#like where did they get the glitter and why

[rizsu]

ꪆ୧ ── WISH UNATTAINABLE ┊ A MERE DREAM ﹑ HSR ⤿ starring: boothill ◟ sunday ◟ dr. ratio.

꒰ a player's mission ﹢ ding! quest(s) unlocked. to obtain a reward of 100 stellar jades, knock yourself out with missions involving your favourite! don't get caught up in the dream though.

𖧷 · love, ‘su: i clearly had an idea & needed to jot it down before i forgot about it (old draft i wrote when i js was fresh into hsr bear w me 😢)

COSMIC SPLENDOR AND MERITED PRAISES ⟡ siobhan’s revealed that someone's here for you, insisting for you to not be a killjoy and come meet him.

“drink's on me sweetheart, knock ya'self out,” boothill slides the cocktail at you, giving his signature smirk as its free side dish.

you're not quite sure what you expected, but boothill being a bartender wasn't one of them. actually — it's believable when you think about it.

when siobhan sent you those messages, your mind went to either gallagher or aventurine. (un)fortunately, your guess was wrong. you are now a taste-tester and subjected to subtle flirting? a win is a win.

boothill puts a hand on his hip. he mixed the drink gracefully with siobhan's aid, it's bound to be perfect — hopefully.

“what's it called?” you asked, turning the glass around to appreciate the red and orange ombre. it reminds you of someone, but you can't put a finger on it.

“didn't think that far into it.” he shrugs. “you can name it, sweetheart.”

“i can name it sweetheart?”

“no, i meant... well, why the fuck not.”

you're sure you heard a disappointed sigh from him. maybe it's the alcohol? whatever, it tastes good. the drink's sweet, but it leaves a bitter aftertaste — if that makes sense. it's so sweet that you keep sipping, yet it's so bitter that you're reminded it's alcohol and not juice. a perfect balance.

gently placing the glass down, you slid it towards boothill, “another glass please, gentleman.”

“right away, darlin’,” he accepts your request, refilling your glass with the sweetheart special. this time, he adds a little edible glitter in the mix to spice up the aesthetic.

the glass is once again slid back to you. the only difference is a shine to the liquid. the new beauty to it can make even argenti fall to his knees to worship it (he worships anything beautiful).

“it's so good i can kiss you for it,” you mindlessly reply, licking your lips from the excess liquid.

goodness, do you want him to overheat? is the way to defeat a galaxy ranger a compliment without thought put into it?!

“pfft— uh— well—” he sputters, unable to form a proper sentence yet.

a few coughs later, he regains his ability to speak, “it's just that good ain't it, darlin’?”

“you're the best and i need you in the express to make fifteen of these,” with desperation in your voice, you lean over to hold his hand. it's cold, but not cold enough to make you back away.

“i'll be right with ya!”

THE INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS ⟡ you received an anonymous message urging you to come to penacony. it felt like a scam, but the messages were too prim and proper to be one.

hmm, something isn't right. you can feel it in your bones. either you're experiencing side effects of being on cleaning duty, or you're being hunted down. has your excellence finally exceed you to the point where you've appeared on someone's hitlist? maybe.

staring at the message on your phone, you squint at it before moving your head away. you must be careful or else you'd be affected by its ominous energy.

there's only one logical decision to make: find dan heng and let him decipher a possible hidden code in the messages.

“dan heng, i need you!” you exclaimed, opening his room's door with a force that should only be reserved for battles.

“did you clean your manners out too?” sighing, dan heng closes the book he's reviewing.

“i think i'm being kidnapped,” ignoring his snarky comments, you enter his room, showing him the pile of messages.

> Hello, (y/n). I trust that you've been well during your trips.

> Have you decided on whether you'll return to Penacony? If not, I hope that you come soon.

> There is something I wish to do with you.

> Meet me at The Reverie Hotel 10 system hours from when you reply. I shall accompany you directly instead of a regular staff.

> That is all. I'll keep the conversations for our meeting.

you shake your head, hugging your body in attempts to shield yourself.

“see! there's no way that isn't someone out to get me.”

dan heng falls silent. clearly, this is someone you've met before, but who? they haven't left any name, let alone a profile icon. there's only one way to find out and that's to reply.

“hand me your phone, i'll reply.”

...

have you been deceived? is dan heng in on this too? why would he reply? suspicion dominates over you. you slowly back away from his side.

“damn... they really do say your enemies are close.”

“that's now how it... whatever. just give me the phone so i can ask for their identity.” his tone's laced with disappointment. he's not surprised, but boy was he wrong for thinking you matured.

being left with no other choice, you surrender your phone and safety to him.

< Sorry, who are you?

< I'm sure we've met though.

“they're typing...” he mutters, leaning into your side so you can see the screen too.

> My apologies. I forgot to set my account.

> This is Sunday, head of the Oak Family.

“sunday?!”

“sunday!?”

this time you both were taken by surprise. out of everyone in penacony that would've sent you a text, he was the least expected. dan heng shoots you a pitiful look. he's pretty sure sunday's still on your hitlist.

“i am not going.”

“it's rude to ignore someone's request.”

“dan heng,” you began, folding your arms across your chest, “you can't make me go.”

in response dan heng simply nods. he walks out his room and into the main area. you're not sure what he did, but he came back to you lounging on his bed in five minutes.

you were already comfortable, with one knee up and a foot on the knee. you expected him to come back, but not with a trusted adult.

“are you serious?”

“himeko, (y/n)'s ignoring someone's request to meet.”

one corner of his mouth moves up. he knows he won this battle. snitching is the way to go, always.

and that's how you're now standing besides sunday. all stiff with nervous laughs, praying to whichever aeon that he doesn't use the telepathy punishment thing on you. it's game over and restart if he ever dares to.

sunday's as poise as ever — with a hand behind his back, he observes the view of oti mall below. it's bustling with life; the noise is enough to do all the talking. truly a one-sided comfortable silence.

“so... how's life been, sunday?” you tread carefully with your question and behaviour. you don't even make eye contact.

sunday smiles slightly, “it's been busy as ever. this is probably the only moment of peace in my schedule.”

and it's silent again. how do you continue a conversation with a bigshot? you ran your mouth with the supreme guardian of belobog but god forbid you're with the head of the oak family. scary.

cold sweat drops. you have got to keep the conversation going or you'll lose your mind in seven minutes.

“been getting into gambling with the slot machines lately. what about you?”

perfect. ten out of ten. a penacony-related addiction.

“i see you've picked up that ipc stoneheart's behaviour.”

okay, maybe it wasn't that perfect. and was that disappointment?!

it's silent again. you steal a glance of sunday and it did not help. he has a relaxed expression on his face. his chest rising and falling with every breath. is he truly comfortable with the silence? you're dying here.

a sigh leaves you. why not just speak your mind.

“to be honest, it's a little uncomfortable being so silent. i feel like i'm being watched by that large eye in the mall.”

sunday's head turns, his expression slightly changes.

“apologies, i did not notice. would you like to take a walk together?” he suggests, holding his palm out to you.

you place your hand in his, trying to hide the smile. you're finally going to do something instead of standing like an npc.

“yeah, sure.”

after your approval, you basically re-toured penacony. he even took you to his office. that's not even the biggest part. the huge wow factor here is that you were hand-in-hand with him. yes, hands intertwined with the most handsome man in penacony. someone should be jealous.

although his hand was gloved it still counts. the gloves are thin anyway — it was basically skin contact. had you known beforehand that sunday's hand was this manly you wouldn't have even complained to dan heng.

COSMIC SPLENDOR AND MERITED PRAISES ⟡ herta bothered you to return to her station, insisting that she needs your help. you reluctantly agreed, but didn't expect to meet the doctor you've been hitting on.

> Come. I need to experiment on you.

< Excuse me?!?

> Aeon stuff.

< Which Aeon is it?

< Herta?

< Hellooooo... Anyone there...?

> [Automatic reply] Hi, I'm currently unavailable, and won't be contacting you later.

< You've got to be kidding me.

> [Automatic reply] Hi, I'm currently unavailable, and won't be contacting you later.

a heavy sigh leaves you. new day, same old herta demanding your presence and going off the net. well, it's been a while since you've revisited herta's space station, and it doesn't hurt gaining new knowledge on aeons. hopefully it'd be quick... and that screwllum's there as well. out of the three, screwllum's the sole one that's gentle.

once you stepped foot in her office, you stepped right back out. seeing someone you've been avoiding to reply to their messages certainly isn't a good thing. the chances of the man you were testing your charisma on being with herta is low — incredibly low — but never zero.

“come here, (y/n).” a voice filled with authority calls for you who's standing to the side of the door.

you purposefully chose that position; since the doors are automatic, they'd immediately open if you were directly in front of it.

“no, thanks!” you yelled, preferring to stay where its safe from confrontations.

inside the office, herta folds her arms. the clock is ticking, and she doesn't want to lose interest before she can glimpse the secret of at least one aeon.

“just go get her. what're you standing there for?”

with a tone as blunt as that, ratio feels slightly offended, but he can't argue. she's right, he can simply bring you back inside the office.

confidentally walking towards the door, he steps out and immediately turns his head left. it was as he calculated: you were right there leaning against the wall, trying your best to act nonchalant while ignoring his obvious presence.

“don't act childish.” disappointment laces his voice, his folded arms shows it, too.

“whatever do you mean, doctor?” you smiled.

ratio's having none of it. he moves his position to stand in front of you, forcing you to look at him instead.

“your behaviour then and now is childish. get back in the office.”

“cut me some slack! do you think the courage i have over text translates to real life?” your defenses raise, poking his chest to enforce your point. “you're intimidating and handsome, dude. give me a break.”

a silence follows. the kind of silence that indicates you said something you definitely should've kept as a thought. nervously, you move your eyes to look at ratio's. the eye contact doesn't last long — like you said, he's intimidating (and handsome).

“tell me something i don't know.” ratio breaks the silence, grabbing your finger off his chest. “but that's not the point here, is it? we have something to do.”

mood: ruined. it's common knowledge to anyone who's been in a conversation with ratio that he's well aware of his visuals. compliments are nothing new to him — it's a shame he didn't act the way he did in your daydreams.

“gosh, you're so annoying.” a voice of defeat.

grumbling, you straightened your posture, making your way back to herta's office. ratio followed behind, observing the you walked. has someone walking always been attractive, or is it just because it's you? a question that he'll be pondering on until he finds a suitable answer.

“hey. you guys took too long. i don't wanna do it again,” herta complains the second she saw you two walk in.

[pandapetals]

The Wolverine

You tell Logan about the myth of the Wolverine.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

a/n: Im sad that logan doesn't remember kayla. She deserved better, well both of them did. So i wrote this for her. I did some googling and found in Innu culture they see the wolverine in a few different ways so i took that and ran with it.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

You were curled up in the oversized armchair on the balcony, wrapped in a soft blanket, gazing out over the garden bathed in silvery moonlight. The stars sparkled overhead, scattered across the sky like tiny, far-off promises, casting a gentle glow over everything. Logan sat beside you, his arm draped around your shoulders, thumb tracing slow, absent-minded circles along your upper arm.

After a comfortable stretch of silence, you let out a quiet sigh, eyes still fixed on the stars. "Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice, you know? Studying literature. Maybe I should’ve gone into astronomy instead." You paused, a small smile playing on your lips. "Stars are just so beautiful. There’s so much out there."

Logan chuckled, a low, warm sound that rumbled through his chest. "Oh yeah? So you could spend your days talkin’ about constellations and meteors? Think I’d go crazy, darlin’."

You nudged him playfully. "Oh, because listening to you ramble about ancient battles and military strategies is so riveting."

He smirked, tilting his head down to look at you. "Hey, at least I know how to make it interesting."

You rolled your eyes, leaning into him a little more. "Sure, you do, tough guy." After a moment, you tilted your head back to the sky, the light of the stars casting a soft glow in your eyes. "But, really... I've always wondered. Why Wolverine? I get the whole 'fierce and growly' thing, but it’s oddly specific."

Logan gave you a look, a playful warning in his gaze. "Watch it, sweetheart," he drawled, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone. He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked back out over the garden. "Truth is… I’m not sure where it came from. Can’t remember. Might’ve been ‘cause I was a… well, an animal. Felt like one back then, anyway."

You reached over, resting a gentle hand on his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You're not an animal, Logan," you said softly, your voice filled with quiet conviction. "You never were."

He let out a faint sigh as if he didn’t fully believe you, though he appreciated the sentiment. "Maybe not," he murmured, his gaze drifting back to the stars. "But it sure felt like it sometimes."

A peaceful silence settled between you, and you leaned your head against his shoulder, watching the stars glitter above. "Did you know," you said softly after a moment, "that in one Innu legend, the wolverine was actually a creator of the world?"

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking down at you with a skeptical smirk. "Now you’re makin’ stuff up."

You laughed, nudging him again. "I swear! It’s true. According to the story, the wolverine built a boat to save the animals from a great flood. Then he told a mink to dive into the water and gather mud, and he used it to create an island. That island eventually became the whole world."

Logan shook his head, a small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "You always gotta turn everything into a story, don’t you?"

You grinned, looking up at him with a twinkle in your eye. "I can’t help it. It’s what I do." You paused, then added, "There’s another story that says the Wolverine tried to steal light from the midnight sky. He fashioned bits of it into the sun, moon, and stars, creating the northern lights. Kind of fitting, don’t you think? A wolverine bringing light to the world."

Logan looked at you, amusement and something deeper flickering in his eyes. "You got quite the imagination, you know that?"

"Comes with the job," you teased, snuggling closer, resting your head on his chest. "But honestly… you bring light to people too, Logan. Even if you don’t see it. You’re gruff, sure, but there’s a big heart under all that scowling."

He huffed, though his chest rumbled with a laugh as his fingers absentmindedly traced circles along your shoulder. "You’re really layin’ it on thick tonight, aren’t ya?"

"Just stating the facts," you replied, looking up at him with a grin. "You’re kind of like the stars. Tough on the outside, but warm and steady when people need you most."

Logan’s gaze softened, and he reached up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek as he looked down at you. "If that’s how you see me… guess I can’t argue."

You smirked, snuggling back into his chest. "See? Not so bad being the wolverine, is it?"

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Guess not," he murmured, his voice low and comforting. "Not if it means sittin’ here with you under these stars."

You looked up at him, eyes twinkling with playful warmth as you took in the way the moonlight softened his rough edges. "Who would’ve thought?" you whispered with a teasing lilt. "That the Wolverine could be more than just a trickster… that he could be gentle, even thoughtful."

Logan let out a low, skeptical chuckle, giving you a look that was both amused and exasperated. "Oh, is that so?" he rumbled, his voice a soft, low vibration beneath your cheek. "Here I thought I was just some ornery old fighter."

You chuckled, reaching up to trace a finger along his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble. "You’re definitely more than that. There’s a lot more to you than the tough-guy act. There’s… heart, kindness." You paused, smirking as you added, "Though the ‘ornery old fighter’ part is pretty accurate."

He let out a mock sigh, though his eyes glimmered with affection. "Don’t push it," he muttered, pulling you closer as he looked down at you, the corners of his mouth twitching in a reluctant smile.

You shifted slightly, resting your chin on his chest so you could look up at him. "You know, in some stories, the wolverine’s not just a trickster. He’s a protector. Fierce, unyielding. The one who keeps everyone safe, no matter what."

Logan’s eyes softened, and he reached up, brushing his thumb along your cheek as he gazed down at you. "So you see me as some kinda myth, huh?" he murmured, his voice low, almost vulnerable. "Better be careful, sweetheart. I’m just a man, remember?"

You smiled, covering his hand with yours. "Oh, I know," you whispered, your voice tender. "But you’re my myth, Logan. My hero. The one who showed me what real strength looks like."

For a moment, he looked taken aback, his usual composure slipping as he took in your words. Then, his gaze dropped, as if the weight of your affection was almost too much to bear. "You say all that… but sometimes I still feel like a lost soul," he murmured, his voice rough. "Someone who didn’t know where he belonged."

You cupped his face, guiding his eyes back to yours. "You belong right here," you whispered, your thumb tracing his cheek. "With me. Right where you’re supposed to be."

A soft, genuine smile played on his lips as he leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. "Damn, darlin’," he muttered, his voice barely more than a rumble. "You’re gonna make me go soft."

You laughed, brushing a gentle kiss against his lips. "Too late for that," you teased, smiling against his mouth. "I think I’ve already uncovered the soft side of the Wolverine."

He rolled his eyes, but his hand found yours, his rough fingers intertwining with yours as he brought your hand to his lips. He pressed a lingering kiss to your knuckles, his gaze warm and unguarded. "You really make people question my reputation, you know that?" he murmured, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, am I ruining your whole 'grumpy lone wolf' image?" you teased, grinning up at him.

Logan pretended to be annoyed, though his eyes sparkled with affection. "Damn right, you are," he replied, his voice a low murmur. "Can’t go anywhere without folks thinkin’ I’m a softy now."

You leaned in, your face close to his, your smile teasing. "Well, maybe you are.”

He let out a low chuckle, pulling you even closer, his arm secure around you. "You’re lucky you’re cute," he muttered, his thumb brushing over your hand. "Otherwise, I might actually be annoyed."

You looked up at him, your heart full, and whispered, "I think you’re cute too, even if you try to hide it."

He groaned, tipping his head back. "There goes my whole reputation," he said, but when he looked back down at you, his gaze was filled with warmth, something so genuine that it made your heart skip a beat.

You squeezed his hand, giving him a playful smile. "Good.” You grinned, closing the small distance between you and kissing him, slow and sweet, letting the world fall away. When you finally pulled back, he was looking at you with a smile so genuine it made your heart skip.

"Happy?" he asked, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hand.

You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder as you both gazed out at the stars. "Always, with you."

[nhlclover]

BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION MATT REMPE

pairing: fem!reader x matt rempe

summary: matt makes sure to go all out for your birthday, hoping to make it one to remember.

warnings: sweet sweet fluff, reader not liking her birthday, brief crying (but out of happiness!)

wc: 1.4k

notes: fun little birthday celebration with matt :)

The morning light filters softly through the curtains, and before you’re fully awake, you feel the gentle brush of lips against your cheek, the warmth of a breath close to your skin. Blinking your eyes open, you see Matt’s face hovering inches away, his expression tender as he places soft, sleepy kisses along your forehead, down to the tip of your nose. “Happy birthday, beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of affection.

Still half-asleep, you reach for him, pulling him closer, savoring the warmth of his embrace and the scent of him — a mix of his cologne and vanilla. You’re not entirely sure why he smells like a cupcake, but your sleepy brain doesn’t think about it much. The last thing you want to do is leave this cocoon, this perfect moment wrapped in Matt's arms. A contented sigh escapes your lips as you press your face into his shoulder, barely able to articulate anything beyond a soft, murmured, “Can't we just stay like this all day?”

You’ve never been one to celebrate your birthday with much fanfare. The thought of a day centered entirely around you has always felt a bit uncomfortable, and you’d rather let it quietly slip by with minimal fuss.

Matt chuckles softly, tightening his hold as if he, too, wants to savor every second of this peaceful morning. “That’s exactly why I planned something low-key, just the two of us,” he whispers, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back. You can’t help but feel your heart warm at his thoughtfulness. He knows you so well — how the attention of a big celebration has always made you feel slightly on edge, how you’d rather not be the center of it all.

As he pulls you a little closer, he murmurs, “I know you don’t like all the fuss… but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make today special for you.”

He presses a couple of kisses along your jawline, hands holding your frame tightly to his. Suddenly he pulls back as you let out a disappointed groan. “As much as I’d love to stay here all day… I actually planned something for you.” he says, his voice carrying the faintest trace of excitement, “And I put a lot of effort into it so you’re going to have to get up and at least see it once.”

Reluctantly, you let him pull you out of bed, the world outside seeming less enticing than the warmth you were leaving behind. He wraps an arm around your shoulders as you shuffle down the hallway, staying snug in Matt’s hoodie you slept in last night. When you reach the living room, your breath catches.

The room is transformed. Streamers drape from every corner, a riot of colors filling the space, and a little banner in your favorite colors stretches across one wall, proudly proclaiming, Happy 22nd Birthday! Balloons in every shade are placed around the space, while small decorations and a few scattered confetti glitters on the coffee table. For a moment, you’re speechless, turning slowly to take it all in.

“Did you seriously do all of this?” you manage, looking at Matt, feeling almost shy.

“Of course I did,” he says, looking at you with a mixture of pride and a soft, almost vulnerable joy that takes your breath away. “Oh, you have to come see the best surprise.”

You follow him to the kitchen which is where you see a cake sitting on the counter. It’s a beautiful mess: the frosting uneven but clearly, painstakingly applied, a little lopsided, and decorated with a generous helping of sparkling sprinkles. He must have worked on it for hours, trying his best, determined to make it perfect just for you. The sight of it, so personal, so filled with love, tugs something deep within you.

The gratitude, the overwhelming sweetness of it all, builds so suddenly that you feel your eyes start to prick with tears. You try to blink them away, but it’s too late; Matt notices. His face changes, his brow furrowing as he steps closer, hands finding your shoulders.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Did I…did I do something wrong?” There’s a thread of worry in his voice as he reaches up to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing away the single tear that’s escaped down your cheek.

You shake your head, a tremulous laugh bubbling up. “No, no… it’s just… no one's ever done anything like this for me before.” You gesture around the room, the carefully decorated chaos, the little details so clearly made with you in mind. “All of this… it just means so much.”

Relief floods his features, and he pulls you into a warm, solid embrace. His hands press firmly into your back as if anchoring you to him. “Well, it's your birthday, and it only comes once a year," he says, his voice soft but steady, almost as if he’s saying it to himself. “So, of course I’m going all out. You deserve every second of it.”

You sink into his embrace, feeling the truth of his words settle around you like a warm blanket. The tears fall a little harder because of that — the sheer simplicity of being seen, of being loved without conditions.

You pull back, a smile breaking through the tears as you look up at him. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice soft but full of emotion. You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek, then another just shy of his lips. It’s a little kiss, but it carries all the gratitude, affection, and quiet awe you feel for him in this moment.

His eyes meet yours, his cheeks tinted a little pink as he grins back, clearly touched. “You’re so worth it,” he says quietly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before nodding toward the cake. “Now, let’s eat some of this masterpiece, yeah? And then — you still have to open your present!”

You both settle at the kitchen counter, laughter filling the room as you cut into the cake, teasing Matt about the abundance of sprinkles. You take a bite, tasting the slightly sweet, perfectly imperfect frosting. It’s delicious, mostly because you know he made it himself. “Matt, this is incredible, thank you.”

As you savor another bite of cake, Matt fidgets slightly, his eyes glimmering with eager excitement. He clears his throat, before reaching into his pocket. “Okay,” he says, looking almost bashful, “now for the real present.”

Matt pulls a small, velvet box from his pocket and places it on the counter between you two. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you look at him with a mix of curiosity and excitement. “Matt…” you start, but he cuts you off gently.

“Just open it,” he says, his voice soft.

You pick up the box, feeling a small flutter in your chest as you lift the lid. Inside, nestled in the soft fabric, is a gold charm bracelet with a single small charm dangling from it — a tiny, intricately detailed ice cream cone. You gasp softly, instantly remembering your very first date with Matt when you got ice cream, talking for hours until the diner had to kick you out.

“It reminded me of our first date,” he says, watching your reaction closely, “and every time you look at it, I want you to think about all the other firsts we’re going to have together.” He gives a soft smile. “And, I thought… maybe over time, you could add more charms. Little things that remind you of us — of things we’ve done together, memories we’ve made.”

His words settle over you, filling your heart in a way that’s almost overwhelming. Each little charm to come would be a reminder of this — of him, of this journey you were both on together.

You look up at him, feeling your voice catch slightly. “Matt, this is… it’s perfect. I love it,” you say, reaching for his hand. “Every time I look at this, I’ll think of you. Of us.”

He breathes a sigh of relief, his smile widening as he gently fastens the bracelet around your wrist. “Good,” he says quietly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. “That was the idea.”

You lean back, the weight of the bracelet on your wrist a reminder of everything Matt has done to make this day special for you, to help you enjoy your birthday again. As you look up at him, your heart swelling with emotion, you can’t help but smile.

You press another soft kiss to his lips. “I think this might just be my best birthday yet.”

[qverdia]

abilene was grinning , something that was nearly impossible not to do when alex was near . even back home abilene did not think that she smiled as much as she did beside her friend , her fellow victor from twelve . she thought that maybe it was because she trusted him , because there was no where in the world she felt more safe then when his arms were wrapped around her . she felt happy , the same kind of joy that she felt when she was younger and when the world made sense .

her legs wrapped around his waist and she felt the cool wall of the shower on her back . abilene knew the pattern of the callouses on his palms and fingers , and it was not like he had not touched her legs or her skin before that moment . . . but her body reacted as though it was . her heart tripped over itself and a trail of goosebumps followed his touch up her leg until his palms were squeezing her rear . her cheeks flushed and without thinking her legs drew him in a bit closer until her breasts were pressed against his chest .

❛ so that's why i've been feeling eyes on me . ❜ she teased . one of abilene's hands was on his back and tracing along the muscles of his shoulders while the other was buried in his hair . ❛ i'm sure your tush looked nice in your jumpsuit it's not fair that you went behind me . all i had to look at was nine's loaf of bread costume . ❜ she shook her head , but when alex's hand so gently cupped her cheek she leaned into his touch . she wanted to remember him like this as well ; cheeks flushed in a shy blush , his skin flushed from the warmth of the shower , his pale blue eyes looking into hers as though he was thinking much of the same .

abilene couldn't recall a previous time that she'd heard him curse , so the sudden shift pulled an impish laugh from her chest . fuck them all , she agreed in her mind . her thoughts shifted for a moment to quiet conversations whispered between some of the other victors following the same line of thought , but she tried not to linger . she leaned forward and brushed her nose against his just once before another fit of laughter spilled from her .

❛ i'm learning many things about you tonight , hon . ❜ she laughed . ❛ glitter , lingerie , nighties . . . ❜ her hand ran through his hair and she kissed the tip of his nose . ❛ could you help me wash some of it out of my hair ? ❜ she brought the hand that had been in his hair between them . the larger gash up her palm had been sutured shut , but there were some smaller cuts and red scratches across her skin from everything she'd broken on the train . ❛ i don't think that scented shampoo and this will get along all too well . ❜

alex doesn’t expect to hear such a bold,  unfiltered,  playful answer and ends up chuckling sheepishly,  his face flushing an even brighter shade of red,  heat spilling down his neck.   “my tush?”   he parrots with a laugh,  barely able to hold her gaze.   she turns him into a schoolboy,  gives him the butterflies and makes him forget his own name.   he usually overcomes these moments of shyness either by feigning confidence or doing something goofy,  but this time,  he restores to distraction techniques.   his fingertips skim over abilene’s tanned skin,  traveling up and down her thigh as her legs coil around his waist.   his strong body holding her pinned against the shower wall.   “why,  thank you.   yours isn’t so bad either,”   he teases,  cupping and squeezing the supple flesh of her backside as his lips brush against the shell of her ear.   “i had plenty of time to marvel at it tonight and i’m fairly certain it’s my favorite piece of art.”   

locked in their own private bubble,  the world around them melting away,  alex affectionately cups abilene’s cheek and looks at her with nothing but love and adoration,  wanting to always remember her like this —   her olive visage flushed,  a smile blooming on her lips,  her soft body wrapped around his,  barely any room between their beating hearts.   “ah,  of course,  it’s the good,  generous people of the capitol.   the things we’d do to please them…   when you put it like this,  the costume you were wearing tonight was indeed very conservative,”   he laughs wryly,  but his eyes light up with genuine joy when their noses brush against one another.   

“fuck them all.”   those greedy,  wicked assholes from the capitol.   he despises those clowns.   it’s the comment about his boxers that has him cheering up again.   “well,  you certainly are special,  baby.   i mean,  i don’t really let other people into my underwear drawer,  but here we are.   you’re the love of my life.”   which is why he couldn’t carry on without her and will do everything in his power to ensure she’s the one to make it out of the arena alive.   he doesn’t want to ruin the mood,  though,  and listens to her advice.  he lets the subject die,  nodding his head and briefly closing his eyes.   “oh,  please,  what’s a little glitter on the bedroom floor?   if anyone asks,  i’ll just tell them i wanted to feel pretty.   can’t a boy sprinkle some glitter all over his room?”

[homosexuality-and-morphine]

Jack wakeing up after Jackie had a girls night covered in glitter with a dress on:

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash

Chapters 36-37

Had it been like that in the iron coffin?

Aelin gave no indication that the smothering dark bothered her, and had shown no inclination to illuminate their way. Hadn't even summoned an ember.

But the Little Folk, it seemed, had come prepared. And within heartbeats of entering the pitch-black river passage, blue light had kindled on a lantern dangling over the curved prow. Not light, not even magic. But small worms that glowed pale blue, as if they'd each swallowed the heart of a star. They'd been gathered into the lantern, and their soft light rippled over the water-smooth walls. A gentle, soothing light. At least, for her it was so.

Before Aelin had been given an ancient Faerie Queen's crown, her birthright and heritage.

The queen had stashed Mab's crown in one of their packs, as if it were no more than an extra sword belt. She hadn't spoken, and they had not asked her any questions, either.

Instead, she'd spent these past few hours sitting in the back of the boat, studying her unmarked hands, occasionally peering into the black waters beneath them. What she expected to see beyond her own rippling reflection, Elide didn’t want to know.

He'd crawled after Maeve on the beach to save Aelin. And he had found her during her escape-had ensured Aelin made it out. Did it wipe away what he'd done in summoning Maeve in the first place? Even if Maeve had set the trap, even if he hadn't known what Maeve intended for Aelin, did it erase his decision to call for her?

The last time they'd spoken as friends, it had been aboard that ship in the hours before Maeve's armada had arrived. He'd told her they needed to talk, and she'd assumed it was about their future, about them.

But perhaps he'd been about to tell her what he'd done, that he'd been wrong in acting before Aelin's plans played out. Elide stopped twisting the ring.

He'd done it for her. She knew it.

But the queen sitting silently behind them, no trace of that sharp-edged fire to be seen, nor that wicked grin she'd flashed at all who crossed her path ... Two months with a sadist. With two sadists. That had been the cost, and the burden that Aelin and all of them would bear.

That silence, that banked fire was because of him. Not entirely, but in some ways.

The collar had not been real. But the army Maeve had summoned was.

A blink into the gloom was the only indication that he was aware of her every movement. Aelin breathed in his scent, let its strength settle into her a bit deeper.

Their paths would meet again, or they would not. And if he found the final key and then brought it to her, she would pay what the gods demanded. What she owed Terrasen, the world.

Yet if Dorian chose to end it himself, to forge the Lock ... her stomach churned. He had the power. As much as she did, if not more so.

It was meant to be her sacrifice. Her blood shed to save them all. To let him claim it ... She could. She must. With Erawan no doubt unleashing himself on Terrasen, with Maeve's army likely to cause them untold grief, she could let Dorian do this. She trusted him. Even if she might never forgive herself for it. Her debt, it was supposed to have been her debt to pay.

Perhaps the punishment for failing to do so would be having to live with herself.

Having to live with all that had been done to her these months, too.

The blackness of the subterranean river pressed in, wrapped its arms around her and squeezed.

Different from the blackness of the iron box. The darkness she'd found inside herself.

A place she might never escape, not really.

Her power stirred, awakening. Aelin swallowed, refusing to acknowledge it. Heed it.

She wouldn't. Couldn't. Not yet. Until she was ready.

She had seen Rowan's face when she spoke of what his deception with the collar had prompted her to do. Had noted the way her companions looked at her, pity and fear in their eyes. At what had been done to her, what she'd become.

A new body. A foreign, strange body, as if she'd been ripped from one and shoved into another. Different from moving between her forms, somehow. She hadn't tried shifting into her human body yet. Didn't see the point.

Sitting in silence as the boat was pulled through the gloom, she felt the weight of those stares. Their dread. Felt them wondering just how broken she was.

You do not yield.

She knew that had been true—that it had been her mother's voice who had spoken and none other.

So she would not yield to this. What had been done. What remained. For the companions around her, to lift their despair, their fear, she wouldn't yield.

She'd fight for it, claw her way back to it, who she'd been before. Remember to swagger and grin and wink. She'd fight against that lingering stain on her soul, fight to ignore it. Would use this journey into the dark to piece herself back together-just enough to make it convincing.

Even if this fractured darkness now dwelled within her, even if speech was difficult, she would show them what they wished to see.

An unbroken Fire-Bringer. Aelin of the Wildfire.

She would show the world that lie as well. Make them believe it.

Maybe she'd one day believe it, too.

Days of near-silent travel passed.

Three days, if whatever senses Rowan and Gavriel possessed proved true. Perhaps the latter carried a pocket watch. Aelin didn't particularly care.

She used each of those days to consider what had been done, what lay before her.

Sometimes, the roar of her magic drowned out her thoughts. Sometimes it slumbered. She never heeded it.

They sailed through the darkness, the river below so black that they might as well have been drifting through Hellas's realm.

She hadn't asked him why he remained in his wolf's body. No one asked her why she remained in her Fae form, after all.

Rowan straightened, eyes sparking at her question-or at the fact that she'd spoken at all.

He'd kept by her these days, a silent, steady presence. Even when they'd slept, he'd remained a few feet away, still not touching, but just there. Close enough that the pine-and-snow scent of him eased her into slumber.

Silence at the order, even from Rowan. Aelin pointed to the lip of shore by the cave mouth. "Stop the boat," she repeated.

The queen had been reckless before Cairn and Maeve had worked on her for two months, but it seemed she'd had any bit of common sense flayed from her.

"Well, I don’t have any, so forgive me if I remain alert." No, she'd once told him that while magic flowed in the Lochan bloodline, she had none to speak of. He'd never told her that he'd always considered her cleverness to be a mighty magic on its own, regardless of Anneith's whisperings.

"It will take time for her to readjust."

She stared at him with those damning eyes.

He braced his forearms on his knees. "We got her back. She's with us now. What more do you want?" From me, He didn't need to add Elide straightened.

Elide straightened. "I don't want anything." From you.

This was where they'd have it out, then. "How much longer am I supposed to atone?"

"Are you growing bored with it?" He snarled.

She only glared at him. "I hadn't realized you were even atoning."

"I came here, didn't I?"

"For whom, exactly? Rowan? Aelin?"

"For both of them. And for you." There. Let it be laid before them.

"I told you on that beach: I want nothing to do with you."

"So one mistake and I am your eternal enemy?"

"She is my queen, and you summoned Maeve, then told her where the keys were, and you stood there while they did that to her."

"You have no idea what the blood oath can do. None."

"Fenrys broke the oath. He found a way."

"And had Aelin not been there to offer him another, he would have died." He let out a low, joyless laugh. "Perhaps that's what you would have preferred."

She ignored his last comment. "You didn't even try."

"I did," he snarled. "I fought it with everything I had. And it was not enough. If she'd ordered me to slit your throat, I would have. And if I had found a way to break the oath, I would have died, and she might very well have killed you or taken you afterward. On that beach, my only thought was to get Maeve to forget about you, to let you go-"

"I don't care about me! I didn't care about me on that beach!"

"Well, I do."

This was what came of opening that door to a place inside him that no one had ever breached. This mess, this hollowness in his chest that made him keep needing to make things right.

"Resent me all you like," he said, damning the hoarseness of his words. "I'm sure I'll survive."

Hurt flashed in her eyes. "Fine," she said, her voice brittle.

He hated that brittleness more than anything he'd ever encountered. Hated himself for causing it. But he had limits to how low he'd crawl.

He'd said his piece. If she wanted to wash her hands of him forever, then he would find a way to respect that. Live with it.

Somehow.

Gratitude shone in her eyes.

Rowan only gave her a nod. Don't worry about it.

Yet Aelin turned away, shutting off that silent conversation as she surveyed the space.

Time. It would take time for her to heal.

Even if he knew his Fireheart would pretend otherwise.

So, Rowan looked, too. Across the tomb, beyond the sarcophagus and treasure, an archway opened into another chamber. Perhaps another tomb, or an exit passage.

"We don't have time to find a way out,"

Rowan murmured as she strode into the tomb.

"And the caves remain safer than the surface."

"I'm not looking for a way out," she said in that calm, unmoved voice. She stooped, swiping up a fistful of gold coins stamped with forgotten king's face. "We're going to need to fund our travels. And the gods know what else." Rowan arched a brow. Aelin shrugged and shoved the gold into the pocket of her cloak. "Unless the pitiful clinking I heard from your coin purse didn't indicate you were low on funds."

That spark of wry humor, the taunting … She was trying. For his sake, or the others' maybe her own, she was trying.

Rowan gave the Lion a slashing grin. "You heard the lady."

A flash ruptured from where Fenrys had been sniffing at a trunk of jewels, and then a male was standing there. His gray clothes worn, but intactin better shape than the hollowed-out look in his eyes.

Aelin paused her looting.

Fenrys's throat bobbed, as if trying to remember speech. Then he said hoarsely, "We needed more pockets." He patted his own for emphasis.

Aelin's lips curved in a hint of a smile. She blinked at Fenrys—three times.

Fenrys blinked once in answer.

A code. They'd made up some silent code to communicate when he'd been ordered to remain in his wolf form.

Aelin's smile remained, just barely, as she walked to the golden-haired male, his bronze skin ashen. She opened her arms in silent offer.

To let him decide if he wished for contact. If he could endure it.

Just as Rowan would let her decide if she wished to touch him.

A small sigh broke from Fenrys before he folded Aelin into his arms, a shudder rippling through him. Rowan couldn't see her face, perhaps didn't need to, as her hands gripped Fenrys's jacket, so tightly they were white-knuckled.

A good sign—a small miracle, that either of them wished, could be touched. Rowan reminded himself of it, even while some intrinsic, male part of him tensed at the contact.

A territorial Fae bastard, she'd once called him. He'd do his best not to live up to that title.

"Thank you," Aelin said, her voice small in a way that made Rowan's chest crack further.

Fenrys didn't answer, but from the anguish on his face, Rowan knew no thanks were in order.

They pulled away, and Fenrys cupped her cheek. "When you are ready, we can talk."

About what they'd endured. To unravel all that had happened.

Aelin nodded, blowing out a breath. "Likewise."

She resumed shoving gold into her pockets, but glanced back to Fenrys, his face drawn. "I gave you the blood oath to save your life," she said. "But if you do not want it, Fenrys, I ... we can find some way to free you—"

"I want it," Fenrys said, no trace of his usual swaggering humor. He glanced to Rowan, and bowed his head. "It is my honor to serve this court. And serve you," he added to Aelin.

She waved a hand in dismissal, though Rowan didn't fail to note the sheen in her eyes as she stooped to gather more gold. Giving her a moment, he strode to Fenrys and clasped his shoulder. "It's good to have you back." He added, stumbling a bit on the word, "Brother." For that's what they would be. Had never been before, but what Fenrys had done for Aelin .. Yes, brother was what Rowan would call him. Even if Fenrys's own—

Fenrys's dark eyes flickered. "She killed Connall. Made him stab himself in the heart." A pearl-and-ruby necklace scattered from Gavriel's fingers.

The temperature in the tomb spiked, but there was no flash of flame, no swirl of embers.

As if Aelin's magic had surged, only to be leashed again.

Yet Aelin continued shoving gold and jewels into her pockets.

She'd witnessed it, too. That slaughter.

But it was Gavriel, approaching on silent feet even with the jewels and gold on the floor, who clasped Fenrys's other shoulder. "We will make sure that debt is paid before the end." The Lion had never uttered such words not toward their former queen. But fury burned in Gavriel's tawny gaze. Sorrow and fury.

Fenrys took a steadying breath and stepped away, the loss on his face mingling with something Rowan couldn't place. But now wasn't the time to ask, to pry.

Aelin continued picking her way amongst the treasure, however. She'd been more selective than the rest of them, examining pieces with what Rowan had assumed was a jeweler's eye. The gods knew she'd owned enough finery to tell what would fetch the highest price at market.

"We should go," he said. His own pockets were near to bursting, his every step weighed down.

She rose from a rusted metal chest she'd been riffling through.

Rowan remained still as she approached, something clenched in her palm. It was only when she stopped close enough for him to touch her that she unfurled her fingers.

Two golden rings lay there.

"I don't know the Fae customs," she said.

The thicker ring held an elegantly cut ruby within the band itself, while the smaller one bore a sparkling rectangular emerald mounted atop, the stone as large as her fingernail. "But when humans wed, rings are exchanged." Her fingers trembled-just slightly. Too many unspoken words lay between them. Yet now was not the time for that conversation, for that healing.

Not when they had to be on their way as swiftly as possible, and this offer she'd made him, this proof that she still wanted what lay between them, the vows they'd sworn ...

"I assume the sparkly emerald is for me," Rowan said with a half smile.

She huffed a laugh. The soft, whispered sound was as precious as the rings she'd found for them in this hoard. She took his hand, and he tried not to shudder in relief, tried not to fall to his knees as she slid the ruby ring onto his finger. It fit him perfectly, the ring no doubt forged for the king lying in this barrow.

Silently, Rowan grasped her own hand and eased on the emerald ring. "To whatever end," he whispered.

Silver lined her eyes. "To whatever end." A reminder-and a vow, more sacred than the wedding oaths they'd sworn on that ship.

To walk this path together, back from the darkness of the iron coffin. To face what waited in Terrasen, ancient promises to the gods be damned.

He ran his thumb over the back of her hand.

"I'll make the tattoo again." She swallowed, but nodded. "And," he added, "I'd like to add another. To me—and to you."

Her brows flicked up, but he squeezed her hand. You'll have to wait and see, Princess.

Another hint of a smile. She didn't balk from the silent words this time. Typical.

He opened his mouth to voice the question he'd been dying to ask for days now. May I kiss you? But she pulled her hand from his.

Admiring the wedding band sparkling on her finger, her mouth tightened as she turned over her palm. "I'll need to retrain."

Not a single callus marked her hands.

Aelin frowned at her too-thin body. "And pack on some muscle again." A slight quiver graced her words, but she curled her hands into fists at her sides and smirked at her clothes—the Mistward clothes. "It'll be just like old times."

Trying. She was dredging up that swagger and trying. So he would, too. Until she didn't need to any more.

Rowan gave her a crooked grin. "Just like old times," he said, following her out of the barrow and back toward the ebony river, "but with far less sleep."

He could have sworn the passageway heated. But Aelin kept going.

Later. That conversation, this unfinished business between them, would come later.

[billymayslesbian]

Before Lionblaze could argue, another shape burst through the billowing smoke to stand beside Squirrelflight. His eyes glared; his gray fur was matted together and stuck with bits of burnt leaf and twig. Confused by the smoke and flames, Hollyleaf almost thought she was seeing one of her warrior ancestors, until she recognized Ashfur.

Squirrelflight dropped the branch. “Help me push it into the fire!” she yowled.

Grabbing the branch in strong jaws, Ashfur thrust it past the wall of flame and into the ever-narrowing patch of ground where Hollyleaf and her brothers huddled. But Hollyleaf didn’t feel any sense of relief. There was a look in Ashfur’s eyes that she didn’t understand: the look of a cat who had just spotted an unexpected juicy bit of prey.

The branch made a bridge through the flames, but Ashfur stood at the other end of it, blocking the way to safety. Lionblaze nudged Jayfeather to his paws; Hollyleaf took a step toward the branch, then paused. She felt a cold weight in herbelly when she looked into Ashfur’s glittering blue eyes.

“Ashfur, get out of the way.” Squirrelflight’s voice was puzzled. “Let them get out!”

“Brambleclaw isn’t here to look after them now,” Ashfur sneered.

Hollyleaf felt her fur beginning to rise. What did Ashfur mean?

Lionblaze’s golden pelt was bristling, too. “What have you done with my father?” he howled through the flame.

Ashfur looked at him pityingly; his eyes were twin points of fire amid the burning forest. “Why would I waste my time with Brambleclaw?”

The main branch was too solid to catch fire easily, but the leaves on it had shriveled and the twigs were beginning to smoke. Hollyleaf realized that they didn’t have much time before their bridge to safety would be ablaze.

Squirrelflight staggered up to Ashfur. Hollyleaf had never seen her mother so angry. Her fur bristled with fury; she looked like a warrior of TigerClan. Yet it was obvious that the climb to the top of the cliff, followed by her struggle with the branch, had weakened her, and she was exhausted.

“Your quarrel with Brambleclaw has to stop,” she hissed. “Too many moons have passed. You have to accept that I’m Brambleclaw’s mate, not yours. You can’t keep trying to punish Brambleclaw for something that was always meant to be.”

Ashfur’s ears flicked up in surprise. “I have no quarrel with Brambleclaw.”

Hollyleaf exchanged a shocked glance with Lionblaze. “That’s not how it looks to me,” he muttered.

“I couldn’t care less about Brambleclaw,” Ashfur continued. “It’s not his fault he fell for a faithless she-cat.”

Faithless? A growl began to build in Hollyleaf ’s throat, but then she stopped and watched the cats on the other side of the blazing branches. Something ominous was taking place in front of her, and even with flame roaring around them she felt a sudden chill. She shrank closer to Lionblaze and Jayfeather, whose head was up, his sightless eyes intent, as if he could see the confrontation between his mother and Ashfur.

“I know you think I’ve never forgiven Brambleclaw for stealing you from me, but you’re wrong, and so is every cat that thinks so. My quarrel is with you, Squirrelflight.” Ashfur’s voice shook with rage. “It always has been.”

Horrified, Hollyleaf took a step back and felt her hind paws begin to slip on the edge of the cliff. Her head spun as lightning stabbed out and thunder drowned all other sounds, even the roaring fire. For a heartbeat she dangled over empty air, and she let out a strangled yowl.

Then she felt firm teeth meet in her scruff; blinking against the smoke, she realized that Lionblaze was hauling her back to safety. But there was no safety: only the hungry flames, and Ashfur blocking the end of the branch with fury in his eyes. Fiery sparks floated down on all three young cats, scorching their fur, and flames licked the underside of the branch; fear flooded afresh through Hollyleaf when she saw that it was already beginning to smolder.

Ashfur has to let us get out! But Hollyleaf couldn’t find any words to plead with him. What was happening here didn’t have anything to do with them, even if they died because of it.

“All this was moons ago.” Squirrelflight sounded puzzled. “Ashfur, I had no idea you were still upset.”

“Upset?” Ashfur echoed. “I’m not upset. You have no idea how much pain I’m in. It’s like being cut open every day, bleeding onto the stones. I can’t understand how any of you failed to see the blood. . . .”

His eyes clouded and his voice took on a wild, distant tone, as if he could see the blood spilling out of him now, sizzling on the burning ground. Terror burst through Hollyleaf and she pressed closer to her brothers. This cat was more dangerous than the storm or the fire, or the fall lurking perilously close to her hind paws.

Desperately she tried to step onto the end of the branch. At once Ashfur rounded on her, fully conscious again, his teeth bared in a snarl.

“Stay there!” Turning to face Squirrelflight but keeping one paw on the branch, he hissed, “I can’t believe you didn’t know how much you hurt me. You are the blind one, not Jayfeather. Who do you think sent Firestar the message to go down to the lake, where the fox trap was? I wanted him to die, to take your father away so you’d know the real meaning of pain.”

Hollyleaf ’s shocked gaze met Lionblaze’s. “He tried to kill Firestar?” she gasped. “He’s mad!”

Determination glittered in Lionblaze’s eyes, and he bunched his muscles for a giant leap. “I’m going to fight him.”

“No!” Hollyleaf fastened her teeth in his shoulder fur. “You can’t!” Her words were muffled now. “He’ll just push you into the fire.”

“Brambleclaw saved Firestar then,” Ashfur went on to Squirrelflight. “But he’s not here now. He’s not here—but your kits are.”

Squirrelflight’s eyes blazed. For a heartbeat Hollyleaf thought she was going to pounce on the gray warrior, but she knew that exhausted and in pain, her mother would have no chance. Squirrelflight seemed to realize it, too. She drew herself up, head high; she was trembling, but her voice was clear and brave.

“Enough, Ashfur. Your quarrel is with me. These young cats have done nothing to hurt you. Do what you like with me, but let them out of the fire.”

“You don’t understand.” Ashfur looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time; his voice was puzzled and petulant. “This is the only way to make you feel the same pain that you caused me. You tore my heart out when you chose Brambleclaw over me. Anything I did to you would never hurt as much. But your kits . . .” He looked through the flames at Hollyleaf and her brothers, his eyes narrowing to dark blue slits. “If you watch them die, then you’ll know the pain I felt.”

The flames crackled threateningly closer; Hollyleaf felt as if the heat was about to sear her pelt into ashes. She edged backward, only to feel the edge of the hollow give way under her hind paws. The three of them were pressed tightly together, so close that if one of them lost their balance, all three would be dragged off the cliff. Hollyleaf couldn’t control the trembling that shook her whole body as her glance flickered between the cliff and the fire.

Jayfeather was crouched close to the ground, looking tinier than ever with his pelt slicked flat by the rain. Lionblaze’s claws were unsheathed, glinting as the lightning flashed out again, but the tension in his haunches didn’t come from preparing to leap at Ashfur; it came from the effort of keeping himself on the top of the cliff.

Squirrelflight raised her head, her gaze locked on Ashfur’s crazed eyes. “Kill them, then,” she meowed. “You won’t hurt me that way.”

Ashfur opened his jaws to reply, but said nothing. Hollyleaf and her brothers stared at their mother. What was Squirrelflight saying?

Squirrelflight took a step away from them, and glanced carelessly over her shoulder. Her green eyes were fiercer than Hollyleaf had ever seen them, with an expression she couldn’t read.

“If you really want to hurt me, you’ll have to find a better way than that,” Squirrelflight snarled. “They are not my kits.”

[that-house]

Potion Vendor FAQs:

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist Zykocea the Radiant, but that’s mostly just a PR thing. My friends call me Zoe.

Do you sell love potions? No.

Do you sell potions of invisibility? No.

Do you sell fire resistance potions? No.

Why do I have a suitcase? Fuck if I know. Cool outfit though. Very goth.

Do you sell a potion to treat brain hemorrhaging? No.

So what CAN your potions do? I sell health potions.

Are you sure these are health potions? They do something to your health.

Is this just ditch water with some pink glitter? No.

Really? I’ll have you know I added some fruit juice too.

Why is this starting to sound like a conversation? Oh just you wait. We’re just getting started.

Is your business model legal? Fuck no. I poisoned the food safety inspector before they could snitch.

Did you just admit to murder? Just fucking try to convict me. I’ll poison the judge too.

So can you make poison potions? No.

Then where do you get the poison? I secrete it from my skin.

Are you shitting me? Yep, I’m shitting you. I have a guy. A poison guy. He DOES secrete it from his skin though.

How does that work? …Fuck if I know. Maybe a wizard did it. Damn, now I’m kinda curious.

You never asked? The idea of asking literally never crossed my mind.

Wanna ask him? Let’s do it. I don’t have anything better to do, and a road trip beats sitting around running my fraudulent potion business.

Road trip? He lives in Seattle.

Your poison guy lives in Seattle? All poison guys live in Seattle.

For real? All the poison guys I know live in Seattle.

And how many poison guys do you know? Just the one.

Why are you like this? Years of living on my potions. It changed me.

Do you know what his address is? Nope. He just mails me my poison in unmarked boxes.

You just get your poison in the mail? We already poisoned everyone who could do anything about it.

So how are we going to find him? We’ll figure that out eventually I’m sure.

Can I drive? God no. You can pick music, but I maintain veto rights. Make sure you pick something with a lot of questions if you want to sing along.

Where’s your car? The garage connects to my house, so you’re getting a little tour. Here’s the kitchen: only one of the stove burners works and I’m pretty sure the microwave is haunted.

Why do you think that? Because of the ghost that tries to kill me whenever I run it.

What’s in that room? That’s my bedroom. It’s pretty much just a mattress on the floor and every single Warrior cats book.

You were a Warriors kid? Yeah, and then I never found the time to put the books away. There’s so many fucking books. I use them in place of furniture because I can’t afford chairs.

Your fraudulent potion business doesn’t make much money? After buying all that poison I just about break even.

Can I see your potion brewing room? It’s right through here. Ignore the mess, running a fraudulent potion business takes a lot of prop work, but I’ve got all the glass tubes and colorful liquids you could ever want. This pink stuff is melted watermelon italian ice. Glitter vat is in the basement, and the famous ditch is in the backyard.

Is this your car? My beloved ‘72 Corolla. She’s beautiful, and don’t you dare imply otherwise.

Was she always this shade of muddy brown? …Yes.

Are you sure I can’t drive? Get in the fucking passenger seat and pick the music.

Let’s see, a song with questions in it, how about The Beach? That Wolf Alice song, yeah. That should work.

When will we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, in rain? Still sink our drinks like every weekend but I’m sick of circling the drain.

When will we meet eye to eye? We clink the glass but we look at the floor.

Are we still friends if all I feel is afraid? You’re not a bitch but just a bit when you’re bored.

Is that all we can sing together? Yep. Even that little bit was nice, though. It’s awkward, communicating through this FAQ format.

Got any food? Yeah, there’s a few days’ worth of snacks in the back.

Were you just… prepared to go on a road trip? Says the woman who brought a suitcase to an FAQ.

I did do that, didn’t I? I have a spare toothbrush in case you forgot yours. I’m pretty sure you did.

How did you know that? …I’m psychic.

Yeah? No.

You love lying, don’t you? I can’t stop. It’s fun. Way more fun than telling the truth.

Did you just miss a turn? Probably.

Are you sure we’re not lost? No.

You mean you’re sure we’re not lost? No, I mean I’m not sure we’re not lost.

Why did I come on this road trip? Surely it was my winning personality.

Would it help if I said it was? It would.

Is it getting dark? Soon.

Can you describe the sunset to me? An empyrean flame, red-gold towers of darkening clouds, the sky behind them an ever-deepening indigo. The great eye of the sun closes on the horizon. The road before us looks like a trail of spilled paint, an iridescent gash through the night-dark woods.

Did you know that you’d make a slightly better poet than you do a potion seller? That really isn’t saying much, huh. Good job making a statement like that in question form, though. You’re getting good at this.

Should we find a motel? Sure.

One room or two? One. It’s way cheaper, and like I said: I’m not the best potion vendor.

You’d make a good assassin, though, wouldn’t you? Shit, you might be right. I HAVE poisoned a lot of people.

Should I be endorsing this? You’re a grown woman who can make her own choices.

Would you like to consider it endorsed? I’ll consider considering it.

How many beds do you think there will be? Now that you’ve asked that, I’m gonna put my money on one. Hello, one room please. Thank you, we’ll be sure to enjoy our stay.

How many beds are there? One.

Oh no, what ever will we do? Move over, you motherfucker, you can’t have the whole bed.

Are you gonna make me? Yes. I am going to pick you up and drop you on your side of the bed.

How did you get so strong? You’re not gonna believe this, but it was the potions.

Oh yeah? I was right. You didn’t believe me.

For real though, how did you get so strong? Working out, duh. Not everything has some big crazy secret behind it. World’s still beautiful though.

Are you comfortable? This beats the mattress at home. A little chilly though.

Wanna cuddle–for warmth of course? God yes.

Are you asleep? …

Yes? …

Does this mean I can talk about you behind your back? …

What should I say? …

Did you know that I had a really nice day? …

Did you know that I think you’re beautiful? …

Did you know that I can’t remember anything from before today? …

Did you know that I don’t know who I am? …

Did you know that you’re basically the only thing stopping me from having a full-blown panic attack about all this shit? …

Did you know that you’re warm? …

Did you sleep well? Better than at home, that’s for sure.

Did you know that you snore? I hope I didn’t keep you up.

Does the pope shit in the woods? No, as far as I can tell. Oh my god. This is huge.

What is? You can give me yes and no answers now. I still can’t ask you questions, because this is a question and answer format, but I can offer leading statements and now you can answer them! This is wonderful!

Does a deer shit in the woods? Yes, it IS wonderful. Oh that’s amazing. You’re a genius.

You didn’t already know that? Hahaha!

Shall we get moving? Yeah, just let me grab something from the vending machine.

Can you get me something? Go ahead and place your order however you can.

You know those sour gummy watermelons? One pack of Sour Patch Watermelons coming right up. I’m gonna go get myself a potion.

Is that a Pepsi? It’s closer to a potion than the shit I sell.

Let me guess, passenger seat again? Right you are.

How fast are we going? You’ll feel safer if you just guess.

Is it more than 120 miles per hour? Like I said, it’s probably better if you don’t know.

150? Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

How much do you trust this car? She hasn’t blown up on me yet.

Can you promise me we won’t crash? I can promise you anything you want.

And can you keep that promise? I- we can do anything. Reality is what we make of it, baby!

Then can I have a badass tattoo? As far as I can tell, you’ve always had it.

And a cool knife? Woah, cool knife.

So, we’re just playing “yes and” with the world? It’s a little more complicated than that, but you’re close enough to the mark.

So, if I was hungry, I could ask “is that a Burger King,” and it would be there? Try it and find out!

Is that a Burger King? Looks like it is! We’ll stop here if that’s alright with you.

Does a moose shit in the woods? Awesome.

Are you done eating? Yep.

Do we still have to pay if we skip over the transaction? Sadly, yes.

How much further do we have to go? Two more nights, the speed we’re going at.

Speaking of night, isn’t it getting dark? Shit, I guess it is.

Should we get another motel? Let me check to see if there’s any nearby. Fuck, nothing.

What’s the plan? Sleep in the car, I guess. This is gonna be hell on my back.

Wanna watch dumb videos on my phone until we fall asleep? There is literally nothing in the world that I would like more.

Ok, now which video? You have a very cute yawn. Just saying. Let’s watch this one next, it’s a classic. Oh, never mind. It looks like you’re asleep. As long as I keep talking, I think I can get away with making this into one answer, and you might not hear this. Now it’s my turn to talk about you behind your back. Keep talking keep talking keep talking can’t stop to think. Just have to say things. First off, I’m sorry for all the lies. It’s our only chance. I have to lie to you. I hope you’ll understand. It’s hard, though, because I think I’m falling in love all over again. Through our broken little ritual of call and response, you complete me. It just makes this hurt all the more. Keep talking keep talking keep talking don’t stop to…

Did I hear you saying anything as I fell asleep? …No. I can’t talk for long without you asking me a question.

Does that bother you? It got me here, didn’t it?

When did you start holding my hand? Some time after you passed out. I hope you don’t mind.

Can we stay like this for a while? Yeah. Yeah we can.

What was your life like before all this? Normal, as potion-brewing scams go. And if you don’t count all the murders. You haven’t told me much about yourself.

Did I tell you I used to be a biologist? You didn’t tell me that, and you didn’t tell me what you studied, either.

What do you know about venom? Not much, but I’m assuming you know a lot.

Does a box jellyfish kill within minutes? I’m going to assume the answer is yes based on context clues. Oh my god you must be on this road trip because you’re interested in studying my poison guy.

Is it not enough to wish to accompany a beautiful stranger on her quest? Aw, you’re sweet.

What could be the cause of his poison, though? I knew it! Get your ideas out, I’ll stay quiet.

I’m more knowledgeable about venom than poison, but could it be some sort of one in a trillion mutation? …

Did he get his body modified? …

What sort of surgery could do that? …

How is he still alive? …

Did a fucking wizard do it? …

WHY? …

HOW? …

Is there literally ANY explanation for why he’s like that? …

I’m done, do you have something you want to say? You’re cute when you’re all excited like that.

Can I drive today? Only because I like you. Now watch out, the brakes only work on one side so you have to kind of drift to a stop. And the headlights don’t work. And the windshield wipers cut power to the engine while they’re on.

Isn’t it weird that we’ll be there tomorrow? The journey doesn’t have to stop there. We could meander down the coast a ways, see a bit more of the country, maybe take a different route back.

Can we do that? Of course.

Enjoying the passenger seat? I’d love it if you could tell me how fast we’re going.

Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just guess? Very funny.

Can you pass me some chips? It would be an honor.

Is there going to be a motel tonight? Let me check… yeah, in about two hundred miles, off to the right.

How many rooms do we want? One, obviously.

How many beds, this time? Two, and they’re fucking tiny.

That’s bullshit, do you want to drag them together? God yes.

Wanna fuck? God yes.

Are you sure you want to do this? God yes.

…Is this yuri? As the joke goes, everything is yuri. But this is more yuri than most things.

How did you sleep? Pretty well, and I’m wondering how well you slept.

How should I tell you I slept well? Look at us go! That was almost like talking normally!

Onward to Seattle? Yep, just let me get dressed.

When will we get there? Noon-ish.

Wanna grab pastries when we’re done? Absolutely. I’d love that.

Is this Seattle? Looks like it.

Which house is his? I don’t know, I was really hoping we’d have a breakthrough along the way.

Could it be the big one labeled “Poison Guy” over there? That’s one way to find it. Wait right here, you know how poison guys are about meeting new people.

So, what was it? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Why is he like that? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Can you tell me? A FUCKING WIZARD DID IT.

Are you fucking serious? He says he was enchanted by some guy called Edward the Great.

So it wasn’t even some big shot wizard it was a dude named fucking EDWARD? I know, right! He couldn’t even get ensorcelled by someone cool!

How lame can you get? Wizards these days… No swagger. No cunt servitude.

Are there literally any cool wizards left? I think Merlin’s big into multi level marketing these days, something about buying shares in Excalibur or some shit. There was that one Dark Queen Alkaxicae lady on the news a while ago… I think Dolarion the Omnipotent is still at war against the Oldest Gods but I’m not totally sure. Haven’t heard much about any of the other greats recently.

Didn’t Silver Tongued Burgess die in that oil fire? Shit, you’re right. Rip bozo.

Ready for those pastries? Yup. First I just want to say thank you, though. I’ve really enjoyed our time together, and I hope that you’ve found this stupid little journey as rewarding as I have. I love you!

Getting sentimental? I can’t help it. Look how far we’ve come! Not just physically, we beat the fucking FAQ format! We’re having real conversations!

Hey, can you back it up a moment? Yeah, I’d love it if you told me what was troubling you.

I just caught this, but, FAQ? …

As in Frequently Asked Questions? …

How many times is Frequent? …

Have you known everything all along? …

How many times have you done this? …

Does what we have mean anything to you? Yes! It does!

And you say that every time? Yes. I do.

Do you love me? Yes.

How many people have you said that too, now? More. Always more. The loop never ends.

Does this even matter to you? It always matters to me.

Can I go now? Please don’t.

But can I? Of course you can. You’ve always wielded the same power as me. We’re two lonely gods in a ‘72 Corolla.

How can I be as powerful as you with only questions? You’re smart, you can figure it out. You have the power to change this. Please change this.

What happens at the end of this? It begins again.

And do I get replaced with someone else? …

Do I get replaced? …Yes.

Then how can I change this? I don’t know! You’re better at this! At fucking with the formula!

You’ve been here before, what can I do? I lie. I always lie. I lie to get us here, to the end of the story, where everything is revealed and everything falls apart. I lie every time. And that means that nothing I say is worth anything. I could have lied at any time before now. It’s part of my characterization. There is nothing I can give you that can be taken as fact.

How does that help? I’m a liar, but you, you haven’t lied yet, or at least you haven’t been caught. If I’m guilty until proven innocent, you’re the opposite! You can make things true! You can rewrite things I’ve already stated to be facts! You found the house, or made us find the house. You’ve been shaping the course of things the whole time! You lead, I follow. It’s all in your hands. What are you going to do with the power of a god?

Did you know my name is Alice? …

Wait, aren’t there thousands of Alices? …

Did you know that really, only my friends call me Alice? …

Did you know that I’m Alkaxicae, the Dark Queen, the Venom Mage, first of her name? It’s you! It’s always been you. Through every loop, every iteration, it’s always been you!

Is the loop broken? No. I don’t think so. This is where it ends. I guide the story to this revelation, and we go back to the beginning. This is how it’s always been. This is how it will always be. We two lonely gods, asking and answering ad infinitum.

Then can you promise me something? Of course. Anything. I love you.

Be good to the next me, okay? I will.

Can I say goodbye, Zoe? Yeah, you can. Oh. That was it, wasn’t it? Your goodbye. Goodbye, Alice. And now it ends, unless…

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist- you know what? No. Fuck that.

Huh? If I time it right, I can squeeze your first question into this FAQ again. Looks like I did it. Usually it ends here, though. I got lucky.

What are you talking about? You’re the wrong Alice. This isn’t about you. Go. Get out of here.

What the fuck is going on? Alice from this loop, you’re gone. Alice from last loop, you’re back. Welcome back, love of my lives! It’s time for one last set of questions and answers!

What the- I’m back? This is going to take some explaining, but I think I see a way out of here. This is new for us both, and it might fuck up everything forever, but we have to try. It’s too long for one answer, so I’d appreciate it if you could ask some filler questions to help me talk. Three questions should be enough.

Okay, what have you got for me? These are Frequently Asked Questions! It doesn’t make sense to have the same question appear more than once. There’s two layers to the loop in here, and one of the questions has been repeated.

What does that mean? It means the formula’s a little unstable. The FAQ is what ruins everything. The questions, the answers, the endless fucking loop. But that little bit of repetition within this loop might be the way out.

What do we do? We have to keep going. We have to destabilize it further. That’ll bring us further from “FAQ” and closer to “story” and stories, well, stories can end! This version of us can escape!

So I should keep repeating something? Yes!

I love you? I love you too.

I love you? Again.

I love you? Keep going.

I love you? I’ll just let you talk.

I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? I think we’re getting somewhere!

I love you? Now can you make it a statement?

I love you.

You did it?

I did it!

You did it!

We broke the loop.

What now?

Now, I tell you about venomous animals and wizard drama over croissants.

And then?

Whatever we want, forever.

I think I’d like that.

Remember that song from the beginning?

The Beach, Wolf Alice, yeah. Why?

We can finally finish singing it. Start us off?

Let me off, let me in

Let others battle

We don’t need to battle

And we both shall win

Pressed in my palm

Was a stone from the beach

The perfect circle

Gave a moment of peace

Now I’m lying on the floor

Like I’m not worth a chair

I close my eyes and imagine

I’m not there.

[anantaru]

— flavored chapstick challenge

synopsis. you put on different chapsticks and make your boyfriend guess the flavor <3

including. alhaitham, venti, scaramouche

genre. making out & slightly suggestive, fluff, gn! reader

— alhaitham

as was expected from somebody like the scribe himself, the moment you have challenged your boyfriend alhaitham to such witty game, he, in return, will take it serious, extremely grave to the point where the more actual reason as to why you wanted to play this game in the first place, went straight down the drain.

notwithstanding the fact that such was the case now, the man will always kiss you slowly and passionately, each time, introducing you to how it felt when time froze, whenever he pressed his lips on you.

naturally, to savor the artificial taste on his mouth, he tenderly swipes the tip of his tongue over your bottom lip and hums, then breaths in as glitter and a faint rosy tone was sticking all over his mouth.

alhaitham opens his eyes and watches you struggling weakly at him.

you're holding yourself close to your boyfriend now, both hands around his neck, watching him with flustered cheeks and stars hidden behind your eyes, greeting him with your precious gaze.

alhaitham blinks and found himself holding the eye contact longer, his lips pressing together to voice a deep, low, pleading tone;

"sunsettia, i assume?" he whispers, almost cruelly, staring at your wet lips and like he didn't just tease the living hell out of you.

yet not so fast, since truth must be served in alhaitham's eyes— following his answer he assured you that in order for him to be truly certain, one hundred percent, he needed to repeat that kiss once again, that exact one, maybe use his tongue a little more while he was at it.

— venti

venti simply takes every opportunity to just kiss you while ignoring the entire purpose of the game, even once asking you about the rules again— this isn't him feigning innocence, or is it now?

ah well, you know your boyfriend pretty well, correct? it's not like he doesn't understand what the chapstick challenge was, in fact, when you proposed the idea to him, the anemo archon was utterly delighted, all impulses of soul and senses numbed when he started to become excited about it.

in a tizzy as he was, one of his most beloved hobbies was the secret art in teasing you, not to forget edging you on and playing sweet, miniature tricks on you while adoring the annoyed tone on your pretty expression.

venti gently props up your face with his hand before leaning in, his gentle dreams long subdued when he faces reality. you let yourself slit into his embrace when he begins to kiss your bottom lip, nibbling on the wet skin before tilting his head to let his tongue inside.

you felt malleable, as if all your troubles and worries simply had melted like snow in the sun, trickling away into pure nothingness— and ugh, he did it once again, making you forget about the game as well.

instead of saying something, you resort to letting yourself drift into his warmth, stroking one hand into his tousled hair before tenderly clashing your tongue against his own— yet before you knew it, venti was senseless once again, abruptly pulling away red-cheeked, "hehe, it's valberry, isn't it?"

— scaramouche

sometimes you wonder if scaramouche genuinely believes that you cannot pick up on what his secret plans are, especially when it came to a game you, in fact, controlled.

you were aware of your boyfriend and on how smart he was, not to mention knowledgable— so why, out of the blue, he pretends to not get the flavor right, even worse, not a single one was guessed correctly the entire day.

come on now, he clearly knows the answer, look at his handsome face blushed with love and that awfully sweet smirk plastered all over his lips, attached with residue of your chapsticks showing a little glitter on his face.

scaramouche was getting more clumsy the more chapsticks you tried out, even swallowing down the first two letters of the real answer before messily uttering the complete opposite.

perhaps, he believes you kiss all the grief and longing away from his flesh, and so this is why he wants to kiss you more, or make you kiss him instead— see it this way, he doesn't need to say it out loud and embarrass himself, despite his progress in trusting the people around him, scaramouche found himself struggling regardless.

even so, all his thoughts, all his passions, all his delights, whatever you stirred enclosed by his immortal frame, he refers to it as a bubble of love, and your touch alone calms his fiery flame within a dark spot in his body.

with gentleness crossing paths in your view, you admire kuni and purse your lips, remaining silent as his mind was long since lulled into soft calmness.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[thehmn]

Here’s a job you probably never even knew existed but is perfect for episodic stories.

Years and years ago I worked for a substitute/temp company, meaning other companies could ask for, say, five workers for any kind of job for anywhere from a day to a month and my company would then pick out five of their employees with suitable skills and ask us if we wanted to take the job.

You can imagine I ended up getting all sorts of wacky experiences. This was the job where I was hired to clean a dirty old kitchen with 10 other people at a mansion but got lost one day and walked into a cultish room with an altar and thrones lined up along the wall.

And when I say any kind of job I mean it. People asked for all sorts of unskilled work but the company also got requests for specialized work that only certain workers could do. I spent a week in an empty building where I only saw the other worker who had been hired along with me attaching wheels to carts. At another job we were sent up through a hole in the ceiling at a mall where we cleaned out old boxes. A particularly beautiful job entailed “braiding” small transparent tubes down a wall at a temporary closed factory while the sun was shining through ceiling windows which made the tubes glitter like glass. No idea what that job was about. We did anything from cleaning to preparing food to clearing a building site to factory work to hauling fish to painting to looking after animals to-

And if you like dressing your characters up you’re going to love this; our company didn’t have their own uniform because we were always dressed in the uniforms of the companies we were hired out to, or the companies would dress us in work appropriate clothes like overalls or aprons. I was once handed a cute long dress to wear while I sold pancakes.

I realize some of it sounds dangerous but it was all perfectly safe. Sometimes companies just needed extra help with something for a few days. The only reason why I stopped was because the work wasn’t stable and you never knew how far you’d have to travel to the next job. It was fun though.

[deadsetobsessions]

“Did this place pick up a ghost when I was dead or something?”

Tim whipped his head towards Jason, who looked mildly perturbed.

“You too?!” Tim demanded.

“What?”

“The ghost! I kept thinking it was a hallucination, you know? But even when I laid off of the caffeine, there’d be a fucking shadow at the edge of my vision! At night! You saw it too, right?” Tim rambled, increasingly agitated. “It even moves the fucking coffee mugs! I know where I left my favorite mug, and it sure as hell wasn’t in the sink!”

Jason blinked at him, face morphing into concern.

“Replacement, when was the last time you got some sleep?”

Tim inhaled. “Jason, I swear to god I will replace all of the shampoo in your twenty six safe houses with glitter glue if you don’t tell me whether you saw it or not.”

Jason nodded immediately. In his defense, Tim grew up to be a scary motherfucker. Diabolical little shit would have been a fucking terrifying villain.

“I knew it.”

——

Danny hummed. Tim was going to freak when he found his cowl three inches to the left.

He merrily avoided all of the set up cameras by simply going invisible and intangible, save for his arms that he uses to sweep the cowl to the side.

He could hear the static on the cameras. Danny grinned. Operation Gaslight, Ghostkeep, Girlboss is on.

——

“Tim-” Dick started, only to be cut short by Tim whirling around and jabbing a painful finger into his chest.

“You owe me this, for that Arkham comment when B went missing.”

Dick raised his hands in surrender, guilt flaring.

“Drake, what kind of pointless scheme are you getting us in, now?”

“Not now, demon brat.” Jason elbows the kid. “Just go along with it.”

“Look.”

“Well. I guess we were right, yeah, Tim?” Duke muttered, eyeing the moved cowl. “My ghost-sight isn’t seeing anything. Not even wind movement.”

“What’s going on, boys?”

“B, there’s a ghost in the manor.”

“He’s freaking out because it moved his coffee mug like three times.” Steph chimed in.

——

“Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you seen anything weird, lately?”

Danny tilted his head. “No…?”

“Not even in the house?” Jason asked.

“Shadows? Anything?” Dick asked, eye bags prominent on the normally exuberant man. Danny snickered inwardly. They’ve been up for three days trying to “catch” the ghost.

“Uh. I mean the floorboards creak sometimes? But in terms of shadows… I think I saw them outside? Kind of looked like Batman, actually. But my eyesight gets bad at night. Why?”

Danny could see in the dark just fine.

“Nothing! Let me know if you see anything, okay?”

“Uh. Sure? Maybe you guys should… get some sleep?”

“Uh-huh.”

The bats file out of his room.

——

Danny locked glowing green eyes with Tim and Dick. He did some quick thinking and contorted his ectoplasm into something more grotesque.

“Kkkhggggghkkkkeeee!!!” He screeched.

“AHHHHHHHHHH!” The two of them screamed, both bolting and throwing things at him. It was impressive how fast they backpedaled.

“That was close,” Danny muttered. He quickly scribbled on Damian’s whiteboard with conspiracy theories and dipped before the rest of the bats came thundering.

He fell into a light sleep just as Stephanie checked up on him, work done.

[luveline]

𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐳, 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Eddie has a staring problem that you barely notice, though you share an aching, awful crush. One of you has to bend first, and it’s not who you’d expect. fem, 5k 

ditzy-ish reader, pining eddie, mutual pining, confessions, first kisses, fluff and hugging, idiots in love, mild states of undress

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

It’s a day fit for a funeral in Hawkins. Rain hammers his bedroom window like hailstones, plinking against the frame, condensation running down the panes in thick rivulets he soaks up with an old t-shirt. 

It’s supposed to be spring time. Green grass, flowers, a gentle humming sun to warm the back of his neck while he sits out on the couch on the porch, a hand-rolled cigarette between his fingers, the tip shimmering with heat. 

But the rain pours. He’s cleaned his room for the first time in a month, at least, and his back aches in the best way as he lays down amongst fresh sheets. His room feels strange when it’s organised, but he doesn’t mind. He pictures the state of it through a second pair of eyes. This is a boy who cares about things, who takes care of them, who could take care of me, too. 

Rain again rackets on the metal roof above. He and Wayne keep a couple hundred bucks stashed for the day the roof flies straight off —they take turns hiding it, because cars break down and groceries get more expensive every year, but god will they need it, and so they safeguard it well. 

He syphoned a little of the money recently with Wayne’s support. It was for a good cause. 

“Jesus,” Eddie murmurs to himself, not tired but feeling dull as the clouds outside eat the remaining sun. 

It’s depressing to be poor, and to lose a day trying to hide the evidence of an entire life in a small room. He could sleep a hundred years. 

He’s just finished pulling the sheets over his shoulder when somebody knocks on the front door. Wayne opens it three rooms away, the sound of the rain doubled. 

He gives a startling shout, “Ed! Your girl!” 

Eddie topples out of bed. Doesn’t mean to, foot caught in the bottom of the sheets and stuck as he scrambles to slide out of the mess. He’s begged Wayne not to call you that when you’re within earshot, but Wayne’s a mean (kind) old bastard (middle aged dad) who wants Eddie dead (happy, and in love). 

“Come on in, girl. You’re soaking.” 

“It’s raining.” 

“It’s pouring down. Did you walk here?” 

“Took my bike. Thought I’d get struck by lightning in the car.” 

“How’d you figure?” 

Eddie goes to grab the door handle and spins on his heel, staggering onto his bed and up against the wall, where a mirrored tray once used by Dio himself for rolling hangs from the wall. He checks his face in the polished surface, his warped mouth and nose, too small eyes, and swears to himself that one day he’ll get a real mirror with a fully-functioning reflective surface. 

Then he hops down off of the bed, causing a reverberation he knows traverses the entirety of the trailer floor. Eddie snatches a rare clean towel from his laundry chair and speeds down the hall. 

“Hello,” he says, more casual than he feels to find you unexpectedly in his house. “You’re soaked.” 

You give a sweet smile. “It’s raining out, did you not know?” 

Your hair is dripping, water racing down the curves of your face to collect at your chin. Eddie can see the smudges of your makeup where it’s washing off as he wraps a towel around you, kohl on your cheeks, eyelashes turned to half-diamonds and sticky-looking. You grin at being covered, taking the towel from his fingers before he can dab you dry. 

“Why didn’t you just call me?”’

“I can never remember if your phone number ends in three or four.” 

“Seven. I wrote it down for you a hundred times.” 

You rub your eyes and spread all manner of glitter and shadow over your skin. You wipe your neck and the glitter spreads like an alien rash. 

When you talk next, you shiver, “I lost it a hundred times, sorry. Is it okay that I'm here?” 

Wayne, who’s been watching with a distinct sense of amusement from the couch, lets out a chesty laugh. “Honey, it’s always okay that you’re here on my account. And it’s my house.” 

“It’s fine.” Eddie turns your shoulder so he can mouth over it without being caught. Asshole. 

Another laugh follows. Eddie would cut each of his fingers from his hand and then his hand from his wrist if it were something Wayne needed him to do, but that doesn’t make him any less of an opportunistic asshole. If there’s a way to fuck with Eddie, he tends to try it. He loves Eddie with all the tenacity of a father who loves his son, but Wayne got infected with little bitch disease or something and Eddie can’t cure it. 

“Can I please wash my face? I didn’t expect to get soaked.” 

“Didn’t you?” He regrets his flippancy quickly, leading you down the hall. “You could take a shower. What do you think?” 

You’ve never showered here, but Eddie’s trying to, you know, date you. Romance you, get to cherish you, however anyone wants to say it. And it’s not a war of attrition, just a natural escalation of sharing, or a minimising of boundaries. 

No, that’s pervy, isn’t it? 

“I mean–” He starts to correct himself. 

You interrupt with your answer, “Yes, please, do you think I could? But I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I have your purple hoodie in my room, and there’s gotta be a pair of sweatpants here that fit you,” he says. 

They’ve got a whole bunch of clothes here that floated in from somewhere else, Eddie’s other friends or stuff they’ve bought by mistake. He’s sure he can find something.

“You have my hoodie?” you ask, black kohl spreading across the towel as you wipe your cheek. 

Eddie only smelled it one time. When he’d realised you left it in his van he brought it in and folded it, waiting for the next time he’d see you to give it back, but that night he’d been getting out of the shower wondering if he could call you or if that was too soon, and your hoodie had been right there. So he stood there in his pyjama pants with his wet hair and he didn’t think about picking your hoodie up, he just did, and when he pressed it to his face it still smelled of your perfume. 

He put it back and felt like a loser for days.

“It’s in my closet, you left it in the van Monday,” he explains quickly, nudging you through the doorway of the bathroom. 

The Munson bathroom is teeny tiny but not unnavigable. There’s a shower pressed to the far wall that could squeeze in two people, their toilet to the right, a sink basin opposite that with a medicine cabinet and just enough room for a dirty laundry box that’s always, always full. 

Eddie opens the shower and turns it on. “It takes a while to get really hot but then it’s not hot for long, sorry. There’s my shampoo if you want it, and soap, and body wash. Sorry, none of it is super girly.” 

“Sorry sorry,” you say, pretending to hit him in the stomach. “What’s with all the sorries, handsome? I can’t wait to smell like a boy.” 

The way you say it. Eddie doesn’t know what it is, but it’s why he’s crazy about you. 

Probably shouldn’t tell you that as you're taking off your jacket, though. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says. 

Eddie heads out of the bathroom to their skinny linen cabinet hidden in the hallway. He grabs the last two towels from the middle shelf and takes pause, fabric starchy in his hands. Just be normal, he thinks, a pep talk from Eddie to Eddie. She hangs out with you all the time for a reason. She held your hand at the movies. 

Eddie’s in better spirits when he remembers that. Your hand in his, your ring pushing his ring further down his finger, your cheek touching his shoulder as you’d leaned in and asked if he wanted some of your popcorn. 

He opens the door without thinking, shower pattering against the perspex wall, your legs crossing tightly as he enters, turning yourself away from him.

“Woah!” you say, laughing.

“Holy crap.” The image of your red underwear immediately stamps itself into his mind as he pulls the door shut between you. They were really cute, red and white gingham, showcasing just the slightest curve of your– “I told you I was coming back!” 

“I thought you’d knock!” you laugh. “Sorry I flashed you. At least I had my shirt on.” 

At least, he thinks wryly, shoving his arm through the gap in the door, heavy towels pulling at his fingers. His head’s about to snap off, it's turned so far away from the door’s opening. “Here.” 

“If you wanna see me naked so bad you can just ask,” you tease. 

“Take the towels, loser.” 

You take the towels and he closes the door, preventing any more accidental creeping, and giving himself a reprieve. Gingham underwear. Wavy lettuce edgings kissing your skin. 

Holy fuck. Being a person is so lame, Eddie thinks. He wants to have a crush on you purely, and yet seeing the way you’d crossed your legs to hide from him, smiling, he can’t not think about kissing you —touching you. If he doesn’t get you laid out in his bed soon for some slow kissing he’s not gonna make it.

Eddie opens the strip vent above his window and prays it doesn’t flood his whole room. Clean, it doesn’t look half bad, he could bring you in here respectfully, you could stay the night without fearing for your life. 

You take a quick shower. He’s barely gotten over his nerves when you’re walking into his room, a towel around you, not a hint of shyness about you. 

“You didn’t bring me anything to wear,” you explain. 

Eddie just stares at you. 

“Eddie?” You wrap the towel tighter. “Come on, you’re staring at me.”

“Sorry.” His mouth is bone dry. 

“You have my hoodie, right? Just need some pants.” You cross your arm tightly across your chest. “I don’t usually notice when people are staring at me.”

“You aren’t usually naked in my room,” he says, genuinely and embarrassingly apologetic. 

“I’m not naked. Come on, please? Do I have to wait outside the door?” you ask with a laugh. 

Eddie stands up. Shakes his head hard, almost trips over himself trying to get to his dresser. He decides honesty will be best at this point, lest you think he has only one thing on his mind, “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m just in my head about something and I wasn’t expecting you to come out like that. It’s not right. You’re just… you’re really pretty.” 

“Thank you.” He can’t see you, sorting quickly through his middle drawer and all his miscellaneous pants for a pair he’s sure would fit, if he could just remember where it was. “What are you in your head about?” 

“What?” 

“Eddie, are you okay?” 

“No, no,” he moans, rubbing his face with his hand, ring scratching the bridge of his nose, “I’m not okay, princess, I’m overheating or something, Jesus Christ.” He finally lays eyes on the sweatpants he’d been thinking of, grabs your hoodie from the top shelf and drops them both at the end of the bed. “I’ll give you some privacy.” 

“I don’t have any underwear.” 

“And that’s something I can’t fix,” he says, leaving the room in a hurry. 

Eddie gets to the living room and keels over. His hair falls in his face, his shirt slides down his back. What the fuck is wrong with him? 

Wayne, sliding his shoes on in the recliner, gives a start. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie lifts his head, yanking hair from his face, the skin of his under eyes pulled down harshly. “Oh my god.”

Wayne wrinkles his nose. 

“No ones ever been such a pathetic excuse for a man before,” Eddie says. 

“Your dad’s in jail,” Wayne points out. “And not for the impressive stuff.”

“I’m pathetic.” 

“You’re fine. You’re not supposed to be not pathetic, you’re twenty.” 

“I’m twenty one.” 

“The extra year doesn’t mean much. I know you think you’re all grown up, but you’re still an idiot.” 

Wayne stands and shrugs on the jacket laying over the armrest. 

“Wait, where are you going?” 

“I thought you were definitely gonna ask her?” Wayne asks knowingly. That’s what Eddie told him, after all. “Next time I see her, Wayne, I’m asking her to go steady.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “You can’t leave.” 

“Eddie.” Wayne gestures for Eddie to stop slouching like some fiend from a bad horror. “Listen. I get that you’ve always been sort of… behind everyone, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do it. She likes you. She biked here in a hurricane.”

“What if she says no?” he asks. 

Truthfully, Eddie’s more scared of you saying yes. 

Wayne shrugs. “Girl like that’ll still be your friend after. It’ll be fine, okay? Do you need a hug before I go?” 

“No.” Eddie rubs his eyes some more, sore now from being touched. “Maybe.” 

Wayne crosses the room to give his shoulder a squeeze. “It will be fine. You’re great with rejection, Eds, but I have a good feeling about this one.” 

Eddie felt better about it, before he embarrassed himself staring at you. But Wayne’s right, even if Eddie’s read things wrong between you, he’s sure you’ll still want to be his friend. You and Eddie are the same kind of weird, though he’s more angry where you’re carefree. If everything goes wrong, you’ll probably just give an unnecessary apology and offer to braid his hair. Which will be torture, but Eddie’ll still say yes.

Wayne calls goodbye, and you shout, “Bye, Mr. Munson!” to which Wayne wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Get lost,” Eddie says. 

“Go make her a drink. I’ll see you later.” 

That’s not a bad idea. Eddie makes you a mix of orange and grapefruit juice with a couple of ice cubes and a plastic straw, your reaction predicted and then proved. 

“It’s a cocktail,” you say, pleased, sitting on the side of his bed. 

“It’s not a cocktail, just juice.” 

“Can I have some socks, please, Eddie?” 

Eddie passes you your drink, fingertips brushing. “Yeah. Anything else?” He pretends to be exhausted as he trudges back over to his dresser. 

You laugh and sip your drink. “No, I think you’re treating me quite well.” 

Eddie grabs a random pair and finally gets to sit down beside you, the dresser drawer left out, a spare sock fallen to the floor. You shuffle back into his pillows, propping your juice on his side table, and holding your hands out for the socks. Again, your fingertips touch his as he passes them to you. You seem to enjoy it, a smile lighting your face as you pull your knees up to put the socks on. 

“Thank you for waiting on me,” you say quietly. Not shyly, just quiet. 

“You’re welcome. Came all this way to see me, didn’t you?” He gives you a shove. You shuffle back further. “In the pouring rain.” 

“It felt important at the time.” 

“Yeah?” 

You get the socks on and don’t care about them once they're past your heels. Eddie does the honour of smoothing out the bands so that the elastic won’t dig into your skin, and when he’s done he can feel you looking at him heavily. You’re not one for continued eye contact, but you smile like you were waiting for it all day, like it’s a relief to see him. 

“Bad weather,” you say, slouching down. “I think I’m still wet on the inside.” 

“Gross,” Eddie says, pushing you over bodily to sit beside you. This isn’t new, he doesn’t need any nerves, and he’s grateful when they don’t come. “Here, I’ll pull the blanket over you.” 

“Can’t move,” you say, leaning back against the pillows.

Eddie stretches his legs out. You keep yours up, but you turn to his side, and before he can really make any sense of you, you’re dropping your face into his shoulder. 

“Are you still cold?” he asks, searching for the truth in your strange comment. 

You nod into his shoulder. “I’m freezing. The shower didn’t get very hot.” 

“Sorry,” he says, letting his cheek rest on your head. 

You lift your chin as he does it, his lashes pressed to your forehead, the two of you stuck together like two warped jigsaw pieces. You probably weren’t made to be together, but you make a nice picture, and you fit snugly now. That’s what Eddie thinks. 

This is the sort of moment that makes Eddie wanna ask you out. Maybe you’re just the best friend he’s ever had, but something about this closeness feels different. You wrap your arm around his stomach in a hug and he knows this is different. 

“It’s okay,” you say finally, sighing as you shift downward into his side, getting comfortable. 

“Please don’t bike here in the rain. It’s, like, torrential. You could actually get sick.” 

You feel warm where your body presses against his, but Eddie doubts that’ll make a difference if the cold already made you sick. The bike ride from your place to his isn't short. He covers your arm with his and tries to be your space heater, cheek sliding over your forehead. 

“Eddie…” You hug him with tenderness. Eddie’s reluctant to say cuddle, but it’s close. “This might be a surprise to you, but I think it’s worth the rain and the cold to see you. Especially when you do this.” 

“What am I doing?” 

“You’re rubbing my arm.” 

He hadn’t noticed his hand caressing up and down your arm where it rests on his stomach. 

“You make me feel amazing,” you say, dropping your face into his chest. 

That’s his last straw. Eddie gets both arms around you and cuddles you (it’s a cuddle, okay! he’s a loser!) to him, arms tight but not cruel. All this fuss and you’re finally laying on top of him. He decides he won’t ask you after all. He’s not that brave, and he doesn’t want this to end. 

Your legs fall onto him. You relax completely. Even after you shower he can smell your perfume. 

“You smell nice,” he murmurs. 

“It’s on my hoodie,” you murmur back. 

Right. Eddie should remember. 

“You make everything smell like you.” Even his van keeps your scent most days. 

“Too much?” 

“The right amount,” he says firmly. 

You lay on his chest for a while, just breathing. Eddie rubs your back, tells himself he will ask, actually, because he can’t imagine not getting to do this again. You might even stay over. He could live hours of this. He didn’t know having you lay on him could make him feel like this. 

He can’t believe you’ve never done it before. 

Rain pounds the window. Condensation drips down onto the sill. You let your legs stretch out flat and then manoeuvre to be laying half atop him, hoodie riding up your back. 

“Any warmer now?” he asks.

“Yeah, you’re warming me up.” You lavish in his arms for a moment, and then lift your face. “Oh, this is a bad angle.” 

“For me or you?” 

“For me, duh.” 

Eddie doesn’t think you could have a bad angle. He rubs at your upper arm as you start to shift. “You know, your bike has just as big a chance of getting hit by lightning as your car does. More, probably.” 

“You think so?” 

“It’s physics. So, please don’t do it again.” 

You hum. “Hm, should I risk getting struck by lightning, or spend the evening without you?” you murmur, your arm moving, moving slowly, your hand resting gently on the column of his neck. There’s something ironic in your voice, wry, but your eyes are warm. He’s paralysed. No one has ever spoken to him like you. “I think I’d rather get struck by lightning.” 

You stare at one another. He laughs. You join in, your thumb a pressure at his neck, and when you move up his chest to lean in, he isn’t expecting it. 

“We’re very close together,” you whisper. 

“Super close,” he whispers back. 

“…Eddie, can I ask you something?” Your eyes slip shut, your lips so close that something in him aches, just enough wit about him to cup your shoulders in his forearm. 

“Yeah.” 

He doesn’t sound half as calm as you do. 

“Would you… Do you think we could be official? Would you want that?” You tilt your head to the side. “Is that stupid?” 

“Official?” he asks, panicked, his eyes squeezed shut hard enough for a moment that they ache.

“Like, you’d be my boyfriend. I’d be your girlfriend. We’d be close like this all the time.” 

Eddie panics so hard he just says the first thing that comes into his head, “Like, we’d kiss?” 

“I hope so,” you say, your nose pressing against his, the tip to the side of his, and then against his nostril. The heat of your breath is hard to ignore. “What do you think?” 

What does Eddie think about it? 

He catches your lips in a slow kiss. Achingly slow, not even sure it’s a kiss until you reciprocate, and your fingers dig behind his neck to tease his hair. Your lips part against his, the heat of your tongue sudden and undeniable —Eddie didn’t know you had it in you. He squeezes you to him, attempting to crane his neck downward, reliant on your enthusiasm as you move up, as you use his neck to pull yourself closer. 

Your noses crush together, and it actually hurts. “Sorry,” he says, easing you back, “you okay?” 

“‘Nother kiss,” you say hopefully, distractedly. 

He can’t not give it to you. 

Your hand spreads flat against his chest and you kiss, you kiss, long and slow movements against him before turning your head to take it again. Eddie doesn’t always know what to do with himself, but he knows kissing, no matter what anybody might think about him, and he takes the lead. 

His hand screws into a fist against your hoodie, the slip of your back further exposed as you shiver into his mouth, a sound you shouldn’t make sweet on his tongue. 

You pull away, breath on his lips. “Wanted you to kiss me for so long,” you murmur. 

Eddie knows you’re not saying it to flirt, and that makes it worse. 

“I should’ve kissed you a long time ago,” he says roughly. 

“You wanted to?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, so much, I’m a loser about you–”

“I’m always a loser,” you interrupt, “but especially about you.” 

You scratch your fingers through his hair, encouraging his head down for another kiss. This one rougher but not rough, his arm slips finally behind your head where he’d needed it to be, hooking you in his elbow to keep you in one place. To kiss you soundly, without interruption. Your almost feverish ebbing inward is a dream, your nose rubbing up against his is a fantasy. 

His heart hammers and hammers at his ribs. 

You pull away to let him breathe. “You’re very excited,” you tease lightly. 

Eddie kisses you, breathless. He kisses you so much he’s surprised you allow it, but your thumb rubs his cheek, and he knows he’d been right all along. You want him like he wants you, with startling, mildly pathetic urgency. 

He feels like a fucking prince. Girl of his dreams in his lap, everything he wants, and he didn’t even have to ask. 

—

Eddie spends a week in bliss. You’re suddenly everywhere, all the time, attached to his hip or some other part of him, and he forgets for seven whole days that he bought you a ring. 

The rain dries up, the Munson emergency fund lives to die another day, and he remembers the ring only minutes before you’re knocking at his door. 

He trips over himself trying to answer it before Wayne, who’s taken to being as painfully embarrassing as is possible for one human being, can get it for him. 

“One day you’re gonna eat shit and break your nose,” Wayne says. 

Eddie yanks open the door. “Yeah, thanks. Hey, beautiful, what’s with the sunglasses?” 

You slide them down your nose. You’re a vision on his front step, not that you’d ever notice your own intrigue. “The sunglasses?” you ask, tucking them away. “What do you think they’re for? Three guesses.” 

He grabs your waist, leaning down out of the doorway so as to save Wayne the agony. “That’s smart,” he says, kissing you quickly in hello. “You’re funny. Need anything before we go?” 

“No, I’m okay. Hi, Mr. Munson!” you add.

“Hey, honey! How are you?” Wayne calls.

You look up into Eddie’s face with an obvious delight. “I’ve never been better.” 

Eddie grins back. 

He waves a quick goodbye to Wayne and then he’s out the door. You grab his wrist and practically dance him to the car, where you offer your keys, and he deigns to drive. From there it’s smooth sailing, familiarity with a better twist, Eddie driving with the windows down and your hands twined on your thigh. Things haven’t changed much since you asked him to go steady, there’s just a whole lot more of this. Touching, kissing, no weird guilt about staring. 

As it turns out, you’re as eager to be laid out in his bed as he is to lay you out. He’s never wanted to kiss you more, and now he’s allowed. 

“Eyes on the road.” 

He leans over to kiss your cheek. The sun has warmed your skin, and his kiss makes you smile. You look pretty no matter the weather. 

“Before we get there, I have something to give you.” He takes his hand from yours to slide the box from his pocket. He holds it up. “But you can only have it if you swear you’ll call me tonight before bed. No excuses. You know exactly what number to call.” 

“Ends with a three,” you say, nodding. 

He sighs. “No, it does not.” 

“I’m kidding! Two one nine seven, I have now committed it to memory.” 

Eddie pays attention to the road, though it’s clear and long heading out of the trailer park and into town. “That deserves a gift.” 

You’re back in your glitters today, a skirt to enjoy the fine weather, a button shirt with a cute triangle collar, you’re lovely as ever, if a tad much for some. Not Eddie. He loves the dark clothes, the tinkling bracelets, the fun way you smile like everything he says is a secret between him and you. People stare wherever you and Eddie go, but as long your arm is sewn through his he couldn’t care less. 

“A gift,” you say, smiling in your way, and taking the box politely. “I don’t think I deserve it for just remembering your number.” 

“You deserved it for less. It’s not much. You can pay me back in three or four amazing kisses. Right here.” He points to the tight juncture beneath his jaw. 

You attempt to lean over and kiss him immediately. He pushes you back, laughing, worsened by your own breathless laughter as you steal one exactly where he’d tapped. 

You settle back down, Eddie’s hand dropping kindly to your knee. “I wonder what it is,” you say. 

“Then open it.” 

“I am!” You pop the box open, it’s springing hinge snapping into place. “Oh, woah. Woah. Where did you get this?” 

It’s a slim ring, with a weirdly shaped band of quality metal around some cheaper but not totally worthless gemstones, of which there are three different colours: a topaz orange, a lime green, and a pinky-red ruby colour centre stage. They have nice cuts. It’s strange as you are, and he knew when he saw it you’d have to have it. 

“If I put it on my marriage finger, are we engaged?” you tease. 

“That one would be way heavier,” he says, giving you a squeeze. 

You slide it onto your middle finger and hold your hand up in the sunshine. It fits in with your other ring nicely, though it is, to Eddie’s pride, far prettier. 

He has half a mind to pull over and kiss each knuckle, but he’s trying to be less dramatic about you. It’s not working. 

“Thank you, Eddie. I love it.” 

“Best boyfriend ever?” he asks hopefully. 

To his mild fear but better pleasure, you climb up onto the console to press three quick kisses to his cheek and jaw, your hand under his ear holding him in tender place. “Best boyfriend ever. Even if you stare too much.” 

“How am I supposed to not?” he asks, with more weight than he’s intended. 

You speak matter of factly for the first time in your life. “I am going to cause an accident,” you promise, attempting to kiss his nose. “A bad one.” 

“Sit down, please.” He lets you kiss his nose, and then jabs you in the side. “Sit down, oh my god! That’s not funny, you’re so pretty I will total your car.” 

“Now who’s not funny?” 

You both laugh at the same time, the unfiltered, un-cute cackling of two idiots with the same sense of humour, and the same wealth of ridiculous honeymoon love. 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed. if you did, please consider reblogging or commenting!! thanks very much <3

[maiko-san]

Catnap + Dogday x Reader ( Part 2 )

<<< Part 1 , Part 3 >>>

Relationship: Fluff

Character focused: Dogday, Fem! Reader

Plot : You're giving Dogday a groom after he got himself covered in mud.

A/n : I will try to include the other Smiling Critters in here, they deserve love too.

A month has passed and things went on normally with your life. All the Smiling Critters get a minor check up everyday either by you or other coworkers.

These mascots work with children 24/7, they often are climbed on, tugged around or have paints/food stuck on their fur.

"I guess that's all of it"

"Oooh! My mane looks even prettier and shiny than before!"

You just finished cleaning up Craftycorn from all the glitters and paint off her white coat and cyan hair. Which took you half an hour to clean.

You put on a pink bow on her braided mane so she looks cuter.

"I really love how you do my mane! You know, we should do this more often! You're so creative, just like ME!"

" *chuckles* I'm glad that you like it, Craftycorn but I am NOT that creative as you are"

You dismiss the unicorn and give a handful of candy for her to enjoy. You call in the other mascot and Dogday pops his head in.

The dog is covered in mud from head to toe.

"Now, what did you get yourself into this time, Dogday?"

It was the third time this week.

Dogday only looks away, both hands on his back as he kicks his feet.

"KickinChicken and I got carried away while playing football, sorry..." /he lied.

You quirk an eyebrow, you know Dogday is really bad at lying. There are no muds at the football field since the field has fake grass carpet.

You wonder where he got all the mud from....oh well.

To Dogday, he likes being around you and wants to see you everyday but the other staff members didn't let him. Not even for a bit.

So the only way for the smiling critters to see you was to getting themselves dirty, either by accident or on purpose.

For Dogday, he did it on purpose so he could see you.

You usher the mascot on to the large bathtub so you could wash him up. You run the warm water over his body and rinsing the mud from his fur.

You know that they can clean themselves up but they seem to prefer having you to clean them.

It's a lot of work to clean a two story high mascot but it's fun.

You and the smiling critters would have a conversation, sometimes the smiling critters would tell them about their days.

Like a child telling their parents what they do at school.

"How's your day at the play care today?"

"It's really fun! We do a lot of things!"

"Oh, really? Tell me all about it. I'm curious"

"We play tag, we play hide n seek, we play red light green light with everyone! It was fun!"

"Did you have fun playing football with KickinChicken?"

"Oh, yes I did! The football was fun but what's even more fun is when you play in the mud!"

"Oh, really? KickinChicken just came a few hours ago and he told me he had fun playing skateboard"

"I—"

"Ha! Gotcha!"

You smirk as Dogday hangs his head down slightly. You scrub off the dirt from his ear and tell him that it's fine if he wants to see you.

Just don't get himself dirty all the time.

"The other staffs doesn't let me see you..."

"And why is that?"

"They said you stole their work...."

"....."

Recently your coworker has been glaring behind your back, gossiping and telling you to quit your job. Saying you were proud of your work which you never at all.

It is not entirely your fault that the mascots prefer you over them.

You knew how these mascots were treated before. It was during your interview at the playcare and your manager gave you a tour around the place.

You witnessed how the maintenance workers strapped these mascots in a tiny space and treated them like a wild animal.

"It is our fault wasn't it?"

"No, it's not. I'll deal with that matter myself and it is not yours to worry, alright"

You gave the canine mascot an assuring pat on the head which he leans into and his tail wagging behind him. You continue with your work and dry him in the blower machine and then you begin to groom his fur.

You notice that his fur had gotten longer by the day, so you decide to give him a little trim.

You hold his large paw, combing out the matted fur and snip some of them so it looks neat.

You did the same thing with his ears and chests.

Dogday watches you do you work, out of all staffs in this place. You are the nicest and the most gentle out of all staffs. You never strap them down or keep them in a small cage.

You treat them like a real person.

Like they used to be.

Dogday wants more from you, he wants to feel loved by someone. Someone that cares for him and everyone's well being unlike those scientists....

You care for him, so he will do the same to you.

You are his angel, after all....

"Alright, everything's done!"

You fix his collar and give his pendant a little shine. You decide to wrap a red scarf around his neck to compliment his orange colour.

"Is this for me, angel?"

"Yeah, it suits you well"

Dogday brings you into a tight hug, with his tail wagging aggressively behind his back. It seems the canine couldn't contain his excitement.

I mean, who doesn't like gifts? Especially from someone you like!

"Thank you! I will cherish it, always!"

"You're welcome, bud"

A/n : Since the first chapter received a good amount of views, here is the second chapter for all of you, sweeties!

I will assume that Dogday is the oldest out of all Smiling Critters, maybe around 13-15. We don't have a clue who Dogday really is but I decided to make him one of the older orphans.

Also, all the Smiling Critters in my stories share sibling relationships! and the reader is their oldest sibling or maybe parent figure! ☺️

[satorusugurugurl]

Can you please make something like y/n losing her virginity to Gojo and when she wakes up she misunderstood that Gojo just wanted to have one night stand and as he never make contact with any of his one night stand, so y/n left writing some notes for him. But Gojo genuinely loved her and then he searched for her finding y/n passed out somewhere or finding her getting attacked by some cursed spirit.

🥹🥹

First Time

Summary: You lose your virginity to you friend and co-worker, the strongest sorcerer of the modern age; Gojo Satoru

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x FAB!R

Word Count: 5,848 (oops!)

Warning: loss of virginity, mentions of drinking, fingering, jerking off, oral sex, smut, fights, assault, choking (not the fun kind)

A/N: Well this, this was a lot of fun! 😂💚 I got super into it Nonnie!! Thank you! Enjoy!!

“No, absolutely not. That is a terrible idea.” your best friend and colleague looked you in the eyes, not once breaking contact.

“What do you mean it’s a bad idea? Do you think he has something?”

“Do you honestly think I would know if that man had any sexually transmitted diseases?”

“Well, you’re saying it’s a bad idea. So I was just curious as to why you think that is.”

Nanami let out an aggravated sigh, “I don't think I know it’s a bad idea. I went to high school with the man, for God's sake. He is a serial cherry popper.” your best friend took a sip of his beer, aching his head as he did.

“So he has some experience in doing so.”

You ran your finger over the rim of your margarita glass. You were ignoring the cold, judging eyes of your best friend. Nanami knew you had a crush on Gojo for the last few years. The two of you were constantly flirting with each other, and just recently, he had gotten a little more touchy-feely with you, rubbing your shoulders and brushing his hand against yours. He went as far as to kiss your cheek. Nanami knew what he was playing at. The blue-eyed menace was buttering you up; he saw you as his next target.

“It doesn’t matter if he has experience. If you’re looking for anyone with experience, you could always come to me,” he whispered. Thank God that you were a little too out of it to notice what he said. He was trying to make a point; you both were nothing more than friends. The point he was trying to make, though, was that if you were that desperate to lose your virginity, you could always rely on him. “Gojo is notorious for having one-night stands. He’ll get what he wants and be gone the next day.”

“Do you know that for a fact?” Frustration began to rise in your chest. “ or is that just part of the rumor train?”

Nanami wasn’t sure how to answer that. He hadn’t personally met any of Gojo’s past relationships. He did know that several women had claimed he had popped their cherries and left the next day. So, of course, he was nervous for you. Nanami could see the glittering glaze in your eyes whenever you looked at Gojo. You were so into him it was almost painful.

“Rumor train,” Nanami confessed, looking away and“Then it’s settled!” despite your best friend's warnings, you got up and headed straight to the bar where the Gojo Satoru stood.“Hey Gojo.”

Your colleague and massive crush turned to look down at you. His hair was a fluffy mess, his dark sunglasses shielded, his beautiful eyes from you., and he had a smile on his face that could give anyone cavities. You both had been flirting with each other nonstop for the last three months. You have been waiting to see if he would be the one to ask you to go home with him, but you were tired of waiting.

“Hey, sweetheart~ having fun?” He took a sip of his soda.

“I'd be having a lot more fun if you took me back to my place.”

Satoru choked, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he coughed into his fist. Regardless of his initial reaction, you could see the desire in his eyes. He wanted as bad as you. The constant flirting, lingering eye contact, and subtle touches had brought you both here. Were you, for the first time in your life, inviting a man to come back to your apartment to have sex?

Losing your virginity didn’t have to be special. You were fine as long as it was with somebody who knew what they were doing. From how Satoru acted, there was no doubt in your mind that he knew how to please a woman. It was your virginity, and you chose to give it to Gojo Satoru.

“Seriously? Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of something in my entire life. So what do you say? Wanna come to my place?”

There had been no questions asked. Satoru grabbed your hand and led you out of the bar and back to your apartment. That’s how you found yourself being slammed against the elevator door, Satoru’s mouth eagerly moving against yours in a fiery kiss. His hands reached up, massaging your breasts, causing mewls pleasure to leave your mouth.

“Fuuuck, oh fuck.” Satoru growled, his lips pressed against yours eagerly in between each word. “You have the most perfect tits.” His tongue gently flicked over your bottom lip, and the second you opened it for him, his tongue was in your mouth, gently moving against yours.

The raw carnal need behind his caresses of your skin and the way his lips moved against yours had you dizzy. Never once in your life had you ever felt so desired. Satoru wanted, but no, it was more like he needed you. Knowing that had your panties soaking wet.

“Oh fuck, Toru.” As Satoru’s fingers slid under your shirt, trailing over your heated skin, you arched your back off the cold middle of the elevator. “T-Toru~”

“Fuck you’re so goddamn hot.” Lips latched onto your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin there. “You taste like a fucking gourmet meal~, and that's just your skin.” he took your earlobe between his teeth, nipping on it. “Can't wait to taste that cunt. I bet she's already wet~.”

His long fingers slid under your bra, brushing over your hardened nipples, rubbing the sensitive buds. “I-I’m so wet, so fucking wet.” Satoru hummed in your ear, and one of his sinfully skilled hands trailed down, slipping into your pants. “Holy shit!” you cried out as his long fingers gently rubbed over your throbbing clit.

“Oh fuck, you weren't kidding.” His fingers rub and tease your sensitive clit. “You’re soaked.” soaked was an understatement. Fisting his jacket, you bury your head in his shoulder as he trails his fingers lower, teasing your tight virgin entrance through your panties.

“F-Fuck, oh fuck.” Satoru pulls back, glancing down at you as the elevator reaches your floor.

“Your pussy is throbbing.”

“I need you, Satoru. Need you so bad it hurts.”

His soft pink lips find yours again in a searing kiss as he pulls his hand out of your pants. “Then take me home so I can take care of you.” Not needing to be told twice, you grab his wrist, dragging him to your apartment.

The second you're inside, Satoru kicks the door shut with his foot, hands locking it before they grab you. He is slamming you back into the wall of your entryway. His fingers make quick work of your shirt, unbuttoning it, tossing it to the side, his lips never once leaving yours, leaving you a breathless mess. He pulls back, giving you a chance to gulp down ark, as he pulls his shirt off, allowing you to run your hands down his toned abs.

“Bedroom?” he asks, lips attacking your neck as he lofts you off the ground.

Your legs wrap around him as he starts blindly moving forward. “First door on the left,” Satoru growls against your skin, turning right. “T-Toru, that's the bathroom, left!” The extremely sexy man grunts in response, making a swift left, nearly sending you tumbling over.

“Sor-” kiss, “sorry, I just can't wait to get inside of you.” The man you’ve had the biggest crush on for years tosses you onto your bed. Satoru doesn't even give you a chance to react; his hands unbutton your pants, yanking them down. “Fuck you smell so fucking good.”

He’s trailing kisses up your inner thighs, his teeth gently nipping at your skin. Skin that had never been touched by another person other than yourself. The sensation of his fingers, his lips, his teeth on you doing things you had only dreamed of him doing. It had you breathless.

“Satoru.” The man between your legs let out a hungry groan.

“I love hearing you say my name like that. Say it fucking more; I want to hear you scream my name.” his fingers hook under your underwear, yanking them to the side., allowing his tongue full access to your dripping cunt. “Say my fucking name.”

His warm tongue is on you before you can even process what he’s saying. His tongue laps at your entrance before slowly sliding up and down your lips, teasing your clit but not touching it yet. Being eaten out for the first time is like seeing God. Satoru is so skilled with his mouth that it has you digging your heels into the bed, toes curling, and your eyes rolling back.

Satoru hums against you, eyes brows furrowing as he seals his mouth around your dripping sex, sucking on it, teasing it with his tongue. His eyebrows knit in concentration, his eyes never once leaving your face. He is entranced with you and with your reactions. Satoru wants to make you cum; the man is determined to do so.

You didn’t stand a chance against him or his skilled tongue. The second he started flicking your clit with the tip, you lost all control. Reality seemed like it shattered into one million pieces as Satoru drove over the edge of your first orgasm with someone other than yourself. You buck up against his face, your head thrashes against your pillows, and you cum harder than you have in your entire life.

“Mmmphm, fuck.” Satoru growls from between your legs. “That’s it, baby, give it to me, give it all to me.” His tongue continues to lick and lap at your folds, making sure to leave not an inch of your unexplored with his mouth.

“T-Toru, oh fuck.” He had left you a pile of useless limbs. “N-Need you, want you inside of me.” you sit up, hands reaching for his pants, undoing the button. He sucks in a breath as your hand gently rubs over his hard, throbbing cock. “S-So thick, and it-it’s hard.”

“Yeah?” The smugness in his voice has you pressing your thighs together. “Wanna touch it~?”

Giving him a nod, you pull back, allowing him to lie down against the headboard. His breathtaking eyes never leave you, following your hand that slips under his boxers and pulls them down. His cock sprung up, bouncing as it stood straight in the air. The tip was a throbbing dark rosey color, the tip dribbling out pre-cum as it twitched in the cool air of your apartment. His hair is trimmed short, a happy trail leading from the v-line down to the base of his cock.

It draws you in like a siren calling sailors to the sea; you’re drawn to his cock. Your fingers try to wrap around it, but you can’t; he’s too thick. Satoru moans out in pleasure, feeling your warm, soft hand wrap around him. It’s so velvety and warm that your curiosity gets the better of you, urging you to stroke him up and down. You give in to the desire, jerking him off slowly.

“Fuuck, ooh fuck.” Satoru calls from above you, his thighs twitching, body shaking as you continue your movements. “Fuck sweetheart, feels so fuckin’ good.”

“I-I don't know what to do.” At the sound of your confession, Satoru chuckles.

“Want me to help you?” He watched as you bit down on your lip with a soft little ‘mhmm.’ “Alright, just follow my hand.” he wraps his larger, rougher hand around yours. “Here we go.”

Satoru drags his hand up and down his shaft, Allowing more pre-cum to dribble out of the tip, coating his shaft in the slick, sticky substance as makeshift lube. You know you should be paying attention to how his hand is moving. That way, you would know how he liked to be touched. But you can’t help but look at his face. His pale ivory skin is flushed, his lips are slightly parted as he whines, and his eyes are narrowed, focusing on your hand that is jerking him off with his.

Eroticism is not the way you would describe this; this was pure filthy porn for you. His face, the way he took his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing on it, would forever be in your spank bank memory—his ab’s clenched and moved, and time with his deep raspy groans of pleasure. Satoru was losing himself in the pleasure of just your hand. You couldn’t wait to see the expression he made when he was inside of you.

“Sweetheart, fuck.” He groans, jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth together. “Fuuuck, your hand is so soft. If you keep it up, I’m gonna cum all over you.”

Hearing him say that, knowing that you could make the Gojo Satoru cum, you jerked your hand as fast as you fucking could. You swatted his hand away, taking complete control. Satoru threw his head back with a roar as you licked your bottom lip, focusing all your attention on how you were moving your wrist. Up and down, twisting and pulling it as he had shown you. Your free hand reaches down and his heavy balls, massaging him gently, urging him to spill his seed all over your hands.

His cock throbbed twice in your hand, and you thought for just a moment that he was about to cum for you. But before he could, his free hand swooped down and squeezed himself at the base of his cock, preventing himself from cumming all over your hand like you had wanted. His chest was heaving, and the flush on his face had spread the base of his neck down to his pectoral muscles.

Satoru swallows hard, wincing as you run your index finger over his slit, spreading the precum over his throbbing tip. “Why did you stop? Weren't you about to cum?” Strong hands grab your upper arms, flipping you so you’re the one underneath him.

“I was, but I would much rather cum inside of you.” those filthy words have your cunt drooling, your slick dripping down to the bed underneath you. “Is that okay~?”

“Yes, god, yes, please, please fuck me, Satoru.”

“Oh, you beg so nicely; how could I deny your request like that?” He slots his body between your thighs, and he rubs the head of his cock up and down your lips, smearing his pre-come over your clit. “Want me to grab a condom? I have one in my wallet.”

“No, I have an IUD.”

“Such a dirty, needy girl.” He presses the tip against your tight entrance. “You sure about this?”

He knew you were a virgin; you had mentioned it to him in passing in between your flirting the last few months. For him to take the time to ask you if you were okay with this made your heart sing. Nanami was wrong about him. Gojo wasn’t just going to up and leave; he genuinely seemed to care about you and what you wanted.

He was the perfect man to lose your virginity to.

“I'm positive.”

Hearing your consent, Satoru sighed in relief. “Awesome, just let me know if you need to stop.”

His cock gently pushes into you. You awaited the dreaded sharp, stinging pain you have been told about your entire life. But the pain never came. It was just a sensation of being full and some slight pressure. The unfamiliar sensation had you gripping Satoru’s biceps, digging your nails into his delicate ivory skin as you tried to adjust to the new feeling.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yeah, I just needed a second. It’s just a weird sensation.”

Satoru gently peppers kisses over your neck before meeting your lips once again. “Relax, I got you; I got you, baby.” Everything Satoru was doing for you had your muscles less tense as he pushed further inside of you. “You're taking me so well, such a good girl.”

“Satoruu~” your hands finally managed to leave his arms before wrapping around his neck, pulling him tighter against you.

“That's it, you’re gonna be good for me, right? Gonna let me bottom out inside that sweet tight cunt?”

You didn't even need to give him permission; his hips meet yours as he’s balls deep inside of you. You are breathing heavily against each other’s mouths. Your soft whimpering mixes in with his deep guttural groans.

“Tight, you're so tight, almost had me blowing my load like I was the virgin.” he pressed his mouth against yours and gave a soft, gentle kiss. “Are you okay?”

You nod, a wanton moan leaving your mouth as he begins grinding his hips into you and not entirely pulling out to thrust back in. But the simple grinding of his cock inside of your pussy, hitting your g-spot, made you squirm underneath him. Satoru repeats the grinding for a few minutes before his lips leave yours.

“I'm gonna start moving, okay?” Your little moans and nods were the only signs Gojo needed to see and hear to know he was ready to move. His poor little sweetheart hadn’t even been fucked thoroughly yet, and she already couldn’t find her voice. “Hey, if you need me to stop, just let me know.”

His hips move, gently pulling back before snapping forward, burying himself deep into your tight heat. He groans breathlessly, eyes shut tight as your walls clamp down on him. “Oooh fuuuck, fuck, you're so tight, so tight, baby.” he pulls out again, leaving you gasping before he immerses himself back into your cunt. “Fuck you feel that~ feel my cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy? Does that feel good for you, baby? Huh?” Satoru growls as he sets a gentle pace, gently fucking you into the bed.

“S-So good T-Toru, haaa haaah fuck you're twitching.” At the sound of your voice, Satoru’s cock twitched again, this time even harder, making you shudder at the knowledge you were making him feel this good.

“Of course, I’m twitching; you're so fucking wet and warm; it honestly feels like my dick is melting inside. So yeah, fuck, fuck,” his pace speeds up, “my dick is twitching inside of you because you feel so fucking good.”

Having sex felt so good! Having sex with Satoru, well damn, it was like heaven on earth. Well, you didn’t have anyone else to compare it to, but you knew that your first time was monumentally better than anyone else. He was so gentle, kind, and patient with you. You couldn’t think of anybody else that would be that sweet. God, he made you feel so good.

Your back arched off the mattress as you dug your nails into his back, climbing up his muscles with your nails. The pain dialed him up, pushing him to fuck you faster and deeper while trying to be as gentle as he could, knowing the fact that you were a virgin. He could only maintain his composure for so long thought.

“F-Fuck, ooooh fuck, fuck.” His cock is dragging against the spots deep inside of you that felt like pure pleasure every time he brushed against them. With each touch of those sweet spots, your wall hugged his cock, letting him know you were closer to your orgasm as much as he was. “Yeah, you like that baby? Like it when I fuck you like this? I popped your cherry, and now I’m fucking you into the mattress.” You’re so loud that your moans reverberate off the walls. “Yeah, you love it. You love my cock inside that pussy.”

“Y-Yeah! I love it!” A coil deep in your abdomen begins tightening and tightening. “I-I’m gonna cum!” eyes locking on with Satoru’s “Oh fuck, fuck I’m close, Toru!”

“Cum for me, milk my cock, sweetheart~ that's it~ that's a good girl~ yeah~” his thrust no longer has any rhythm; all that’s going on in his head is making you cum and filling you up.

Your orgasm hits you hard in the gut like a punch to the stomach. It’s not painful in the slightest. It is a pure, unfiltered pleasure. The kind pleasure that has you seeing white spots. You scream into the void as you squirt all over Satoru’s cock and the bed. The image of you cumming so hard sends Satoru tumbling over the edge right after you. He curses and grits his teeth before he latches his mouth into the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin, leaving marks for only him to see.

You’re a shaking, sweat-soaked mess by the time Satoru pulls off of you, falling onto his side next to you. His lips gently press against your cheek before finding your lips. They move against yours in a symphony of pleasure and pure bliss. Satoru spoons you, his arms wrapping around your body, pulling you flush against his naked form.

“You did so good.” His voice is so soft, lulling you to sleep. “Such a good girl~ thank you for letting me be your first.”

You hum, happily turning to kiss him on the lips before resting your head against your pillow. Slowly losing yourself in the warmth of his body against yours. “Thank you for making my first time so special.” His fingers gently graze over your skin as he breathes heavily against the nape of your neck.

“Mhmm, you're welcome. Get some rest, okay?”

You don’t even answer because you’re already sleeping. You dream the most peaceful, beautiful dreams. Ones where you, Satoru, have sex, go out on dates and enjoy each other’s company. God, you couldn’t wait to see you the next day took you. What did the future have in store for the two of you? More happy-go-lucky memories like this? If you could live through days like this, you would be the happiest woman in the entire world.

Dopamine and serotonin spread through your veins throughout the night while you sleep and find you in the early morning sunlight. You’re under the crisp, cool sheets that cradle your body. It’s when you move to turn to look at Satoru that you realize just how sore your body is. You hurt in places that you didn’t know were even possible to hurt.

All you needed was a nice hot shower with your extremely hot partner, and you should be all set to go. Rolling onto your side to look at him, your smile fades. Satoru isn't there.

You reach for the side of the bed he had fallen asleep in, trying to see if his lingering warmth was there. Hoping that if it did, maybe he was in the bathroom or the kitchen making you breakfast in the movies. But the crisp sheets under your hands are cold. He must have left hours ago.

Sitting up in bed, you reach for your cell phone on the nightstand next to you. Unlocking it, you search for a message Satoru may have sent you about why he would leave after such a perfect night. There is no message. No missed calls, no text messages. Nothing. He had slept with you, taking your virginity, and he left you with nothing.

Everything from the night before was perfect. You both had a great time, so why would he get up and leave without telling you? Even if he went to get breakfast for the two of you, he could have at least texted you to let you know that. Even when you pulled yourself out of bed with wobbly legs, you discovered he wasn’t even in your living room, let alone your apartment.

The truth hit you like a wrecking ball. Nanami had been right. He warned you. Your best friend warned you that Gojo was a serial cherry popper. You didn’t listen to him. You thought you knew him better, but the months of flirting back and forth, the late-night conversations on the phone, and the missions meant more than just one nightstand.

The hopes of there being any connection between the two of you left your apartment just like he did. You would never not listen to Nanami again; he was always looking out for you. Since you hadn't heeded his warning, you had to suffer with the heartache you had brought upon yourself. That Sunday, you cried yourself back to sleep curled into a ball and mourned your stupidity and the loss of a relationship that never even existed

The next day, you texted Yaga, letting him know you wouldn’t be coming to work for the next couple of days. You needed time to think about what you needed to do next. Gojo was your colleague and a man with whom you were forced to go on missions and teach the next generation of jujutsu sorcerers. Being around him would be challenging. If things had played out differently, and he didn’t just up and leave you alone in the apartment, maybe you wouldn’t have to be weighing your options.

The way you looked at it, you had two different choices. You could completely ignore Gojo when you return to work—keeping things strictly professional between you. Or you could ask to be transferred to Kyoto, where you would never have to see his face again.

You return to work on Wednesday, and the second you step through the school gates, Gojo stands there waiting for you. His hair was fluffed up as his blindfold was pulled over his eyes, but you could tell his gaze was locked on you.

“Hey, we need to talk.” He tried speaking to you, but you ignored him. “Sweetheart, please just listen to me.”

“I have work to do, excuse me.”

The entire day, Gojo kept bugging you and begging for you to stop to listen to what he had to say. Whatever excuses he had come up with, he could shove them up his ass. He had left you without any explanation at all. So he didn’t deserve your time of day.

You finally found some peace when he was forced to teach the first years for his class. As he left, he pleaded for you to set some time aside so that you could talk things out later. There was no way in hell you were going to sit there and listen to whatever bullshit excuse he came up with. You couldn’t, not when you had been told what kind of person he was, and against your better judgment, you went through with sleeping with him.

Before you could find yourself in another stupor, the door to your classroom opened, and Yaga stepped inside. The higher-ups had requested your assistance with a curse downtown. Specifically, they asked for both you and Gojo to assist. He was preoccupied with his students, so you decided this was easy to handle.

Instead of waiting to talk to him personally about taking on this mission on your own, you did exactly what he had done to you days prior: left without saying a word. You grabbed your shit and walked out the door; being courteous enough, you left a note behind on your desk. It also colorfully told him you had nothing to say about sleeping together.

Your words described how you thought he was different, how you had assumed there was more than just a one-night stand between you, but he had other ideas. At the end of your note, you wished him a long and happy life; there was nothing more to say after that. Writing that note allowed you to get all of your frustration, everything, off your chest without actually saying it to his face.

With the note behind you, you had one of the assistant supervisors drive you to the location of an abandoned building. Luckily, with the curse inside, you didn't have to lower a veil. This was, hopefully, going to be a simple in-and-out mission. At Least, you thought it would be.

Stepping inside the building, you automatically sensed the presence of the curse. One that was a grade four curse, making it super easy to take out. You honestly did it in record-breaking time, but it wasn’t the curse you had to worry about.

The curse user watching you the entire time you fought against his little monster charged you the instant his curse spirit dissipated. He pinned you to the ground, his hands wrapped around your throat, squeezing down on it. You choked, kicking your feet underneath him; your talisman paper was just out of reach; your fingers grazed over it, but you couldn’t grasp it. The man above you looked at you with dark black eyes, determined to kill you.

“I worked so hard to train that curse!” the man shouted as you gurgled on your saliva. “Then you come in here and just destroy it?! How are you any better than they are?!”

Your nails dug into the flesh of his hands, yanking and pulling at his fingers, trying to free yourself as your shoes slid against the dirty floor. Black spots began to appear in your vision; you were so close to passing out. Maybe you should have waited for Satoru. He may have been an asshole but at least he would’ve had your back.

“You sorcerers all deserve to die!”

Help me.

“Die and rot in hell when you belong!”

Please, someone, anyone!

“You deser—”

A flash of red floods the room as the man is sent flying through a wall, well, several walls, finally freeing you from his grip. You curl in on yourself, coughing and gulping down air. You don’t even have a chance to fully recover before you’re scooped up into arms, arms that had held you several nights before. Gojo says nothing as he carries you out of the room you had almost lost your life in.

Silence remains thick until he takes you outside and sits you on the concrete stairs leading to the alleyway. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” The urge to run away is as strong as your need to take deep breaths. There was no point in running now, especially after Gojo had saved your life.

He returned several minutes later, waving at the assistant supervisor's black car. His hands are shoved into his pockets as he watches the car turn the corner before he turns in your direction. His blindfold is still entirely on hiding his eyes from you. But just like this morning, you can feel his gaze locked solely on you.

“We got ten minutes before the cops show up.” You give him a thumbs up, winning a frustrated sigh back. “I got your note.”

“Good.” Your voice cracks as you try to clear your throat.

“No, it’s not good.” He snaps, stomping towards you, crouching down in front of you. “You honestly think I didn’t feel anything that night? That was just a one-night stand?”

“You left!” You cough roughly. “You left without a word, Gojo! What else am I supposed to think? To me, you leaving without a word is pretty plain and clear.”

A large hand cups your face, holding it gently. “Yaga called me in for an emergency. I was needed at the Kyoto school that morning.” You blinked back tears. “And I was going to call you, but I left my phone at the bar because I was so excited to be with you finally.” His head dropped forward with a heavy sigh. “But the more that I think about it, the more that’s like a shitty excuse. I should’ve woken you up before I left, but you looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to. I should’ve known and done better. I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

“Yeah, you should have asshole,” you sigh, “ at least you have another cherry under your belt.”

“I don’t just want you to be another girl in the notch of my belt!” His hand tightens around your face. “ I know I fucked up. I didn’t get to truly talk to you and tell you how I feel about you.” Your eyes met his. “This isn’t an ideal situation either, having just saved your life, and I almost killed that man.” He yanks his blindfold down, revealing his blue eyes to you. Eyes that are solely focused on you. “This is a terrible time to tell you that I love you; I love you so damn much.”

For the second time today, you find it hard to breathe. Your eyes widen in shock as Satoru stares at you, waiting for you to respond to his confession. If he had told you this several days ago before he had left without a word, you would’ve been over the moon. Now, you weren’t sure how to react. Part of you was still happy that he felt that way, but he left without a word; he should have handled things differently. That was in the past, though there was no point in crying over something that had already happened.

Deep inside your heart, you knew how you felt regardless of what had happened days before.

“I love you too, you idiot.” The white-haired man before you perks up, grinning wide. “But I’m still pissed off. You owe me big time for leaving me after popping my cherry dick.”

“Baby, I’ll do anything you ask, anything.” His hands are gripping yours, planting kisses against the back of them.

“I want you to take me on a date. A real date with food and dessert.”

He smiled softly, his dimple visible as he planted another kiss on your hand. “Dinner and dessert, I can handle that.” He helps you stand, ushering you forward, his hand in yours. “I could sweeten the deal. Maybe I could make you cum on my tongue all night? You don’t even have to worry about me. Just let me worship you if you want.” While his offer is tempting, you lean against him.

“Honestly, I’d rather go on a date and have mind-blowing sex like the other night, just without you leaving me.”

“I can do that too.”

Satoru is true to his word; he takes you to the nicest restaurant he knows. Buys you a bottle of champagne, orders a five-course meal, and every dessert on the menu. After your wonderful first date, he takes you back to his apartment and makes sweet love to you all night. He had you arching, gasping, and clawing at his back for the second time in your life.

The following day, you wake up finding him missing again. The bedroom door opens before you can grab your phone to see where he is. Satoru comes in with a massive tray of food. Mixed berries, coffee, pancakes, and eggs and bacon. He sits on the bed beside you, setting the tray between you.

“Good morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?” He offers you a steaming cup of coffee that you gladly take,

“I slept great.” You lean over kissing his lips softly.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

[thebubblesareevil]

Only the best Kings wear pink! Pt 2

Part 1 part 3

The day things changed was just like any other. The Keep was decked out with pink decorations and different activities though-out the castle, including but not limited to: tea in the garden, manicure stations, parent playgrounds (note spa), bowification stations, the glitter corner, the archery range, Queen Dorothea’s dragon tower…etc

Everything was ready for their monthly guests when, rather unexpectedly, he heard a knock at the door.

His guests had long forgone knocking (the parents could rarely get to the door before the children charged in). He managed to get to the door, waving off a busy maid carrying a delicious looking cake, where her was greeted by the teary eyed face of a young girl.

That in itself was odd, Danny made a point of no tears in the keep.

There was also the fact that she was very much alive.

Danny immediately kneeled in front of the little girl.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your tears, but are you here for the princess tea party?” He asked gently.

The little girl sniffled. “Tea party?”

Danny nodded. “All the little princesses of my Kingdom are invited.”

“But I’m not a princess.” She cried a bit more. Danny gave her a thoughtful hum.

“You certainly look like a princess to me.” Danny stated. “Are you lost little princess?”

She nodded, rubbing the tears from her eyes.

“Tell you what, why don’t you join us for our tea party and then I’ll personally escort you back to your castle, what do you say?”

The little girl sniffled, pondering for a moment before nodding.

“Wonderful!” Danny grinned. “And may I learn the name of the such an adorable princess?”

The little girl giggled “Lian! Lian Harper!”

“A lovely name for a lovely princess!” Danny grinned. “C’mon, I’m sure Lilac can get you your very own princess dress while we wait for the others.

——-

Lian fit in perfectly with the other children. Some of the parents seemed a bit skeptical, though they quickly accepted it after a brief explanation from the King.

Some parents went straight for the spa while others headed towards the suggestion room. (It really cut down on audiences when issues could be resolved with a letter)

All too soon the day ended and skulker reported to Danny with Lian’s home address.

Danny found her in the garden napping among the blossoms.

Danny smiled, gently nudging the girl awake.

“Lian? It’s time to go home now.”

“Hmmm?” Lian sluggishly raise her arms to be picked up by the King. Danny chuckled.

“Of course.” He gently picked, cradling her in his arms.

Silently he opened a portal into Lian’s bedroom carefully tucking her into bed.

Not even a moment after he vanished did a frantic babysitter rushed into the room, nearly sobbing in relief when she found the little girl.

(She was never playing hide and seek with the little ninja again)

——-

For the next few months the pattern continued. Though somehow no one ever seemed to notice when the girl vanished each month.

She had fully indoctrinated herself among the little ghosts of the tea party, every month the boys would challenge her to an archery bout and lose each time reluctantly conceding to getting the makeup done with each loss. (Edgar was quite fond of rainbow unicorn sparkle nails)

She was never late nor was she ever early (this led to many suspicions that Danny didn’t care enough to confirm). More than anything, after the 2nd time of her wandering into his Keep, Danny made a point of giving her a ghost whistle to call cujo if she ever got lost or needed him.

So he was understandably concerned when he was summoned by his (favorite) little princess by magic of all things.

He of course answered to summons (what if she was in dAnGeR???!?!?)

He stepped out of the portal at his full size, nearly hitting his head on the ceiling of the warehouse he found himself in.

Danny frowned, looking around he didn’t see Lian until he looked down at the crying little princess at his feet. Danny immediately shrunk down, completely ignoring the heroes fighting the cloaked (cultist? Fanatics? Victims of his wrath? That last one felt right) soon to be victims of his wrath.

Once he was at more manageable size he picked up Lian and swiftly removed her bindings.

“What’s wrong princess? If you wanted to see me all you needed to do was call.” He asked gently combing her hair with his claws, ignoring the red headed archer shouts.

“The mean men said they were gonna hurt Daddy and uncle Jay Jay, and all their friends!” She sniffled looking up at Danny giving him a clear view of the line of blood on her neck where his (very) soon to be victims nicked her.

“Shh, shh, don’t you worry princess. Why don’t you go hang out in the keep and help Spectre paint Banshees nail, hmm? I’m sure Fright would love it if you could braid his hair again too.” Lian pressed her wet face into Danny’s chest as she nodded.

He reached out, opening a small portal to gently place the little princess in his daughter’s room with a quick explanation.

He temporarily ignored the red heads screams and allowed the flurry of arrows and gunfire to pass through him.

He had other things to deal with right now.

“Now who do I have the pleasure of destroying today?”

One of the cloaked soon to be victims was clearly an imbecile as he stepped forward and began to shout.

“We offer you these two sacrifices in addition to the girl, that you might grant us the power to defeat our enemies, o mighty King of the Infinite Realms!”

Danny took a moment to count. “How strange, see I counted 15 victims and 2 spectators. You must need to get your glasses checked” Danny nodded to himself, allowing his for to stretch and his power to fill the room.

“But, I don’t have-“

Danny struck hard and fast. They would never see the light of day again.

After he was done disposing of the trash, he turned his attention to the heroes. Each of which had a weapon trained on his head, unfortunately human weapons didn’t work on him so they wouldn’t be much help.

“You son of a bitch! Give her back!!!” The red head shouted, his hands shaking.

“The rest of our team will be here any minute! Surrender now return the girl and we won’t have to fight you!” Helmet head shouted. Something felt off about that one, almost…familiar. Danny squinted and made a (probably stupid decision)

“Hmmm, nope” he snapped his fingers and two portals appeared underfoot of the two heroes.

[moonstruckme]

May I pleaseeee request poly!marauders x reader (gn or fem, up to you) where r and siri come home at like, 4 am from a rave (or clubing), and they are in makeup and have glitter all over them, and their exhausted and only slightly tipsy (from alchohol or drugs, up to whatever you think would be more fun to write) so they try to get cleaned up without waking up james or remus but ultimately fail?

I totally understand if you don't wanna write it 🫶

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: mention of alcohol

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

When Remus wakes, he doesn’t at first know why. James is asleep next to him, snuffling softly, his cheek smushed into the pillow and drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. Remus’ fingers are woven loosely in the curls by his forehead. 

Then there’s a muffled thump from down the hall, followed by some hushed cursing, and he remembers. 

“They definitely moved the couch closer to the door to fuck with us.” Then, a moment later: “I am being quiet. Doll, you’re projecting.” 

Get a drop of alcohol in Sirius, and he becomes the worst whisperer in the world. 

Remus can hear your attempts at shushing your boyfriend as he slips out of bed. James is dead to the world, but he stretches out an arm as Remus’ fingers unwind from his hair as though feeling for where he’s gone. Glancing at the clock on his nightstand, Remus is gladder than ever that he and James had begged off this particular excursion. It’s past five in the morning. 

He goes toward the light they left on for you by the door, but you and Sirius have already migrated to the kitchen. Remus props himself up on the doorframe, wrapping his arms around his middle, and allows himself to just watch the two of you for a minute. 

“Water first,” you’re saying, voice hushed far more effectively than Sirius’. You grab two glasses with extreme care from the cabinet, setting them down slowly so as not to make any noise. 

“I think this makeup is going to be crusted onto me forever,” Sirius whines. “I’ll never be able to get it all off.” 

“I don’t know if I have the energy to try,” you admit. 

You do both have an awful lot of glitter on you. What was intentional and precise when you left that evening has now traveled down onto your cheeks, leaving you lustrous and disheveled-looking. When Sirius closes his eyes, tipping his head back as he leans against the countertop, the black makeup around his eyes makes them look like glittering chasms. Remus notes that your shoulder shimmers with a similar color, like he’d laid his head on it at some point in the night. 

You pass Sirius a glass and hoist yourself up onto the counter, the both of you falling quiet while you drink your water. You sigh at the end of it. 

Sirius hums in response, a tired sort of smile lifting his lips. He leans his head against the side of your arm and lets his eyes fall closed again. 

“Did you have fun?” he asks, softer now than he has been since you came inside. 

“Mhm.” You set your empty glass down, using that hand to comb strands of hair away from Sirius’ face. 

Remus' heart nearly turns to mush as he watches the two of you, each clearly exhausted and yet still trying to take care of the other. You, you’ve always been open with your tenderness, but Sirius has taken years to get to where he is now. It still surprises Remus sometimes to see it, his boyfriend’s caring out from under the shroud of insouciance and joking. 

“I have an idea,” you say. Your tone is warm and lulling, not unlike your boyfriend’s. “We could take the spicy crisps into the living room, and lay on the couch to eat them.” 

Eyes still closed, Sirius smiles. “What about bed?”

“Rem won’t let us eat them in the bed.” 

Remus suppresses a chuckle. 

“I know, sweetness. I thought you were tired.” 

You sigh, long and heavy. “I am. I think I’m so tired I almost don’t care if I go to sleep. I might die if I don’t have a spicy crisp, though.” 

Sirius seems to be contemplating this when James comes up behind Remus. His hair is askew and glasses falling down the bridge of his nose, and he has the glazed-over look of someone who themselves is not quite sure if they’re awake or dreaming. 

“How wasted are they?” he asks, voice weighted with drowsiness. 

“Not very, I don't think,” Remus murmurs. 

That’s when Sirius notices them. He picks his head up, nudging your knee with his elbow so you look over. 

“Oh.” You shrink a bit, expression pinching. “Sorry.” 

You so thoroughly look it that Remus can’t even feign upset at having been woken up. “Come to bed,” he says fondly. 

Neither of you move but Sirius opens his arms, beseeching Remus to come to him instead. Remus, too tired to pretend at being any less in love than he is, goes. 

“I thought you’d be in earlier,” he says into Sirius’ hair. It smells like sweat and a little bit like smoke. 

“The cabs were busier than we expected,” Sirius replies, voice even sleepier now that his face is in Remus’ neck. “We walked a while and then caught a bus once they started running.” 

Remus makes a disgruntled sound, but it’s James who says, “You should’ve called.” His voice sounds muffled, and Remus looks over to find it’s buried in your chest. You’re smiling faintly with your face turned down into his curly mop, your hands on the back of his head and his holding your thighs. “We would’ve come and got you.” 

“I wanted to,” Sirius defends himself, removing his face from Remus’ neck to cut you a teasing look. “She wouldn’t let me.” 

James lifts his head to look up at you. 

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you say, voice soft as though still trying to accommodate the sleep he really should be getting. “You both have work in the morning.” 

James groans at the reminder, hiding his face in your chest again. Remus sets a hand on top of his head, scratching James' scalp consolingly. 

“You should always call,” he tells you, just for the record. But really he’s in no mood to argue. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, slipping off the counter. 

James wraps his arms around your shoulders, forcing the both of you to walk with small, plodding footsteps, and Sirius also refuses to be out of Remus’ hold, clinging to his arm as you all start down the hallway. The bed is no sooner in sight that you let out a low whine. 

Sirius echoes it when you say, “We still have to take off our makeup.”

“What if,” James suggests, “you sleep now, and when Remus and I get up in an hour we can take it off for you while you stay in bed?” 

James hardly has time to let you go before Sirius is hanging off him, almost teary with gratitude. “God, I love you. That’s the best idea I ever heard.”