#it strangely feels like slacking off when I do anything other than write

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 8, A moment of bliss

Masterlist Word count: 3.5 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Hi everyone. Enjoy Sylus being a switch/bottom for this one. He won't be for every chapter, but he's desperate and you've been waiting for this sooooo... I do want to remind everyone that this is my first time writing a smutty story. I hope it makes sense. <3

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of domestic abuse, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

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'And then he slept over,' you tell Zayne over the phone and quickly add, 'we just cuddled. It was nice.' He doesn't need to say anything for you to know he disapproves. Just wait, he'll tell you that you shouldn't invite men you don't know over to your apartment. Especially not types like Sylus. 

'That's nice. He deserves something good in his life.' "What?!" 'Are you still there?' You probably stayed silent with your jaw on the floor a little too long. Maybe you shouldn't be too surprised. When you showed Zayne a picture of Sylus he looked physically pained, but not in a fearful way. It was empathetic. 

'Yes, yes, I'm still here, sorry. I expected you to lecture me on inviting strange men into my apartment,' you admit. 

'I would, but I know this man. I think he's a good one,' Zayne admits, 'I'm glad you ran into him. Seems the type for you.' Fair enough. Zayne has listened to you whine about men often enough to be glad you're finally actually like one. There's a knock at your door and a rush of nerves goes through your system. 

'Oh, that must be him,' you tell Zayne, 'I'll call you later, okay? We still need to set a date for our annual trip.' 

'Sure. I'll talk to you later.' His voice sounds amused, almost like he's smiling through the phone. You feel a little flustered. He probably picked up on your tone change when you heard the knocks on the door. 

'Bye.' You put your phone in your pocket and walk towards the door, stopping in front of the hallway mirror to check yourself one last time. Outfit, comfy but cute. Hair, eh, good enough. Makeup, minimal but nice. You pull the door open to reveal Sylus in a barely buttoned black blouse and slacks. Now you feel awfully underdressed in your jeans. Are you sure you agreed on dinner and a movie at his place? This looks like he's taking you to a 3-star dining and rented the whole cinema. 

But, you should have known he was going to be dressed like that. After all, it was the same outfit he wore in his newest video. The one he posted today, earlier than he usually does. In a way, you feel like he did it to tease you. Especially since it wasn't all that erotic. It was just him sitting back against the headboard of his bed with a book in his hand, reading the most utterly horny smutty chapter you've ever heard in your damn life. It nearly made you fall off your chair running to your room to masturbate, but you decided against it. The night's still young after all. 

The chapter stuck with you though. Because it wasn't all that horny because of the actual sex happening, but more because of the love between the characters. To be desired so carnally, to be loved so openly, is a fucking turn on. 

'You look beautiful,' he notes, taking all of your thoughts away with one look. The way his eyes rake over you, you feel like you're a marble statue in a museum. Loved, admired, valued, but most of all, beautiful. A blush spreads on your cheeks. 

'Thank you. You look nice too.' 

'Just nice?' 

'Stunning.' The nerves don't calm down and you're not sure why. You've already had him in your bed, you kissed him, cuddled him, let him... Why are you blushing at the thought of it now? Is it because this is a proper date? It's not even that serious. It's just dinner and a movie at his place. 

'Ready?' He offers you his arm. You nod and place your hand on his forearm. It's awfully proper, but it does feel very nice to be treated so respectfully. 

'I have to say, I was expecting a kiss,' you admit. He grins and leans down to press a soft kiss on your lips. Nothing special, just a gentle greeting from a lover. 

A lover? No, more than that. It feels like home. Like you've been kissing his lips for years, but the spark is still there. Like this is how it's meant to be. Like he is completely and utterly in love with you, and you feel the same. 

Shit, you're in love. 

Sylus leads you into his apartment. The one time you were in there, you didn't really take in his decor. It's very much him. The whole place is made up of black, white, some dark wood tones, yet it still feels warm. It might be because he has taken a page out of your book with all the candles he's lit around the apartment. The dining table is set beautifully. There's red wine on the table already, along with a beautiful bouquet of deep red roses that look almost velvety. There's some music playing that feels slightly suggestive but not enough to comment on. 

'Wow, you really went all you,' you note. You feel his arm slip from your grasp and around your waist to pull you closer against him. He looks down at you with the lightest flicker of a big smile. 

'For you, I'd rearrange the stars if you asked me to. Now go sit down. Food will be ready in a bit.' 

Sylus stands behind the stove while you take a seat at the table. Of course, you take the seat across from the kitchen so you can watch him work. The way he slightly is swaying and softly humming along with the music is truly a vision to behold. A domestic vision. A vision of a future you'd like to live. 

He looks over his shoulder, seeing you leaning on your palm, elbow on the table, staring at him. You feel your cheeks heat up again but no urge to look away. Instead, you smile at him and he smiles back. He picks up the pan and walks over to the table, setting it down in the middle between the two plates.  

'Pasta alla Norma. Say when,' he says as he starts dishing out the food on your plate. You nod your head to him after a bit, having a very generous portion of pasta on your plate. He does the same for himself and grabs the wine to uncork it. All of it goes so smooth, so fluent, like every motion of his is perfected. 

And so is the food. It's not that special of a pasta dish but it's made so damn well. 'Is there anything you can't do,' you joke, 'I might just have to marry you right here and now.' His lips quirk into a smile. 

'Are you sure, sweetie? We barely know each other,' he teases back, 'what if I turn out to be a serial killer?' 

'Then I'd die a happy death.' Even though you are joking, somewhere in the back of your mind you know that it's true. You've never had a connection to anyone before like you have with him. It's new and exciting, but most of all it feels right. 

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The dinner is mostly uneventful, except that Sylus got some sauce on his clothes. He claimed it was because he was admiring you, but you saw him struggle to get the bite on his fork properly. However, this one time you decided not to tease him because you do want to cuddle up to him during the movie. 

At least, that was the plan. Pure innocent cuddling.  

Seems Sylus has different plans. You're sitting leaned against him, knees pulled up onto his lap, his arm around you, but for about ten odd minutes now his free hand has been tracing figured on your thigh. Each passing moment he seems to get a little bit closer to your inner thigh. 

The teasing gets you hot and bothered, which only makes Sylus smirk. You don't have to look up at him to know. He moves his other hand from your shoulder to your waist, his thumb gently rubbing your skin so that your shirt starts riding up until you feel his touch on your skin. 

That's when he shoves his other hand between your thighs, so close to your core, pulling a gasp from your lips. As you smack your hand in front of your mouth and look up, you can already feel Sylus’ laugh rumbling through his chest. You won't stand for that shit. 

With one swift movement, you sit yourself on his lap. Hands gently draped over his shoulders; hips so close to his but not quite close enough. He hooks his hands under your thighs and pulls you right on top of his bulge. The friction makes you gasp, but you try to keep a straight face. 

'We're not watching the movie, are we,' he asks suggestively. You move your hands to the buttons of his shirt and start undoing them slowly, one by one. In response, his hands start roaming over your hips, your thighs, they grace your ass and lower back. You feel yourself start to grind against him ever so slightly. It's almost involuntarily and gets more intense when you see how much Sylus is blushing while trying to keep a straight face. 

'Don't know why you're asking me. You're the one who started it.' Your hands get to the bottom button that you can still see. Instead of undoing it, you splay your hands out over his stomach, exploring all the skin you've freed as you rake your nails over the lean muscles on his stomach. 

'Mmm, I know sweetie, but consent is sexy,' he groans, moving his head towards your shoulder, he presses a kiss under your ear, 'do I have your consent?' 

'You do,' you say breathlessly, moving your hands behind his neck, entangling your fingers in his hair as you grind on him a little harder. He gently bites the spot he just kissed as a reply and grips your hips roughly, guiding you over him while he bucks up at you. His breathing becomes labored as you two dry fuck like a bunch of horny teenagers. 

He moves his head to kiss your lips. It's all tongue and teeth, desperately chasing a high. Somewhere in your mind you had expected Sylus to be cool, calm, collected when it comes to sex, but seeing him this excited because of you gives you confidence the likes of which you have never experienced. 

Suddenly, he drops his head back to your shoulder and bites down as his movements become less rhythmic. He stops moving all together and looks up at you with big eyes, staring up at you like you're made of pure stardust. 

'Did you just-' 

'Yes.' 

'Because-' 

'Because an angel was riding me.' A grin spreads across your face. He came in his pants like a fucking teenager because of you. That's so fucking hot. If he starts praising you any more you might just become a nightmare to deal with. 

'Wanna do it again without clothes?' 

'More than you could ever imagine.' He grabs your ass and stands up with you in his arms. A yelp slips from your lips as you quickly grab his shoulders. There's that smirk again. Shit, this could be the switch Olympics at this point, that way that you keep flipping. 

Being in Sylus’ bedroom is slightly strange. You've seen it from all angels before, even though you've never been there before. He lays you down on his bed and you see yourself looking back on the ceiling. For a second, your mind is completely lost until you realize that there's mirrors on his ceiling. Strangely, that doesn't surprise you in the slightest. 

Then, you see Sylus taking off his shirt. You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch him as he undoes the button on his jeans. A devious idea pops into your head and you grab his hand to stop him.  

He watches you intensively as you switch places with him so he is seated at the edge of the bed. His eagerness to touch you has a hold on him but he's trying so hard to let you do whatever. You take his hands and guide them to the hem of your shirt. Then, you slide them up. He quickly catches on and helps you take your shirt off, revealing a beautiful black lace bra. 

'Shit,' he cusses under his breath, tossing your shirt somewhere in the corner. His hands move to your jeans and undo the button and zipper. One peek at your matching undies has him groaning. He helps you step out of your jeans and grabs your hips gently, pulling you towards him. You put your hands on either sides of his face. His eyes are on yours, but they keep flickering down to your lips while his thumbs gently rub your hips. 'All this for me?' 

'All for you.' Your voice comes out sultry, seductive. Nothing you've ever sounded like before. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against him, and kisses you slowly. 

'You look beautiful,' he mumbles against your lips, drunk off your body and the lingering thought of being inside it. He finally peels himself off your body and switches sides with you again. 'Lay down. I'll be right back.' 

'Don't leave me,' you whine as you grab his hand. He stops for a second, physically restraining himself. 

'Condom,' he says and lets go of your hand, disappearing into the bathroom. You decide to sit on your knees in the middle of the bed, eagerly awaiting his return while you soak through your panties. It takes him less than a minute to come back, and when he does his jeans are already off. You eye his bulge with your mouth slightly agape. Sure, you had seen it before, but everything looks smaller on a phone screen. He catches the worry in your eyes as he puts one knee on the bed to be closer to you. 'We don't have to-' 

'Shut up,' you quip, 'I'll be fine. Just go slow.' There's that grin again. With one hand, he reaches behind you and unhooks your bra with ease, with the other he hands you the condom, then he guides you onto your back. You try to take off your bra as you lay, but he grabs your hand and guides it to his hair. For a second, you don't understand but then he dips his head down and starts kissing your chest, slowly making his way over your clothed nipple and kissing it, leaving a wet spot on the lace. With his other hand he pushes the straps off your shoulders.  

Within seconds you are reduces to a whimpering, moaning mess. Your legs spread to make room for him and he gratefully takes his place between them. Sylus finally grabs the bra and removes it, joining it with your shirt and pants on the floor. His hand returns to your breast quickly, his hand gently massaging it while his lips make their way down lower. 

Slowly but surely, he reaches your panties and places lingering kisses just above them. Your hips buck up towards him and you hear the rumble of his rich chuckle. 'Sweetie, you know what you do to me. I fear I might not survive if I spend all my time between your legs.' 

'And I fear I might not survive if you don't fuck me right now,' you groan, giving a firm thug on his hair. You hear him gasp and it goes straight to your pussy. You cuss under your breath as you look down at the smug smile he wears. His fingers hook under your panties and pull them off. They join your other clothing on the floor. 

'You're soaked,' he notes, satisfied. 

'And you're not inside me yet.' Another rumbling laugh as he reaches for his own boxers and pulls them off in a swift motion. Shit, he's big and... are those- 

'They'll feel good. Trust me,' he promises as he watches you look at the two piercings making up his frenum ladder. You reach out to touch it and he lets you. He shivers under your touch as you run your hand over the metal beats on the underside of his dick. 

'One of these days I'm going to make you fuck me raw,' you say, not really realizing what you're saying as you're completely enamored with his dick and piercings. 

'You can't say stuff like that. I'm trying to go slow,' he almost gasps for air with every word and snatches the condom from your hand to quickly roll it on. You watch him lean over you, one of his hands firmly planted next to your head, the other guiding his cock towards your entrance. 

'Fuck slow.' You wrap your legs around him, pulling him towards you. He slips inside easily but goddamn it's a fucking stretch to say the very least. All you can hear is a mixed chorus of groans and gasps. He doesn't move his hips as his eyes study your face, fearing the discomfort he sees might be too much for you. However, you could care less. You feel so incredibly full and ecstatic to be spending the night with him that you might just burst right now. You reach out for him, grabbing his shoulders to pull him down for a kiss. 

'Are you alright,' he asks, holding off the kiss until he has your ok, 'I'm all the way in.' 

'I'm fine. Just kiss me and please move. I need it so fucking bad,' you beg. He does as you say, crashing his lips on yours as he sets a painfully slow tempo to get you used to him. You feel like you're going to snap if he keeps this up. 'Please move faster.' Your words sound more like a moan. 

'Are you sure, sweetie? You seem to be enjoying it just fine.' He looks down at you with pure amusement. Seems he's in a mood. You quickly shove his arm and manage to turn him on his back, not that he puts up much of a fight. 

'I thought you wanted me on top,' you tease back, sheeting yourself on his dick in one motion before he can even respond. Sylus lets out a low groan, throwing his head back and clawing at your hips for something to hold on to. 'Are you going to be a good boy for me and let me ride you?' 

'What happens if I say no.' 

'You'll have to find out.' He nods in response and makes himself comfortable on the pillows. You take that as your go ahead and set an absolutely feral pace. He was right about those piercings. They feel amazing.  

The horniest gasp you've ever heard slips from Sylus’ lips as he turns bright red in the face. His hands move down to your thighs, nails digging into your skin. You'll certainly have bruises tomorrow. 

'Does that feel good,' you ask him as you lean down a little, planting your hands on his chest, nails raking over his pecs. 

'Yes,' he moans, looking absolutely beautifully drunk on you. You feel your high approaching, as does he from what you can tell. He's so close to unraveling and it's beautiful. You wish you could capture this moment, keep this feeling bottled up on your nightstand.  

His hands move back to your hips as he suddenly plants his heels against the mattress and starts trusting up into you, hitting new highs deep inside of you. Highs that no one has ever hit before. Highs that you want him to hit each and every day. He's addicting. Your whole body is tingling as you lean closer towards him, trying to keep up with his pace while you kiss him. He seems too focused to kiss you properly. It's a mess of spit, biting, teeth clanking, and it's so fucking hot. You lick down his neck as you feel your high approaching so fucking fast. 

And there it goes. You hear an animalistic groan next to you, feel it rumble through his chest as his motions become sloppier. Your body topples over the edge and in a moment of absolute bliss, to suppress the absolutely vile sounds you make, you bite down on his shoulder. Hard. Sylus moans at the pain, grabbing your ass to push your body down against him, holding you in place speared on his cock. 

Waves of pleasure shake through your body as Sylus presses sweet kisses on top of your head. His hips move ever so slightly, helping you ride it out. Your eyelids start feeling heavy, your body is aching, your pussy is clenching up. 

'Are you alright?' Sylus voice is different now. It sounds almost worried. You release his shoulder from your bite and prop yourself up on his chest. 

'Peachy,' you reply with a hazy smile, 'wanna take a nap and do it again in a few hours?' 

There goes that rumbling laugh of his again. His hands start rubbing your back as he leans up to peck your lips. It's such an innocent gesture if you don't think about the fact that his dick is still inside you, twitching with every single tiny movement you make. 'As much as I would like that. Let's give it a few more hours and do it again in the morning. Deal?' 

'Only if we take a shower together.' 

'I'll do you one better. I have a tub.' 

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[lemonthepotato]

Cringe warning: very bad Esperanto.

Mi povas mergi min en Esperanto čar mi ne faris multe da progreso ekde 2019. Mi kredas mi komencis lerni en 2019, sed mi rezignis dum (por?) unua jaro. Mi rezignis la hispana, la franca, la japana kaj la irlandano čar… nu, estas evidente kial. Tro da lingvoj lerni (por lerni? Lerni sentas malgxuste.)

Sed, mi restis kun la Esperanto(n?) čar gxi estas facila. Mi volas lerni lingvon por la sakeo (that’s… is that seriously the word? Sakeo? I joked once that Esperanto is 80% English words with -o and the end and 15% other languages with o- at the end, but I digress) de lerni lingvon. Homoj diras ke tio estas malbono kialo, sed, kial? Estas amuza… ne estas krimo amuziĝi.

Honeste, mi estis (estis for ‘have been?’ doesn’t feel right…) uzi Google Translate por helpi min, sed ne por lambastono. nur por kontroli se mia gramatiko estas bona. Ne estas, evidente, sed… mi estas nesekura pri gramatiko. Mi scias ke gxi ne estas bona, sed gxi estas probable pli bona ol mi sed mi ne uzis gxin.

Cxiuokaze… mi havas punkton kun ĉi tio; estas malfacila mergi en konlang! Jes, mi povus aligxi servilo de Discord, sed… la embaraso. Mi estus kiel, “Bonvolu… mi estas…” kaj havas furzo de cerba! Cerba furzo? (Googling how to stutter in Esperanto. Great.) (also I’m realising I said bonvolu instead of… oh my god? Am I seriously forgetting hello? Oh, Saluton!)

Cxu mi probable lernu la lingvon de miaj lando, la irlandano? Probable, sed honeste? Neniu parolas la irlandano en la nordo. Ili apenaŭ en la sudo. (Ne estas sude, mi ne zorgas se Google translate diras alie… ne sentas gxusta.)

Cxu mi havas punkto kun cxi tio? Ne. Sed, hej, diras al mi kiel CLAPPED mia Esperanto estas. Kaj, jes, mi eĉ ne provis traduki clapped cxar gxi estas pli amuza al ne.

Mi estas tiel malbona pri Esperanto. Mi devas fidi al tradukistoj por helpo. Mi uzas Google Translate por helpi kun tempoj kaj gramatikoj, sed la vortoj estas plejparte el mia cerbo, se tio havas sencon.

Mi ne havas kialon pri ĉi tio. Mi supozas, ke ĉi tio estas testo de miaj kapabloj. La rezultoj? Tre malbona, sed, hej, mi afiŝos ĉi tio, ĉiuokaze.

Edit: after writing this post, I got an easy, actually video about languages recommended… lol

[lovebugism]

I lurvvv ur writing so much and I totes am picking up what your putting you down, Steve picks you up for a date in his truck you’re tryna get to know each other first but the tensions just building and you can’t resist heheheh👀🫣

thank you for requesting :D — eddie and the gang get strangely protective of you when the find out steve's taking you out on a date (loser!reader, implied enemies to lovers | 1.6k)

The sun sets outside of The Palace Arcade. Dustin bursts through the doors and out into the orange-tinted parking lot, headed undoubtedly for Eddie’s rusted van. “I call shotgun!” he shouts to no one in particular, but to you especially. He’s confused and only slightly relieved when you don’t race him for it.

“You can have it,” you say with a roll of your eyes, pausing on the curb and crossing your arms over your chest.

Eddie pauses mid-stride. His wild curls sway around his face when he spins to glare at you, dark eyes narrowed in an accusatory squint. It’s unlike you not to challenge Dustin for the front seat, just like it’s unlike you to dress as nicely as you are now — all pretty and made-up for a day at the arcade.

“You’re not coming?” he asks.

“No,” you shrug, pretending to be cool about the whole thing. “I told you, Steve’s picking up—”

“You didn’t tell me that,” he interjects. 

“That’s weird,” you scoff an awkward laugh. “I coulda sworn I said something earlier—”

He takes one slow step towards you, glancing up and down your form with a suspicious gaze. “What’s going on? Are you lying to me?” he rambles. “Wait— You’re not staying late to try and beat my Robotron top score, are you?”

“No!” you blurt, half-offended by the accusation. “You’re literally the only person who cares about that stupid game, anyway.”

“Then what?”

“Steve’s coming to get me because…” you trail off, speaking in hesitant murmurs as your friends crowd behind Eddie. You swallow hard and lift your chin, feigning an air of confidence. “Because we have a date.”

“You have a what now?” Lucas wonders aloud, voice a few octaves higher than normal.

“Eugh!” Eddie groans, much louder than probably necessary.

“It’s not a big deal!” you shout back.

“You guys are gross,” Dustin grouses.

“It’s one stupid date!”

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffs emotionlessly. “But one stupid date turns into one stupid year together. Which turns into one stupid marriage and having stupid babies—”

“You sound jealous,” you laugh.

“…Of you or Steve?”

“Either.”

“Doesn’t matter— It’s still disgusting,” he concludes, face screwed with horror. “Now whenever I see you guys, which is practically all the fuckin’ time, all I’m gonna be able to think about is you and Steve boning each other.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re a pervert,” a familiar voice quips from a distance. 

Your heads whip in sync to find Steve sauntering down the sidewalk with his hands in the front pocket of his creased slacks. He’s wearing his good khakis, and the nice sweater his mom got him for his birthday. An angel, fallen from the heavens, now landed in your lap.

Eddie scowls while the brunette boy flashes you a lopsided smile. “Ready to go?” he asks you, despite the number of curious leers from the surrounding teenagers.

They’ll probably never get used to King Steve having a thing for a weirdo like you. 

You won’t either.

“Yes, please,” you lilt quietly and take the hand he extends towards you. His palm is warm and softly calloused under your touch, almost the exact feeling of velvet.

He leads you a few spots down to where his truck sits idling. Eddie calls behind you, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, alright? Actually, no— Don’t do anything I would do.”

You smile over your shoulder. “Whatever, Eds."

“And don’t keep her out too late, either, or I’ll call the Chief,” Dustin shouts, rushing to the two of you when you disappear between Steve’s pick-up and a rusted Chevy. He crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, trying hard to be intimidating despite his oh, so pinchable cheeks. “And, trust me, I’ll know.”

He leaves out the part where you live across the street from each other.

You nearly say something about his empty threats until Steve beats you to the punch. “I’ll have her home by midnight, Dusty-Bun,” he cajoles over his shoulder, opening the squeaking passenger-side door for you.

You giggle to yourself and duck inside. 

The pleather interior is still smooth, with little to no signs of weathering. And everything in it smells like Steve — his cologne, his hair gel; the cigs he smokes, the gum he chews to cover it up. It’s a sweet sort of musk that makes your head swim.

“Don’t call me that!” you hear Dustin gripe when the driver’s side door opens and closes again.

Steve puts the keys in the ignition. The engine roars to life. Wham! plays softly on the radio. He sends Dustin a measly wave as he backs out of the parking lot. The boy flashes him his middle finger in return.

“Sorry about them,” you murmur, sliding the seatbelt over your chest.

Steve laughs. “You say that like I don’t know ‘em.”

“Still. They’re total freaks. I feel like I should apologize.”

“Nah, don’t— don’t worry about it,” he stammers, suddenly very hyperaware of the song playing on the radio. Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. A sickly sweet pop beat that he can hardly stand, so he figures you must despise it.

His hands grow clammy on the steering wheel, and he readjusts his grip. “Uh, you can put a tape in the deck. You know. If you want to or whatever.”

You take the opportunity to fish through his belongings with perhaps more swiftness than you mean to. He motions to the glove box, and you lift the handle to open it. Right on top of the unorganized cassettes sits a tube of lipstick — a tiny golden thing with a ring of familiar maroon at the bottom.

“Wow. This is a really pretty shade, Steve Harrington,” you croon. “I bet it really brings out your eyes.”

Steve’s gaze flits from the road, to the lipstick in your hand, and back again. His face floods with horror, and your grin widens. “That’s— That’s Robin’s. I swear. She leaves her shit in here all the time, it’s so annoying—”

“I’m just messin’ with you, Stevie,” you giggle.

You keep the lipstick in your lap while you rummage through the tapes. Plastic clatters together under your fingertips before you ultimately settle on a David Bowie cassette. Modern Love plays softly through the speakers. You smile to yourself when Steve taps his anxious fingers against the steering wheel to the beat.

He clears his throat. “I, uh— I didn’t wanna say anything earlier, you know, with Eddie and everyone around, ‘cause they’re total drama queens, but, uh… You look really pretty tonight.”

You slouch in your seat, trying and failing to hide your smile. “Just tonight?” you tease.

“Every night,” he corrects.

“Well, you look really pretty tonight, too, Stevie.”

Your eyes narrow in a playful squint. Steve’s cheeks flush a faint pink color. He rolls his eyes and turns away. “Stop flirting with me,” he mumbles sheepishly.

“You started it!”

“No, I was being sincere. You’re just trying to get in my pants.”

“Oh, am I?” you lilt.

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, why does that have to be such a bad thing, huh?”

Steve glances at you for a moment. The amber streetlamps whip by every few seconds, casting flitting shadows over his statuesque face. “…You’re doing it again,” he mumbles.

“Sorry,” you say, though the way you look at him says otherwise. 

You sit up straighter and flip down the truck’s visor. A sliver of your eyes shows in the small mirror there. You slide the top of the lipstick off with a soft click. 

“Think Robin will mind if I use this?” you ask him, already twisting at the bottom of it.

“I think Robin forgot it existed the second she left it in here,” Steve scoffs.

You smear the muted rogue over your bottom lip, then rub your mouth together to disperse the satin onto your top one. It feels strange there, like a heavy swathe of powdery silk.

The last time you wore lipstick was senior prom, you think — and even then, you'd wiped it off as you snuck into the Hellfire classroom to finish Gareth’s D&D campaign.

It feels foreign on your lips now, but a good kind of foreign, as you turn in the leather seat to face Steve better.

The mischievous look in your eye makes him cower slightly. It makes his heart skip a beat, too, but he cowers nonetheless. “What are you doing?” he wonders without taking his eyes off the road.

“Nothin’,” you lilt, cupping his left cheek in your right hand. “Just focus on the road.”

His breath catches when your lips press to his jaw, lingering there to stamp the shape of your mouth onto his skin. He tries hard to focus on the road, but he gets quickly drunk on the feeling of you — on the warm hand on his face, on the soft plush of your lips, and on the perfume spritzed on your neck he can smell from here.

He has to remind himself to breathe while your mouth kisses wherever it can reach — his chin, his cheek, his temple, his forehead.

The entire right side of his face is soon marked with your lipstick stain. It makes him feel slightly unbalanced. He needs you to do the same to his left side, too, so he can feel whole again.

“What was that for?” he wonders aloud, breathing heavily for a reason he can’t name, as you settle back in the seat beside him.

“For bein’ so pretty,” you shrug.

“You know I can’t go into Enzo’s looking like this, right?” he laughs.

“Well, maybe we don’t have to go to Enzo’s at all. Maybe we could go somewhere a little more… private.” 

Steve’s eyes flit to you once, then linger on your face for longer than he means to. Your lipstick has smudged softly from where you’d kissed him so ardently. Your mouth is slightly swollen from it, too, as it curls into a mischievous grin. He shakes his head and turns away before he can drown in your eyes.

He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing. “Lover’s Lake it is…”

[cmkren]

— a human’s touch

; house x gn! reader

Maybe in some other lifetime romanticism wasn’t lost to House. That he had grown into a man capable of giving clear-cut affections— and capable of receiving it as well. The first ever puzzle he never wanted to solve, and it was of his heart. You, on the other hand, couldn’t give a damn about it all. You tied yourself to him after all.

In your lap, maybe that fact of House’s could be forgotten. For an hour or two.

a/n: i’ve never written for house, or house md at all. Currently in s4, and I’m just so attached to this crowd of misfits. I’m sorry if he ends up ooc— I just wanted to write something as close to fluff as I can with house LMAO 😭

tws; nothing you wouldn’t find in the show — 1.08k words

“What, are we playing mommy and her sexually frustrated boytoy? I don’t recall putting this into the search bar.”

“I don’t think you’re young and spry enough to be playing the pool boy in this scenario. Take as much offence as you’d want to that shocking revelation.”

Despite the very particular banter, nothing nefarious was happening in this scene. It was quite normal actually. In the tidiness of his apartment the two steeped in each other’s presence. Steeped may have been a strange word for it, but it fit the two. House was chatty like always, but even now and then he had grown quiet. Either getting caught by a specific feature of his partner (still thick on his tongue, not something he ever says really) or deep in his own thoughts.

What prompted him to make the off handed remark? Some might ask, especially when they were having such a peaceful moment!

The obvious answer would be because he’s House. What else was he supposed to do? The not-so-obvious answer was the strange feeling in his chest, as his head lay against the thighs of the person he oh-so cautiously let pull him down to such a position. If he turned his head sideways, you’d most certainly feel the prick of his unkempt beard.

He flexes his fingers, arms sort of kept… limp. Close to his chest. The pale blue of his eyes looking up to the other, brow wrinkled into a furrow as he felt awkward. He only allowed himself to be so hesitant for a second more before he went slack jawed and widened his eyes— a mockery of coming to another ‘revelation’.

“Oh! Pray tell me then, what are we?” Spoken like a young teenager picking out lines from a rom-com they watched the day before to aid them in romantic endeavours. His arms even moving just the slightest to resemble a ‘gosh darn it!’ kind of movement. That garnered an amused noise out of you, your hand very gently resting atop his mess of hair.

“Not we, you. What you are, is a man who can’t even sit still and let me dote on you. So I resorted to,” your free hand gestured to him. Legs stretched and resting on the arm rest of his couch, his head comfortably in your lap, “this.”

Then it was House’s turn to give a little snort.

“What you’ve resorted to is crippling a cripple. Can’t move! Should I go dial 911? Or are you going to kick my legs from behind just as I reach my phone?” This time, there wasn’t any sort of sound akin to laughter. Instead, you gave the hairs atop his head a bit of a tug. A warning.

A grunt left him, his eye wincing a little from the sensation but his wit outran any sort of complaint, “Pineapple! Oh— right we aren’t doing anything like that.” He still shot you a half-hearted look. All the playing around didn’t get him anything but a gentle expression though, a soft look in your eye that said that you would put up with him more than he could ever dream of.

A look he’d seen, but never truly appreciated. He wasn’t quite sure if he did so, even now.

“I would tell you to stop being stupid, but I know I could never stop that.”

“Wow, thanks.”

The way you leaned down to give press a kiss atop his forehead spoke to the fact that you never meant any malice or exasperation in their words. Sure, there was bound to be exhaustion, everyone had breaking points. You were always so lenient with him. Even if you wouldn’t admit that yourself.

Suppose in a way, they understood each other like that.

House didn’t react much to the kiss. You gave a lot of those, so. He didn’t say anything though, so that was either a good indication or a bad indication. 50/50, who knows maybe you should flip a coin.

“Good day at the hospital?” You mumbled, slowly twirling the short strands on his head, coiling them around your fingers. House’s face visibly relaxed, only flexing and moving as he responded. “Oh, yeah, like Santa’s little workshop there. Bundle of joy, fun bright lights.” He muttered, eyes closing for a moment.

Everyone knew that his days were full of pain. He made sure everyone knew, actually. Always made sure that everyone had to be dragged down with him. With you though, he toned it down. Just a little bit.

Your hand caressed the side of his face, gliding down the rough surface and down his scraggly beard. Mindless shapes formed along his skin, his eyes trained on your face. Whether your face would contort the longer you looked at him. As if waiting for you to have a revelation of your own— that he wasn’t who you wanted to spend your time with. That’d you’d wake up soon. Wake up from the dream you seemed so content with, him in your lap and the carefulness of your gestures.

“Something on my face?” Your hand trailed back up to his cheekbone, before pinching the skin there. A smile on your face, for him. For a moment, he stayed silent. Lips that were once parted were now pursed into a tight line, furrow of his brows suggested that he was thinking again.

The longer you waited though, the lighter your touch became. As if you were drawing back. An end to a gentle moment.

“No,” his hands shot up, taking yours in his own. His eyes firm, before they would soften and close as he brought your hands to his face. “Keep it this way a little longer.” For once, not a quip. A moment of genuine love, one that came out of him thinking this was all but fleeting.

In reality, you hardly moved at all.

You were just going to shift, hopefully making him more comfortable if he had felt the position a little awkward. Instead he cradled your hands as if they were the one thing keeping him off his pills. Even just for a short amount of time. Your shoulders went lax, tilting your head as you gave a faint smile. “Okay.” Was all you said.

“I’d rather have you touch me than the old reliables here,” one of his hands let go, giving a bit of a jazzy shake as if to emphasize, “god knows I’ve touched myself enough. Your hands are softer.” You snorted.

“I don’t doubt it.”

[seventhcallisto]

Chapter IV — "mirrors."

Deep down.

Toc/cw; suggestive undertones, dialog, and themes. Pre-heat haze, san getting angry, ooc yunho and san. More world building, possessiveness. I'm bad with cw. COMMENTS PUSH MY MOTIVATIOOON Thank you♡

It's four days before your heat. Hongjoong, and you are trying your best not to be obvious about your affections, but it's getting harder the closer you get to your heat. Maybe it's the consistency of your schedule. Waking up at the earliest of dawn, writing down new lyrics as soon as you reach for your phone and then immediately getting up and beginning your day that had changed, which ended up with you feeling strange. However, today is not your typical schedule day.

You thought you'd have more time, really. Seriously. Now you're a heaving, writhing mess under your blankets. Not knowing what's going on because it's the first time you've felt this after your diagnosis. Too hot. Too cold. Never enough. Tossing and turning. Burning to be touched. It only lingers for an hour like a warning sign. The sense of being on the verge of heat. You don't know exactly what to do or what to say. Google is fairly helpful. You especially don't want to leave your room when all of your members are alphas. Even if they're taking scent suppressants, your smell is still extremely sensitive to them.

He hardly remembers you tucking him in a while ago now. Suddenly, your words echo.

"If you remember in the morning, then I give you full permission." To what? He doesn't know. All day- all week. As san gets ready, sits with wooyoung, does some more practicing, eats out with some friends. He still doesn't know what you meant, and he's grown frustrated about it. He's completely lost from the amount of drinking he did with wooyoung.

Maybe the over drinking thing is getting to san. Woo has got to stop daring him to drink more. He can't believe he still allows him to get away with it. As san arrives home around mid day from filming, he realizes it's time to settle in for the rest of the day.

Your scent lingers in the apartment, and it's a good thing that jongsik has told them to begin taking scent suppressants to prevent any of them from practically jumping you. It provides the self-control they need, but it doesn't prevent the thoughts that course through everyone's minds when they get the tiniest scent of you.

It may be thanks to the scent suppressants they have complete control over what they're feeling and doing currently. But it doesn't mean none of them want to knot you. Surely, san is speaking on behalf of his members that it would be heaven to do so. If they didn't have the scent suppressants.. well, san doesn't want to pop a boner thinking about it.

So, for now, they're just coping with your pre-heat scent all over the apartment. No one is allowed in other than the guys. Your pack. San definitely prefers it that way. He peels his jacket off when he steps through the threshold of the doorway, quickly closing it behind him to lock your scent inside.

Seonghwa prepares another meal for you, considering you're still cooped up in your room. And san wonders if hongjoong has been in and out of there, based purely on the smell of him lingering in the hallway. There's been talk about you and hongjoong. Gossip amongst the guys. The papers san found a while ago proves so.

He slaps the paper down in front of wooyoung. Taping his pointer finger against the signed line. "Look! She let him sign it!" san whines, grabbing at his hair. "This is driving me crazy," he huffs as he paces. On wooyoungs bed, yeosang and wooyoung scan the piece of paper. Jaws slack in shock.

There's no way they can dismiss this. Somehow, san got his sticky fingers on your heat paperwork. They don't say anything about that, but the signed line for your heat helpers is only signed by hongjoong. The pack alpha, yes they could ask him. But that would be extremely disrespectful, questioning the pack alpha.

Woo runs a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. "Well, what if we ask- what if she gets uncomfortable? What if she doesn't want us to sign it and she feels pressured to say yes?"

Jongho enters their shared bedroom, questionable looks between his other members. The paper in question catches his eyes. "Why do you have that?" He asks, shutting the door behind him.

Does everyone know about the paper?

San struggles to come up with an explanation for the youngest member. "I- wo-" he looks to wooyoung, wooyoung lays the paper on the blanket, putting his hands up, he claims not to know anything about it. San has no other option except for explaining himself to jongho and what he's gathered the past few days.

Once san is finished explaining in the most rushed manner. Yeosang speaks up, looking to him. "I'm not asking her." Yeosang says, laying down his foot. "If she doesn't want us on it, it's not our place to ask her," yeosang looks back down to the paper in wooyoungs hand. "Put it back where you found it." jongho says, uncrossing his arms from his chest and leaving the room.

San looks back at the paper, propped up at the corner of the kitchen. It's not usual for paperwork to be left around here and there. But the fact you left it out in plain sight when San had to go and physically see it in your room to get it is very suspicious. He can even see the obvious bold letters spelling 'Heat Assessment'.

He not so subtly runs past seonghwa, slamming his keys down on the counter next to the paper. Seonghwa looks up from the dish he's preparing for you, looking at san, who hovers over the counter.

"Hey," seonghwa calls san. San shakes from his thoughts, turning toward the older member. Paper in hand. He reads seonghwas signature, cursive and strategically placed next to hongjoongs. "What are you doing with that?" Seonghwa doesn't flinch. he doesn't even ask about the content of the paper. Truly. Everyone knows, and now seonghwas signature is on it.

"How do you know what I have?" San asks, walking across the kitchen to seonghwa who spreads out some slices of apples on your plate. Seonghwa doesn't look up, "we all know what that is." It's a lie. Many of them dont know. San knows it, too. seonghwa pops a slice into his mouth, biting down on it. The souring scent of san fills the kitchen. "Why has -" he slams the hand holding the paper down next to the plate. Suddenly Agitated. "Why has no one asked about it?"

Seonghwa looks to san, finishing cutting the cheese with the knife in hand. "Asked? It's none of your business." Maybe seonghwa is a little harsh about it. He knows that, for fact. The door down the hallway pops open. San doesn't take a second to tell seonghwa off. Instead, he's marching down the hallway.

Hongjoong is just about to enter your room when he feels san pull him back by his arm. A deep set frown over his eyebrows. "Why didn't you tell us about this!?" He places the paper against hongjoongs chest. Hongjoong looks between the paper and san. Pulling it off.

San is picking for a fight. Seonghwa and hongjoong know. Whatever your scent has done has triggered san to be more possessive of you and more aggressive. Your heat is just around the corner, so the tension is rising in the apartment, and it's higher than ever. The boiling point has been reached since this morning.

"Why is your name on this!" San belts, looking between hongjoong and seonghwa.

Yunho steps out of his shared room with yeosang. The shorter peeps over his shoulder to look for where the yelling is coming from. The door creaks open across from them. Wooyoung and jongho peak out. Confusion written on their faces. Lastly. Mingi is the one to step out from the last bedroom on the left, right across from your room where they're currently at.

"San" hongjoong tenses, watching the way san challenges him. The sudden twisting smell of sans scent burning in his nose. "Tell me," san says through clenched teeth. Seonghwa tries to pull at his shoulder to lead him away from the leader but san shrugs his hand off roughly, cursing through his teeth. Sans tough hands shoot out, pushing hongjoong into mingi. The leader catches himself quickly with the help of mingi. Staring wide-eyed at san.

San, who just opened your door and went into your room. Locking the door behind him. He can hear the pounding on the other side. Drowning out his members, San steps forward into your dim bedroom. The only light comes from the window directly across from your door. It shines the dark room only slightly.

San calls you name and hears a shuffle of things in your closet. The walkover is draining. He can feel himself being pulled in by your sweet scent, invading his lungs. He knocks on it gently.

In the gap, your fingers slide the sliver of the door open. Eyes still blinking back sleepiness. San has to take a sharp breath at the invasion of his senses. You're curled up on the makeshift bed in your closet. A nest you made.

Plenty of clothes san has noticed were missing are strewn in a pile under you. Clad in hardly any clothing to combat the heat of your body. San bends down to your level. You still seem you. The smell isn't in full bloom. San can tell, somehow.

" 'Mega?" San calls to you ever so gently, watching you rub your eyes. "Sannie?" you respond, voice filled with recognition. The sound of your voice makes the tension in sans shoulders dissipate. You stumble up and out of the closet, anxiety begging to settle into your bones. He backs up to give you space. Did he even plan anything he was gonna say?

"What are you doing in my room?" You ask, rubbing your arm because of the cold breeze, and definitely not because you're nervous. "Doesn't my preheat scent affect you or whatever? It's not safe.." You mumble the last bit. San struggles to answer. "The scent suppressants.." he trails off. Watching you rub at the sweat on your forehead. He watches you twitch every so often. You don't meet his eyes. Grimacing slightly. "San.. what did you need?" You know he's not here to talk about something so simple. And the settling pain of your incoming heat is twisting your guts to make room for a big knot at the sudden interest of an alpha in your presence.

San sighs, all frustration draining from him in your presence. Wrapped around your smell. "The heat assessment paper." He says, you take a sharp breath. "What about it?" You turn to look away. San stands across from you.

"Do you really want me to sign it?" He asks in a single breath. You blink up at him, swaying in the cold room. "I said yes last night, did I not?" You huff.

You're kinda mean when you're in pre-heat. San thinks. He goes quiet. That's when you reach out, cupping his arm. Warm eyes meeting his in the dark. "San, I want all of you to sign it"

And you're being extremely bold. "All of us?" San mumbles out, shocked. It's not true, right? San, woo, and yeosang, can all be there for your heat? He won't have to feel terrible about signing it. His members (who are equally infatuated with you) can, too?

"You want all of us to sign it?" San phrases better, grabbing your palm in his, off his arm. "Yes, sign it," you sigh, growing impatient. This is why hongjoong and seonghwas name is on your paperwork.

San feels the hope bubble in his throat. Really, he can have it all. And especially when all he wants is to be with you at this moment. He doesn't care, you want him, and he wants you. Sans tough and somewhat calloused hands wrap around your jaw on each side, his fingers glancing over your primary scent gland, which makes you shudder into him. Your name falls off his lips as he searches yours. You can't help but stare at the lines in his perfectly round lips. As soon as his eyes fall over your own. He's pulling you into him.

You can feel the passion in sans touch, and you can feel the desperation of his kiss as it becomes more heavy. His left hand slipped down to your waist to pull you even closer. His fingertips teasing the hem of your shirt. Lips move in tandem, San wants to completely be overwhelmed by you, to be molded by your words and do whatever you want him to. And you want to completely drown into San.

Sans feet shift under him as you guide him, your hands slither into his hair. When you tug gently, san sighs into your mouth, never does he part. Nor does he want to. You know if you keep going, you'll succumb into the inner war of letting San have you here and now. San is oblivious to this. He's slowly letting himself slip into the other mindset he's pushed off for so long, the one where he gets to have you and take care of you like an alpha should.

You shake him out of it. Pushing his shoulder back against the door. You dislodged yourself from his lips. A soft tug, and you're gone from San. He lets out a strangled sound at the lack of your touch. You can't be entangled like this when you're so close to your heat. You can't let this get to you. Breathing each other in, you softly speak. "You have to go," you tell him. San can feel the door rattle against his back.

"As soon as you're done signing, it needs to be turned into the heat sanctuary I'm going to be at. If you don't, the signatures will mean nothing."

So that's why you've been cooped up in your room instead of going to your heat sanctuary. You've been waiting for them to sign it. As soon as san feels the door tug from his back, and you quickly shoving him out. Yunho is pulling the rest of him. Scowling. A screwdriver in hand as they tried to pry open your door. "Why did you do that! That was dangerous! For both of you!"

San heard and felt your words.

Everyone has been withholding their urges all week. Perhaps the scent suppressants are working compared to how your first heat hit. When they didn't know that scent you were producing and why suddenly they wanted to cover you in their own scents. It's a lot less easy knowing that you're only a room away in an apartment full of alphas who are willing to give you anything. But you don't know that. Hongjoong does. He takes a shuddered breath when he stands at your door ealy that morning. He can smell your preheat scent seeping out of the cracks.

Hongjoong knocks a few times. Listening for any movement on the other side. The door swings open. He's smacked with a wall of your smell. "Hongjoongie," you sigh happily. Pulling him in. "Hey pretty girl" he answers, pushing the hair behind your ears and out of your face when you don't stop to turn around and keep pulling him to your closet.

"Look," you slide the door open, dropping the edges of his shirt to crawl inside. "Come," you beckon him down towards the floor, pulling at his hand. He grins, crawling in. He's much too big for your tiny closet, but you fit in it perfectly. Hongjoong can see the amount of clothes on the floor, it's like a mountain, and in the center of it, it's big enough for you and someone else to sit in.

You're so very eager to get hongjoong in that circle, just to see if it's big enough. "Once I get to the heat place, I can make a bigger one for all of us." You push at hongjoongs shoulders, and his back hits the clothing softly. He doesn't know exactly what you're doing until you're sitting atop him, trying to nestle your face into his neck. He places two hands on your hips.

You're scenting him now, hongjoong knows this but decides to ask anyway. Shoving your face as close as you can get to him, your lips breeze passes his glands. Your forehead falls there instead, rubbing back and forth to transfer your scent. Encouraging a shuddered breath out of him. "What are you doing, huh?" He pulls your head out of his neck, his right hand holding your nape softly. You huff, hongjoong scans your features in the dark.

"You don't smell like me," you pout, hongjoong laughs lightly. Maybe in a teasing way but more so in a 'that was really cute' kind of way. The grin on his face tells you what exactly he's thinking. "Don't laugh at me" you pull away, sitting up on his chest. You drain the breath out of him in the best way.

Hongjoong slips to sit up, holding you close to him and not any lower. He only has so much control for now, and he doesn't want to risk giving a certain area the stimulus. "I'm not," he bites his grin. "You are," you mumble, shaking your head from the fog. You plop it on his shoulder, holding him against you.

"I'm not even in my heat yet, and I'm exhausted," you say into his shoulder. Hongjoong sighs for you. "I know, I'm working on it," he kisses your head. "I'll get you a knot as soon as possible, okay?" The sentence sounds so innocent when it really isn't. His finger rubs the side of your neck, where your scent glands are.

The thought of seeing hongjoong above you, giving you his knot, being in you for the first time, flashes through your mind. Your voice gets stuck in your throat. You stop the pulse between your thighs the best you can. "You can't say that." You whimper, pulling off of him. It takes everything in you to do so. The omega in you cries to be closer. Hongjoong pats your hip as you land softly on the clothes next to him. This plan is driving you mad, and yet you still have a week of a long heat ahead of you. "Has san said anything yet?" You look to hongjoong.

Hongjoong shakes his head, watching you lean your head on his knee. Prettily poking your lips at him in the most frustrating of pouts. "What if he didn't hear me?.. What if he doesn't like me like that?" You mumble, closing your eyes and squishing your legs into your chest.

"He heard you. He does." hongjoong sighs, rubbing your cheek softly. You don't know if he's saying it to reassure you. But you really hope san did hear you. And you hope you're not getting your hopes up.

Hongjoong tells seonghwa first. He trusts seonghwa a lot. You trust seonghwa just as much. The idea of going to him first was completely a mutual idea.

Later in the morning, Hongjoong knocks on his door, the one he shares with mingi and san. Sans out today. Wherever he is, he decides not to learn the details. Lately, san has been giving him the cold shoulder. And hongjoong has some idea why.

On the other hand, joong isn't ready to tell mingi about you wanting them. Hongjoong knows that as soon as he tells mingi, mingi will lose himself and steal you away for the week. You might end up inducing Mingis rut in the process. It's just not a great idea to tell mingi before everyone else, no matter if he gets upset about knowing later.

So with that, as soon as hongjoong learned seonghwa was alone in his bedroom, hongjoong took the opportunity. Three knocks, and he's entering. Seonghwa rests on his bed, looking at his phone. Hongjoong takes the bed across from him. Seonghwa knows whatever conversation they're about to have. It's gonna be serious. He sits up, taking whatever hongjoong has got to say heads on.

Seriously, if hongjoong says that you two are dating exclusively, seonghwas heart might actually explode into tiny shards.

It begins the same as a nightmare seonghwa has been having for a couple of days. "You know she and i are together," hongjoong starts off with, not knowing how else to phrase it. Seonghwas mouth falls open. "I.. what?"

Hongjoong really doesn't know how to say this. But for your sake, he's trying. "We're dating. I think we are - anyway. I was the first one who asked her, " hongjoong kinda bluffs, he didn't ask. It was kinda set in stone as soon as your lips touched his. Seonghwa wants to urgently shake hongjoong to spill everything. "She wants us to be a more intimate pack if you get what I'm saying, more than what the media suggests." Seonghwa sucks a harsh breath in, eyebrows furrowed.

"She feels most comfortable with us, not only that but.." hongjoong tries to gather his words. "She likes all of us, more than friends, more than members. She wants us on her heat assessment." Hongjoong explains, he can't exactly tell seonghwa you like-love him, it's not his place too. If seonghwa wanted an answer, he could ask you himself.

"She wants all of us?" Seonghwa can't believe it, to be with you and not make it awkward amongst them, is this true? Seonghwa can share. He can play nice. He might even enjoy the idea of sharing with the entirety of the pack. It's something he doesn't really understand, but he's completely fine with anyway.

Hongjoong nods, signifying that seonghwa is correct. Seonghwa let's out a breath.

"I'll sign it." He let's his words freely flow.

And when seonghwa brings your breakfast for the day, you're surprised to see him. And he's very surprised to see you making a nest in your closet instead of relaxing in your bed. "Hwa?" You question, taking the plate gently, your round eyes look up to him, assessing his presence. It reminds him of that moment in the kitchen, and seonghwa grips his fingers into the clothes under him to prevent the blood flowing somewhere else. "Hi," he greets back with a hum. You place the plate down next to the closet door.

"Hungry?" He asks, watching your behavior. You shake your head. "Not really... My heat last time took a lot, and I still tried to eat as much as i could," you sigh. Seonghwa knows a heat will take everything out of you, and you still won't be hungry until after. Too driven by the urge to.. well, breed, really. He hums as he listens to you talk.

You look like the most beautiful person in his eyes. Even when seonghwa met you for the first time. Even before debut, when you were just a tiny beta that begged to be picked on just to bite back. Even during every bad hair day you claimed. He reaches out to smooth his hand over your hair. Your roots are beginning to show. As soon as your heat is over, you'll be long overdue for a touch-up. And seonghwa feels like tagging along for it. Just to watch your pretty face in the mirrors.

You lean into seonghwas hand as it trails down your face. Sighing softly into his palm. "I signed the papers." He gulps, pulling his hand back. You miss his warmth. Even if you are burning up. Your eyes fall.

"I don't want you to be there for my heat -" you sigh out. Seonghwas heart leaps into his throat. "I want you to take care of me, and I want you to be there after," You try to find the right words. Confessions are hard. "I like you, more than my member, more than friends," you mumble.

"You know how long I have waited to hear that?" Seonghwa laughs into his words. You blink once, twice. He pulls you into his chest. Hugging you tightly. His head falls over yours. Seonghwa isn't the most muscular member, but he still has arms to prove how he can hold you comfortably in his arms and steal you away at any moment.

"I like you too, so much." he mumbles into your hair. You pull back and look up at him, begging for a kiss with your smile. If you did, you'd both end up getting lost in each other. You cut the silence. "Could you bring me some dirty laundry?" You laugh, embarrassed. He snickers. "Sure" he knows exactly why.

Sharing a room with yeosang isn't the best, yunhos member doesn't say much about this odd situation. Lying face down on his blankets, yeosangs phone is propped up by his hand. Yunho, on the other hand, is watching a show on his laptop, propped up on his chest.

It started off with yeosang tossing and turning all night, ultimately it woke yunho up. And before yunho could get a clue of what's going on, yeosangs breathy sighs and whimpers had him shooting right up and out of bed. No way was he gonna stick around to listen to yeo have a wet dream.

The early morning dew completely encased the windows after a heavy night of rain. The flashing clock on the microwave told him it was around 2 am. He took his spot on the couch and watched a movie in silence. When from the corner of his eyes, wooyoung tiredly stepped out of the hallway.

Wooyoung stood rubbing his hand over his eye. There's no obvious sign to yunho that he knew what was going on with yeosang, but he had his suspicion. He doesn't greet woo when he lands softly on the other side of the couch. Both watching the movie in silence.

Yunho can't take silence much longer. Wooyoung obviously can't, either. "Have you seen the heat assessment paper?" He uses this conversation for topic? When obviously, yunho knows about it. "Yea, why?" He asks, turning his chin towards the dark-haired guy.

Wooyoung shakes his head like he's swaying his thoughts away. "Did hongjoong tell you his name was on it?" That gets yunho. No. Hongjoong did not tell him. Because yunho didn't know the leaders name was on the paper.

Besides the feeling of longing building in his stomach, yunho wanted to know what wooyoung getting at. "No, he didn't.. why are you asking?" It's a short answer but an even quicker question. Wooyoung doesn't dare spare a glance at yunho. Opting to just stay quiet. It's completely unlike him.

"Whatever reason she has him on the paper, it isn't our business -" yunhos words stop when wooyoung shoots up frustrated, whisper yelling towards yunho. "Yes! I know it shouldn't be any of my business it's hers- but- dammit! She's one of my best friends! I have a right to know!" Wooyoung seems to be drowned in his own outburst for yunho to get a word in.

Pieces fall and collide in yunhos mind. Watching his other member pace back and forth. "There's more to this, isn't there?" Yunhos words stop wooyoung in his track. The dark-haired guy turns to look at his taller friend. hum.

Yunho knows that look, the all familiar sign of hopelessness when you love someone so deeply, and yet you don't know what to do. He's had the same look consistently when you would split from their group to take photos with other idols. Other idols who yunho knows want you. Everyone wants you. The all familiar ace of K-pop.

When he'd sit back as you did video challenges, dancing and laughing with someone else whilst he watched in silence. He wished everyone knew you were his when, in reality, you didn't even know how he felt. Yunho knows that sinking feeling of possibly breaking something that can't be unbroken. Yunho knows these moments of laughter and bickering, but he wishes he could have those moments with you in a different way. A way that you both understand. Mated as a pair. Together in a more intimate way.

Wooyoung is as still as a mouse, caught in the cookie jar, smacking his lips. His eyes squint down, his hand coming up to the bridge of his nose. Wooyoung is estranged. He is tired of lying to himself.

"We all love her, don't we?" He says into his palm, the world doesn't seem to crash like he thinks it does. Yunho stands up, taking wooyoungs hand away from his face. Wooyoung sighs, facing yunhos eyes with diminishing confidence.

"It's her choice.." wooyoung says just as yunhos mouth falls open to speak. Pulling his wrist from the taller members grasp.

It truly is your choice to call on them if you want to. And when wooyoung turns away, he doesn't see the way yunho loses all confidence. Compared to his members, yunho has a lot to beat. If he had to fight for you, could he?

The hallway flur pass yunho. In an instance, he's pulling san out of your doorway, fuming. San has your scent all over him. Yunho does not ignore the pink tinting in his members' cheek or the way his lips are red. His lips pull back into a snarl as he barks at san about what he did wrong. What could have happened.

Sans lovesick eyes and dazed expression only pisses yunho off more. Even when he lets go, he's still towering over the dark-haired guy. A sudden urge of violence panging in his fists. Yunho isn't violent, no. He doesn't know what happened, but the way san reeks of you is making him feel as if he could commit a felony then and there really digs deep.

His members attempting to calm the situation only make things drown him. He's got to step back. He's got to get out of this cramped apartment where you linger around every corner. He turns on his heels, wanting to make a beeline for the door.

"She wants us to sign her heat assessment."

Sans voice speaks up, and yunho knows exactly who it's directed at. He can feel the stinging of sans dark eyes against his back. Still, as wooyoung looks to his friend, he can tell he got more info than he leads on. But the main shocker is what he said.

"What?" Wooyoung asks for confirmation. Heart leaping into his throat. It's got to be a hoax. Seonghwa and hongjoong linger in the back, silently observing. Mingi is the second to step forward, bending his neck to ask what he means. Jongho definitely gets onto what he's saying immediately. But he's almost tempted to barge into your room and ask you himself.

"All-" jongho gets cut off. "All of us." Sans smile is bitten back. He looks to wooyoung, then to yeosang, shock etched into their faces.

"That's what she said?" Yeosang gulps. San has never lied about anything you've said. No matter what. San respects you too much and this situation is too serious for lying. Yet, yeosang looks to the leader and eldest member to know anyways. Their names are on the paper, something you allowed.

Hongjoongs eyes hold curiosity as he watches all his members, he was right. He's smug that he was right. You are so consuming, it wouldn't be anything other than a surprise for any one of them to not be madly in love with you. You are the prettiest shining pearl in the sea that is the world. Hongjoong shakes out of his thoughts. Seeking out the begging and hopeful eyes of his members. Even yunho, who is a few feet away. Turned to listen in on the conversation.

"It's true." hongjoong says.

Seonghwa took the honor of putting his name on your heat contact. So, in case of anything. Seonghwa will get that call. And he'll assess the situation when you can't. Regarding who goes in and out of your heat space, any official business regarding idol work, etcetera. Seonghwa took it on cause if hongjoong had- the eldest knew that the captain would be overwhelmed with all of it.

Seonghwa is your primary caretaker for the entire heat cycle whilst you're out. To confirm, they had all sat around your door whilst you were on the other side. Just a door away. You used your phone to call them so they could hear you clearly.

You are still coherent despite what san did earlier. The door is the closest way you can feel close to them. Joong had slipped a piece of paper under your door along with a pen.

'Rules' it reads. Rules for the guys. Anything you don't want them to do, they'll be coherent, partly, while you're in your omega mindset. They can't do anything you dont want, especially if you're allowing them to be heat helpers, which is why you need rules.

You quickly write down the list whilst they talk. Discussing what they need to do beforehand quietly on the other side.

You write down a list of things you're not okay with and precautions. Birth control for men is the most important thing on the list. You know omega-you will not take them, begging not too actually, and knowing your boys, they might actually give in or get distracted. So they'll have to do the protection protocol.

And that's all you had. You are fairly comfortable with everything else. You're sure your omega mind will enjoy it as well.

There's this obvious what-will-happen lingering in your mind. Will this make or break your group? You know this is only a temporary solution. You know they think you're only doing this because you trust them to take care of you. You can't tell exactly why they're agreeing. Do they possibly feel the same? You know hongjoong and seonghwa do- and even san.

What about the rest of them?

Later in the midst of the night, as you're curled up in your closet. Your phone vibrates, awakening you from a sticky and hot sleep, one where you hardly actually sleep a wink, and you're completely uncomfortable the entire time. The bright light shines and blinds you temporarily. It's 2 am.

At some point after dinner, you must have fallen asleep. The ache in between your legs spikes up your hips, causing you to curl into yourself more. Whining quietly into the blanket yeosang had gifted you for your birthday. A pale yellow.

Your fingers reach for anything. Your phone ends up in your tight embrace. A contact on display, how'd that get there? The all familiar picture of you and the tallest of your friends posing in front of a snowman, his bright smile and bowlcut styled hair. Yunho.

"Hello?" Yunhos happy deep voice rings from the other side of the screen. You shudder at the familiarity. Was his voice always this deep? Your thighs clench. "Hello..?" He repeats. Music can be heard, some type of indie song, you recognize a few of his friends talking. Laughing whilst he takes a call.

You can hear the shuffle of yunho on the other side. A door shuts behind him, silencing the music. He calls your name softly. You're still so quiet. You haven't said anything. He must have checked the caller ID. "Yunho," your small voice speaks up, and you bite your lip. Curling into your side. You continue on with a whimper, "Where are you?"

Yunho takes a sharp breath. "I'm out, getting food with some friends, you okay?" he tells you honestly, his feet pacing in the bathroom echos. Your head begins to fog worse than it has in the entirety of the week. "Yun" you whine his name into the air. "How far away?" You fall into a whisper.

"Not far, I'm leaving now." The fact yunho is willing to ditch his group of friends and come home just because you called has you leaking. You bite on the arm holding your phone up to stop a needy gasp.

"Talk to me omega, tell me what's going on." The shuffle of yunho pulling his jacket on distracts you. His friends call his name as he walks, and the doorbell jingles behind him. You can't take the ache anymore. The fog behind your thoughts is consuming. You feel yourself losing control.

"I need you, please. Yunho, Please." You whine, dropping the phone next to you. Yunhos' words fall short. You can hear the door to his car open and slam shut.

"I'll take care of you, omega, okay? Just keep talking to me, I'm almost there"

A/n; I'm terrible. Ik. leaving it off on another cliffhanger bc I didn't know how to finish this chapterrrrr iM SORRY. THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!! it's gonna start getting really spicy here on-

taglist: @lelaleleb @bratty-tingz @0325tiny @smilefordongil @atinytinaa @yunholuvrsblog @ja3hwa @stopeatread @sousydive @voicesinmyhead-rc @giiouis @c4tboyxiao @eastleighsblog @doggopepper @uhhheather @hyukssunflower @hhoneylix @tunaasan @satsuri3su @acescavern @edusweah @silentcry329 @silentreadersthings @ldysmfrst @idfkeddieishot @zdgx1

[ohimsummer]

Based on jjk, can you write a oneshot featuring Gojo and a female reader in an Aladdin AU with humiliation please? In the fic, Gojo and the reader are a prince and princess who are organizing a royal party. But the reader fondles Gojo throughout the party which leads to him orgasming in his pants. So now he has to continue attending the party while trying and failing to hide his cum stain. What do you think?

okay I changed this up a little, hope u enjoy it regardless! :3

— minors dni, prince! satoru x princess! reader, exhibitionism, royal! au, satoru x reader, fondling/groping, handjob, gojo cums in his pants lol

Gojo doesn’t know what’s worse: what you just put him through, or the utter embarrassment afterwards.

He finds his hand lingering over the stain in the crotch of his pants. Even if it’s not that noticeable, it feels like everyone is looking. Every time he catches your eye, you give him some cheeky, innocent smile and the tips of his ears start burning all over again. He’s certain you’re enjoying this, watching him obviously try to hide something so humiliating from so many people.

It's more than a little amusing watching guests of different status inquire about the wet patch on his pants. You can only imagine the excuses Satoru come up with, but no one's caused a scene over his display or cast you any strange looks yet, so you assume he's got things under wraps. You don't regularly take joy in watching your prince of a boyfriend squirm and flounder, but consider it payback for all the times he's done the same thing to you.

It started out as a small caress of his thigh under the table, you working back a grin at the way Satoru side-eyes you in the middle of his conversation. He discreetly shoves your wandering hand away, but that only eggs you on further. It’s only a couple minutes before you’re fully massaging his cock through his slacks, your own pussy growing wet at the feel of the hardening bulge beneath your palm. And it’s just your luck that there’s a crowd sitting at the table waiting to talk to you both. Satoru is stuck there with you toying with him, muttering filthy nonsense under your breath that only he can hear. “I’m so wet right now.,” you basically whine in his ear. “Really want you to touch me, Satoru.” All this between snippets of casual dialogue with other people. It’s all so exciting, especially when you accidentally edge him because his best friend, Geto comes from behind for some small talk. Gojo’s dick twitches against your hand, now placed on his thigh because of course neither of you want his friend to suspect anything, right? And the second Geto turns his back, you return to rubbing Satoru’s painfully aching cock, thoroughly satisfied at the way he can’t stop the occasional moan from slipping into his conversations.

“No, I’m alright.,” he reassures someone again. “It’s just the heat, p-pretty warm in here. Hope I'm not getting, u-uh, sick.” You begin jerking him off through his pants, and Satoru’s fist clenches so tight, you think the glass in his hand might break. “I- I might need to go change actually–“

There’s a celebratory commotion nearby that draws everyone's attention, and Satoru is grateful their heads turn right as he messily shoots cum into the fabric of his underwear. A long groan regains the some of their attention, and they stare at him with wide eyes.

Satoru interrupts before they can ask him yet again if he’s okay. “This heat is really gettin’ to me, I’m gonna go outside for a couple minutes.”

You softly grasp at Satoru's sleeve as he moves to get up, savoring the way he tenses beneath your gentle touch. "Everything okay, Satoru?"

Your boyfriend hesitates, letting out a shaky gasp, before slowly turning his head towards you. "Yup. Fine."

Head tilting, you smile gracefully at him, as if you're not the cause of his current stress. "You don't look fine, should I accompany you?"

He lowers himself to your level so that his mouth brushes your ear. Before he speaks, Satoru glances around just to be sure there's no one within earshot for what he's about to say.

" 'm so gonna fuck you up later.," he mutters in your ear.

“Sure you will, love.,” you taunt, totally nonchalant and swirling the red liquid in your glass.

“And you’re damn right I will.,” he hisses immediately through clenched teeth, before straightening his back and heading through the crowd to the direction of your shared bedoom. You know it’s a promise, but you also choose not to worry about it right now. It was definitely worth the fun.

[fizziepopangel]

* Author's note: Hey, everyone! I know I've been slacking on posting, but I'm definitely getting back into writing and I'm happy to give you guys this Alastor fic! Please do keep in mind that English is the only language I speak fluently though, so I did my best to translate two phrases into Creole via Google translate and internet research, so forgive me if I botched it and let me know kindly if I need to fix it. Also, as usual, I don't know the artist for the drawing so if anyone knows, please let me know so I can tag them. Other than that, enjoy!! ~ Fizzie

P. S. "Mwen manke ou"= I miss you, "Mwen renmen ou manman"= I love you, mama

Mama's Boy

Alastor woke up feeling… off somehow. His heart felt heavier for some reason, and although he still wore his signature smile, he felt no joy within himself as he walked the halls of the hotel today; not even when Husk slipped on Niffty’s freshly waxed floors and crashed into the hall table. And everyone had noticed it. He heard the whispers, saw the strange looks they all gave him as he passed them. He ignored it all until he went back to the room, feeling rather drained from carrying this heavy feeling with him all day despite it only being midmorning… But as he took off his coat and hung it on the rack, the calendar caught his eyes.

“May 28th… How could I have forgotten..” Alastor said softly, looking at the circled date. He muttered under his breath as he made his way over to the bed and gingerly picked up the photo on his nightstand. Running his thumb along the framed photo, he lets out a soft sigh, almost as if he could breathe this heavy feeling that settled in his chest if he tried… But he knew he couldn’t. He never could.

“Mwen manke ou….” He whispered, looking into the glass of the photo’s frame and trying to focus on just the photo and not his own reflection in it. “I can’t believe how much I miss you, mother.”

He stared at the photo, breathing deeply and willing himself not to cry as he seemed to relive memory after memory of times when his smile wasn't so fake.

“Hey, Smiles! Charlie said dinner’s almost done!” Angel Dust called through the door enthusiastically as he knocked, but Alastor couldn’t bring himself to answer as he continued to stare at the photo in his now trembling hands. “Smiles? You in there?” Alastor wanted to respond, but he just couldn’t pull his focus away from the photo in his hands. He didn’t even register the sound of his door open or the feeling of the bed sinking a little bit as Angel sat beside him. There was a moment of quiet between the two as Angel looked at the picture the man held. He frowned, knowing that the radio demon didn’t like pictures so he couldn’t imagine him keeping one….

A woman with deep tan skin stood in the old framed photo, her mouth opened and eyes closed in what Angel could only imagine was a boisterous laugh as the child she held in her arms gave the camera an innocent gap toothed grin. The woman wore a tattered apron, but she had smears of something across her cheek and the curls that could be seen peeking out from beneath the head scarf she wore seemed to be coated in what he assumed was flour. The little one in her arms seemed to be covered in it too….

Everything about the photo made Angel ache for home.

“Oh… Is…Is that….?” Angel muttered softly as he looked at the photo the other man held, something clicking in his brain. Alastor nodded, tears starting to spill down his cheeks despite the cheshire cat smile on his lips. “Alastor…”

Before the spider demon could say anything more, Alastor’s shaky voice cut him off. “Her name was Delphine.” Alastor stroked the frame over his mother’s image, his ears tucking back as he felt the well of sadness begin to swirl within him. “She… died a few years before I did.”

“Is she-”

As if sensing the question on Angel’s tongue before it even falls off, the radio demon shakes his head, chuckling through his tears. “My mother was as pure as they came, she….” His voice cracked and his smile faltered as the dam of emotions finally began to break. “She always belonged among the saints….”

That was the first time since he entered hell that he had ever really spoken to anyone about his mother…. All the talk Charlie did of redemption made him think of her from time to time, and maybe he had let his guard down around a certain barkeep after a few too many drinks that were just a bit too strong, but this was the first time he truly admitted to himself that he would never see her again given the fact that he knew he deserved to rot right where he was and she…. never deserves to see even a hint of the tamest parts of the realm he'd damned himself to….

Angel sat there, not sure what to say or do as he watched the radio demon facade crack; the perma-smile that had sat unnervingly on his lips seemed to waver and his perfect posture dropped as tears slowly made their way down the sinner’s cheeks.

Angel hesitated for a moment before he rested a hand on Alastor’s shoulder, hoping that in this moment of vulnerability the demon wouldn't mind being touched. “I-it’s ok to miss her….. ya know, I think about my mom and my sister every day….. I…. I miss them a lot…”

Despite himself, Alastor felt a sob bubbling up from somewhere deep inside of him finally ripping free. His shoulders shook and snot dripped from his nose as he tried to hide his face, his smile vanishing without so much as a trace. He felt like a child as he sat there blubbering but he couldn't stop himself from crying the more he thought about his mother.

As the radio demon struggled to contain his sobs, a pair of arms encircled him and pull him close against a thin but solid frame.

“Just…. Let it out, Smiles…” Angel said in his gentlest tone, pulling the other demon against his chest and holding him as he cried. “It’s ok.”

The two sat there like that for what felt like hours, but the clock on Alastor’s bedside table told them that it had only been a few minutes before the tears seemed to stop. They both sat there, neither comfortable enough to break the silence they found themselves in until a soft knock brought them both out of the heavy, daze they both seemed to be in.

“Alastor?” Charlie called through the door. “Everyone’s already eating dinner…. We were gonna wait for you, but it was getting cold….” Her words were hesitant. “Alastor?”

The radio demon straightened up at the sound of his name, and as if he had rehearsed it, he began drying his eyes and smoothing his clothes, his signature smile plastered across his face. It baffled Angel…. He was used to faking smiles, acting however he had to to please whatever audience was in front of him at any given moment, but he had never thought of anyone else having that same ability, and certainly not someone like Alastor.

As Alastor grabbed his staff and headed toward the door, Angel grabbed his arm, unable to stop himself. “Ya know… You don’t have to go to dinner if you don’t wanna…” There was a flash of something in Alastor’s eyes. Most would have mistaken it for annoyance or anger, but Angel knew that look. “I’ll save ya a plate and bring it up later.”

“Thank you.” A genuine smile crossed the man’s face, probably the first one Angel had ever seen, apart from the one that came with near manic laughter whenever Lucifer tripped and face-planted over something the radio demon’s shadow left out solely for that purpose. But this wasn’t that, this was something softer, something that reminded Angel of the woman in the picture.

Angel left, catching up with Charlie about halfway down the stairs. “Hey, wait up!”

“Oh, I just came from your room.” Charlie said, looking mildly concerned. “What happened? I thought you were going to get Alastor for dinner?”

“Oh, uh, yeah… Smiles said he had a headache, so he ain’t comin’ down.” Angel said as they made their way downstairs. “I told him we’d save him a plate.”

Seeming to accept the answer, Charlie nodded and continued down the stairs, already beginning to talk the spider demon’s ear off as they made their way to the kitchen. Neither of them noticed the radio demon’s shadow slithering along the walls, back to his room.

Alastor sat on the edge of his bed, the photo of him and his mother in his hands. “I trust Angel Dust was…. discrete about our little heart to heart?” He asks, not bothering to look up from the photo as his shadow slipped into the room. When his shadow nodded, he let out a breath he hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding until then. “Good.”

Looking back down at the photo, he let one more soft, genuine smile grace his features. He let his finger gently stroke the photo through the glass, ignoring the fresh round of tears threatening to spill. “Mwen renmen ou manman….”

[erisenyo]

HI hello I’m LOOKING!! at the sentence starters prompts!! if u want either “i wish i met you sooner” or “do you remember when we first met?” for zukka <33 (but i’ll eat up anything you write tbh)

For this prompt game! (And also this one!)

“Oh, shit,” Sokka blurts out, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“Are you now,” Zuko rolls his eyes, pretending he isn't biting back a laugh as he tugs the Jasmine Dragon’s door closed behind him and tosses Sokka the keys to the bakery case.

“I mean, at the very least I wish I met you sooner.” Sokka catches the keys without even glancing away from the pastries on display—which is strangely but undeniably hot—looking utterly besotted—which is strangely but undeniably cute. “I could’ve been getting this every night.”

“And what’s what you’d want from me every night, huh,” Zuko says, dry, leaning back against the counter as Sokka approaches the glass display with something like reverence.

“I mean.” Sokka gives Zuko a quick, grinning once over. “I’d settle for some other things, too.”

 Zuko hums, neutral, keeping his face unimpressed even as he feels the thrill of flirting in his chest, the thrill of a date gone well and long and the whole night suddenly stretching out in front of them. “You’d settle for it, would you.”

“Oh yeah,” Sokka says, tossing a wolfish grin over his shoulder before refocusing with what Zuko is realizing is a singular kind of intensity on the food in front of him. “I’d settle for it real good. Now—what do you suggest? What’s good?”

“It’s all good,” Zuko says, automatic and rote after so many years working here and apparently obvious enough about it that Sokka gives him a sideways, knowing look.

“What do you like to eat?”

…He wouldn’t think it would be a dealbreaker, but then he’s never seen someone eat so much ramen with so much enthusiasm before. “I don’t really eat sweets,” he admits after a beat.

“Your loss,” Sokka shrugs, unconcerned. “Just means more for me,” he adds, low and throaty and running a slow, admiring finger down the line of the display case which…again, strangely but undeniably hot.

Mai is going to absolutely roast the shit out him for this, when she finds out about it.

“But what do you want to watch me eat, then?” Sokka asks, giving Zuko another flirting kind of smirk, and Zuko pauses again, hesitating.

Not that it’s an automatic dealbreaker for him, but, “Like as a kink thing?”

“Do you want it to be?” Sokka replies without missing a beat, and Zuko stares a moment longer before deciding they can circle back to that later.

“How about an éclair,” Zuko suggests, tone somewhere between casual and challenging and something delighted fizzing in his chest when Sokka glances into the case and immediately gets the picture, his expression wicked and amused in equal turns as he pulls out the length of pate-a-choux.

“Is it already filled?” Sokka murmurs, eyes half-lidded as he admires the pastry.

“Yeah,” Zuko says, hearing his own voice going even huskier and…very aware that that look is really doing it for him already. “Crème pat.”

“Perfect,” Sokka grins, holding Zuko’s eyes and biting into the éclair with a suggestiveness he really has no right to when he’s biting pieces off. Zuko watches, caught, as Sokka gives little kitten licks of his tongue, dripping cream, parting his lips against the crisp dough. And then Zuko watches, caught in a whole different way, as Sokka becomes more and more exaggerated until he’s full on bobbing up and down the pastry.  

“Interesting technique,” Zuko says, half laughing, trying to keep a straight face as Sokka shows off his apparent lack of gag reflex.

“So I’ve been told,” Sokka says as he pulls off with a grin, wiping a streak of ganache off his face before taking a normal bite. “Mm, fucking amazing,” he says around the mouthful, innuendo gone from his tone but still more than suggestive as he groans around another bite, looking blissed out and slack faced and suddenly Zuko has a vision of Sokka looking exactly like that as he— “You make these?”

“Sometimes,” Zuko says, clearing his throat.

“You make this one?”

“Yeah.” He made it this afternoon. With Uncle standing next to him. And Ty Lee working the register. Uncle who works here every day. And Ty Lee who has known him since before he got over his lisp is best friends with Azula. And maybe if he reminds himself of both of those facts enough right now, he’ll be able to work tomorrow without getting hard.

Sokka hums, looking impressed as he glances around the kitchen space, and Zuko embraces the warm flush of pleasure at the idea of anything so mundane as working in the Jasmine Dragon being worth a look like that. “You wear an apron when you do it? The baking?”

“Sometimes,” Zuko shrugs, following Sokka’s glance to the neat row of aprons hanging by the sink.

“Hm. You ever wear one with nothing else on underneath?” Sokka asks, faux causal and all sidelong smolder that has Zuko abruptly deciding that maybe risking wayward erections during work tomorrow isn’t quite so bad.

“When I’m not here?” Zuko says, letting his eyes go half-lidded as he gives Sokka slow, thorough once over before catching his gaze again. “Sometimes.”

“I can’t wait to see that,” Sokka says, finishing off the éclair, “If that’s not too forward to say on a first date.”

“You just fellated an éclair in front of my,” Zuko points out, dry, even as anticipation sparks in his chest, “I think we might be past forward.”

“I did, didn’t I,” Sokka grins, holding Zuko’s eyes as he licks his fingers clean, “Anything else you’d like me to fellate?”

“Oh,” Zuko says, making a show of considering it, possibility and the slow winding tension between them a comfortable burn in his veins, the knowledge of where tonight is going to go but with no particular urgency to get there, to give up this one moment for the next, “I have an idea or two.”

“Or two?” Sokka murmurs, head cocking as he sidles back up to Zuko, intent and invitation in the angle of his body.

“Oh yeah,” Zuko smolders back, hooking Sokka’s belt look and tugging him gently in, savoring the easy way Sokka lets himself be pulled forward, the feel of Sokka’s hands coming to rest against Zuko’s chest. “How do you feel,” he murmurs low into Sokka’s ear, anticipation sharp in his veins, “About cannolis.”

[aranarumei]

something there.

hello shiramiya fans. got inspired by ch 51 to write something. it is under the cut but you can also read it on ao3

—

On some level, Shirahama’s always been aware that he’s weak-willed. But this—this feels like something else. “Tashiro,” he says. “I'm going to slack off.”

“For the last time, I'm not—what?” Tashiro cuts his complaint short, turning to face Shirahama with a searching look.

Whatever this is, it sucks, that’s for sure. He grits his teeth. “I'm just—I have to dip out for a second.”

“Huh,” Tashiro says, the word suffused with both carelessness and judgement. His eyes flicker around their surroundings, and he adds, “Okay. It's not too busy, anyways… did you ask—”  

“I already asked Karasubara.”

“Then what are you still doing here?”

It’s a good question, but it’s not one that has an answer. It’s just—it probably isn’t anything serious, but Miyano hadn’t looked great, and what if it is serious? Even if his boyfriend’s taking care of him, it’ll be good for Miyano’s classmates to know how he’s doing. And that way he—they—won't worry.

“I don't know,” he says, and because he’s vindictive: “Why didn't you compete in the crossdressing contest this year? You seemed so pumped about it last time.”

Tashiro's hands stray to his hair, and he twirls a loose strand around his fingers. It vaguely strikes Shirahama that it’s not dissimilar to one of the sprites of the sporty basketball girl he’d romanced last week. “I didn't want to shave my leg hair,” he says, even though last year Miyano hadn’t shown a single inch of his leg.

Tashiro’s just non-committal like that, Shirahama supposes—even now, he likes to act as if his ping pong captaincy just “happened” like an accident. He's spent three long-suffering years on the basketball team—he knows the apathy Tashiro unintentionally or purposefully projects is deceptive.

“What are you waiting for?” Tashiro asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Go.”

It’s enough of a push, and crucially: it feels like enough of an excuse.

—

There are too many people inside this school. Shirahama can hear Tashiro's voice in his head still, the strange wry twist that he'd clearly picked up from someone else, paired with his evergreen bluntness—what did you think was going to happen at a cultural festival?

I wasn't thinking, he replies in his head, aware that it's a horribly strange conversation to be having, and the kind of shameless, setup-to-punchline answer he'd never give in real life. But when he'd thought about the decorations, he'd mostly thought about having something that would look nice, feel nice, and have their class at ease. He hadn't been thinking about all the other people that would be milling about.

If they're staring at him, he certainly isn't going to chance making eye contact. So he ducks his head and soldiers on towards the relatively isolated nurse’s office, and in a sudden fit of bravery pauses for only a moment before opening the door. That courage immediately leaves him when the door opens with a sharp creak and he startles, hold almost slipping from the doorknob, but it's the pathetic thought that counts. Or something.

As he's about to slip in and shut the door behind him, a rustle sounds from one of the beds. The breath leaves Shirahama's chest, and he watches as Miyano's boyfriend—Sasaki, that was his name—emerges from the curtains, hair wild in a way that reads more like “bedhead” than “artfully tousled”—not that he'd say it was ever artful, but he's got no place to be critiquing Miyano's boyfriend's hairstyle…

—and speaking of. Sasaki’s staring at him. He sure is tall—for a moment Shirahama wonders why he'd never played basketball, but it’s the kind of wonder that’s paired with utter relief at the nonexistent situation. Then he feels very strange about that thought until Sasaki, with the sedate aura of someone who’s just woken up, blinks at him as if to communicate something.

Shirahama stares back, caught like a deer in headlights.

“Close it quietly,” Sasaki says. Shirahama finally re-registers that his hand is hanging slack on the doorknob. “He's sleeping.” His voice is low, smooth, and deliberately softened to the point that Shirahama has to strain to hear it.

He wavers in the still-open entrance; his legs don't let him run away. The door closes with a soft click, but it may as well be a marching drum.

“I just… came to check in on him,” Shirahama says, too many beats late, careful to pitch his voice just above a whisper. He's not sure he manages. It's the “too many people” thing again, only concentrated—somehow, he’s the one out-of-place in a school he's attended for two and a half years.

Sasaki nods. “Thanks for looking out.”

“Oh… no problem.” He represses the urge to throw up his hands in a sign of “I come in peace,” but he doesn’t know what else to do with them, so they hang limply and indecisively in front of him. Miyano's boyfriend is—it would be rude to say that he's scary, because he's seen the way he acts around Miyano, who doesn't seem to think he’s anything close to intimidating, but he's also Miyano's boyfriend, a term that feels—he shouldn't say it's strange. It shouldn't be any stranger than Kuresawa's girlfriend—bad example, because Kuresawa’s so weird, and Shirahama’s suddenly, overwhelmingly relieved that Miyano doesn’t make hour-long professions of his love—but the thought rests uncomfortably in his head. It's like there's an itch he doesn't know how to scratch.

Sasaki takes the time to inspect him now, squinting at him with a look that’s not akin to judgement but does feel like some kind of thing, and Shirahama would be embarrassed about his inarticulacy if he wasn't already beyond embarrassed with himself. Though he's always hated the feeling of assessment, he does his best to not squirm under Sasaki’s gaze. What Sasaki's likely remembering is the strange hanger-on to Tashiro's high-five run and jump, but even if that's banal in comparison to, say, the date-spying—which is mortifying in retrospect and has given him an eternal respect towards Hanzawa, though he’ll never vocalize this to anyone for fear of the result—something about recognition is just sour.

“Ah,” Sasaki finally says, snapping a cord of tension in Shirahama's shoulders. “You're on the basketball team.”

A strange flush scatters across his neck. “You remembered that?” His voice cracks at the last word, and he tacks on a whispered “Sorry!” that Sasaki accepts without fanfare.

A light shrug. “Just happened to.”

Shirahama throws his memory back to the interaction. He remembers the stray basketball, for sure, but on review something clicks into place. “…Kagiura, right?” His voice settles. “You were looking for him.”

At that, Sasaki falls silent.

Shirahama almost offers to call up Kagiura, but they're not particularly close, and Sasaki's expression doesn't really read as “excited” or “pleased.” In fact it's kind of reading as “ticked off,” which doesn't bode well, because he's pretty sure that if he got into a fight with Miyano's boyfriend, he'd lose. Embarrassingly.

Then, delivered in an unsettlingly flat voice: “I don't know him.”

“What?”

“Kagiura,” Sasaki clarifies, who indeed does say his teammate's name like he's never said those syllables in that order before. Come to think of it, he had called Kagiura by some kind of nickname, hadn't he? “I just… knew of him. Was just curious,” he mumbles.

“He does always get a bunch of confessions on Valentine's day,” Shirahama grumbles on instinct. Then he realizes there's a lot of terrible implications to that routine complaint and backtracks. “Not that—”

“He's popular?”

He feels, suddenly—not actually suddenly but an ebbing and flowing always—wrong-footed. “…Yeah?”  Huh, Miyano's boyfriend is kind of a weird guy. Whether this thought puts Sasaki squarely in the space of “not scary” is debatable. But it is some kind of comfort.

There’s a rustling sound by the bed. The room falls silent in an instant, and Shirahama finds that he’s locked eyes with Sasaki. Something like meaning almost passes through there, but before Miyano's boyfriend can say something about needing him to be silent, or his unnecessary check-in, or his unwelcome presence, Shirahama tumbles out excuses in rush of whispers. “I’ve still got to help out with the festival—just thought I’d check—I’m sure you have it handled—I’m going to—I'll go.”

He stumbles out of the office, thankful he hadn’t even taken two steps past the entrance, and closes the door as quietly as he can. His mouth is so dry he’s not sure any of those words he'd said were audible. It’s entirely likely he stood there, gaping and sputtering like a dying fish, before running away.

No one's there to look at his expression and tell him. Shirahama's glad for it and the fact that there's no mirrors in the hallway—the last person he wants to look at is himself.

[beingdreeyore]

Reviewing my MindMap for the year this afternoon. It's the one I do at the start of every year. Disappointed to say that I've been slack so far this year. Other than a few pole tricks I haven't ticked much off. For a few things I've gone woefully far in the opposite direction.

I removed checking my Mindmap weekly from my daily habit list a few months ago. It shows.

It's crazy how much I rely on goal setting and habit checklists to thrive. But I got the reminder today.

I've now got three drafts loaded onto my iPad ready to start editing. I've picked up an extra overtime shift consistent with my financial goals. I did some grocery shopping that supports my health goals. There's some baby steps right there.

It's crazy to me that I used to write an entire novel in a month and now I have to set reminders to even write ten pages a year. I feel like I don't have the creativity I used to have. I'm paralysed by insecurity and self-doubt. I need someone to tell me my writing is okay or I can't even get started. But I don't have that person. So I don't write. It's all so strange to reflect on. Every spare moment I was alone, I used to spend writing in cafes and bars and airports all over. I can't even remember the last time I sat somewhere and wrote. Looking at my MindMap I'm reminded why it was so important to me and why it continues to be.

Today was a needed day of rest and reset. I didn't even know how badly I needed it. Work have sent about another ten emails but I've ignored them all. It's a day off. I'll get to them when I'm in the office tomorrow.

It's rest and reset. It's remembering the life I was aiming to live and filling the day with tasks and hobbies that make me happy. The end of term dance performance is tonight but I'm skipping it. I'm telling myself I'll go next time. I'm not doing anything today that will increase my anxiety.

Rest and reset. That's it. Just rest and reset.

[apoptoses]

2 & 11 for when half won't do, 7 for something so trivial, 3 is for I'll be your operator?

What’s my favorite part of the fic?

(When Half Won't Do, Armand/Daniel, E)

The whole argument where Daniel finally figures out that Armand's concept of home is different from his. Because there's a couple things going on, one of them being that Armand has never 'messed up' and had someone handle his mistake in a mostly loving way. And the other being Daniel finally realizing what a cultural gap they have between them and just accepting that Armand isn't necessarily going to see the world the same way he does. He's fallen so into the idea of Armand as a lover that he's forgotten that he's 500 years old and once that clicks all the anger goes out of him.

I just think it represents what their romantic relationship can be like when times are good, that they really do work together.

Also, I loved Armand spitting blood into Daniel's mouth haha that idea came upon me as an intrusive thought while I was in the car and I still think about it sometimes. It's hot, it needs to happen in fic more often!

If I were to rewrite this fic, what would I change?

(Something So Trivial, Daniel/Armand, E)

I don't know that I'd change anything, really! I think it all happened exactly as I'd intended it to. I guess it would have been nice for Daniel had Armand gotten him a Valentine's gift as well haha But Armand really wasn't expecting anything himself, Daniel totally caught him by surprise when he got more than just the underwear.

So if anything I'd have to do a follow up showing what Armand gives Daniel next Valetine's Day to make up for slacking this time around.

Were there any major decisions I made about the fic that could have made it go a whole different direction?

Oh man I originally had Daniel much, much more reluctant and his embarrassment coming out in a kind of irritable way. I find that happens when I write from his POV. I have to do the draft where he's just not having it and then go back and figure out at what moment might he get over the hill of shame and just accept that Armand knows he wants whatever they're doing so he might as well lean into it.

He was crabby enough that he just wouldn't go get the bag from the closet and I knew at that point something was off, so I had to go back and soften him up. At the end of the day it's always important that he's a willing victim in these scenarios.

What’s the part of the fic I’m most proud of?

(I'll Be Your Operator, Armand/Daniel, E)

There's two parts:

First is the church scene. I had written the whole Copley bit and it didn't feel right, there wasn't enough build up. So I thought and thought and thought and finally got a conversation in my head where Daniel and Armand discuss the topic of confession.

And I thought that was a great thread to weave through the whole thing, because Armand isn't confessing to himself that he's interested in this guy as more than a victim to harass. And I also just really liked Daniel's secret, that he's the type of person to go through with an excruciating experience because he's curious about the reward at the end. It sets up who he is in all of my works.

And then I'm also proud of the whole feeding scene. I worked really hard on building tension and the 'will they or won't they' feeling. I knew it had to be a slow escalation of Armand ordering his food, then telling him what to eat, then putting bites on his plate. Every aspect of dominating someone via food had to be explored before Daniel would give in and eat from his fork.

Which was terrifying! It felt weird, I thought people would find the obsessing over food strange and not be into the feeding kink but happily everyone seems to have enjoyed it. So I'm proud that I wrote it and proud that I got over myself and posted it.

[byk23]

The creature did not die easy but it was a better death than what half of this world had.  Luo Binghe envied him his release as the enormous rhino-like creature thrashed in its death throes.

When it ceased moving, Luo Binghe walked towards where the Saintess was waiting for him. The sun was starting to set in the forest, turning everything into shadows. She was shivering on a boulder atop a hill, her thin gauzy outfit not much of a protection against the incessant rain. Luo Binghe would have offered her his cloak, but it was his only one. And he was cold too.

She stood and bowed when he approached. "Our tribe is grateful to Junshang"

"I will hunt the rest of the herd eastward, do not let the survivors leave the caves until I’d return"

"Junshang" She placed a hand on his arm, "would you like to come warm up in the cave for the night?"

Luo Binghe looked at the woman. Her look was flirtatious but her eyes were resigned. Her offer was more survival that desire. She was probably trying to make sure he did not just leave in the middle of the night.

"Thanking Saintess for the offer" Luo Binghe replied, brushing her arm off, "But I must see to the corpse"

Turning away so he does not see the relief on her face, he made his way down the muddy hill.

The Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python was where he left it, bleeding on its side, abdomen burst open.

Luo Binghe pulled out his cutting knife. Rhino meat was nothing to write songs about but it was meat. He had eaten worse things.

"Stupid Author. Stupid Novel"

Luo Binghe was surprised to hear a voice coming from behind the creature. He carefully stalked around the looming mass to the other side.

There was a man standing next to the giant head of the creature, his arm deep inside the slack mouth.

The first thing Luo Binghe noticed was that the man was young, and slight. He barely came up to the horn of the rhino head. The second was that his white cultivator robes was abnormally clean and bright. In a world where blood, dirt and generally poverty turned everything grimy in a sichen, he shone like a beacon.

"And this is not even the fun version of the novel" the man continued to grumble, screwing up his face in concentration. "a blue-grey filter does not automatically make this a serious wuxia drama, you hack author"

Luo Binghe looked around to see who he was talking to but did not see anyone else. Was the man ill in the head?

Luo Binghe is intimately familiar with madness himself.

"What are you doing?" Luo Binghe asked as the man's whole arm almost disappeared into the rhino's mouth.

The young man startled and stumbled back onto the ground. He quickly raised his hands at the sight of the dagger in Luo Binghe's hand.

"I was taking the snake-tongue" the young man said "to make medicine. It's very good for boils"

When Luo Binghe did not say anything but just stared, the man scrambled to his feet, "This one is Shen Yuan, a travelling apothecarist"

"Did you kill this beast?" He added "I'm sorry I did not realise it belonged to anyone."

There's something strange about this man. It was like there was a focus on him that made everything else in the background blur away.

Just when the silence was starting to turn awkward, "You can have it" Luo Binghe surprised himself by offering. 

"Really?" the young man's face lit up "Thank you, kind sir!"

Luo Binghe found himself helping a random stranger pry open a rhino mouth so he could reach in to grasp the phyton head.

"You must be a very good hunter" Shen Yuan said, slicing the phyton head just below the hood. "Black Moon Rhinoceros-Pythons are very hard to kill"

"I had some luck" Luo Binghe grunted as he let go for the rhino mouth to snap back. He did not feel the need to mention that he was immune to the rhino's qi blasts. He quite liked the admiring look the other man was giving him.

"Here"

Luo Binghe looked down in surprise at the small jar of medicine that was tossed into his hands.

"This is…"

"Medicine" Shen Yuan said "For your throat. Do you have a cold? Your voice is really scratchy"

Luo Binghe cleared his throat in embarrassment "I'm fine"

Shen Yuan shrugged and then smiled "Keep it. Just in case"

Luo Binghe stood there, feeling lighting struck by the smile. He can't remember the last time anyone had genuinely smiled at him.

The man bowed cheerfully and waved the snake head at him before running away into the gloom.

SCUM VILLAIN WRITERS, THIS IS A CALL TO ARMS!!

instead of bingge or bingmei, what if we spoke about OUTLINE luo binghe? i will be calling him bingdi from here on out

bingdi wasn’t supposed to have a harem. he was supposed to end up alone. like yeah he’d bang when he wanted to but no wives. shen jiu was supposed to have a fleshed out back story. the entire thing was supposed to be deeper and darker.

let’s drop shen yuan into the mix (as per usual) and see what happens. i personally think he’d be a wandering cultivator and shen jiu’s little brother. that adds to his og fleshed-out backstory. ofc he’s gonna meet airplane (platonic soulmates in the worst way possible) and he’s gonna wifebeam bingdi into submission

i just think it would be fun and new and interesting to drop him into THIS universe because i’ve never seen anyone use the draft as a setting. it’s just so fun to think of a non-bingmei binghe not occupied with wives. wtf is that guy doing? i wanna know. AIRPLANE ANSWER ME. anyways what is svsss fanfiction for if not experimenting??

also if anyone has recommendations like this tell me please i’ve looked everywhere

[arjaandsimoni]

Black Eyes Among the Briars

The ball made a squeaking sound as it bounced across the playground, heading towards the woods at the border of the field, a young boy running up to meet it as a girl chased after him.

“Blake wait up!” she called out, her red hair flying behind her. She was about ten years old, going on eleven, wearing a green teeshirt and denim bluejeans with a clover embroidered onto one leg, green sneakers on her feet.

She stumbled to a halt as she drew near the woods however, her eyes going huge. Blake stood there, terrified, as the sounds of the playground seemed to fade around them.

The trees had changed, forming a sort of natural arch, and standing on the far end was a young boy in a plain white teeshirt and slacks, motioning to the other boy with a smile. Blake stumbled forward, the ball dropping from his numb hands as the girl looked around, but none of their teachers monitoring the recess nor any other kids seemed aware of what what was happening.

And then Blake crossed the threshold of the arch, and just like that it was gone, the trees were as they always were…

The girl looked at the spot, then shook herself, “Great… just great…” she sighed, “I gotta call my brother.” nodded Stephanie Fullmoon.

The Tristate Riverfront, Kentucky Side of the Ohio River.

Nelen gazed out across the river at the Cincinnati skyline, having serious mixed feelings about the view. His grandfather would be watching the area, but after what Stephanie had told him he had to come back.

“We’re really doing this huh?” asked Dawn, looking up at him, the girl dressed in her usual ‘passably human’ disguise of a sock hat, sunglasses, baggy pants, and teeshirt.

“Yeah, black eyes and a doorway in the trees. You know just as well as I do what that means.” he sighed, “If they’re preying on kids around here then we’re all they got. Uncle Roger won’t get off his lazy ass for anything and Mom refuses to use magic so she doesn’t bring down grandpa’s hammer on us.”

Dawn nodded, “Yeah…” she muttered, knowing all too well. Her people may be from Wonderland, but they knew all about That Place. The realm next door to their own in a metaphysical sense. The Land Under the Hill and Beyond the Crossroads.

“Yep. Mom knows we’re coming. She got us a room at the Motel 8 over in Florence. She knows we can’t risk coming back home.” he added.

Dawn nodded, “Mmm… gonna be a big risk though, isn’t your sister’s school like two blocks away?” she asked.

He frowned, “Yeah, but like hell am I going to let the Fair Folk snatch kids from my home turf.” he frowned as they set off for the local bus station.

Later, at the hotel.

Nelen sat on his bed across from his sister, the young girl describing what she’d seen in the portal.

“But yeah, other than the eyes it looked just like any other kid. Dressed like super plain though, and Blake couldn’t resist when it called him. Like he just walked in, but I could tell how freaked out he was.” she nodded.

Nelen scratched his chin, “Hm… that’s odd. They can’t just do that unless the mortal lets them somehow. Do you know if Blake had done anything recently? Played with any strange kids, picked up anything weird?” he asked.

She thought on that, then shook her head, “I dunno…” she replied, “His mom is going nuts, she’s insisting the cops comb the woods for him but, well, they’re not gonna find anything…”

He glanced at Dawn, “Hm… his mom work during the day? If she does I can see if we can’t scope out his place, see if anything seems weird. Here, write down his address.” he said, handing her a notepad. “Meanwhile, keep an eye on things at school, ask around if you can. They may come back for others, and if they do they gotta have a way to claim them.” he nodded.

Dawn grinned, “Leave it to me Red! I’ll sniff out anything that smells like fairy dust easy peasy!” she nodded, stretched out on the bed behind Nelen as he discussed the situation with his sister.

He looked up as a horn honked outside, “Sounds like mom is getting impatient, can’t blame her. Franklin would go nuts if he heard I was here. Go on and get home, we got this little sis.” he smiled, patting her shoulder.

After she left he sighed, “… bigods I hope we got this. I mean, we can at least stop them from taking any others but…” he frowned.

Dawn nodded, “Yeup. That Blake kid is screwed.” she mewled, her ears folding back sadly.

“Right, well, get some rest Dawn. Tomorrow you head to his house, I’ll check the woods near the school.” he said, flopping onto his bed. At least they’d have a weekend to do it, thank the gods its Friday.

Dawn grinned, then stretched out on the bed and yawned. “Mmmhm. Faeries won’t know what hit ‘em!”

Nelen rolled his eyes, then turned out the light.

Across town a young boy stood under a streetlamp, staring up at a house.

He smiled, walking forward, then opened the mailbox and slid in a plastic package with some sort of dough inside it along with a note, then turned and walked down the street and into the woods…

The Suburb of Edgewood

The next day Dawn padded along through the backyards in her cat form. “Okay… one two two six… one two two six… lesse… one two two…” she paused, hearing a loud growling sound as a dog pawed its way towards her, “Oh for… again?” she sighed, then sat up and smiled at it.

The dog paused in confusion. This wasn’t the reaction it normally got.

Dawn just grinned, then said, “Bad dog.” and there was suddenly a bright flash.

A second later the dog was bolting down the street whining in terror as giant vengeful mailmen that only he could see chased after him.

Dawn continued on, smirking. “Alright, one two…. Ah, here we go.” she nodded, walking up to the door. She sniffed a bit, then when she was satisfied the house was empty she blinked her eyes, and suddenly she was on the inside half of the door, walking along through the house. “Right, what's here that shouldn’t be…” she murmured.

She looked around for over an hour, but nothing seemed out of place. The kid’s bedroom was just the usual junk, though it had clearly been picked over by police. The kitchen was nothing unusual. A big fridge, several fancy appliances for the suburbanite woman who imagined themselves the next Martha Stewart but who was mostly the next Paula Deen but less horrible, a half-eaten loaf of bread in a tray on the counter, but nothing obviously supernatural. She didn’t smell a whiff of Arcadian magic or hedge fruit or anything!

She sighed, then teleported back out of the house, “Well, crap. I hope he’s having better luck than I did.” she muttered.

Nelen however, was not. Hedge gates were notoriously tricky to open if you wanted them to open, and this one was being very stubborn. He’d tried a few nonsense rhymes, rolling dice, flipping coins, even smashed a small handmirror, but no luck. He was currently flipping through a tome trying to work out what he could figure out when a voice called out.

“Hey buddy! What are you doing here? This place is part of an ongoing investigation and I… oh its you, Nelen.” they said, slowing to a halt.

Standing there was a former classmate of his, now working with the local police force. “Oh hey, been a while… Jim was it?” he tried.

The officer stuck his thumbs in his belt, “Yep, this is your sister’s school isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yeah, just seeing what I can figure out. I don’t want what happened to Blake to happen to her.” he replied.

He nodded, “Of course, of course, shitty situation that. His mom has been screaming up a storm on social media, even got city council involved.” he sighed, then said, “Um… you think what happened might’ve, um, been something your family deals with?” he asked.

Nelen glanced at him. Jim was a mundane, that is to say a human who couldn’t use magic and wasn’t supernatural in any way but he did know of it. Nelen helped him out of a real situation one Halloween when they were still in high school together involving an ill-fated dare to explore a haunted factory that, it turned out, really was haunted by a very easily angered specter. It was there that he’d found out about Clan Fullmoon.

“Afraid so Jim.” nodded Nelen. “You’re not gonna find that kid, he’s off with the faeries. Literally.” he sighed.

Jim snorted a bit, then paused at Nelen’s expression, “Shit, you’re serious? You mean some little inch tall bug people snatched him?” he asked.

“Not even close, but if they catch mortals sniffing around they might get violent. Get yourself something iron to carry with you, even a coin will do, hammer or knife is best. Something you can swing at ‘em.” he replied, “If you got steel jacketed rounds in that gun then they might help, but it won’t do as much as iron would.” he nodded to the gun on Jim’s belt.

“Um, yeah, we do. Standard issue. Bullets stop ‘em?” he asked.

“Iron stops them, but pure iron works best. Depending on how powerful they are steel might just piss them off.” he replied.

“Okay, but… if we’re not talkin’ Tinkerbell, what do I watch for?” he asked.

Nelen nodded, “So, yeah, Stephanie said she saw what got him. They look like a normal kid, except their eyes.” he replied, tapping his face just under his eyelid, “Completely black, no pupil, no iris, no nothing. Just jet-black orbs.”

The cop shuddered, “Jesus, sounds like something out of a horror movie.”

“Buddy, you don’t know the half of it.” he frowned.

“There’s really no way to get that kid back?” asked Jim.

Nelen shook his head, “None. Once they have him, he’s as good as gone. He might escape on his own someday, but… look, if in a few years you get some crazy ass hobo running around claiming to be Blake, gimme a call.” he said, “Because it’ll probably be him, or whats left of him.”

That night at the hotel

Dawn and Nelen compared notes, what little they had.

“Nothing, not a godsdamn thing. Whatever hedge gate is there its refusing to respond to anything I do. It might be I can’t even open it from this side.” he sighed.

“Yeah, same here.” frowned his feline companion, the cat having changed into her actual pajamas now. They’d long since worn that joke into the ground however to the point that not even Dawn made it anymore. “I looked all over that house. NOTHING smells of Arcadia. Not a single, damn, thing.” she flopped back.

Nelen nodded, “Yeah, but the way Stephanie described it they had to have some sort of in for controlling them. She said Blake was obviously terrified but couldn’t do anything except walk forward. It had to be something, but if we don’t find out soon…” he sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t even want to think of what that poor kid must be going through right now.” he made a face, Dawn nodding at that.

The fact that she didn’t have a snarky response spoke to the seriousness of the situation. A mortal in the clutches of the fair folk… well… it was possible that it could turn out okay for them, sometimes even better. The legends mortals got were all horror stories, but those were legends passed to them by those who escaped Arcadia back to Earth. There had to be some good faeries, right? Ones whose mortals didn’t want to escape?

They had to believe that… but the way he was grabbed, they both knew full well that this faerie was one of the bad ones.

Nelen dreamed that night, and the dream was not good.

He was surrounded by a forest of thorns, the moon hanging distant and alien in the sky. He looked around, frowning, then called out. “Alright, I get it. You wanna scare me. Get out here then.”

There was a presence nearby, and he looked down to find a young boy standing there, looking up at him with inky black eyes.

Why do you want to take my friends?

He felt the question more than hearing it. The older man shaking his head. “Ugh. Gonna have a headache when I wake up. Can’t you weird little fuckers learn to use a smartphone?” he grumbled, “Look, that kid is your’s. I’m not some idiot mundy, I know he had to have done something to let you claim him. So out with it. What was it?” he asked.

The childlike fae giggled, his mouth stretching into a wide smile… and his teeth looked wrong… too perfect, too shiny, and too damn sharp.

Won’t tell! Won’t tell!

“Yeah, figured it wouldn’t be that damn easy. Well knock it off. I’m here now. Keep this shit up and I’m handing out horseshoes to everyone in town.” he frowned.

The fae giggled again, grinning wider.

Too many! So many humans now! Not enough iron to go around! I’m going to have so many friends!

He glared, then flexed his hand, “Hey, creepy little kid. Yanno how much iron is in blood?” he asked.

A tendril of blood burst out from between the bandages on his hand, flexing in the air, “Wanna guess how much is in mine?” he snarled, and the tendril seemed to sprout jagged fang-like shapes along its length.

The fae hissed, jumping back. It landed on all fours among the briars, it’s eyes seeming to widen into deep inky black pools.

The tithe-takers! Tithe-takers are here! Keep away Hellbound one! These ones are my friends!

“Fucking make me Rumplestiltskin!” he snapped, slashing outwards with the tendril as it shot towards the fae and then there was a ringing like a loud bell and Nelen jolted awake in his bed.

He fumbled for his glasses, then looked at the clock, “… four in the godsdamn morning.” he flopped back, “At least I know what I’m up against now.” he frowned.

Next to him Dawn snored and turned over in her sleep, dreaming of fish.

Monday morning eventually came, Nelen having spent all of Sunday searching through any tomes of faerie lore he had on hand.

Unfortunately, nothing came up for that particular fae… though there were a lot of complications there. The fair folk could be anything, may have even been anything in the past. The fae he was after now could have been something totally different fifty years ago, nevermind when the books were actually written.

Stephanie however had to go back to school that day. She’d asked Nelen the night before if they had any success but had been as disappointed as he was at their lack thereof. Still, she’d come prepared, wearing a tank top and a denim skirt today, along with a pair of easily removable sandals. As she got her backpack hung up however a girl came over to her.

“Hey Steffi, did you leave something in my mailbox Friday night?” she asked.

Stephanie looked over at the girl. She was her age of course, wearing a purple teeshirt and denim jeanskirt with strappy sandals on her feet. “Huh? No, I didn’t put anything in there Lisa. Why?” she asked.

“Oh, um, yanno Friendship Bread? Well someone put the dough for some in there and my mom and I baked it up over the weekend. It was really good and I wanted to thank whoever did it, but they forgot to sign the card so I got no idea who.” she replied with a smile.

Stephanie felt a chill go down her back at that. “Um… you don’t say…” she replied, “Hey um, I gotta go do something really fast before class starts…” she nodded, ducking out of the classroom and into the bathroom, fishing her phone out of her pocket. “Please be awake please be awake please please…” she whispered, dialing Nelen’s number.

At the hotel Nelen snored, having spent most of the night pouring over tomes, then snorted awake, groping for his phone. He glared at the screen bleary eyed, then answered it. “Stef… wuzz guin’ on…” he grumbled.

“Nelen wake up!” she hissed, “I know how they’re doing it, and someone else is marked! Friendship bread! That old thing where people give dough to someone and the other person bakes it into bread! That’s why Dawn couldn’t find anything Arcadian! Its just normal bread, but the fae are giving it out!” she whispered, trying to keep her voice low incase someone came in the restroom.

Nelen jolted awake at this, “Bread? Just regular mundy bread. Shit, if the fae give it to them that still counts…” he grunted as Dawn blinked up at him, having dozed off in her cat form.

“Oh crap… there was a half eaten loaf of bread in that kid’s kitchen! I think she’s right!” she hissed.

Nelen swore. “Shit. Stephanie, keep an eye on her. If they gotta use the woods they won’t be able to nab her until recess. I’m on my way!” he said, scrambling out of bed and pulling his jeans on.

Stephanie nodded, “Right, its about noonish, just be here!” she said, biting her lip nervously. Lisa was in real danger, but they couldn’t warn her! Nobody would believe them if they told her the truth…

By noon Nelen was hiding out near the school. He’d texted Jim and told him he’d had a lead on this but that he’d have to be at the school today to deal with it, hoping his old friend could run interference incase someone called the cops on him. Dawn was nearby, human-shaped but invisible for now.

He looked up as he heard a bunch of childish screams and shrieks, seeing the third grade class get out for recess. It was time. “Dawn, keep an eye out. Stephanie said she’d stick close to their marked kid. If you see them show up, grab her and warp her away, I don’t care where.” he nodded firmly. “I’ll deal with the faerie.” he replied, holding a solid iron ballpeen hammer tightly in his bag.

As recess got underway Stephanie saw her friend seeming to drift closer to the tree line, the girl trying to cut her off. “Hey, Lisa, why don’t we stay closer in today huh?” she asked.

“I… I dunno, do we gotta? I kinda feel like I wanna get near the woods.” she replied.

“Oh? Um, why though?” she asked.

Lisa’s brow knotted up, the girl looking confused, “I… don’t know… but…” she looked up at the trees again, as if hearing a sound only she could hear, “I just…” she blinked slowly, her eyes going half lidded, “… need to be near them…” she murmured, starting to walk forward.

Stephanie eeped, trying to cut her friend off, “Naaaaaaaaah, lets go hang out on the benches, maybe someone snuck their phone out and we can check out whats up on Instagram or something?” she tried, but her friend shoved right past her, the girl’s eyes locked on the tree line. Stephanie frantically looked around, then spotted the shape of her brother in the shadow of a tree and jerked her head frantically towards her friend.

Nelen looked up, then ahead of the girl he saw the trees begin to bend and shift into a gate-like archway. In amongst the groves was the faerie, waving to Lisa and beckoning her forward.

For about five seconds before a pair of invisible arms appeared around her and, “YOINK!” suddenly the girl was sitting inside her classroom with a confused expression, the distance and being indoors cutting off the fae’s influence. “Everyone gets one.” Dawn whispered in her ear, before vanishing.

The faerie however did not like this one bit.

“Where did she go?! WHAT HAPPENED TO MY NEW FRIEND?!” he snarled, his voice echoing as the kids in the playground all paused, looking around in confusion.

“Sorry faerie boy, that girl is under my protection. Leave now and don’t come back.” said Nelen, stepping forward as he slipped the hammer out from his bag.

“You… Demon-marked! Hellsworn!” he snapped, Nelen aware that eyes were beginning to turn towards him. The faerie looked at the kids, grinning. “You can’t touch me, they think I’m one of them. If you hurt me the other humans will lock you up.” he sneered.

“He can’t. I can!” snapped another voice.

Stephanie came striding across the grass, glaring at the faerie. “You took away MY friend! You almost took another! How dare you!” she glared.

Nelen took a step back, slipping the hammer into his bag once more, as the faerie looked at her.

“Oh? And what exactly are you going to do little mortal? Do you want to be my friend too?” he sneered.

Stephanie grinned, and it wasn’t a nice grin. “You’re going to leave, or else I’ll scream.” she replied, and Nelen quickly made sure his bag strap was secure, a hand holding his hat in place.

“… and what exactly will that do?” asked the faerie.

Stephanie took a deep breath… and screamed.

Clan Fullmoon was a clan of monster hunters, and like most of the monster hunting families they had an ace up their sleeve. A leg up of their own in the supernatural department.

All the men in Clan Fullmoon had supernatural strength, some moreso than others. Nelen was strong enough to, say, punch a dent in a dumpster.

The women however could use magic.

Her scream came out more akin to the cry of some gigantic hawk, and as soon as she unleashed it the air went from calm to full on gale force wind! The air howled as a gust of almost seventy miles an hour slammed towards the tree line!

Nelen got back behind his tree and held on for dear life as her classmates screamed in panic, the teachers trying to get them back inside as fast as they could go! The faeire boy stumbled at the sudden blast of wind. He was outside his lands and on Earth his power was greatly diminished!

The storm had caught him off guard and as he looked he saw that Stephanie wasn’t there, just a pair of sandals sitting on the grass.

Nelen smirked, taking the hammer back out and holding out, handle first. There was a blur, and suddenly his hand was empty.

The faerie looked around frantically, but it wasn’t used to not being omniscient. In its own realm it could tell where everything and everyone was, but on Earth its senses were weaker too!

“You guys put so damn much stock in names, should’ve found out ours first. Its Fullmoon.” grinned Nelen.

The faerie’s eyes widened, “… chosen of the Maven…” he whispered then looked up, and Stephanie shot down from the sky! Her arms were now a pair of massive black raven wings, her legs changed into bird-like talons, and the hammer clutched firmly between them.

The faerie had only a moment to scream as the hammer slammed home, his face erupting in silver fire as the iron bit into his flesh! He turned to her, half his head gone, scorched away by the hammer, as the girl grinned at him and banked around, then came back in for a finishing blow!

He snarled, then ran for the hedge gate, but the storm was here and she was faster! Another loud crash and the fae stumbled, then fell headless to the ground!

Then reality seemed to burp, and all that was left was a pile of dried oak leaves that scattered on the wind she’d called.

Stephanie landed by her sandals, her feathers molting away to reveal ordinary human arms as her legs shed their scales, changing back into regular legs. She put the sandals on, then walked over to Nelen, handing the hammer back. “That oughta do it. Hey Dawn, we got a tornado shelter inside, think you can land me there out of view?” she asked.

“You got it big bird.” grinned the cat. She’d appeared in the branches of the tree midway through the fight, having watched Stephanie hammer the faerie to pieces. She jumped down, high fived the girl, and then they both vanished.

Dawn reappeared alone a moment later. “Right, lets get the hell outta here before someone catches us.” she nodded.

“Damn right.” replied Nelen.

Then the yard was totally empty. A moment later a tree fell over, ripped up by the wind.

Later that evening, at the hotel.

Nelen was watching a local news station. “Meteorologists are baffled by today’s freak windstorm, but experts continue to investigate why a localized thunderstorm formed over Edgewood Kentucky today, seemingly centered around a local elementary school.” said the newscaster as Nelen ate the last slice of a pizza.

“Mom threw a fit of course, you know she hates it when Steffi uses her magic. Frank is still batshit about that.” he sighed.

“Yeah, but what can ya do? He’s the leader of the Clan and what he says they gotta do.” shrugged Dawn. “At least she’s not really angry, I mean your sister kicked one of the gentry’s asses, that’s gotta count for some brownie points.”

“Nope, its not getting reported. Franklin would go ballistic. Not to mention I’d wind up in the report. Best just leave this one another urban legend and get the fuck outta town before he sends someone to poke Roger in his drunken ass and figure out why he didn’t do something about this.” he nodded, “C’mon, we’re checking out early and getting back to the Wulfshead before shit hits the fan there.”

Dawn shrugged, hopping off the bed and pulling her backpack on, “Fine fine… so where to next?” she asked.

“Dunno, lets check the BBS and see who’s hiring.” he said, the door closing as they left the hotel room.

Back at her home Stephanie sat in her room, frowning. She saved her friend, saved the entire school really because faeries didn’t know the meaning of restraint, and she got yelled at. She had all this power, but because her grandpa was a nutjob she wasn’t allowed to use it.

'Well whatever,' she thought to herself as she finished filling her fanny pack. A silver dagger, various pouches full of other reagents, some other useful things. She wasn’t able to make it bigger on the inside like her brother could yet.

She knew her uncle Roger would never do his job to protect the area from supernatural threats… which meant she’d have to do it herself.

She opened her window, wearing a pair of denim shorts and a tank top, and glanced back at the door. She was breaking a lot of her mom’s rules; curfew, being (hah) grounded, and not using magic… but, well, the women of Clan Fullmoon were witches after all, and nobody broke rules like a witch.

A minute later a large bird-like shape soared out over the suburbs, Stephanie seeing what sort of mischief she could find. She couldn’t let Nelen have all the fun after all.

Next Story

Previous Story

[takalzuoom]

𝐉𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐚 / 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬/𝐨

Curse you Cala Maria anon for making me write separate scenarios for Jade’s orca partner and Floyd’s Great White Shark partner🤬

(i’m joking ily)

cw: cursing, mentions of bullying, jade being weird 😭

𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝

Back to where I was with Floyd's scenario,

YOU PLAY VOLLEYBALL

And since you're so tall- you're damn good at it.

You're the person they make a separate play for

“ number 11 subbing in for number 9”

Then suddenly everyone’s sick, or they twisted their ankle. They don’t wanna verse you - not just because you're good. But because of- well you

Now that I’m thinking about it, you remind me of Ushijima. Hardass spike no one can ever block. The little comments you make?

He also ‘teases’ people who make off-handed comments about you.

When you're done, he’ll slink up to you, and congratulate you with his usual smile.

You get wayy more out there when. You’re at Floyd’s basketball games.

On one hand, you have your own little section. expect for the onslaught of children enact to you (ill get into that later)

You become SO vocal, telling Floyd ‘ take down their krill look’s ass’

And no one can do anything about it, cause once they catch sight of your teeth. They think it's better to stay quiet 🙊

I like to think that Floyd would score 50 out of 100 points when you're there, softly cause he wants to impress you

I was gonna say ‘to show other guys not to mess with him or you, but I feel like he’d also be really into it when in the moment. So idk

But if you're versing a school from under the sea and he sees a great white student eyeing you. Oh my god.

Leave. Just leave. It’s gonna be a bloodbath.

He’ll make sure to personally wipe the floor clean with them

and when you come hobbling down to congratulate him, he'll smirk smugly at the other student

I see you dragging him to class, only to silently goof off with him in the back corner.

Like he could be laughing his ass off as you sit there with a slight smirk

AND FLOYD WOULD TELL JADE AND AZUL WHAT YOU SAY-

would they believe him? Absolutely not.

funny story though. Azul had called you to get Floyd to try and work. Only for him to hear Floyd cackling hysterically. Not even his usual unnerving laugh. But more like his lung is about to pop out.

Already annoyed, he's about to enter until he overhears something you said...

No one believes him when he tells them the zinger you came up with on the fly.

He's been seen giggling to himself while working for weeks

Like yall would have the most complex notes. And the most terrifying ones. Half the time you're trying to convince him not to jump up, squeeze riddle, and dip

In all three of these scenarios, y/n is the bouncer for the lounge. This time, you're much more horrifying. Blank look as you stand perfectly still.

Mwah sexy

But honestly- you're bored. Dreadfully so.

Every once in a while you’ll have to start pacing or start patrolling the lounge. Sometimes sneaking in to see Floyd 😳

You have something to fidget with. Whether it be a hair tie, drawstring, stress ball, or some random, unlucky object that has taken hold of your attention.

And you're both guilty of leaving your post during shifts to just ‘slack’ off with each other. Surprisingly you more than Floyd.

5 times out of 10 you come back. Other 5… the great seven only knows what

You’re perfect to squeeze. Since you're so big it takes more to hurt you, and you're touch starved 😿

More often than not, you’d both be lazing around somewhere. Usually the lounge or courtyard (catching rays, n chill's like villains 😎)

And believe it or not, you have to move around more than him. Asking him if he wants to do something. He’ll just tell you that he's not in the mood and just wants to lay back and think chill.

So off on an adventure, you go!

alone 😿

without your boyfie

so cruel

mad i was saying before, children are strangely attached to you??

don’t know how don’t know why- but even in your mer form you would have children hiding behind rocks gawking at you as you swam by

of course Floyd being Floyd would sneak up and scare the shit out of them

but i see him liking playing with kids. you just chilling as some of them ask you questions and hesitantly approach

while Floyd’s playing ‘squeeze tag’ with them. (don’t try at home)

you love kids. treating some of them as your younger siblings, catching up with them over break, coming to special events for them.

just over all being a kid person.

and if a bully’s giving one of them a problem-

you smile at them 😸

Floyd’s a fuxking snitch btw

“hey hey, sharkie… apparently someone’s been bothering parrot fishie again”

“o h? is that so..”

𝐉𝐚𝐝𝐞

He loves your family.

And your family loves him.

maybe a little more than they love you😟

Stg if yall weren’t dating he'd` be the brother you never had. Same with Floyd cause they love how easy going and (and I quote) 'spunky' he is

I see him and your moms getting along famously

(Screw you I’m making y/n have gay moms cause Orcaa are matriarchal and are usually in pods with mostly women)

they’ll side with him when y’all are having arguments 😐

yeah, they’re annoying like that

You have a younger sister and brother who just adore him

I see you being a part of the mountain lovers club. Not ‘cause you like mushrooms- oh god no.

But because your siblings aren’t old enough to go on land, you bring things back so you can teach them about what life is like up there.

Jade tries to get them to like his mushroom dishes 💀

Jade (unfortunately) converted your brother to mushroomism 😿💔

You and jade sometimes do presentation nights, where you’ll be on the beach while they’re in the water, and you do show and tell

NO CAUSE IT’S LIKE ONE OF THOSE SHOWS WHERE THERE'S THE PRICE AND OBJECT ON THE SIDE AND THERE'S A BUNCH OF WHITE WOMEN REVIEWING IT 😭😭

YOU KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT- EASTER SUNDAY YOUR MOM WOULD RANDOMLY PUT IT ON (please tell me it wasn't just my mom 😟)

Okay but no- sometimes it gets super… weird???

Like he’ll talk to your mom (1) about her latest catch- and he wants the FULL details of it like- 🤨🤨 what 😐

AND if your brother asks about mushrooms (propaganda) Jade will bend down with that signature look of his. Smile.

Then start talking about murderous mushrooms.

“Indeed. Some mushrooms are known for infecting the lungs of the poor soul who gets too close. Its spores secreting a kind of position that is to tranquilizer it’s neutral predators and… briefly disable them”

"..."

"..."

"...mOM-"

Great. Now your brother is crying, over the fact that he ate mushrooms not even five minutes ago as Jade is there just- smiling

Thanks a fucKING LOT JADE

"What? I'm merrily educating the youths about mushrooms, no harm done." :)

Your sister pulled you aside asking if you were safe OISBOVFUWE

I feel like orca reader would have adhd? Or maybe add (add is a form of adhd i know cause I have it lol)

This is mainly because I watched a video about orcas and one of the younger ones kept running off, getting in trouble? Life-threatening scenarios and called her family for help-

SO I WAS LIKE- gee, what if reader was like that too? Being even more of a hassle than Floyd.

And I feel like the reader would purposely get themselves get into trouble with (say) other students, and then play ‘defenseless’ cause their big short, strong boyfriend jade will come to the rescue 😻🫶

And of course, Jade knows about this, he's seen how you handle rowdy customers.

(And he's done it once or twice to take a peek and feel your sexy, hot, bulging muscles-)

Oh my god. You have muscles. Sorry- don’t make the rules, I just follow them 😎

Lemme tell you- he's in love. Like. Literally.

You: cleaning the table

Jade trying to take orders: Lord have mercy. We must stay focused brothers. We must, stay focused.

I’m sorry but- he's manipulative 💀

Not the safe choice.

If you don't know where to go to eat, he’ll give a suggestion, THEN make you think that it was your idea

it’s a win-win🤷🏻

“Hmm, I dunno jade. I’m not feeling Italian tonight…”

“Earlier you said you wanted something cold, no?”

“Hmmm… I guess? I mean, my mouth feels a little parched so-“

“Hhmmmm”

As you were thinking, Jade started fanning himself with his gloved hand, sighing as he stared at something off into the distance.

“Ahh, then what about-“

“Oh! That place with the really good ice cream! Yum yum!”

Jade, who wanted ice cream from the beginning: 😼

I feel like there will be sometimes when you miss your family. Cause orca's are extremely sociable creatures. So just imagining orca readers getting depressed about missing their mom’s anniversary. Their brother and sister’s birthday. The time when their whole family went to see a movie they saw with Jade-

And with trial and error, he’d find out exactly what you need; a hug.

Like okay- setting the scene.

You’re locked up in your room, bundled up in your covers as you hold your phone, the picture of your family smiling at that one theme park you’d frequent.

And suddenly there's a knock at the door (he has spidey senses for these kinda things tf)

“Y/n, may I come in”

You didn't answer.

A few silent seconds passed until the lock on the door clicked open as the blinding light from the hallway illuminated your room.

Soft footsteps became louder as you kept your eyes trained on your dimmed phone.

“You missed your shift at the lounge- Azul isn't too happy about that”

“Azul can suck a tentacle- better yet I think he’s missing one. So he should get that out of his ass an-“

You stopped once you felt a firm hand on your shoulder.

“You should have told him beforehand that you weren’t going to make it. We were down a man and had to get one of your first-year friends to fill in”

You scuffed.

Rolling onto your stomach so you lost Jade’s grip as you, you smothered your face in your pillow as jade adjusted himself on the bed.

“You know, I'm here to help… I'm not sure what you’re feeling as Floyd and I have always been together our entire lives… but if you need anything…”

He trailed off before sighing. Slowly got up before a swish of the blankets was heard, and he was roughly pushed down onto the bed.

A startled gasp left his face as you brought him into a crushing hug.

He swore he heard a bone crack.

Carefully, with your feet, you lifted the covers over the both of you and sniffled, nuzzling his face as you brought him closer. An amused ‘oh’ was all he said as he tapped your shoulder.

Letting go slightly, he slipped off his shoes, socks, and blazer as you readjusted your hold on him.

Throwing your leg over his body, you finally encased yourself over him as you got comfy again, a few stray tears leaving you as Jade felt your body start to lax.

He sighed, shrugging internally as he’ll have to deal with a pissy Azul whenever you decided to let him go.

sighs dreamily

But all in all, I think you and jade balance each other out 🖤

he sneaks mushrooms into your food. It's his love language 😐

"I have a present for you"

"Please don't tell me it's mushrooms"

"it's mushrooms"

[poisonf0rest]

So, I may have gotten a little invested and begun writing this fic...

Just a draft of the beginning half but gods was it fun to write the banter between Sylus and Raf, especially once I figured out their dynamic for later on~

The damned N109 Zone never changes. 

Different venues, different gang names, different “world ending” weapons. But even after several millennia, the greed and stupidity of humankind remains forever stagnant, and forever their greatest weakness.

That, and the nauseating smell of gunpowder and whiskey.

It all makes Rafayel’s stomach roll, and he thumbs at his tie, slacking against his neck before he snatches a glass of champagne from a waiter. Unsurprisingly he does recognize a handful of faces, some from his own gallery exhibitions, others as past targets, or grandchildren of someone he used to know. Not that any of them mattered.

He walked down a hallway filled with Protocores leading up to the banquet hall, and yet strangely enough every last one was bought, even the smallest fragment that barely emitted any kind of energy. What kind of moron…

Rafayel’s frown deepens, and he shoots down yet another glass down, moving from champagne to whiskey as he winces from the burn. 

Then, Rafayel spots you.

You’re alive. 

You’ve alive and you look absolutely fucking gorgeous, prowling across the auction in a cocktail dress, fabric dark enough that it only shimmers red when you dance from spotlight to spotlight. 

Before he even realizes it, he’s running. Trying and failing for it to look as natural as possible, slamming into a waiter and mumbling out an apology as he rushes to your side, nearly dashing onto the dance floor when the shadows seem to lunge– growing and shifting and laughing in an ancient language Rafayel can barely understand as something else steps out from them. And wraps a clawed hand around your waist.

Another man, infuriatingly tall and reeking of the sky and ashes, his hair bleached the same pale color, leans down to whisper something into your ear as you laugh. Laugh. 

And gods new and old, Rafayel sees red. 

Rafayel’s breath catches, chest tightening with a fury so raw it feels like it might crack him open. The din of laughter and clinking glasses becomes a dull roar in his ears, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. He barely registers the heat raging down his veins, a warning that his restraint is fraying faster than he can piece it together.

An uproar of murmuring and gasps steal your attention away from Sylus, and you finally allow your fake smile to drop. Only for your jaw to fall entirely as you see Rafayel standing only a couple of meters away, violent white flames licking against his fingertips as other guests begin to gather.

What the fuck is he doing here. 

“Rafayel.” Your voice cuts through the tension like a blade, sharp and warning. But the sound of it— alive, steady, and wholly unimpressed— does nothing to soothe him. If anything, it stokes the fire.

Sylus turns slowly, his lips curling into a lazy smile as if the entire confrontation is nothing more than an amusing side-show. When his eyes land on Rafayel, something flickers in the depths of his right pupil. “Oh?” he drawls, voice dripping with amusement. “Looks like you picked up a stray, kitten.”

The nickname grates against your nerves, but it’s nothing compared to the way Rafayel reacts. His flames flare brighter, casting eerie shadows across the room as his fists clench. “Take your hand off her.” 

More patrons are beginning to notice. 

Sylus’s grip on your waist doesn’t waver. Instead, he tilts his head, “Her? Oh, you must mean my companion for tonight.” He shifts slightly, leaning down as if to make a point, his hands brushing against the small of your back, right where the silk meets bare skin. “I think you have it mistaken though, she’s the one who practically dragged me here. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

Your pulse spikes, a mix of anger and frustration coursing through you. You force yourself to step between them, planting a hand firmly against Rafayel’s chest before he can close the distance. Thankfully, it makes the flames sputter down to a dull glow in his palms. 

“Stop,” you hiss. “What the hell are you doing here, Rafayel?”

His eyes lock onto yours, wild and burning with an intensity that makes it impossible to look away. “I came for you,” he snaps, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well, congratulations,” you snort under your breath, “Now everyone in this room knows exactly who you are.” You glance over your shoulder, catching the glint of recognition in the eyes of more than a few guests. “And who I am.”

Rafayel doesn’t flinch, his gaze darting briefly to Sylus before returning to you. “I don’t care about them,” he mutters, brows furrowing. “I care about you. I never should have left you, let you go. Come back with me.”

Before you can even respond a deep chuckle cuts through, Sylus stepping forward as he tucks you into his side and reaches around to place a hand on Rafayel’s shoulder. Pinning you between them.

“Touching. But you should know better than to interrupt our business, artist.”

Rafayel’s flames reignite instantly, searing white-hot as he shoves Sylus’s hand off his shoulder. “I said, get your hands off her,” he growls, stepping forward, entire body radiating heat as he’s mere inches from Sylus’s face.

“Or what?” Sylus replies smoothly, something in his eye flashing with amusement once again. “You’ll set this whole place on fire? Very subtle. I can see why you’re such a popular target.”

Target? You linger on it longer than you should've, pieces about Rafayel’s surprising knowledge about the N109 Zone and Sylus’s insistence on resonating as your partner begins to swirl around again. That is, until you physically feel the heat from Rafayel’s flames begin to char into the wooden floorboards. 

“Stop it, both of you!” Snapping, both of their heads whip down to you as you struggle to shove them apart. “You’re drawing attention. Do you want to blow this mission completely?”

“Mission?” Rafayel scoffs, his gaze snapping back to you. “If this was a mission why would you agree to work with him?” He tilts his chin to Sylus, who simply shrugs, shadows flickering and growing at his back. Shit. 

“Her choice, really,” Sylus interjects, voice dripping with false sincerity. “Not that I blame her. All bark and no bite, aren’t you, puppy?”

Rafayel goes deathly still.

So Sylus allows himself to step closer, chest now pressing up against your bare back, the gesture irritatingly casual. “It must be exhausting,” he continues, “Running around, chasing after scraps of attention. Does she even notice? Or is this just another case of unrequited devotion?”

“Say that again,” he growls.

Sylus grins wider, clearly enjoying every second. Enjoying his reactions. “Oh, I’m sorry, did that strike a nerve? You must be used to following orders by now, so tell me, does she ever let you off leash, or do you only bark when commanded?”

“Sylus,” you snap again, cutting off whatever retort Rafayel has ready. You glance around, realizing the murmuring crowd has turned into a full-fledged audience, their gazes sharp and curious. “You’re both acting like children. The target—”

The sound of shattering glass cuts you off.

You whip your head around, just in time to see a hooded figure perched atop an overturned table. A small, cylindrical case glints in their hand, and your blood turns cold as you feel the overwhelming pulse of the Aether Core. 

“Duck!”

The word barely leaves your mouth before the world explodes.

A deafening roar shatters through the venue, blast wave throwing you backward. The force knocks the air from your lungs, glass and debris raining down like jagged confetti. You hit the ground hard, pain shooting through your side as the heat of the explosion sears your skin.

Through the haze of smoke and ringing in your ears, you catch fragmented images: chandeliers crashing to the floor, tables splintered, and guests scrambling for cover and weapons as gunshots ring out.

Sylus is a blur of movement, his shadows coiling and slashing through the chaos. Rafayel, flames erupting instinctively to shield the both you, looks down with wide eyes.

“Follow—” you try to shout, but another wave of the Protocore's energy squeezes your heart, and your vision blurs as you heave and gasp for breath. 

The last thing you see is Sylus stepping over Rafayel’s crumpled form, hauling him over one shoulder before beginning to lift you, too.

Then, nothing.

Then, BAM they wake up in a bed. Together. Naked.

I swear I'll finish the rest of it sometime this week hehe

"Let's get sandwiched between Sylus and Zayne"

"Let's get sandwiched between Rafayel and Xavier"

WHAT ABOUT GETTING SANDWICHED BETWEEN SYLUS AND RAFAYEL.

Like can you imagine Sylus being so smug and teasing Raf and Rafayel completely losing it And take it out on you. LIKE GAHHHHH DAMN.

Someone write about it

@poisonf0rest

[burnedbyshoto]

for want of a bento box

– It’s plain and simple, you see, someone is stealing your bento boxes and you will find your lunch thief! Or, in which Todoroki Shouto keeps taking your bento box and you declare war. 

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing, shouto is a bad chef, I believe I made reader pretty gender neutral but I whipped this out in two hours and I can no longer remember if I used any fem!pronouns but im pretty sure I didn’t

word count: 3,060

a/n: this is for the wonder coworker bnharem collab! I had intended on writing a completely different theme and storyline but was very overwhelmed by how much time it actually needed to be written compared to the amount of time I actually had. that version will be out another time! but for now, enjoy some pure flufffffff!!!!

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Having a normal, functioning, well-paying job was probably the most desirable thing to you. It wasn’t to say that you were slacking or that you were homeless, broke, and never to be seen again because you were that in debt. But it was nice having a job!

When you entered the prestigious Toshinori Company, you joined not as an entry-level job employee but as a senior representative. You thought it was crazy.

It had to be crazy.

You had no prior experience, and now you were going to be in charge and the lead in certain areas?!

“And that was the entire layout of the office!” Mina chirped happily, throwing herself onto the desk chair across from yours with a big smile. “Any questions?”

“I don’t think so,” you mutter, brows creased as you look around the room again. 

The office space was ample, sleek, open. Each desk has its own grand computer that you currently could not afford with your own money, comfortable chairs, and beautiful wood desks. It was elegant, far superiorly fancy, and yet, you didn’t feel out of place. Strange.

“Oh!” you say with a roll of your eyes as you reach below your desk to bring up your packed lunch. “Where was the break room again? I need to refrigerate my food!”

“Omg, of course, come this way!” Mina grins, standing up and motioning you to follow her. You smile gratefully and do. 

The entire way to the office, Mina takes the time to point at the many different people on the floor and give them names. Everyone so far had sort of acknowledged you earlier as Mina was giving you the official tour. Some were much more open and friendly, and some had sneers or blank stares that left you dumbstruck. 

Definitely a personable group.

“Hm, well, I guess Todoroki-kun isn’t here today?” Mina mutters as you enter the break room that has couches and comfortable-looking chairs. “Such a shame! You would have loved to see the office hottie!”

You snort at that, lips curled into a granulous smile as you place your plastic container with food into the fridge. “I’m sure I’ll live,” you brush off the fact that there was an absent person on your floor today.

“That’s the thing, though,” Mina points a finger at you, a lone eyebrow raised and a confident smirk on her face. “You won’t be thinking that again the moment you see him!”

You laugh, eyes crinkling as Mina joins your laughter. Eventually, she motions for the both of you to leave, and you nod in understanding. And with a weird sense of comfort and belonging, you realized that this job was going to be good. 

.

.

Eventually, you had been working at Toshinori Company for two months.

Sixty-two days to be precise, and in all that time, you had only met Todoroki Shouto once. Even then, you had only seen the man walking through the office with a blank face, fingers in his pockets as two other men were walking in front of him, bickering lightly.

Had Mina not quite literally thrown herself across the table and gripped the collar of your shirt and twisted your head to look at him, you would have never caught a glimpse at the man with red and white hair. The three of them walked into the break room and came back out with their own lunches before leaving.

And that was it.

You had learned that the three of them (Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku, and Bakugou Katsuki) were within your department but worked very closely with the very high up members within the company. Many rumors pointed at one of the three taking over the company when the current CEO stepped down. They were, however, on the roster for your floor; they just never appeared except to pick up their lunches. Something they seemed to come to grab whenever you were a) way too fucking busy or b) not in the room.

You weren’t too bothered, though.

It wasn’t like you were trying to date one of them! You had only wanted to say hi.

.

.

.

Now, at ninety days, you had your first and probably most crucial evaluation. 

Toshinori Yagi, the man who founded and currently ran this company, sat before you, looking at papers within a folder with tired but kind blue eyes. He nodded, impressed (hopefully), making small comments about the work you had been able to accomplish, a smile becoming a warming grin as he looked up.

“I’m impressed by the performance you’ve managed to attend to despite the short while you’ve been here, y/l/n-shojo,” Toshinori spoke, his fingers threading together and placing them onto the table. “I knew it was an excellent decision to put you in that position, and you exceeded my entire expectation!”

You flushed at that, lips twitching as you attempted to suppress that smile of yours. 

“Thank you, Toshinori-san,” you practically wheeze as he waves off your thanks.

“No need to thank me, you’ve done all this work!” he laughs, tired eyes closing with a glorious supply of crow's feet blooming at the corner of his eyes. “Typically, at these evaluations, I ask a bunch of questions because there isn’t too much anyone can do in their first ninety days, I must admit.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm, but because I am curious, is there anything that has been happening as of late that you feel needs to be addressed with me?”

You felt yourself stiffen but knew your one and only complaint was not something to bring up in this setting.

“No, nothing,” you shrug, and Toshinori beams.

“I’m glad!”

Now, the problem.

The big, fat, stinky, hooligan, wanting to throttle someone problem.

For the past sixty of your ninety days, someone has been stealing your lunch.

Yes, you heard that correctly; someone was stealing your damn lunch! Every morning you woke up and prepared a delicious bento box for yourself. Some days you went as far as cutting shapes into your fruits and veggies just to make yourself grin. You weren’t the best chef in the world, but your bento boxes were pretty enough to make up for it, in your opinion. But the thing is, every day when you went into the communal fridge, you noticed two things.

One, your bento box was no longer in the same place, and two, the bento box was not yours at all.

The food was disastrously organized. Rice and lettuce spilling out in every partition in the box. The fruit and veggies often packed in this box had multiple cuts in them, implying that whoever did this was less than ideal with a knife. The meat was often oversalted, the sushi never sitting together, and everything was just… not it.

The first time you had sighed and eaten it, grumbling about how your precious lunch was stolen. But you had quickly figured out that it was inedible, and Mina, Uraraka, and Yaoyorozu thank god, offered to share their meals. 

Seeing that you were distressed about how someone stole your egg and octopus sausages one day, Mina declared that they would watch the break room for whoever was stealing your light blue bento box. The first day you staked out, you had done it with Mina. But ten minutes into waiting around, you needed to pee. So you stood up and left in a hurry, leaving Mina alone.

But when you returned, Mina was gone, instead standing by Kirishima’s desk with a bright grin and a stance that screamed that she heard something she liked (gossip, possible in-office romance, a love confession?). Her jaw dropped as she noticed you and Kirishima had turned and waved in your direction as you raced into the break room to open the fridge, and sure enough, your bento was gone.

The next time, you staked out with Uraraka. Your arms were folded, your bladder cleared, and your lips twisted into a pout as you glared and stared down every single member who entered the room. Uraraka whispered to you her guesses about just who might be the thief, every other person rating an 8/10 likelihood of stealing your lunch.

But as the both of you sat there, your eyes narrowed at each passerby, no one came to collect your bento today.

“Deku-kun, no packed lunch today?” Uraraka asked as the green, curly-haired man you had only met once previously raced into the break room, grabbing the extra chopsticks meticulously hidden in the third bottom draw.

“Ah, Uraraka-san, y/l/n-san! Uh, no,” Midoriya greeted you both, who apparently responds to the nickname Deku, laughs off as he grabs a handful of napkins. “Todoroki-kun left all our lunches in his car by accident, and well… they spoiled… Kacchan’s pissed, so I ran off to get lunch for us today!”

Uraraka laughed, shaking her head, “Leave it to Todoroki-kun to act that way.”

Midoriya laughed, bright and clearly in agreement, “You should have seen his face when Kacchan asked for his lunch! I swear–”

“HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO GRAB FUCKING CHOPSTICKS, SHIT-KU! I’M FUCKING STARVING!” a voice roared from nowhere near the entrance of the break room. You did, however, jump a bit, eyes turning toward the break room entrance to see the blond man (Bakugou? Kacchan? You had no idea which was correct) near the entrance of the floor. 

“It’s only been a minute, Kacchan, relax!” Midoriya laughs, completely unaffected by the startling shout as he waves goodbye to both you and Uraraka before leaving, joining Bakugou as the both of them seem to talk comfortably… well, maybe more like bickering.

“Why are they–”

“Childhood friends, apparently,” Uraraka sighed, but the smile on her face betrays her exasperation.

No one stole your bento that day.

Yaoyorozu took up the third stake out, the two of you idly chatting about tea. You honestly had no idea what to talk about with Yaomomo; she was often just so elegant and mature despite being your age. When you learned that her family was in charge of the Yaoyorozu Corp, it had been strangely easy to accept that. 

It made sense.

So as the two of you stood at the kitchen sink, boiling water for tea Yaomomo swore would be the best matchup for your packed nigiri, the both of you missed the man who walked into the room, opened the fridge, and took your lunch.

“I… I am so sorry,” Yaomomo apologized, head bowed dangerously low as the both of you looked at the sloppily cut salmon in your not actual bento. “Please eat my food in reparation.”

“No, it’s okay,” you sigh, chewing on the somehow still warm salmon. “I deserved this loss.”

Luck was just on this man's side, it seemed. No matter what you did, you could never catch the man in action, and you were ready to give up.

But this was the last attempt you said to yourself as you returned to your office floor, the evaluation done, and the rest of your life coming to light. You could do this. No! You WOULD do this!

.

.

“Why don’t you just put your name on your bento box?” Bakugou asked, a lone eyebrow raised in what you could only assume was judgment and pity. The explosive man was standing in the doorway of the breakroom, watching as you and Mina were trying to climb up the counters of the breakroom to grab the camera you had previously planted. “Obviously, it doesn’t have your name on it.”

“Um,” you squeak, having been obviously caught by someone who intimidated you just the slightest bit. “That’s a good idea, thank you, Bakugou-san.”

“Tch, whatever, just clean up the damn counters, fucking nasty standing up on there. Some people prepare their food there.”

“We would never forget to do that!” you argue, desperate to not leave a bad impression on this man.

“I don’t know much about you, but I know raccoon eyes over there would.”

“MY NAME IS MINA!”

“Like I care.”

He left without so much as a wave but did seem to nod with his departure. You sighed as you hopped off the counter, Mina grabbing the cleaning supplies as she cursed out the long-gone man under her breath. 

But you were looking at the fridge with your missing bento box.

“I can’t believe I never put my name on it.”

“It’s okay! Not even Yaomomo thought of it, so I say we are still smart!”

.

.

.

It was the next day, you were at your desk, anxious as hell as you did your work, trying not to focus on the fact that it was lunchtime and you were actively avoiding the break room. You wondered if they wouldn’t come and collect it today. If somehow they were an asshole and wouldn’t care if your name was on it! What would happen then? What if it was someone like Bakugou who was taking your lunch? What then? You were sure you would cave in slight fear and major intimidation if he said that your lunch was his now.

“Want a cutie while we wait, cutie?” Mina asked, waving the small tangerine in her fingers as she grins.

“Please,” you say in gratitude for the food because you were starving. “Thank you.”

Eventually, you lost track of what was happening, becoming all too invested in the conversation that Mina was telling you about that involved Kaminari, Kirishima, Bakugou, Midoriya, twenty-seven Red Bulls, fifteen Monsters, and five shots of sake. It seemed that the former two were quite big instigators when they wanted to be, and the latter two were unable to back away from challenges, especially when the other was involved.

“Y/l/n?” an unfamiliar voice called from behind you, and you turned partially in your chair as you looked behind you.

Standing behind you was a tall man with red and white hair, and from this distance, you noticed immediately that his eyes were a deep grey and brilliant blue.

Todoroki Shouto.

“T-Todoroki-san!” you greet him back, voice unable to keep from trembling as your nerves shot up. What was going on? You two had never interacted before! He was always gone, never present, and whenever he was in the office, it seemed that you weren’t there.

He cleared his throat and raised up two identical bento boxes.

“It seems… I have apparently been stealing your bento boxes,” he concludes, pressing the blue bento box with your name written on it into your hands.

Your jaw drops as your fingers curve around the cool plastic, eyes blinking up a storm as you try to abstain from laughing high pitched and ugly like. 

“It was you?!”

A pink color blooms onto his cheeks as he averts his eye contact with you and nods slowly, “I am so sorry.”

“I just… how?!” you exclaim, exasperated, this man obviously being a bit dense if he had no idea he was taking your bento box!

“I prepare my bento boxes the night before, and I don’t really remember what I put into them….” Todoroki explains slowly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, his tongue clicking the roof of his tongue. “I just thought that my cooking was improving and that I was somehow doing an amazing job.”

The grin that overcomes your face is one of subtle, strange fondness and soft warmth. “I can tell you that you probably haven’t improved much,” you tease, opening your bento box to see your prepared meal for the day. 

Cucumber salad, bulgogi beef, rice, and some fruit.

It was packed exactly how you remembered.

“I can’t believe I finally get to eat a meal I prepared,” you continue to tease, your eyes moving up to meet Todoroki, who was also looking at your bento previously. “Thank you for returning my meals and apologizing.”

“It was nothing,” Todoroki waved off with a single hand before opening up his own disastrously assembled bento box. It looked worse than usual today. Everything was just thrown in, it seemed. You saw egg and rice, but everything else in there was indescribable. He smiles at you before sighing at his bento. “This looks more like my stuff.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You want to share my bento box? I’m sure you probably don’t want to return to that.”

“No, it’s okay,” Todoroki gently declined, although he looked at your bento with great want. He cleared his throat, gaze moving to lock on yours, and you swore his cheeks were still pink but no longer from embarrassment. “I just wanted to come and apologize for stealing your lunch for so long and to thank you for the meals; they were all delicious. Especially the soba you had made.”

“It’s all good; it’s in the past now,” you say gently, somehow finding yourself falling for a man you’ve barely just begun to talk with. The both of you stare at each other, and your skin feels warm. You chuckle, gaze averting for a moment before returning as you tease him. “Although, if you steal from me again, I’m not so sure if I’ll be so lenient.”

“It won’t happen again, promise,” Todoroki smiles, and you feel your spine melt. “But I would love to make it up to you somehow. I can make you dinner one night or something?”

You laugh, head shaking, “No, absolutely not; I don’t trust your cooking skills just yet. But you can definitely take me out to dinner.”

“Yeah, I can definitely do that,” Todoroki agrees, and the both of you fall silent as the shy stares continue. “Does, um… is Friday at seven okay with you?”

“That works,” you say, and Todoroki smiles.

“Good, I’ll uh, see you then?”

“See you,” you agree with a sweet smile before turning around, your fingers raised in a small wave. 

You turn to see Mina, Uraraka, and Yaomomo staring at you, eyes comically wide and so very intrigued.

“Oh… my… GOD!” Mina shrieked as Todoroki walks away, and you shriek as she jumps across the table and shakes you, screaming about office romances and meet-cutes being entirely too underrated. “PROMISE ME I’LL BE INVITED TO THE WEDDING!!!!”

“MINA!”

.

.

.

.

.

It would take about three years of dating, several months of teaching Shouto how to cook, which resulted in a few bellyaches. Still, eventually yes, Mina would be invited to your wedding.