#pretending it’s cause they’re salty

[pinheadbella]

Day 5: Hockey

I meeeeaan

The prompt never specified what type of hockey

[angelasscribbles]

Crush: A Bad Romance One-Shot

Series: Bad Romance Continues

Original Series: Bad Romance

Fandom: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Max, Riley x Drake, Riley x Liam with tiny hints of Liam x Max

Rating: Fluffy

Warnings for this chapter:  None

Word Count: 3,274 

Thanks to @kyra75 for this ask for the "secret admirer" prompt for the @choicesprompts 2024 Flufftober event. This is my late submission.

A/N: This is a prequel because we already know what happens during Bad Romance so it doesn't fit there. I could have placed it after but I would have had to either bring in a new person which I didn't want to do or go the predictable route of it turning out to be the person's partner all along. Instead, I decided to place it before the events of Bad Romance, and here's why: I've written next to nothing about Riley's first few months in Cordonia but Bad Romance does state that Liam had to work his butt off to pry Riley's attention away from Max during that time. In fact, Liam mentions it often because he's still salty about it. Max mentions it too because he did eventually get dumped for Liam. I thought this was a perfect place to show some of that. I know it's a little angsty, but I hope it's got enough fluff to satisfy the requirement.

To reiterate: This takes place in the first month of Riley being in Cordonia, while she is sleeping with Max, Liam is trying to change that and Drake is trying to pretend he doesn't like her like that.

My other stuff: Master List.

For the life of me, I cannot remember if someone sent me this image or if I stumbled across it myself. It's been in my save folder for awhile. I'd like to give proper credit, so if you sent it to me, speak up!

Riley entered her room and stopped to smell the roses. The two dozen red roses to be exact. They had been delivered to her room earlier. She closed her eyes as the sweet floral scent washed over her.

The smell was sublime.

She opened her eyes to admire the blood red petals. Her fingers gently stroked a lush bloom, her expression contemplative as her mind whirled.

She turned her head to observe the man who had entered the room with her. “You’re sure they’re not from you?”

“Yes, Riley, I’m sure,” Max admittedly a little reluctantly.

“Any ideas who they might be from?”

He shrugged dismissively. “Could be anyone, really. You have many admirers at court. I’m not surprised one of them decided to shoot his shot.” Hana’s face flashed before his eyes. “Or hers.”

She fluttered her lashes at him. “Does that bother you?”

Max shook his head, and then gave her that boyish grin that always made her heart flutter. “How can I blame them? You’re the total package, babe.”

“You sweet talker.” Riley grinned at him as she strode across the room to pinch his cheeks.

Despite the fact that they were sleeping together, the simple sign of affection from her caused heat to flame across his face. He studied the toe of his shoe as he told her, “You deserve flowers. I should have thought to send you some.”

“Hey,” she put a finger under his chin and lifted his head. “The roses are lovely, but you do sweet things for me all the time. I’m very happy with our little…. Arrangement.��

His face lit up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips softly across his. “We’re staying in tonight, right?”

They were in between royal events for the next week and while eating in the main dining hall was always an option, Max had suggested room service and a movie marathon in her room instead.

Riley had agreed because frankly, she was sick of Madeleine’s shit. Eating with all the bitchy divas of the nobility was not her idea of fun. Drake avoided her like the plague ever since their encounter on the plane ride over, and Liam rarely made appearances in the public dining hall in between official royal events.

Not that she was interested in him. Their night in New York aside, she knew he would never choose a waitress to be queen. He couldn’t. So, she had found other diversions.

She could certainly do a lot worse than Maxwell Beaumont.

“Right,” Max agreed, as a shiver ran down his spine at her touch. “I had the kitchen make your favorite dinner.”

“See?” she purred. “That’s what I mean about how thoughtful you are.”

“Let’s meet back here at dinnertime, okay?” He stepped away from her and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“You’ll see.” He gave her a mischievous grin as he exited the room.

“Okay then.” With a furrowed brow, she returned her attention to the roses. After a brief moment of consideration, her decision was made.

She might not know why Max was acting weird all of a sudden, but she had enough time before dinner to do a little investigation into her secret admirer.

****

“I’m coming!” Drake yelled in irritation.

Who the fuck was knocking on his door in the middle of the afternoon on his day off?

“Can’t get any peace and quiet ever.” He muttered under his breath as he yanked the door open. “What?”

His eyes widened with a sharp intake of breath. “Riley! What are you doing here?” His eyes darted frantically up and down the hallway. This girl was a scandal waiting to happen.

“Was it you?”

“Was what me?”

“The flowers. Were they from you?” Her gaze bore into him with laser intensity.

His forehead creased as he tried to make sense of the conversation. “Flowers?”

Her eyes scanned his face, then she shook her head. “Of course not.”

His brain finally caught up. “Someone sent you flowers?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“Weren’t they from your boyfriend?”

Was that a note of bitterness she detected? She smiled from ear to ear as her body swayed slightly back and forth. “What boyfriend would that be?”

His face fixed in a scowl, he grunted, “Max.”

She bit into her lower lip as she leaned forward and ran a hand up his arm. “Are you jealous of Max?”

His arms crossed defensively over his chest as he took a step back. “No!”

“Sure, you’re not. But someone sent me two dozen roses, and it wasn’t Max. Any ideas who it could have been?”

Drake blew out a resigned sigh. Of fucking course he knew who it was. Who else would it be? But he wasn’t telling her that.

While he wasn’t going to stand in Liam’s way, he sure as hell wasn’t going to help him. Instead, he shrugged with what he hoped was nonchalance as he shook his head. “Nope.”

“Okay. Bye then.” She spun on her heel and started back down the hallway.

“Riley, wait!” He stumbled out the door into the hallway, ready to sprint after her.

She stopped and turned back with arched eyebrows. “Yes?”

“I…” All the reasons he should not and could not pursue this woman poured through his mind as he stood frozen in the middle of the corridor.

“Well?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

“Hm. Well, if it’s ever something, you know where my room is.” She wiggled her fingers at him before spinning to leave again.

He watched her go as frustration and regret danced through his chest.

****

Riley questioned several guards and a couple of butlers, but no one knew anything.

She was on her way back to her room when she bumped right into Liam. She found herself tangled in his embrace, laughter rumbling through him as he caught her. “Whoa there! Where’s the fire?”

“Liam!” She made no move to extract herself from his arms. Instead, she smiled up at him. “Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking.”

“I see that!” He stared down at her with a sappy grin for several long seconds before remembering himself. He cleared his throat as he stepped away from her. “Were you on your way to the dining hall?”

“No, my room, actually.”

“I hope everything is okay.”

She gave him a bright smile as she leaned in and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Everything is fine. I just can’t take another dinner with those fucking harpies.”

Liam threw his head back and laughed. Yes, it was a scandalous remark, but he found her honesty refreshing. He found everything about her refreshing, not to mention alluring. He moved closer to her to whisper, “Why do you think I never eat in the public dining hall?”

It was her turn to laugh. “Oh, my! What an unprincely thing to say!”

“You seem to bring out that side of me.” His tone suddenly serious, he blurted, “Have dinner with me tonight? In my private dining room?”

“I’d love to, but I already have plans for tonight.”

“Oh. I thought you said you were having dinner in your roo—”

“Yes, we are.”

His shoulders slumped. “I see.”

“Tomorrow?”

His head snapped up. “You’ll have dinner with me tomorrow?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“That’s…. not exactly the response I was hoping for—”

“I mean, if you’d rather not—”

“No! No… I mean yes! I mean… I definitely want to have dinner with you, Riley. Tomorrow night it is.”

“Great. Just text me the time.”

He immediately whipped out his phone and sent her a text.

She rewarded him with a seductive smirk. “That was quick.”

“He who hesitates is lost.”

“I would have said you snooze, you lose. But that works too.”

“I don’t intend to lose.”

“Lose what?”

His voice was unusually low and quiet as he returned the phone to his pocket. “You, Riley.”

Riley Brooks was seldom taken aback by anything a man said, but that did the trick. “What?”

“Surely you haven’t forgotten our night in New York so easily.”

“Of course, not. I just didn’t think—”

“Did you like the roses? They’re from my mother’s garden.”

“That was you?”

“Yes.”

“But…why?”

“Why?” He looked at her with his mouth agape. Glancing around quickly to ensure they were still alone in the hallway; he reached for her and yanked her body to his. Lowering his lips to her ear, he murmured, “I know you think New York was just about sex and that a prince would never marry a waitress, but you’re wrong, Riley. Dead wrong. On both counts.”

She pulled back to search his onyx eyes with her emerald ones. She couldn’t help the skepticism in her voice. “Really?”

“Yes, really! What do I have to do to convince you of that?”

“I don’t know, Liam. But it’s going to take more than a few roses.”

Gifts were not about to win her over. Sure, she had come from poverty, but he hadn’t. Material things were easy for him to come by and easy for him to part with. Simply spending money on her only convinced her that he wanted to sleep with her.

While sex with the smoking hot prince was something she was more than willing to engage in, she refused to let her heart get involved when she already knew disappointment was waiting at the end.

No matter what he said, he was never going to marry her. He wasn’t in love with her. He was in lust with her and that was something she was familiar with, something she could roll with. But she would not be tricked into letting her feelings get involved.

If he expected her to fall in love, he was going to have to invest a lot more than just money. That was too easy. She refused to be merely one more victim in the trail of broken hearts he’d left behind him.

Liam watched her walk away with a myriad of emotions crashing through him. If she wanted him to work harder to get her attention, he would do that. He knew she liked him. The night in New York had proven that. But since her arrival in Cordonia, she had frozen him out. Were her plans tonight with Max? What the fuck did she see in Max that she didn’t see in him? It was frustrating, galling, and, if he were being honest with himself, a little thrilling. He did love a good challenge.

***

Riley let herself back into her room to a stupendous surprise. The two dozen red roses still graced the console table near the entry, but every other available surface, save the bed, was now covered in vases brimming with all manner of blue flowers. Deep blue roses, baby blue hydrangeas, several shades of carnations, and blue and white morning glories, among others, were spread across the tops of the dresser, the end tables, and the vanity.

She gasped as she turned circles, taking it all in. “Max! What is this?”

“Ah…” pink flamed across his cheeks. “I know red roses are romantic and all, but I also know blue is your favorite color, so I took a chance that you might like them.”

“Like them? Max, I love them! But you didn’t have to do all this just because Liam sent me flowers.”

“It was Liam?” His heart sank.

He felt pretty confident about his chances of competing against most of the men at court. But Liam was another story entirely. Of course, she would want Liam. Hell, he wanted Liam, so he certainly couldn’t blame her.

Maybe now was the time to tell her that his feelings for her were real. That it was more than just fun and games for him. “Riley, I—”

There was a knock on the door.

“Hold that thought,” she told him as she strode across the room to answer it.

She pulled the door open to find Drake standing in the hallway. Her face lit up with surprised delight. “Hey, handsome! Did you finally decide on something?”

“I…ah... wanted to talk—” his words cut off mid-sentence as Max appeared in the doorway behind her. A storm raged across his face. “You know what? Never mind. I shouldn’t have—”

“Drake? What are you doing here?”

All three heads turned toward the new voice.

Drake’s brain spun frantically, trying to find a reasonable explanation for his presence. “Ah, I noticed they were missing from the dining hall and wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

Liam’s shoulders relaxed. He had asked Drake to keep an eye on her for him. To personally ensure her safety.

“What are you doing here?” Riley directed her question to Liam.

“I needed to change the time of our date tomorrow night.”

Max stiffened. Drake inspected the casing around the doorframe.

“You couldn’t have texted me that?”

“I could have…” that sparkle that she remembered from New York was back in his eyes. “But I wanted to see you in person.”

“Hm.” She smiled as her finger tapped her lips. “Well, since you’re both here, would you like to come in and join us? We were going to have dinner sent up and have a movie marathon.”

Drake looked skeptically from her to Liam to Max. “I don’t know if we should—”

“I’d love to!” Liam swept into the room with satisfaction radiating from every pore of his body. He pushed past a dismayed Max.

That satisfaction evaporated as he took in the scene in front of him. “That’s a lot of blue flowers.”

Max perked up as his arm went around Riley’s shoulder. “Blue is her favorite color, so I thought she might like some to offset all that red.”

“Yes, I get it. You had to go big after copying my idea.”

“I—” Max’s reply was cut off by Riley’s hand on his chest. “No fighting, boys. We’re going to watch movies and have fun tonight.” Turning back toward Drake, she motioned for him to come in. “Are you going to stand in the hallway or are you going to get in here and help me make sure these two behave?”

Drake hesitated only a second or two.

What could it hurt?

He glanced around at the room full of flowers. Two dozen of Cordonia’s finest red roses, straight from the crown’s own garden shimmered in the waning daylight. At least a dozen vases of flowers turned the room into a shimmering ocean of blue. The younger son of one of Cordonia’s noblest houses and the crown prince himself at a standoff over her attentions, and still she wanted him there. That meant something, right?

Not that he was interested in her. If Liam got his way, and Liam usually did, she was going to be the next queen and his best friend’s wife. Both of those things put her firmly off limits to him, no matter how much she inflamed his desires, haunted his dreams, and bedeviled his waking hours.

Still. What could it hurt to watch a couple of movies with her and two of his oldest friends? It was really Liam and Max he was staying for. To make sure they didn’t fight over her too much. Yeah, that’s why he was staying.

Riley leaned over and whispered into Max’s ear. His scowl was replaced with a flushed face and a broad grin. He nodded as he pulled his phone from his pocket and started swiping. His eyes flicked up long enough to say, “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll have the kitchen send up more food.”

Drake took the lounge chair next to the bed just as Riley climbed up and settled herself in the middle of the bed. She patted the space on either side of her. “Who wants to join me?”

Before Drake could react, Liam was in the closest spot and Max had hurled himself onto the bed, clambering over two sets of legs to claim the other side. With a disgruntled shake of his head, he thumped back into the chair.

This had been a bad idea.

But it hadn’t been a bad idea. His misgivings were soon put to rest as they all balanced their dinner plates on their laps and got completely and inexplicably sucked into Barbie.

Not a movie he would have picked, but as it turned out, it was not a kid’s movie at all. The existential angst, the clever humor, the insightfulness, and the adventure had him forgetting the awkwardness of the situation and laughing along with his friends at the onscreen antics. He was relaxed and actually enjoying his night off.

Max had pushed aside his insecurities about Liam, choosing to focus, instead, on the promises Riley had whispered in his ear about the rewards he’d receive later for being a good boy and playing nice with everyone. His eyes kept sliding sidewise to gauge her reactions to the movie. He wanted to share all of them with her…. every laugh, every gasp, every moment. Not just of the movie, he realized, but for the rest of his life.

His gaze flicked briefly to the man on her other side. He knew Liam was still an obstacle, but he had infinite amounts of patience and faith, deep in his heart, that everything would work out in the end.

Liam didn’t miss the sidelong glances Max was throwing at both him and Riley. He couldn’t say he was completely oblivious to Max’s charms, but he was nothing if not persistent.

She didn’t trust him yet. That was fine. He would prove to her that she could. She needed him to put in work, and he would do that. He had yet to set his mind to any task that he couldn’t master. He just needed to try harder, be smarter, and focus deeper. Winning her heart would be worth it. He knew to the very core of his being that they belonged together.

Long after the dishes had been cleared, and the night had deepened, Riley lay with her head on Liam’s shoulder, drifting off as the credits for the latest Ghostbusters movie rolled. Max was curled up against her on her other side, one arm slung over her waist as Liam’s fingers gently combed through her hair. The sound of Drake’s soft snoring drifted through the room.

She should probably wake everyone and tell them to go sleep in their own beds. That would be far more comfortable, especially for Drake, who was dozing in a chair. But the warmth emanating from the men on either side of her, combined with the softness of the bed and the darkness of the room, lulled her into a contented coziness that she was loathe to break.

The quiet hum of the air conditioning filled the room as the TV clicked off, sealing her decision as she let herself drift off to sleep surrounded by the sounds, scents, and warmth of the three men who had commanded all her attention for the last month.

For the moment, none of them were fighting each other or her. Their earlier laughter still rang in her ears. For tonight, things were peaceful, calm, and happy, and not a single one of them wanted to do anything to disrupt that.

Liam was the last one left awake. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, “Good night, Riley.” Before closing his eyes and slipping into a contented slumber of his own.

[decentishoutsidersthoughts]

do you have any headcanons for the gang's reaction to each of them getting their first dates?

like high school darry and his gaggle of younger friends being all up in his business or omg the first time ponyboy has a date I just know that poor boy is gonna have a red face from all the teasing and talks he gets

I love this it’s so funny, enjoy

Darry

I hc that his first date was a girl on the cheerleading team. He didn’t rly like her very much but he was a sophomore in high school so he thought he did of course.

He was the first one to get a serious girlfriend. Soda Steve and Two-Bit, who had just gotten old enough to care about girls idolized him even more than they previously had. Soda would come into Darry’s room and sit on his bed and ask him all sorts of questions because he just wanted to know.

Darry for a few weeks kind of had that thing where he got a girlfriend and forgot he had friends, so Two-Bit was understandably salty about that but Darry got over it fast and after that Two-Bit just teased him a lot

Dally did not give two shits. He saw Darry getting a cheerleader girlfriend as more of him straying from the gang. If he was still showing up to school he was side eyeing them in the hallways 24/7

Johnny was too scared of girls to be really jealous, but he was also a little curious. But he pretended to be apathetic to it cause Ponyboy was a HATER. In his mind this random cheerleader was making Darry spend even less time at home than he normally did and he was pissed. Also he’s like 9 and probably still thinks girls have cooties 💀

Soda

His first real girlfriend was freshman year. I’m of the firm belief that he has TERRIBLE taste in women and this was the first time it really showed

Darry and Two-Bit both didn’t like Soda’s girlfriend and they’d talk a lot of shit about it. But Darry was letting Sofa handle himself and hoping be would EVENTUALLY stop letting his girlfriend treat him bad and then go find a nice girl. Neither of those rly happened-

Steve hated Soda’s girlfriend with a PASSION. It was the only time him and Ponyboy got along because their hatred was so visceral it brought them together. Steve was lowkey mostly just jealous but it helped that she was mean as hell

Dally and Johnny weren’t THAT involved. Both of them stopped showing up to school by then and it wasn’t a shock that Soda had a girlfriend nor that it was a…weird relationship. Dally was surprised that Soda didn’t rly end up having commitment issues tho

Ponyboy

I feel so bad for this man when he gets a girlfriend. I’ve seen a lot of people say that Darry would be insanely strict about him dating. I don’t think so, he has bigger battles. Especially post canon when he’s trying to give Ponyboy the same amount of freedom he and Soda enjoyed when they were his age. (Possibly even more because let’s be real Ponyboy is the good quiet kid of that family-)

However that doesn’t save him from teasing. Two-Bit is the worst ofc (and Dally if we count them as alive but for the sake of this we won’t). Steve also participates but he’s kind of just an asshole. He tried to purposely give Ponyboy bad advice but then Soda yelled at him so he stopped 🧍‍♀️

Speaking of Soda this man was giving all sorts of unsolicited advice. Ponyboy pretends to listen but in his head he’s like ‘every single relationship you’ve been in with a girl has ended horrendously-‘. He listens to Soda's advice when it comes to flirting and getting girls to like him, but he just asks Darry for advice with the actual relationship stuff 

Johnny

Let’s pretend he’s alive for a minute. His first relationship is the only one that doesn’t crash and burn within 6 months. The gang is honestly flabbergasted that he’s pulling better than the rest of them 😭😭😭😭

Tbh they’re all rly wary at first. Especially Dally and Soda (Dally cause he’s Dally and Soda cause he’s still a lil sore from Sandy). The only one not rly freaked out is Ponyboy

Ponyboy either loves Johnny’s girlfriend or hates her. No in between. They’re either besties or he preys on her downfall. He third wheels them everywhere regardless tho. He’s like their practice kid.

Dally and Steve definitely threatened her 💀

Darry’s also wary but once again he has other things to worry about. He does keep track of their relationship tho so he’ll be ready to do damage control if they break up (he does that with everyone but he does it more with Johnny cause he knows from experience the longer the relationship lasts the worse the breakup is)

I don’t have many thoughts on the other three ngl. I think the gang is kinda just like ‘that happened’. Other than Soda being a massive hype man for Steve (until he gets jealous tee hee)

[roosterbruiser]

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

—𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐓. 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐔𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒. 𝐌𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘𝐑. —𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟒.𝟕𝐊 —𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 —𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐒, 𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

“I’ve been thinking about something,” Fanboy starts, picking at his hotdog. 

Payback pretends to be exasperated, rolling his eyes. But Fanboy knows he has his undivided attention. 

“Thinking about Mable being a martyr?” Payback whispers, raising a brow at Mable as she furiously destroys her lunch with her plastic fork and knife. “‘Cause me too.”

They’re sitting at their usual lunch table, all the children chattering and stuffing handfuls of salty chips in their mouths. Dotted all along the lunch room, the rest of the counselors are quietly chatting or tying shoes or opening juice boxes. A peculiar sense of alarm has settled over everyone--which is largely due to the fact that Mable Brandt won’t touch her food, keeps clutching pages of her destroyed bible, and keeps removing her bandage to stare at the cut on her arm. 

“Nah,” Fanboy says softly, glancing at Mable. Her hotdog is in little chunks before her and she’s just staring down at her plate now. “Maybe someone else oughta learn how to use the shotgun.” 

Payback makes a face--screwing his face up in discontent. 

“Why? Seresin’s our best shot.” 

Fanboy isn’t sure how to articulate it to Payback. If he had no filter, if he was totally honest, he’d just say that he was scared. Scared that someone came to camp last night and attacked Mable, scared that Mable maybe did it to herself. He’s scared, most of all, that it was someone in this lunch room. Whether it was a camper or a counselor or Paul or--fuck, he doesn’t know. And he’s scared because he doesn’t know. 

Payback’s chewing slows as he watches his best friend stare down at the wooden table before him. He can see it clear as day: Fanboy’s worried. Scared, even. 

“Yeah, that actually probably would be better, wouldn’t it?” Payback says softly. “You know, in case Seresin loses his marbles.” 

“Or gets hacked.” 

Fanboy and Payback chuckle.

“He will,” Mable pipes up softly. 

Payback whirls around to face her. She won’t look up from her plate.

“Didn’t quite catch that, kiddo,” Payback says slowly. “What’d you say?” 

“Mister Jake. He’s going to get hacked.” 

Luckily, she isn’t speaking loud enough to get the attention of any of the other campers. But she is all Fanboy and Payback can see right now. 

“What do you mean?” Fanboy asks softly. If he wore a cross necklace, he’d sure be clutching it right now. “Like, hacked?”

“He’s going to be cut up with an ax,” Mable says softly. “That’s what they said to me.”

A stone sinks in Fanboy’s belly. He swallows hard, glances at Payback--who is staring down at Mable perplexed. 

“Who?”

Mable just glances down at her bandages. Blood is beginning to seep through them.She presses the pad of her thumb down over the blood, ignores the burn, and focuses on the warmth that grows there. 

“I got in its way,” Mable explains. She’s been thinking about this all night. She’s a smart girl--beyond her years, so mature for her age. She’s smart enough to look back on what happened and deduce a few points. “It was looking for Mister Jake.”

“How do you know that?” Fanboy asks, leaning in closer. 

Payback sighs quietly. 

“Don’t egg her on, man,” he insists. 

Fanboy silences him with an open palm. 

“It was going to his cabin. Only, I got in its way.” 

“Well, it wouldn’t have found him there, anyway,” Payback says, crossing his arms. 

He just isn’t sure how well he believes this tale. And he’s annoyed that Fanboy is so interested in it, leaning forward with a glassy look in his eyes like what Mable says is gospel. 

This is how people get indoctrinated in cults, Payback thinks.

“I know,” Mable whispers. “He was with Nurse Nightingale.” 

Fanboy looks at Payback, reeling. 

Payback isn’t amused. 

“Well, whoever it was--they didn’t hack you up. So, what makes you think they wanted to do that to Mister Jake?” 

The tips of Fanboy’s fingers are numb with fear. Even basked in the warm sunshine, even among all these campers and counselors, even with his favorite lunch before him--he’s scared. He almost doesn't want to know her answer.

“It--it…well, I just know, okay? Don’t you believe me?” 

Finally, Mable looks up. And it’s when Payback sees that fat tears have settled in her eyes. She grips the wooden table and shakes her head softly at Payback. 

“I know what the Devil looks like. I saw it last night. It wanted my blood!”

Other campers have turned towards Mable now. Her cheeks are red and her eyes are wet and she’s beginning to shiver in her spot, not breaking her gaze away from Payback. And as if in a trance, Payback can’t break his gaze from her. 

“It wanted my blood!” She cries again, louder now. So loud that she’s gotten the attention of the other tables around her. “It stunk of sulfur and it hated me for loving God! It tore my Bible and tried to shake my faith, but it cannot!” Mable stands now, pointing a finger at Payback with her eyes wide. “It wanted my blood and it wants more! It will feast on everyone here! We will bathe in our own blood and be torn limb by limb as the depths of Hell calls for us! There is no way out! There is no way out!” 

Frozen in terror, you watch from your spot beside Bradley. Not even the heat of his body can bring you back into your body as you watch Mable come undone, spit flinging from her chapped lips as she screams at Payback. 

Everyone is silent besides her, campers reaching for each other’s hands beneath the table, counselors lips parted in shock.

“Mable, that’s enough,” Payback insists. “Sit down and finish your hotdog.” 

With that, Mable grabs her tin plate and chucks it across the room. It clatters against the wooden wall and sends the hotdog straight to the floor in a puddle of ketchup. 

“Mable,” Fanboy says, voice quivering. “Calm down, kid.” 

“There will be no calm when the Devil comes for us all! He is among us! He’s here! He’s in this room! I can feel his spirit, I can smell his stench!” 

That’s when Coyote and Hangman step in. 

Each of them takes one of her arms, pulling her away from the table. 

“Calm down, honey,” Hangman soothes, brow furrowed. “Let’s get some air.” 

Mable, who’s letting her heels scrape against the floor as the entire canteen population watches her get dragged out, looks up at him with a most sorrowful gaze. 

“You’re not going to make it to the end of summer, Mister Jake. Is your soul saved?”

Coyote scoffs loudly, slamming the doors open. 

“I’ve had about enough of that doom and gloom talk,” Coyote says seriously. “Cut it out now.” 

“Accept Christ in your heart and I can baptize you, Mister Jake,�� Mable continues, wriggling out of Coyote’s grip, squinting up at the sun, and cupping Hangman’s cheek before he can stop her. “Your soul is not doomed yet.” 

“Mable Brandt,” Coyote chastizes. “You just--you know what? You’re gonna sit in the cabin for the rest of the day. Think real hard about this Bible-thumping thing you’re so keen on. Christ, kid.”

Hangman removes her sticky hand from his cheek. And then they start across the courtyard to her cabin, not responding when Mable begins begging for release from this evil place. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t exactly describe anywhere in Maine as evil,” Hangman huffs to Coyote. “Ain’t that reserved for the West?” 

Once they’ve settled Mable in her cabin and stepped back out into the heat, the severity of her words sink into Hangman. He’s a logical man from a God-fearing family. He knows that the Devil must be real in some capacity--how else would anyone explain Charles Manson or Ted Bundy? But the thought of the Devil being here, at Camp Arcadia, and wanting him? That can’t be real--surely not. 

“She’s full of it, man,” Coyote says softly, clapping a hand on Jake’s sweaty shoulder. “Don’t worry about her. I’m pretty sure she cut herself.” 

Jake shrugs. 

“No skin off my back. Literally.”

 Fanboy and Payback are waiting for them when they return to the canteen. Both of them, even Payback, are standing with their jaws clenched and their lashes fluttering. 

“You need to teach someone else how to shoot,” Fanboy says seriously, squinting up at Jake. “Just in case.” 

Hangman starts to scoff, but then Payback makes a sound of agreement. 

“Oh, God--not you two too? Mable’s sitting in first class on the crazy train,” Coyote says. 

He waits for some sort of reaction--the men to admit that they’re being paranoid, the men to laugh it off. But Payback and Fanboy just stare at them. 

“Someone else needs to be a good shot,” Payback says. 

“Someone at least needs to know how to shoot it.” 

The small smile that is gracing Hangman’s face is slowly beginning to fade. 

He can see it--the fear. And it makes his belly turn sour. 

“Okay,” Hangman simply agrees. “Who?” 

It’s the second time this week you’ve pulled the short stick.

“Alright, Butch Cassidy,” you mutter to him with the short spaghetti noodle in your grasp. “I’ll be your Sundance Kid.”  

Jake stifles a chuckle and shakes his head seriously. 

“Take this seriously!” Jake demands. “We could be attacked at any time!” 

“By the Devil!” Phoenix says, clutching her chest in mock-terror. 

“Or worse…” Bob starts softly, shaking his head. 

“Ronald Reagan?” You ask, perching a brow. 

You chew on the short noodle as everyone laughs. 

And then a strange quietness settles over all the counselors. All the kiddos have been dismissed to the courtyard to play so the lot of you could draw sticks. And all huddled up here, after Mable’s explosion, there seems to be so much to talk about that no one knows where to begin. 

“I-I know this is gonna sound shitty,” Bob starts finally, his tongue thick with nerves. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and glances at everyone carefully. “But where was everyone last night? Not accusing…I’m just…covering all our bases.” 

“Mable did it to herself,” Coyote insists. “She had to have! None of the knives were missing, we haven’t had any incidents before that. What, she get cut with an ax?” 

“Nope, that was Bradshaw,” you pipe up, bumping Bradley. 

Rooster nods, holding out his bandaged hand. 

“Okay, well, if Mable did it to herself--how? With what weapon?” Fanboy asks, voice hushed but urgent. 

“A loose nail? Her teeth?” Payback suggests. 

“Cut was too precise for that,” you sigh, pushing your hair out of your face. “It was something sharp.” 

Phoenix hums to herself for a moment, fanning her warm face. 

“What about a seashell?” 

You glance at her--she’s already looking at you. 

“Like, a broken up seashell?” You ask. Huh. You hadn’t considered that. But there are shells that dot the shore of the lake--you’re sure Mable could figure out how to break one. “I mean--yeah, that’s a possibility. Maybe a stone, too.” 

“Now we’re cooking with oil,” Bradley sighs, wiping his brow. “Okay, but why?” 

Before anyone can hypothesize, Bob pipes up again. 

“And why the fixation with Jake?” 

Jake’s throat goes dry. He doesn’t let it show on his tanned face; his mustache is still bushy, his hip is still jutted, his shorts are still short. 

“Who could resist, man?” Coyote answers for him, nudging Jake. “Half the camp is probably crushing on him!” 

“There’s a difference between a crush and whatever the fuck we just saw,” Phoenix says, frowning. “That wasn’t normal.” 

Payback shrugs. 

“In all fairness, Mable isn’t normal.” 

No one disagrees. 

With everyone standing here with their ringer shirts and short-shorts and sweaty faces and squinted eyes and slight smiles, it’s peculiar that anything bad could ever happen here. It’s peculiar, most of all, that you’re even having to discuss the Devil. 

“Well, either way, we all know where Mister Jake was last night. With his Number One Camp Crush.” 

Your heart sinks into your belly when Fanboy nudges you playfully. 

Oh, fuck. 

Now is about the time you wish the world would open up and swallow you whole. 

Bradley’s brows are furrowed. 

Jake, biting a cocky grin, rolls his eyes. 

“Oh, buzz off,” he insists, crossing his arms over his chest. “Mind your potatoes!”

“Oh, so that’s where you were last night?” Coyote asks with a grin, nudging Jake. “My man!”

“She had a nightmare,” Jake insists, truly trying to save face. 

You groan, shaking your head. 

“Alright, I’m gonna head out before we get too regressive here,” you sigh, hands on your hips. “Gimme a ring when you wanna step back into the twentieth century, alright?”

Spinning on your heel, you start to walk back to the Nurse’s Cabin before anyone can see how flustered you are. And you certainly don’t want Bradley to see that--nor do you want to see his face when he figures out. 

“You’re all idiots,” Phoenix sighs. “Bob, let’s skitty.” 

But, true to Bradshaw fashion, you’re only in the confines of the cabin for less than a minute before Bradley is standing in the doorway. 

Jake decides to watch from the courtyard, resisting the urge to rub it in Bradshaw’s face. He knows you can fight your own battles. 

“Really?” He asks softly. 

There’s a fire lit in his belly now. And, God--it isn’t even that you were messing around with someone. It’s that it’s Jake. Jake fucking Seresin. That fucking goofball? 

“What?” You ask, making yourself busy with organizing the countertop. 

“Him?” 

You’re hot all over. 

“I’m not in the mood for this right now,” you tell Bradley, shaking your head and chewing on your lower lip. “Not after the night I’ve had.” 

Bradley is watching you with a hardened gaze. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you did have a night, huh?” 

That stops you dead in your tracks. Gripping the counter, you turn on your heel and stare at him. He’s staring right back at you, looking tall and broad and fucking pissed. 

“Did we get married last summer and I magically forgot about it? ‘Cause last time I checked, you and I aren’t an item. I check single on all my paperwork.” 

Wounded, Bradley steps into the cabin and shakes his head at you. 

“Don’t dumb it down to that.” 

The tired in your bones is beginning to vibrate. You hold your face for a moment, wipe the sweat from your skin, and shake your head at him.

“You flirt with me for three months out of the year. Then we go our separate ways. That’s kinda what we do.” 

His heart is hammering. 

“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me we aren’t a little bit more than that!” 

“Are we?” You challenge, shrugging.

His lip twitches. 

“Yeah, we are.” 

Throwing your hands up in the air, an exasperated laugh tumbles from your lips. 

“News to me, buddy!” 

A lull falls over the two of you. Distantly, other counselors are starting to gather the axes and talk about breaking into shifts. Kids are playing. Birds are singing. The lake is rippling. The radio in the corner is playing Tainted Love by Soft Cell. 

“News to you, huh?” He asks, his voice lower and softer now. Just barely, you nod. Your thighs are beginning to quiver. “It’s not news to me.” 

And, really, what he means is that he’s crazy about you. He may only see you for three months of the year, but he thinks about you for twelve months of the year. He can smell jasmine year-round when he thinks of burying his nose in your hair. You’re like a private garden, one that sits between his skull and the soft and pink parts of his brain. You’re with him. It’s as simple as that. You’re with him. 

“We didn’t have sex,” you say, face burning. You’re not even sure why you’re saying it other than it just feels like the right thing to say. “Not that it’s any of your business.” 

But isn’t it? 

“You’re together now?” He asks. 

You shake your head quickly. 

“No.” 

He nods. It’s quiet again. 

“Good,” he sighs. “Summer ain’t over yet.”  

♀

All you can smell right now is the lake. The musty scent of moss and the distant stench of fish coat your nostrils so thickly that you want to step away from the water, backtrack up the rocks and find your place further inland beside Phoenix and Bob--who are manning a game of Freeze Tag.

Further up the courtyard, the campers who aren’t running around are all lazing around. The other counselors are still taking shifts chopping the tree so there’s been plenty of camp-wide games today. No campers have particularly wanted to do a whole lot today--not with Mable telling everyone that the Devil came to Camp Arcadia last night and cut her good. 

“It wanted my blood,” she’s been telling everyone, pointing to her bandages.

No one is quite sure what to believe. 

Right now, though--you don’t want to think about it. You just want to think about standing here on the shore of the lake, where you’re unable to move. 

You can’t because Jake is standing just behind you, his body molded to yours. With his chin atop your head and his arms wrapped around your own, you’re solid as concrete right here with the waves racing up the rocks to lap at the rubber toes of your jellies. 

“And then you just cock it, alright?”

He cocks it himself, using your curled fingers as mere vessels. It’s hard and heavy in your hands, even if Jake’s holding most of the weight. Metal settles beneath your tongue.  

Huffing, you shake your head. The sun beating down on you is like three thousand heat lamps. It’s making you feel muggy, your head thick with cotton and your mouth chalky from not having eaten anything since that muffin this morning. And to make matters worse, Jake won’t take the gun out of your hands so you can tie your hair up.

“I really wish you’d stop using that word.” 

Jake grins--beams, really. He knows you’re grumpy this morning. After the interruption, you both knew you wouldn’t be able to swing sleeping in the same cabin. No one slept very well at all--who could when one of the campers was sliced and diced? And even without all of that commotion, he knows that you had it worse because of the nightmare. He thought about you being alone in your cabin all night long, blinking up at the water stained ceiling in his own cabin. 

And despite your less-than-stellar mood, he’s fallen comfortably back into his role of elementary-aged boy with a crush on y-o-u.

“Fine--jerk it.” 

Teeth sinking into your lower lip, an aggravated sigh floods your lips. It settles comfortably in the muggy air staining your skin and rings through Jake's ears sweetly, like the song of the cicadas. When he’s sure no one is looking, he presses a lewd and hasty kiss to the crown of your head, which makes the sun feel blistering. 

You’re fairly certain you’re about to be reduced to a sugary, sweat-spiked puddle not unlike those left behind by Rooster’s chicks when they have Popsicle Hour.

“I don’t even wanna do this,” you insist, irritation chewing your tone. “I don’t even think I believe in guns.” 

Jake scoffs. 

“Everyone believes in guns.”

Any attempt to keep the peace with Jake is squashed beneath the thick heel of your scoff. 

“Why, Toto! I don’t think we’re in Texas anymore!” 

You click your heels three times--Jake pinches your hip, but finds himself pleased and adoring as ever. Sure, you’re acting like this now. But you’re letting him hold you--Hell, you’re holding a gun to mostly appease him. Or, that’s what he chooses to believe. 

And you certainly weren’t acting like this last night. That knowledge seems to be keeping Jake afloat while battling your never-ending exasperation and general distaste for companionship today.

“Keep your heels planted,” he instructs, a bead of sweat dripping down his face and into your hair. You don’t seem to notice, thank God. When you begin to grumble, Jake squeezes the curve of your waist. “You ever have to shoot someone, you’re gonna be glad you had your old pal Jake to show you how to not get knocked onto your ass from the recoil.” 

“Do you even know how brawny I am, birdbrain? I can hoist up anyone and their mama off a gurney!” You argue. 

Nonetheless, you plant your heels into the ground and straighten your spine.

Jake knows it’s fruitless to argue with you. The only way you’ll let up is if he lets you pull the trigger for yourself--although the thought of you soaring through the air and landing flat on your back makes Jake stiffen with discomfort.

“Baby, darlin’, sweetheart, honey…” Jake starts, sighing. His breath fans across your sticky cheek and you swallow thickly, blinking rapidly when a bead of sweat lands on your lashes. “Chill, huh? Let’s walk through it again.”

So you do walk through it again. Jake strokes the parts of your body that require changing: knees slightly bent, feet planted firmly shoulder-width apart, left jelly-clad foot a bit ahead of the other, chest pushed in every-so-slightly to mirror that foot. 

“I feel like an idiot,” you grumble, wrinkling your nose. 

“Baby, you’ve never looked better.”

“Guns really get your engine revving?” 

Jake laughs. 

“Alright, space cadet. Go ahead and flick that safety off.”

“Oh, get lost,” you mutter to him. 

You switch the safety off anyway. 

Slowly, Jake releases your body so you’re standing on your lonesome with the gun. It’s much heavier without him taking the brunt of the weight--so heavy that you’d have stumbled if you weren’t annoyingly balanced in this stance. 

Jake watches you from a safe distance, his shorts digging into the meat of his thighs as he stands with them flexed. You look good holding a shotgun--the wood smooth in your dexterous hands, the metal dark gleaming in the sunlight, your lip bitten and your eyes lasered in on the target across the lake. 

You can do this--he knows it and so do you. 

“Okay,” Jake says, eyebrows furrowed as the heat of summer pours over your two forms. “You got it, baby. Just breathe in, find that trigger, and exhale when you squeeze. It’s real easy. Promise.” 

“Promise,” you mock. Jake doesn’t so much as flinch. “And what’re you gonna do for me when I get a bullseye, huh?” 

He opens his mouth to say something less-than camp appropriate despite your mood. He figures he can get away with it, too, since you’re a bit preoccupied with the shotgun. Jake doesn’t see Bradley approaching, ringing his hands together as his blisters settle into the soft flesh there. But Bradley’s seen most of what’s happened between the two of you--which is why he’s honing in on interrupting.

“Well, I could--!”  

“--I’m sure he can think of something,” Bradley interrupts, hands on his hips as he falls in place beside Jake. Both of the men stiffen--Bradley smells like oak and moss, having taken a double of tree-cutting time just to get away from all the hullabaloo at camp. “Like, say--an extra muffin. Or filling in for me at the tree so we can get some alone time.”

When you hear his voice, your spine prickles. Your body is aflame and all you can do is chew your lip and stare straight ahead. You suppose, in some strange and cosmic way, you’re always prepared for Bradley to show up and make your heart race.  

“You know she has a gun, cassanova,” Jake says with a sneer. “We really shouldn’t be pissing her off.” 

Rooster scoffs.

“I couldn’t piss Gale off if I tried,” Rooster insists rather smugly, wiping his blistered hands on his bare thighs before snatching your canteen off the dirt floor and taking a long swig. “Ain’t that right, honey?” 

“The good thing about shotguns is that they have two bullets,” you say.

Atta girl, Jake thinks. He doesn’t mind that you’re threatening to shoot him, too.  

 “She was just about to shoot,” Jake says to Bradley, jerking his chin to the spot beside him. “Step back or else.”

“Oh, real freaky-deaky, man,” Rooster taunts, rolling his eyes and wiping his wet lips with the back of his sweaty hand. “I think I know how to--!” 

He’s rudely interrupted by the blast. It’s the loudest thing anyone has ever heard at Camp Arcadia--it reverberates off the rippling lakewater, sears through the muggy air, slices a few mosquitos on its way, then embeds itself in the spray-painted hay. 

Jake can’t believe it. He can tell from here beside you, cupping his gaze and staring across the lake. 

Bullseye. 

There’s certainly going to be a bruise on your shoulder now--but you didn’t fall flat on your ass like you thought you would. You’re counting it as a win, not even bothering to see where your bullet punctured as you slowly take your finger off the trigger and engage safety again. 

“Holy shit!” Jake exclaims. And before you really know what’s happening, he’s pushing the gun out of your hands and putting it in Rooster’s hands as he scowls at the ringing in his ears, wrapping you up in his arms with a joyous grin. “Bullseye, bullseye, bullseye!” 

“What--really?” You ask, scrambling to hold onto him as he spins you in a circle. 

His scent permeates you--drowns you. All that familiar sweat, soap, dirt. It makes you think about last night when his face was in your throat and his hand was between your legs. God--it makes you want him. And you still have gunpowder on your hands.    

“You’re acting surprised,” Bradley points out, still grimacing as his ears vibrate. “Like you didn’t know she’d get one.” 

“Get lost, Bradshaw! Don’t shit on my picnic!” 

But then you catch Rooster’s gaze as it settles on you in Jake’s arms. His eyes are half-shut beneath the sun, swimming with a strange sort of grief. So, you wriggle out of Jake’s grip, firmly plant your feet on the shore, then salute both of them. 

You’re thinking about it now, Bradley’s words earlier. 

It’s not news to me.

And who are you to torture him?

“See you at dinner,” you tell them both cordially. You’re fairly certain they’ll be able to hear your heart beating out of your throat. “Don’t kill each other, huh?” 

Bradley and Jake glance at each other. Jake thinks about last night--so does Bradley. Jake’s version of events are more detailed than Bradley will ever know and that fills him with a certain pride. 

“No promises,” Bradley murmurs.

♀

It’s a peculiar feeling. Not unfamiliar, but not something you’ll ever get used to. Every single bit of your body, every little nerve and hair and scar and mole and freckle can feel it. 

You’re being watched.

Except it isn’t the middle of the night and you aren’t alone in your cabin. You’re standing in the Nurse’s Cabin, folding up some linens, singing along to Danger Zone by Kenny Loggins. 

The feeling floods you like a blush. One moment, you’re just listening to the distant sound of axes and kiddos hollering, and the next you’re paralyzed with fear and every hair on your body is stick straight and standing tall. 

It’s silly, you tell yourself when your heart starts to pound. It’s silly. It’s silly. 

Surely, really, actually it isn’t really here watching you. It’s a creature from a nightmare. It’s a figment of your imagination. It’s the middle of the day. Anyone else would be able to see it.  

With every fiber in your being, though, you know that it’s standing at the door watching you. 

There will be no calm when the Devil comes for us all! He is among us! He’s here! He’s in this room! I can feel his spirit, I can smell his stench! 

 A fat raindrop of fear races down the column of your spine as you stare straight ahead at the wall before you. When the stench of sulfur tickles your upper lip, you’re almost certain you’re imagining it. And when you feel it take a step into the cabin, that minuscule vibration and tiny crying of the wood, you’re almost certain you’re not imagining it. 

If you could speak, you’d pray. 

Another step. 

You’re too afraid to turn around. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: MABLE TERRIFIES ME.....

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

[soulofapatrick]

Curls - Tommy Miller x Reader

Summary: Tommy comes back from patrol all hot and sweaty with his curls doing things to Y/N and it doesn’t take long for her restraint to snap

Words: 2.4K

Warnings: Fingering

Notes: Idea given to me by the amazing @thesapphirequeen​

Y/N’s POV

I would say I have a lot of self control but when Joel and Tommy come back from a particularly tough patrol I have to sit down and cross my legs as the sight of Tommy all hot and sweaty, his curls sticking to his forehead does something to me. Ellie takes one look at me and burst out of laughing, her and Jesse both knowing about my insatiable crush on the younger Miller brother. We’re currently sat in Joel’s living room where we all congregate as a family once a week. All of us being Joel; Ellie; Tommy: Jesse: Dina; Maria and I. A small part of me hates that Maria is here as it’s like the world wants to rub it in my face that there is something undeniable going on between Maria and Tommy. It’s not like I’d be able to make a move on Tommy anyway, he’s too perfect for me to even have a chance. 

Tommy looks hand sculptures by Michelangelo right now, shirt practically sticking to his well defined chest as he shrugs off his fleece jean jacket, sun kissed skin glistening in the evening sun that’s shining through the window, illuminating the golden specks in his cognac eyes and showing off his freckles. Out of it all I itch to run my hands through those luscious curls that are currently stuck to his face and neck and I want to run my tongue up his chest to taste the saltiness that is Tommy. 

Ellie’s giggling, pressing a firm hand to my shoulder and squeezing, causing me to drag my eyes away from Tommy. Oh my god I was staring! I risk a glance back at the ethereal man and feel myself turn three shades of scarlet when he winks at me, cognac eyes bright and full of amusement. Before anything else embarrassing can happen I have Jesse planting himself on my lap and knocking the air from my lungs as he leans back and all I can do is wrap my arms around his waist with a fond shake of my head. 

“Dinner is almost ready so go shower boys!” Maria calls from the kitchen where Dina is helping her cook. I rest my head on Jesse’s shoulder, watching Tommy pull the shirt over his head to reveal more of his glistening sun kissed skin that has me burying my face in the back of Jesse’s shirt instead before I get carried away, storing the images for later when I’m alone in my own bed. Jesse’s trying to turn his head far enough to see my face, a concerned look furrowing his brows before they soften to amusement when Ellie leans down and whispers something to him. 

“Tommy eh?” Jesse asks quietly and I just tighten my arms around his waist almost painfully in warning, “Alright, alright. I’m here if you wanna talk though.” 

“Thank you.” I press my lips to his clothed shoulder and he chuckles before turning back to Ellie and they continue their bickering over what comic book series was better: Marvel or DC. I have always held Marvel with a higher respect, watching some of the movies before the outbreak and finding the DVDs of the rest over the years. They’re sat in my room upstairs, on my bookcase along with the books I’ve found along my journeys. I love being to able to hold onto parts of the past, especially books that have sentences highlighted in them as I feel like I am bringing someone long forgotten back to life even if I don’t know their names. You learn a lot about people by the highlighted parts or the notes scribbled down the edges of the pages. All of them dog-eared and worn but loved and continue to be loved. 

Joel reappears first, playfully scolding Jesse for crushing me and making my best friend get off my lap. Playing along I pretend to gasp in a deep breath, causing Jesse to smack my arm and Joel let out a hearty laugh. One strong look from Maria has Joel ushering the three of us to the table, Ellie and Jesse running to the seat next Joel and bickering over it as they both sat down on half of it each. Joel just shakes his head fondly, salt and pepper hair shining in the light and there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips, weather worn features softening with the kind of love a father has for his kids. It’s a warming thing to see after the heartbreak of Sarah and how he broke down when telling me and Ellie about being the guy that shot and missed all those years ago. That was the man Tommy and Maria expected to find when we arrived in Jackson those three years ago but I hope Tommy has found the man his brother once used to be all those years ago before the outbreak. 

Ellie will always be Joel’s kid but Jesse… I’d honestly say I see him more as Tommy’s surrogate son with the way Tommy is always looking out for him and the way Jesse looks up to Tommy. It’s not the same kind of idolisation he has for Joel, that is a role model idolisation whereas Jesse idolises Tommy like a kid would their parent. It warms my heart seeing everyone here as a family. 

Joel is moving Ellie one down so Dina can sit between them and Jesse gets placed opposite Ellie. Joel and I sit opposite each other, either side of Maria who will sit at the head of the table which means-

“Saved me a spot I see sweetheart.” A large and warm hand squeezes my shoulder before Tommy’s sliding into the seat between me and Jesse as Maria and Dina bring the plates over. Tommy looks almost more amazing than before, his hair damp from the shower and smelling of vanilla, fresh faced and a smirk on his lips as he digs into the pasta dish Maria and Dina have prepared up. I think my jaw hits the floor when I realise he’s wearing my sweater, it’s my favourite sweater: a deep blue colour and very warm and  oversized yet on him it seems to fit him perfectly. The idea of him going into my room and picking out the sweater he knows I wear all the time to cover in the dizzying scent of everything Tommy makes my mouth water and I have to clear my throat a little. 

I could hardly focus on the rest of the meal when Tommy’s leg brushes against mine and settles there, not moving away and I’m not gonna push him away. Everyone’s laughing and joking around about their favourite moments on patrol or funny stories from before the outbreak and I’m just happy to listen to them all. The sound of laughter music to my ears and just seeing us all be a big happy family warms my heart so much but there is always going to be a pang of sadness that comes with it. Sometime I can imagine my siblings being here with us as well as Sarah. 

Plates are being collected and everyone is beginning to say their goodbyes and head home. Jesse and Maria leaving first as they live in the same direction, Dina is staying the night and I find myself walking Tommy out. We stand on the porch, watching the evening sky and the peace that comes with is while the three inside clean up. Tommy's calloused hand settles over mine before he’s pulling me into a hug that has me weak at the knees, especially when he whispers, “Come by mine tomorrow and you can have your sweatshirt back baby girl.” His lips ghost the corner of my lips then he’s gone, striding confidently down the street towards his own place. The opposite direction to Marias. 

*

“Tommy?” I call into the house, stepping inside to find it silent but there’s a note propped up on the table in his messy scrawl. He is having to help with some last minute repairs on the Harris’ house so I should make myself at home and that my sweatshirt is in his room if I’d prefer to grab it and go. 

Despite my best judgement I’m heading down the hallway to his room, creaking the door open and finding my sweatshirt neatly laid out on his bed. His room always makes me smile as everything in it screams Tommy like the guitar hung up on the wall and the bunch of old school posters for movies and bands that we all manage to scavenge on our patrols. Broken photo frames are dotted around the room, most of them of him, Joel and Sarah from before the outbreak. There’s a pile of books stashed in the corner and I think I melt right there and them as there’s a sticky note on them with the words ‘For Y/N’. 

 Turning from the pile I move to the bed, picking up my sweater and bringing it to my nose, groaning lightly as he didn’t wash it so the addictive mix of his vanilla body wash clings to it along with the coffee he probably had when he got home and the woodsmoke from working and helping the town. My body acts upon its own instincts when I’m unbuttoning my shirt and pulling my sweater over my head, sitting on his bed and just enjoying the feeling of being trusted enough to be allowed to let myself into his house let alone his bedroom. 

His bed… My mind can’t help but wonder to how it would feel being pinned down to his bed with his heavy weight settled on top of me and his fingers trailing my skin, lips and teeth leaving marks that I wouldn’t be able to hide. I’m laying back, popping the button on my jeans and sliding my hand over the fabric of my slowly wetting underwear, letting my eyes slip shut as I tease myself, the smell of him surrounding me making it hard to cling to any sanity. My thumb grazes my clit and his name tumbles from my lips in a broken moan. 

“Fuck me baby girl,” My eyes fly open, hand flying out of my jeans and sitting up to find Tommy standing in the doorway, face flushed and lips parted slightly with his chest rising and falling quickly, “You could have just asked me.” He’s stalking closer, throwing his jacket aside before sliding onto the bed next to me. The rough pads of his fingers gripping my chin and drawing me up into a kiss I have been thinking of for a little over a year. It’s hot and needy but there’s a softness to it that has me wanting to never stop kissing him, the feeling of his tongue dipping into the seam of my lips drawing a mewl from me. I’m gasping when his featherlight fingers brush down my stomach and under my jeans to replace my hand that was there, a moan falling from his lips and forehead resting against mine, breath fanning my face as he groans, “Fuck, you all wet for me baby girl?” 

“Only you.” I croak out, nails digging into his shoulders as he leans over me, cognac eyes watching me as he circles two fingers over my clit, sparking a new type of pleasure from me that I could never give myself. Its the type of pleasure that has my thighs trembling almost immediately when his fingers push my panties to the side is he can gather some of my slick on his fingers before plunging one into my aching core. I’m whining, back arching off the bed at the intrusion and I think my eyes roll back into my head, “T-Tommy, fuck, this is my first-“ 

His digit stops moving, a frustrated sound leaving my lips and my hips rolling down to find some friction, eyes flying open to see his mouth dropped in shock and concern in his eyes as well as something so very possessive and it turns me on even more than I though possible. His voice is low and he sounds wrecked when he asks, “This is your first anything?” 

“Dreamt of it always being you.” My brain to mouth seems to break when his finger still inside my aching heat curls, hitting a stop that causes almost blinding pleasure. 

“Gonna make you feel so good baby girl,” His lips latch onto my neck, “Gonna show you everything you want, wanted you for a while now. Oh fuck, you’re so tight, just for me.” He’s panting, groaning more to himself than me as he works another finger in, curling them both before the uncomfortable stretch can be felt. His fingers are a lot thicker than mine and I’m tangling my hand in his addictive curls, yanking him into a dirty kiss when his thumb presses against my clit, “That’s it sweet girl, come for me.” That building pressure seems to snap into waves and I’m letting out the dirtiest sound ever, eyes rolling back into my head and hips jerking at the almost overwhelming amount of pleasure and stimulation rocking my body. Tommy keeps up his pace until I’m squirming away, the pleasure turning into uncomfortableness and pain, cognac eyes on mine when he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean. 

“Fuck Tommy.” I mewl, my hand cupping his cheek and feeling the soft freshly shaven stubble under my palm, smiling softly when he leans into my touch. 

“Did you mean it?” He suddenly asks, eyes open and full of fear for the answer and I’m nodding, drawing him down into a soft kiss, “You want me to take it all?” 

“Tommy,” I hold his face in both hands, pulling away from the kiss, “I have been head over heels in love with you for the last year a half.” My face heats up at the admittance, waiting for him to laugh or tease me but instead his pillowy lips press to each cheek, then my chin and my forehead before finally he’s pressing a chaste kiss to my parted lips. 

“I have been head over heels in love with you for two years.” He grins, a light blush gracing his sun kissed skin and freckles.

“We’re idiots.” 

“Yes we are” 

“That’s enough for today baby girl.” He comes, drawing me into his arms as I feel my eyes getting heavy, body thrumming with love and safety, “I’ll be right here when you wake up sweet girl.”

----------

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[fabuloustrash05]

Kendratello Headcanon

In order to get secret information from the Purple Dragons as well as the bonus of stealing their high tech, Donnie comes up with the “genius” plan to woo Kendra, pretend he’s interested in her romantically and when she’s off her guard from “being so in love” with Donnie, he’ll steal all her stuff.

Little does Donnie know, Kendra had the exact same plan in mind.

And so begins the fake dating trope! Both Donnie and Kendra pretend to be romantically interested in one another in order to steal their tech (thinking they’re plan is working cause the other seems in love with them unknowingly to them that they have the same plan in mind) but during the ordeal of them “dating” they actually start to fall in love with one another.

Donnie starts to realize how pretty Kendra is (she is cute and mean which Donnie has admitted is his type), how he always wants to try to make her smile and hear her talk for hours about her passions.

Kendra notices Donnie charm and adores his wit, how confident he is in everything he does and loves his hardworking spirit along with his skilled dance moves.

At the peak of their relationship, both of them have forgotten what their original plan was. They share a sweet moment the two are about to kiss but Donnie’s brothers and The Purple Dragon gang interrupt the moment. Both teams now furious for how long the plan was taking, expose Donnie and Kendra’s plans to the other. Donnie and Kendra are both shock and even heartbroken from this reveal, everything they been through when they “dated” meant nothing to the other (it did) and it was for the sake of a plan to destroy them!

Then begins the blame game for both Donnie and Kendra excusing the other for betraying them and blaming the other for who starting the fake dating idea. They were both lead to believe that there could be something between them (when in truth there is). They “broke up” after that and are both mad about the betrayal for it broke their hearts (though they won’t admit that) and even shattered their egos a bit.

Now anytime Donnie and Kendra see each other when the Turtles and Purple Dragons are about to fight, they just argue and bicker like an old married couple, still salty and blaming the other for who’s responsible for their “break up” even though they both did the exact same betrayal! XD

[jewishrat420]

if you asked steve what his biggest fear was, you might get a number of different answers.

to his father, he’d say failure. not living up to the person he wants him to be, not fitting into the shoes he was born to wear. not deserving of the last name etched onto his gravestone.

to tommy, or carol, or all the people who didn’t bother to see past the persona he painted on like a portrait, he’d say falling. losing his crown— or worse, getting it knocked off his head. he’d pretend like these things mattered to him, and they’d pretend they believed him.

to nancy, before empty pools and empty bottles and empty promises, he’d say being alone. he’d whisper it into the crook of her neck, and the feeling of warm air would make her giggle. later, they’d remember that night differently. steve, as the last time he was ever honest. nancy, as the first time she wasn’t.

to robin, he’d say loss. not just losing her, or dustin, or anyone that steve has ever known, but losing himself. the real him, the person he worked so hard to find, buried under the bones of the boy whose skin he wore when he was scared.

to eddie, he’d say death. he wouldn’t need to explain it, and eddie wouldn’t ask him to. they’d trace each other’s scars in the moonlight, fingers catching on the dips and peaks in relentless reciprocation, and their tears would taste salty on the other’s lips.

at the end of the day, though, steve admits the truth only to himself.

his biggest fear, the one so great he refuses to say it out loud, is loving.

and not in the way you love a parent (or the way you wish they’d love you back), nor in the way you love a partner.

no. steve fears loving in the way he’s never allowed himself to love somebody, because of what he knows lurks under the surface. what he, above all else, fears down to the bone.

steve fears loving in the way that unleashes the beast that lives within him.

he fears unlocking the cage of his heart and freeing the birds inside. opening himself up, all of him, flayed like a patient on an operating table or like the broken body of the boy he grew out of.

he fears that once he starts, he won’t be able to stop.

more than anything, he fears that if he lets someone get too close, they’ll smell the rot on his breath. fears that once they do, he won’t be able to help but make them another victim of his insatiable, carnivorous love.

he fears that he will have as little control over it as they do.

so, steve does what he does best: he holds himself back.

lies, just a little bit, to every person he has ever met. keeps the fluttering wings of his heart clipped and confined in his chest.

and it works. it works, because he is surrounded by people he refuses to let himself love, and because they don’t know any better.

it works, because they’re alive. it works, because sometimes he is loved back.

it’s not enough. of course it isn’t.

but he knows better than to be tricked into a false sense of security. knows that no matter how much they reassure him, they don’t understand the severity of his desires. his wants, his wishes.

they don’t know the depth of his love, haven’t seen the way his cavernous love spans like a mountain range. they don’t know that the only people who have tried to scale it have died in the process.

the first people he ever let himself love, fully, truly, showed him how dangerous it is.

how dangerous it is to be loved by him.

but he didn’t know any better. he was just a child. born to love the first person he laid eyes on, unknowingly killing her in the process.

he didn’t learn until later on, of course. doesn’t remember the day the light left his mother’s eyes, doesn’t remember ever seeing it in his father’s. but he does know, as sure as the sun meets his skin like his heat is a welcome home to it: he was the cause of it.

so he hides it. keeps it locked up. bites his tongue and swallows the blood, waters the rot that lives within. feeds the beast.

because he’s not lying when he says he fears failure, falling, being alone. he knows loss. he knows death. he knows himself, above all.

and he knows what he needs to do to prevent it all from happening again.

so he smiles. hides the snarl. breathes through his mouth when the smell of rot is too strong.

he holds himself at bay. he protects the people he wishes he could love.

he lets the monster roar within and promises himself that one day, when his bones return to their gentle home in the ground, when they fit within the body of the boy who is unafraid to love, he will know peace.

(original thread)

[alexanderlightweight]

I love your writing and how salty you are about Jace, Clary, and Izzy, especially with season 1.

For prompts, the parabatai bond, either breaks and someone is relieved, or someone voluntary breaks it?

Even though I like Clary after she kills Valentine, there are some issues I still have even in the last season. Especially with the wish. ^_^ so I hope you enjoy where I went with this cause I didn’t meant to

Uh… some malec smut and a type of soul-body horror? Kind of.

-

Alec can’t sleep.

His dreams mock him with memories and phantom pains of Jace dying, even though their bond remains.

It’s frayed though, something wrong but also it’s stronger than it’s ever been.

It’s hot and cold.

Jace ignores him again, shutting down his questions and pretending everything is fine.

But then, when Alec is alone and miserable and feels like he’s drowning and trying not to pour it down the bond, he’s reached out to.

It’s comforting in a way Jace has never been before and Alec’s not sure if this is an apology. Some new way to tie Alec’s thoughts and emotions in knots.

So he speaks less to Jace in person and communicates more silently over the bond.

It works, in a shockingly positive way as Jace seems less tense the longer Alec allows himself to be avoided.

And Magnus is wonderful, he is.

But even though Alec messed up, he’s still unsure about where the lines are. If things are what they were, or less or more now that they’re back together again.

His parabatai bond helps at first, encouraging him and sending across affection and support… the kind Alec’s never felt.

But only when Alec’s alone.

The bond hums, angry and almost bitter when Alec shuts it out so he can focus on Magnus.

There’s a vicious flash of envy, a dark and ugly anger when Alec is too overwhelmed to block the bond. When the soul tied to his own presses back, demanding to know what he’s doing, who he’s with.

Alec can barely think, not with how he’s surrendered himself to Magnus and how Magnus continues to take. He brushes against the bond, sending contentment and an accidental wave of bliss from where Magnus is fucking Alec’a thoughts away.

The bond devours the emotions greedily and Alec is too lost in a haze of Magnus to fight it. When he comes, the pleasure is almost swallowed up by the ravenous greed crashing through his soul. He clings to Magnus, feeling cold and needing his warmth, unsure why Jace is pushing so far.

Alec resolves to talk to him about it but the second he gets Jace alone, Clary is there distracting him. Jace doesn’t even try to talk to him, not even when Alec mentions their bond, though his face twists in a grimace.

Alec’s unwillingly amused, despite everything. Wondering if Jace is avoiding him this time because he regrets being so intrusive.

It would serve him right.

“Just don’t do it again—“ he calls after him, because it felt wrong.

Having Jace so close to him and present for something so intimate between Alec and Magnus.

Jace mutters something but the bond isn’t upset, just thoughtful in the same way it’s been since morning.

So Alec goes on with his day and the minute he gets to the loft, he shores up his walls between Jace and himself and joins Magnus.

—

Magnus watches as Alexander blinks, the haze of pleasure fading from his eyes as an unfortunate amount of clarity returns.

“Am I boring you, darling?” Magnus asks and pauses, panting above Alexander, his necklaces brushing Alec’s bare chest.

Instead of his normal, quick assurance, Alexander stays quiet, his hands tight from where he’s clutching Magnus’ shoulders.

“The bond, it’s—“ Alexander flinches, clenching around Magnus even as he grimaces. “It’s like something’s wrong with it, like it’s hungry. And the moment we’re together, like this, it won’t leave me alone.”

“Jace told me the bond didn’t work like that?” Magnus asks, because while he doesn’t mind an audience he doesn’t enjoy being spied on in his own bed, with Alexander under and around him.

“It’s not supposed to. It’s been different since Lake Lynn. I— sometimes it’s like Jace is better, supportive and encouraging. I’m not just sharing a piece of my soul with him, there’s a piece finally being shared in turn. Except…”

And Alexander trails off and Magnus fights a groan when his boy tenses, walls tightening involuntarily as something spooks him.

“It doesn’t like that I’ve stopped.” Alexander murmurs and he looks confused and a flash of fear enters his eyes. “And Magnus. The bond, it didn’t care much at first and it tries to hide it now. But whatever is wrong with it, it hates you.” Alexander reaches out and pulls Magnus down and whispers into his ear, “some part of my soul wants you torn away from me. Wants me to leave you, to be left by you.”

The admission fills Magnus with a furious rage and neither of them are thinking clearly.

He knows that.

“Cut it out.” Alexander mouths at him, as if he can’t risk the words being spoken aloud.

This is a threat towards both of them, against the relationship that they’ve fought and struggled for and it’s too much. Especially when Alexander looks lost, almost violated under him and Magnus realizes something with a horrified clarity.

The bond has been messing with his boy when Magnus has Alexander tamed and coddled, in subspace and high on being adored and praised. It’s why Alexander is so out of it lately, so much closer to dropping and why the aftercare he needs lingers and is drawn out.

With a viciousness that Magnus never thought he could wield against a part of Alexander, he summons his magic and strikes.

Alexander screams as Magnus severs his bond.

It’s a grotesque agony, to cut out the barbed hook embedded in his boy's soul, to feel Alexander writhe around him in pain. Magnus can’t help but fuck him through it, coming as the last barb is cut free and Alexander’s soul is unattached and unclaimed by others.

Alexander is crying, silent tears of pain and relief and devastation and Magnus stays deep inside of him. His boy came when Magnus did and he’s confused and out of it from the shock and orgasm both.

“I’ll keep you safe, darling. I’ve got you.” Magnus promises him and curls himself and his magic around Alexander.

—

They prepare to go to the Institute the next day together. Magnus knows Alec is nervous but unapologetic, that his boy is aching still, but also relieved.

Magnus expects Jace to confront them immediately, but he’s nowhere to be found until they ask Underhill. Jace is sparing, shirtless with Clary and Alexander bites back a noise, seeing the same thing Magnus does.

Jace’s parabatai rune still exists.

“It’s a glamour.” Magnus hisses as he drops his own glamour and looks deeper, checking with magic. “He doesn’t know you broke the bond because he doesn’t have the bond anymore. Probably not since you felt him die.”

“Then Magnus,” Alexander asks him quietly, something dark and furious growing in his boy’s voice. “If Jace and I haven’t been bonded since then, who did you cut out of my soul?”

[safety-writes-noms]

pls pls pls can i have some headcanons of miguel as both a pred and prey? he's not prey often for sure, but i bet he's grumpy about it when he is

ofc!! I usually write pred Miguel but I'm good with him as prey. tw vore! NSFW/kink blogs dni

honestly I can't see him enjoying being nommed too much. he's used to being in control and it's almost like a comfort to him in some ways. but when he doesn't have that comfort it causes him to become somewhat aggressive if he doesn't see the reason for why he needs to be nommed. or he doesn't agree with it. Plus he hates being trapped in confined spaces that he himself has not put himself into. Except sometimes when it’s soothing to him like if he’s super tired or something.

its definitely unpleasant because he's probably going to make a huge stink and even when he's the one tucked in a belly, he's still strong asf.

he will however grudgingly chill out if he's exhausted and tired from staring at screens for 40 hours straight. even though he'd rather keep working, he knows he can’t go on forever. Besides it’s really hard not to fall asleep in a warm cushy belly, where his most pressing problem is slime soaking into his suit.

I think he’d taste like something with a kick in it, some sort of spice with an underflavoring of maybe sweetness or saltiness? and then subtle hints of something bitter like coffee to pull it all together. he's delicious but you'll be extremely lucky if you even get a tiny little taste.

if he ever gets nommed for his protection best believe he’s going to argue a whole lot too. anything thats not his terms or not something he asked for results in him immediately getting annoyed. he's spiderman 2099, stubborn asshole genius extraordinaire (affectionate), he doesn't need protection. (he does he just won't admit it)

bottom line is that he won’t like it if it’s not in very specific circumstances :(. Or he’ll pretend that he doesn’t bc he’s such a skrunkly little dude (that man is 6’9 and 310 pounds of pure muscle)

He does actually enjoy nomming sometimes but doesnt really indulge in the instinct much. I’ve said this before but he feels like some sort of inhumane creature when he gets those urges even though most of the time it’s just a deep wanting need for whoever he’s craving to be as close as physically possible to him.

Or when he has a webbed up anomaly, sometimes he has to physically turn away from them so he doesn’t risk gulping them down. But that’s only for when the urge is super intense. He’ll probably satisfy it later with someone he’s close with and knows is fine with it. He knows that if it goes unchecked for too long he becomes increasingly agitated/sullen and he’d rather not deal with that in general.

other times like when he’s in his downtime, he’ll awkwardly ask whoever he’s craving if they’d be fine with being nommed. He knows it’s pretty weird or downright terrifying for people who have no idea how being nommed works. He’ll of the time he just doesn’t ask because he doesn’t want to deal with explaining. He’s just tired and wants a nice meal to fill him up while he naps or does some more work.

Eating food helps a little to stave off that urge simmering in his chest but ultimately won’t really fix it. Like slapping a bandaid on a missing arm (how do u even do that ??). He will be more inclined to nom someone if they ask him to do it for them. After all, if it’s what they want he’s got no objections unless he has to do something that requires a whole ton of physical movement. Miguel doesn’t want them to get hurt somehow even if they’re nestled in his gut. But other than that he’s fine with it.

[robo-milky]

Wait, if Epel still thinks Cloche is a boy, that means he’s gay?

YESN’T

Personal Headcanon Territory:

As a personal thing, I tend to set my characters’ sexualities/romantic attraction or HC other characters as Bi by default UNLESS stated otherwise

Quick general ramble about sexuality/gender norms in TWST:

So we know in TWST, the romance culture often seems heteronormative— like in Ghost Marriage, Grim’s remark about wanting to take out Epel (before finding out Epel was a boy), many parents have been in a straight relationship— but I don’t think that’s all.

Since it’s Disney that made this game, I’m assuming many of the established or mentioned relationships are straight because they want to appeal to a wider audience but if I were to separate that, I’d like to believe there’s more diversity within the universe.

We know TWST is almost parallel to Earth but with fantasy elements like magic, but who’s to say sexuality, gender identity/presentation, and attraction has to adhere to that? Boys wearing make up normalized, and when some of the boys Overblot— they’d wear an extravagant dress.

BUT we do see that in Harveston, and from Epel— his views of gender is very conservative. Since it’s only in Harveston, we can’t say those heteronormative values apply to everywhere else in Twisted Wonderland.

Epel’s Dynamic with Cloche:

If we assume Epel happens to be more hetero on the spectrum, I suppose he’d have… “gay panic”?

(Though it’s a harmless phrase we often meme with, it’s a phrase that can be a little uncomfy DEPENDING on the context used in. If used right, it makes for a great reform in irony! If not? Uhhh… there is a possible homophobic undertone if used wrong.)

Either way, whether if Epel has a preference for the same-sex/gender, opposite sex/gender, or those non-conforming, the ClochEpel dynamic stays the same. They’re supposed to be so close to each other, that they blur the lines of platonic and romantic attraction. If Epel finds out that Cloche is a girl, he would still be salty and feel a little betray that Cloche “doesn’t-actually-get-his-struggle”.

The reason Epel got so close to Cloche in the first place, was because he thought Cloche was another boy mistaken to be a girl, like him—. A camaraderie came first.

When Epel is in denial of attraction towards Cloche, I don’t see it as gay panic, but more so of a “I can’t fall for my best friend! That’s weird!” (They do intermix— but they’re not the same). Plus— it’d be kinda wack if Epel had gay panic and then was relieved finding out Cloche is a girl cause uhhhhh *homophobic undertone and implication???*

Cloche’ Gender:

Cloche is indeed a cis girl pretending to be a boy, and she is more feminine presenting— but I imagine that’d be thrown out of the window the moment you step into NRC.

With students like Epel, Vil, Lilia, etc, I don’t think anyone would think twice or bat an eyelash at Cloche— they’d assume “he’s like everyone else”. However, Epel is singled out for being the only one “mistaken as a girl”, while Lilia is cute and Riddle is short. I imagine this gag only applies to Epel, and everyone else is an exception (since from a writing standpoint, his whole schtick is that he’s really a country boy despite looking so pretty).

Conclusion: ????

I honestly didn’t think I’d write this much but… I feel like it deserves a deep explanation? It’s a complex subject where many factors and bases should be covered ;

I’m cool with any and all Epel headcanons tho!! I happen to prefer him being bi <3

If you read up until this point— then wow— you are the true MVP.

[ciaossu-imagines]

How do you think Samon would help his s/o through their period symptoms or even deal with it all happening? Like I had this thought that they’re out on a date and then suddenly his s/o is suffering from period pain or maybe they’re even feeling really emotional for no apparent reason.

Oh, I really like this request! This was such a fun one to think about so thank you so much, anon dear, for sending this in! I hope you'll enjoy the headcanons!

Okay, but straight off the bat, I have to say that Samon? Definitely not at all knowledgeable about menstruation or periods or anything like that. He lived a very sheltered life in the mountains and after that, his work as a prison guard has always been for male inmates. He has a vague notion that women have a 'time of the month' but he's kind of naïve and innocent about what that actually entails.

When he first gets with his partner, he's definitely going to pretend that he knows what they mean when they tell him it's that time of the month for them because he dreads his partner thinking he's stupid, like everyone claims. So he asks around and lord, the reaction when he learns that his partner literally bleeds for a week or so a month? The boy is so terrified for his partner and he'll be on high-alert any time that he knows they're on their period because there is a part of him that assumes his partner is straight up just going to drop dead one of these months because like...bleeding for that long normally causes death right, and despite all their assurances and all the medical staff at Nanba's assurances, he still carries that worry.

While this might make him seem a bit silly, the truth is that Samon gets pregnancy symptoms and period symptoms mixed up a lot so he expects cravings mostly. And lord, does he stock up on anything he thinks his partner might potentially crave once he learns their cycle - pickles? Check. Ice cream and sugary snacks? Check. Chips and salty things? Check. His normally barren cupboards suddenly overrun.

What he did not expect was the pain. And it's something he's really not great with. It almost physically hurts him to see his partner in that much discomfort or outright pain, especially when he can't do anything about it. If he could just hit or fight something or someone and make them feel all better, he'd feel so much better about his partner's period pain and it makes him grumpy in general, though he does everything he can to make sure that he doesn't take that grumpiness out on them. Everyone else around him though? They definitely do get the worst of that shortness, anger, and grumpiness.

And the emotional state of his partner? Them having mood swings or crying easily? Them getting angry at him? Oh man, he definitely wasn't ready for that. He gets so flustered and tries so hard but the man is thrown for a loop every single time and it just makes that aforementioned grumpiness worse. He trains harder, fights more, and just tries his best, almost walking on eggshells, wanting so hard to just make his lover happy in any way he can potentially think of...though sadly, most of his ideas are - hey, maybe if we get really physically active or meditate or any of the other things he was taught from a young age to handle pain and emotional turmoil, and those definitely do not help his partner.

[winchesterszvonecek]

•so... that's new.

"CAN WE TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED?" PROMPTS

Brian ‘Otis’ Zvonecek x fem

I think the reason you’re getting more Otis requests than anyone else on your list is obviously because you’re basically the only one left who writes for him, Last year there was a blogger who started writing for Otis due to the sad complaint that nobody writes for him but it was clear the blogger wasn’t all that interested in Otis to start with so eventually the problem or excuse was that she couldn’t get over his death and that there were too many Otis requests so she felt overwhelmed or whatever and decided no more Otis anything…So basically when a new blogger/writer comes on the scene and they write for Otis I guess people jump on the opportunity cause they never know whether it’ll come to an abrupt end all of a sudden 🤷🏻‍♀️, That and Otis content is a rare commodity in general but there are TONS of people who write for the popular characters who everybody seems to love like Will Halstead, Connor Rhodes, Kelly Severide, Jay Halstead etc.

P.s I’m by no means being salty or anything by referencing Will & Connor as I’ve noticed you’re accepting requests for them I was just trying to shed a little light on the influx of Otis requests you’ve probably received and continue to receive😊🩷💛 I love your work you’re extremely talented!

i’m going to post your request on a separate post as this ask takes up a bit of room, but… i guess that explains it!

i had someone mention something similar to this a few weeks ago but i had no idea what they were talking about as i’m new to the Chicago Fire side of tumblr so I guess it was probably relating to what you’ve told me…

but you won’t need to worry about that with me, I am very, very interested in Otis, if you can’t tell lol, he’s been my favourite from the start and will continue to be even long after his death, which I also can’t get over but that’s why I like to write for him so I can live in denial for a little longer and pretend he’s simply off on vacation anytime I watch the later seasons 🙃

as long as there’s an audience for Otis/people willing to support my work and send me requests (but not now! they’re closed atm) then I will continue to do what I can to make up for the severe lack of Otis content out there!

and don’t worry, I didn’t think you were being salty at all as I agree with you, people do tend to write for the same characters because they’re known as the “hot” ones, even though Otis is too and if you can’t see that then I’m sorry, but I just wanted to offer a little more variety for those who maybe aren’t that into Otis, which is fine!! I know he’s not for everyone but yeah, I just wanted to branch out a little and since I never really felt attracted to Severide or Casey, i opted for Will and Connor instead 😀

[lycianlynx]

[ wipe ] + [ argue ]

✦ angst prompts.

They are standing in the smoldering remains of a home set aflame in a row of charcoal houses. They are standing in the middle of piles of ash in lieu of broken bodies. They could not save this. They could not save any of them. Chad hears her speak, perhaps not an outside party to the devastation, but surely one to the sheer scale of it. She doesn’t understand. Her voice can only stay so steady and gentle because she doesn’t fucking understand.

Lilina’s words he can take — Inflated noble ego, like all the rest, speaking from a better, higher place, her kindness either a veneer or melting like twisted wax when she really faces the heat. Her words, self-comforting, immature, blindingly naive, do not burn him. How could they burn him when this already burnt him away once, never mind twice?

Her hands, however, feel branding on their skin when she stops, eyes wide, and reaches out to touch his face. Chad flinches, suddenly aware of the croak in their voice, arms raising up to keep her away — Her thumb comes away wet with a salty tear when they push away her hands with a grunt, head turning the other way with a scalding breath. Their tongue laces with sulfur, fit to set both of them aflame. Anything to stop her from looking at them like that. Anything to stop her from pretending to be kind to someone like him.

So they return kindness with arson and bridges aflame.

“You don’t understand,” they spit. Daggers and acid. “How could you understand?! With nannies and butlers at your every heel, never wanting for food or shelter or chances —” A breath, choking and acidic. “These kids had nothing, never had anything, we were their one chance, and now they’re fucking dead!”

“And for what? Because we had to regroup and stop and appeal for some Grand High Lord Motherfucker’s approval and — Saints, look at you, do you even have real tears in your body?” A hitching breath as they realise they can barely even see her — But they can hear the rhythm of her own breath, the irregular crackle. “You — You only crying ‘cause I’m yelling at you?!”

 They take a step forward, ashen remains crunching underfoot. Then another, threatening, bristling (and mourning, because this how he’s always mourned, as a blaze, as an arsonist, as nothing better than those Bernese scum) —“What is it, my Lady? Only able to cry when your Father’s dead?! Cry for your Father when you ain’t even able to call for him for help again—”

(And some part of them knows that this isn’t right, that they have known Lilina for years and that she knows and understands and can bridge that gap, that the virtue she's shown is real and far sturdier than any wax, that it is not wax but tempered steel.

But they’ve killed mercy for anger, white-hot and fresh like a scarred limb torn open and thrown into the pyre.)

“Don’t touch me.” He snarls. “You make me fucking sick!”

[la-hannya]

Not a Sessrinner pedo apologist trying to pretend they’re not one in the IY subreddit and trying to make Sessrin look less “weird” by creepily going through/stalking an anti Sessrin’s post history to see if they ship anything problematic as a “gotcha!

Dude(ette,) I don’t deny I ship problematic shit but considering at least all of them are between consenting adults close in age where neither raised the other and are actually canon, your gotcha isn’t the “gotcha” you think it is! Nice try trying to justify pedophilia and grooming in any way, shape, or form by pulling the “but what about THIS weird thing?!”

If you don’t think pedophilia is objectively the absolute most abhorrent and evil thing in the world with only Zoophilia being comparable, you might just be either an apologist or a pedo yourself, so which is it? Cause neither is a good look.

Then they tried to pull the “A-AT LEAST SHE WAS 18!!!!” card while still denying they ship it and immediately mass deleted all their comments and even their obvious burner account in a fit of salty butthurt before I got the chance to even reply back.

Girl ya ain’t the slick, sit the fuck down if you really believe Pedohime’s asspull contradictory timeline! 😂😂😂

From what I've seen even though things have simmered down since that anime ended; the more desperate they have gotten, going into places like reddit and twitter to try to stir the view on their favor. Which mostly just backfires because anyone with pair of eyes 👁️👁️ and understanding of even a little math can tell they're reaching. The other day somebody told me:

"I remember not liking at all the Saint Seiya's spin-off "Episode G" and nobody in the fandom forced me to consider it canon since it wasn't drawn by Masami Kurumada, only in the Inuyasha fandom these kind of things happen".

I swear got second hand embarrassment even though I ain't a saucerib. We're getting the side eye from other fandoms cause of these people being insecure clowns. Sigh.

I honestly recommend people to stand your ground and don't let them gaslight you along with them because that's what they want in their bid of desperation they got going on. I had them once trying to "Gotcha" me to because I'm a "monsterfucker". I like monsters, I like the "beauty and beast" trope, and I like the idea of this monster/beast adopting a human kid and taking care of them like their own child too. It's wholesome cute. Those things. Not the thing they warped out of proportion. So when some sinners figured that out their like "oh but you ship.."

Yeah. I know.

But here's one of thing about my monster x human ships. The human partner isn't a complete doormat and they have control. Consent. Always. And the monster partner didn't just go and meet them when they were practically a baby. Anything the other way around I don't touch. I also ain't dying of this hill either. Just vibing. And minding my business. I get where you are coming from anon. So don't let others try to pull the "but your/this is worst" card cause most likely than not compared to their mental gymnastics, you're harmless and know how to stay in your lane.

[bohemian-nights]

I don’t know if you’re on twitter but the threads D*emyra shippers create on why she should be excluded from the show is😡

Like this one: https://mobile.twitter.com/barbie_comuna/status/1600893822182883333

I don’t know what’s more problematic them talking about racism against the Velaryons and using Rhaena to cyber yo their own racism towards N or creating these threads in general. It’s so telling how it’s incomprehensible for these people that D can be in love with N but him having paternal feelings towards her or sleeping with her without having any feelings towards her be stans of age difference is more acceptable to them.But really that’s how many fandoms see WOC anyway so it’s nothing new this one is like that as well I guess. And ofc Rhaena and the rest of the Velaeyons are the “acceptable type”of black fir them since they don’t affect their white ship in any way and serve them like the good black servants they are despite D/R disrespecting them and treating their kids and Laena’s kids like trash.🙄 Honestly I’m convinced even if D/R weren’t “romantic” (they love to make this excuse that the show making D/R young downhill will doom it imo)people would still be shipping them and/or D with someone of his relatives and would hate the thought of him getting with a non Targaryen.I mean look what’s currently happening with Aemond. The posts that go and on about Alys are very similar to the ones about Nettles.

I’m an old young person so the only social media platforms I use is this and Pinterest. Lol, yeah I’ve seen people post things from twitter and it’s a mess. Dead at them trying to pretend like they actually care about the racism the Black/Blackish characters have faced🙃

Them trying to replace Nettles with Rhaena is just pathetic at this point. It shows that you not only hate Nettles, but you don’t really care about Rhaena like you say you do.

Cause she has her own storyline that is going to play out, but you want her there because you know deep down that Daemon did not see Nettles as his daughter. It makes absolutely 0 sense to swap out Nettles for Rhaena and adds absolutely nothing to the story.

They can tolerate Black/Blackish women characters as long as they aren’t with their faves. Rhaena(and Baela) are fine cause they’re Daemon’s kids therefore they pose no threat to Daemyra(this ship has literally become my most hated ship due to the crazy fans it attracts).

Seeing Black/Blackish women in a more subservient or non-romantic roles is what they are used to. And like you said this happens in a lot of fandoms.

They are already trying to say that Rhaenyra is somehow the love of his life and they’ve got no chemistry so you know that Daemon and Rhaenyra would still be a thing even if it wasn’t canon. Take a look at Aemond and Helaena for reference.

Yeah the treatment of Alys is similar to Nettles. Some Hellman’s fans have linked up with some Dumbnyra stans and have taken to rewriting canon so that their hell ships can live on.

The only thing I can say about the Alys/Aemond situation is that they can’t deny canon like they do with Dumbnyra. Hellman’s is not in the book at all and is 100% made up cause they wanted Aemond to have an incest ship. Rhaena is right there people and it would make more sense, but you know why they don’t ship them 🫠

Bottom line is these shippers can’t stand to see Daemon “leave” their Targaryen queen for Rhaenyra 👸🏼for Nettles 👩🏾🐑🐉, a non-Valyrian(Black woman) character.

So they pretend like all the accounts(literally every account says they were/likely lovers) is not factual somehow. Yet nowhere does it state in the books that Rhaenyra is the love of Daemon’s life. Delusional I tell you.

Anyway for me it’s gonna be Nettles 👩🏾🐑🐉 and Alys Rivers 👩🏻 supremacy from here on out. I’m going to watch the break downs from salty (non canon compliant) shippers like this when we see them getting their men on screen

[horizon-verizon]

Martell’s stans pretending that they’re representatives of Global South in ASOIAF where instead they’re a region who’s constantly in clash with their neighbours cause they can’t stop looting and raiding the Stormlands and the Reach.

*EDITED* (11/5/23)

I haven't come across a Martell stan yet, in all my 7-month life here on Tumblr. But I already wrote a post on why the Martells aren't exactly PoCs (because race, as Americans and modern peoples know the thing, doesn't exist in this fictional universe) so much as "Others" are seen as ethnically different but not enough for there to be concern over "miscegenation" or "dirtying the blood" or losing actual social privileges the Martells still had like other "white", nonDornish nobles.

Ethnicity doesn't equal race, and "people of color" denotes "non-white" people, and "white"/"PoC" are racial terms.

Nationality also does not equal race, nor does it equal ethnicity, though in some racial hierarchies it def gives whatever racial meaning of black/poc the society in question has. "Race"--as in just the practical applications of their real modern realities and economic and social structures as a result--is not accurate or a paltry thing the further you go back in time. There were definitely racializations, racial & ethnic biases, and ethnic & racial tensions/violence, but religion and/or language more often defined a person's belonging and identity within a different hegemony until maybe the late 14th to 15th centuries.

The Rhoynish would definitely be considered PoC in our modern American & British racial categorization; in the world itself, yes they were a "foreign" and literally foreign people and a different ethnicity from First Men and Andal.

However, ONE -- Dorne is not progressive in terms of class, not at all, and TWO -- these two are both Essosi in origin while several of their original cultural aspects [the Faith, the symbols, chivalry, court culture, oaths, the kin slaying taboo, the importance placed on swords, guest rights, etc.] still exist in the main events of ASoIaF right now. These didn't change or get lost upon their arrival to the Westerosi continent.

Dorne, by virtue of the fact that their succession customs are equal gender, will inevitably be Othered and thus they have that sense of "not white-ness" but this doesn't really pin them down as "PoC" bc the emphasis of why the Dornish are Othered is much more about there being less misogyny than religion, region, etc. and the Martells still independently/non-coercively share Andal cultural aspects then they do Rhoynish. Because, how can the whites (nonDornishmen) racialize a region based on skin color or principles of "purity" seen through the outside (as this has been used to create current racial categories) with people with different skin colors?

The First Men are not Andals, the Andals and FM fought several times in past history, come from different regions of Essos, have different religions and both typically have paler skin. Both have misogynist practices and are more stringent about male primogeniture and able-bodiedness mattering to leadership.

The "salty" Martells and other Dornish--even those who are "sandy" or "stony" as Daeron I categorized them--are more analogues of both Welsh vs. the Anglo-Saxons or Normans (all "racially white" ) because of their constant wars with Reach people and Stormlanders. AND Spaniards (European people, so racially white) because Spain has a history of Moor, Hebrew/Jew, and pre-Moor Spaniards having intermarriages and other types of exchange or interaction LONG before King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella expelled the Jewish and Muslim peoples. Even then, she and her King husband were not at first the rulers of all of "Spain", but of the kingdoms of Aragon and Castile freshly uniting these to develop and become what we know as "Spain". Like how England used to be Kent, East Anglia, Essex, Mercia, Northumbria, Sussex, Wessex, the Welsh peoples (a Celtic people) before the Normans arrived (Northmen/Scandinavian/Swedish/Danish/Viking originated) and conquered the English islands.

Once again, do we consider Spain a "white" country, or not?