marriage. However long it lasts.”

Julia excused herself to go to the bank but promised she would return with the payment.

Marcus’ target was a man by the name of Trevor. Attractive, admirable, and breakable. All it would require was a few weeks in his body and Marcus’ job would be finished. Julia had signed the contract, so his body was completely available.

That was the limit to Marcus’ powers. Without some sort of consent from one who at the very least shared the name or a bond with his target, he was unable to do anything. Now, all Marcus had to do was take over Trevor’s body.

But first, Marcus was curious about what was going to happen in their ordinary lives. While Julia had given him a whole list of things that she wished Trevor would do, Marcus skimmed it before throwing it away. For the most part, his clients didn't know what they wanted—and what they did was something ridiculous like 'makes me breakfast in bed every single day.' It was all nonsense straight out of a soap opera. Marcus preferred to just take a look at what pissed his client off and doing a few favors here and there. The only part of Julia's list that Marcus even remotely paid attention to was, "Being more open to pegging."

Other than that, Marcus would just sit by and watch how a typical morning went for the couple. He made his way to the address Julia had provided him during their meeting in an astral form and peeked into their lives.

“God, another spill, Jules?” Trevor groaned as he looked down at his stained pants. “C'mon." While Julia let out a stream of apologies, Trevor just rolled his eyes and said, "I'm trying to get a goddamn promotion here!"

“I-I’m trying…!” Julia said, backing up as Trevor grabbed the empty mug and smashed it on the ground. “Th-That was mine...”

“And so’s the mess,” Trevor shot back. “When you’re the breadwinner in this relationship, you can decide what does and doesn’t get broken.” With that, Trevor left to get changed while Julia cleaned up the kitchen.

That was all Marcus needed to see. The bastard needed a major attitude adjustment. His wife was a complete klutz, but there was no need to bite her head off for making a mistake. Marcus didn't feel any particular sympathy for Julia, but assholes like Trevor pissed him off to no extent. "Only natural," Marcus said to himself. "Assholes hate assholes. Don't like pricks like him on my turf."

Floating over to Trevor and Julia’s room, he admired the assets he would borrow for the next few days. Trevor’s pants were off, allowing Marcus to get a nice glimpse of the package he would be showing off for the next few days. Along with that were nice, juice thighs and a good chest peeking out of the nice polo shirt he wore. No longer able to resist, Marcus just dove towards Trevor.

"HNNG! What the fuuuuck?!" Trevor moaned as Marcus phased through his back. Entire body tensing up, Trevor stood in place, his back arching while his head was thrown back. Feet planted to the floor, he moaned in pleasure and panic. "Wh-Who the hell?! What the—HAA! Ahhh…! What the fuck are youuuu?!" Unable to keep his balance amidst the barrage of pain and pleasure mixing, Trevor collapsed onto his bed, convulsing uncontrollably as the foreign intruder wore him like a suit.

“Mmm,” Marcus moaned, rubbing his hard-on against the mattress. “Oh, that’s niiice. Thanks, Julia.” Still face-down on the bed, he spread his legs and let his hands wander towards a certain untouched hole. “Don’t worry, I’ll turn your hubby into the subbiest bottom in town.”

Purposefully ignoring Julia, Marcus left the house and headed towards Trevor’s place of work, relying on muscle memory and the information Julia had given him for navigation. Eventually, he arrived at some fancy insurance firm full of suits who looked like they could use a healthy dose of Viagra.

Once more, Marcus relied on Trevor's muscle memory to guide his way through work. And once settled into Trevor's impersonal cubicle, Marcus began his work. At once, he worked on smiling more in Trevor's body. Man was a creature of habit and the human mind was a sponge for information and mannerisms. Because of that, Marcus would adopt certain behaviors for the week or so he would be in his hosts' bodies. The end result was a spouse that would compliment their partner far more.

On all levels, it was wrong. However, Marcus continued without losing a wink of sleep.

After making sure Trevor was smiling more, Marcus also stretched and relaxed his muscle. "God, you're so tense," he mentioned as he rolled his shoulders back. "Or, I'm so tense." Grinning, Marcus continued chatting to himself. It was always fun getting into a role. Perhaps it was his theater kid days, but adopting a new identity was always fun. "I should get more into yoga," he said, stretching as much as he could in that uncomfortable suit. "Do some squats. It'll help me make my ass all nice and firm. Flexibility'll be nice in the bedroom for Jules," he proclaimed, repeating it to himself to make sure it remained imprinted to Trevor.

To make sure those thoughts remained in Trevor's head, Marcus headed off to the gym after each workday. He worked until Trevor's already well-developed muscles were pleasurably sore by the time he arrived back home. "Keep acting as though I'm Trevor," Marcus had texted Julia before. "It'll make it easier for these thoughts to stick to your husband." His words didn't ease Julia's awkwardness, but Marcus didn't mind. Working with pathetic actors wasn't anything new for him.

By the final day of Marcus' planned stay, Trevor's boss called him into his office. "You're not in trouble," his boss, a man by the name of Arthur said. "Just wanted to catch up with you, is all." His words were even, but Marcus noticed that his gaze was not. Arthur's eyes kept traveling and his fingertips kept grazing Trevor as much as they could while retaining that facade of professionalism. "I've noticed your recent change in attitude. Rumors travel quickly throughout the office."

“When there’s not much to talk about,” Marcus began, “it’s easy to become the talk of the town.”

Arthur cocked an eyebrow. “Your attitude and your tongue’s changed, Trey. I'm surprised but pleased. Productivity for the whole office has gone up this week. And your more positive attitude has really helped with that. I've noticed the environment in general is a lot less toxic."

“Sorry about that, sir,” Marcus said with a curt nod. Yet, he made sure to keep a cocky, inviting smirk on his face. The blood was rushing to Arthur’s cheeks despite his stony expression. “Hadn’t realized how much my attitude had an impact on the office. But I’m sure you’ll be just as satisfied as my wife about the new me.” By now, Marcus was happily rubbing his thighs, making sure they stood out alongside his bulge in those tight slacks he had purchased for Trevor. During the week, he had made a habit of dropping his things and bending over to reach for them in front of his various coworkers. If his eyes didn’t deceive him, he was certain about the office spent more than half a second staring at Trevor’s assets.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Yes, well. Nonetheless, just wanted to show my appreciation for this sudden turn. Always happy to see my workers in a relaxed, pleasant environment.”

Standing up, Marcus leaned in close to Arthur’s lips. “I can think of a few other ways you can show your appreciation, boss,” he whispered, unbuckling his belt. This same scenario had played out so many times Marcus was certain his gaydar was impeccable. “Why don’t you bend me over your desk and show me who the boss is?”

Arthur hesitated for about a second before locking the office door and tying Trevor’s mouth shut with his own tie. “Take! This! You! Slut!” Arthur roared as he pounded Trevor’s ass raw. Marcus, back arched, face pressed up against the cold desk, just moaned like a slut. He eagerly met each of Arthur’s thrust with his strong workout for his hips.

This is my favor for you, Julia, he thought as Arthur pulled on his hair. Your husband’s hole might not be as tight as you want it to be, but he’ll definitely be up for stuff up his ass by the time I leave.

"Make me your bottom bitch," Marcus begged, trapped in a nirvana of pleasure and pain.

The next time Marcus saw Julia and Trevor the two of them were walking down the back, arms linked. Both were smiling and laughing so animatedly that Marcus was certain the songbirds were jealous. On occasion, he spotted Julia lightly slapping Trevor's ass and her husband reddening like a tomato at the sensation.

Marcus returned home satisfied at another successful trip.