#since people seem to get weird when i draw them touching in any capacity

[hoofpeet]

his most specialist nickname...<3

[anotheranimestan]

Kiss Drought

Jealous Aizawa smut + possessiveness

NSFW!! Please note y/n is of age here!!

wc: 3.9k

Since my last Aizawa post is my most successful one (I am happily surprised) it only made sense to make my first smutty post for him 🤤

Perched on a barstool playing with the straw in your drink, you were waiting for your date to show. Being late wasn’t completely out of the ordinary for Shouta Aizawa but you were missing him badly tonight. Impatient since you hadn’t been able to see him for a few days. Somehow you’d convinced him to join you for a night out at this bar. You’d spent hours getting ready out of pure excitement. Putting on your sluttiest dress and lingerie to make it worth his while.

You settled yourself at the end of the bar, secluded where the lights didn’t reach and few people were. Aizawa hated being in the spotlights. Excited to see if you all done up for him had the intended effect, your eyes were glued to the door. Your hopes getting crushed every time another person walked in that wasn’t him.

“Hey.” A voice projecting over the music tore through your concentration. You jumped to find a tall burly guy with spiked hair and an over-confident smile leaning against the bar next to you.

You didn’t respond. Just stared at him in pure confusion. Surely you didn’t look like you wanted anyone to talk to you.

“How’s your night going?” He persisted.

“Fine.” You said curtly.

“That’s good. I saw you hiding back here from across the way there and I told my bud ‘I just have to go say hi to that smoking chick.’”

You grimaced. A master at flattery.

“So what’s your name?” He continued, not picking up on any of your social cues.

You gave him the stupidest fake name you could think of on the spot.

“Ah. Of course a hot girl has a hot name.”

You nodded in agreement. Listening to him was killing your brain cells.

“You look familiar you know....wait. You’re one of those pros from the next town over aren’t you.”

You nodded. Surprised he had the mental capacity to recognize smaller heroes like yourself.

He scoffed, proud of himself. “I knew it. Lady heroes are always hot.” Dear god someone get him away. “You know I could have gone pro myself.”

“Oh yea?” You replied doubtfully.

“Yeaaaa. But you know, I figured better not. Villains would have a hard time against me.” He joked. He raised his bicep and winked at you. Clearly about to show off whatever pitiful power-up quirk he was so proud of.

But his confident smile fell as you stared at him waiting to get his little show over with. His face contorted into horror. Realizing he couldn’t power-up.

“Ah. That’s weird.” He said unable to comprehend what was happening. But you were pretty sure you knew what was up.

“Aw honey it’s okay.” You cooed. “Sometimes alcohol makes it hard for guys to...you know...get things working.” You gave him your best fake smile. Highly amused by his ego shattering.

“Excuse me.” He sputtered and ran to the restrooms in humiliation.

You chuckled to yourself as you watched him nearly crying when he disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Suddenly you sensed a presence looming behind you.

“I figured you were somewhere nearby.”

You turned in your seat to find sleepy midnight eyes focused on you under a few loose strands of silky black hair. He had his hair tied back just the way you liked it and he hadn’t shaved in a few days so the stubble on his chin completed his signature look. He was so fucking handsome. You’d missed him so much.

“Sorry I’m late...” His gravely voice sounded like he just woke up. “but you look amazing.” He said sweetly soaking you in.

Forgiveness wasn’t even necessary. You immediately melted any time he was in the room. It was effortless the way he could snatch you up.

“That wasn’t very nice of you, Eraserhead.” You teased with a raised eyebrow. Already succumbing to his gravity that always seemed to pull you in.

He immediately knew you weren’t referring to his tardiness. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He lied with a little smile playing on his lips. Looking down as he felt your finger which was tracing the line down the center of his chest that was deliciously exposed by his partially unbuttoned button-down shirt. It wasn’t fair how he always looked so effortlessly sexy.

“I think he just wanted to be friends. No need to be jealous.” You cooed, knowing it was going to swirl up emotions in him that he was definitely going to deny. A little payback for being late.

He leaned down to your level. You held your lips dangerously close to his. Waiting for him to kiss the honeyed words off your tongue, despite the impatient desire growing in your chest. He always liked to make you wait. It gives him satisfaction knowing you’re stubborn enough to hold out for him to make the first move. Few people are more stubborn than himself. He always found that impressive about you. That and the way you were so good at baiting him.

“I don’t think I need to be jealous about that...situation.” He was willing to bite tonight.

“And why not?” You pretended to pout, tugging on his shirt with your ring finger for him to come closer and close the gap.

He considered his next move. Well aware that you were ready to pounce on any weak response.

“I can tell by the way you’re looking at me right now.” The edge of his lips tilted up. Knowing he had you cornered.

You growled, biting your lip. He came ready tonight. You hated when he smirked like that. Like he’d won. Even if it did make him look incredibly sexy.

“That’s very bold of you.”

“Am I wrong?”

He finally ended his touch drought and caressed your delicate jaw. So distracted by him quenching your thirst you’d forgotten to respond. You just sat there hanging on to his every movement. Entranced by the way he was admiring the color of your mouth.

His thumb grazed the center of your plump bottom lip. Dragging it down to watch the way it cushioned under his pressure.

He chuckled when you stuck your tongue out as he traced. Licking the pad of his thumb and then wrapping your pretty lips around it.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He said with a smug grin.

Somehow you went from being the cat to being his mouse.

“You are cruel.” You pouted. Begging him with your eyes to end this torture and kiss you.

It made him smile, with strange satisfaction knowing you’re too hard-headed to just ask for what you wanted. A sadist at heart. But you were so adorable when you were like this.

He answered your unspoken plea. “How about I buy you a drink first.” Deciding to hold out on you. Not ready to end this game you started quite yet.

You huffed.

“Someone beat you to it. Early bird gets the worm I guess.” You gestured to the glass of dark liquor sitting on a coaster next to you, knowing damn well you’d bought it for yourself. But you weren’t going to let him get away with this treatment.

He gave you a skeptical look.

“What? Does that bother you baby?” You pressed. You’d get him to admit it one day.

He paused. “Again, not that concerned considering you didn’t drink any of it.” You realized you hadn’t even taken your first sip yet.

Fuck. It’s like he was running on a full nights rest or something.

He slid the glass out of your hand. Disposing it just in case someone actually had tried to buy his girl a drink. Waving the bartender down he ordered your favorite, which he’d memorized a long time ago. A move no other man in this bar could attempt to pull.

“Wow. My favorite drink. Are you trying to impress me or something?” You asked with a cocked brow.

He smirked as he handed over his card to open a tab. You knew exactly the kind of power move he was pulling.

This flicker of his competitive side sent a surge of tingles between your legs which were currently spread on either side of Aizawa’s jeans. After a few days without him you were already longing for him. This was making it worse. You found yourself pressing your thighs together, which didn’t go unnoticed.

His voice was so deep and his tongue lazy when he spoke. You could practically feel the vibrations of his vocal chords right now, just like when they moaned into your mouth. The yearning for him was growing deeper in the pit of your stomach. But he was set on stringing you along. Punishment for teasing him about another guy.

“Here.” He placed the lightly a dewed drink in your hands, ice clinking against the glass. His fingers grazing yours sent another wave of frustration through you as you pictured them caressing your skin.

You’d run out of quips and were feeling tongue-tied. Focusing on the growing swirls of sensations that were beginning to dampen your black lace thong, Aizawa’s favorite.

Aizawa took some long draws of his drink while watching you sip in yours. Eyes intent on your lips wrapped around that straw. The tensing of your delicate throat as you swallowed. Picturing your pink tongue lapping the pad of his thumb again.

He finally sat down on the other bar stool. His knees parting to give himself room for the pressure you were stirring between his legs.

You prodded him with some questions about work. But he was being awfully quiet. He only half-heartedly answered your questions.

Getting a fuller view of you now he was too distracted. His body temperature rose at the tightness of your dress against your body. Your exposed neckline hinting at the fullness of your breasts underneath. Your legs looking smooth and long in that dress that stopped only a few inches below your ass.

Irritation flashed through Aizawa’s skin as, over your shoulder, he saw the guy emerge from the bathroom and look directly at him. He had started walking in your direction, like he was coming back for seconds, before he noticed you were with another man. He hadn’t been that bothered when he first arrived but now he felt his rarely-seen temper flaring up at the thought of this guy trying to make a move on you.

You were mid-sentence when you saw Aizawa’s jaw clench. His irritation fueled the fire that was blazing in your lower stomach. He only got that possessive look in his eye over one thing. You.

You had to shift in your chair to try and ease the throbbing under your dress. Desperately trying to distract yourself if you were going to be able to hold out against Aizawa’s punishment drought.

You were going to need a few shots to pull it off. Pulling your dress down, unsuccessfully trying covering your butt, you stood up to wave the bartender down.

Aizawa flinched, the tightness in his pants growing after seeing the curve of your ass peeking out under your dress. His body went up in flames however when he caught muscle man catching a look as well. Temper properly stoked, he was hellbent at letting this guy know he could go fuck himself.

You felt Aizawa snatch your wrist and pull you between his legs. Yelping at the abrupt movement, you stabled yourself from tripping over your heels on his crotch, accidentally, and felt the lump that had formed there.

“What are you doing?” He growled in your ear.

“I’m...ordering another drink?” You said confused.

“I’m the only person who’ll be ordering your drinks for the rest of the night.” He informed you warmly, giving your ass a squeeze before resting his hand over the exposed part. “What do you want babe?” He cooed when the bartender arrived.

He ordered four shots of your favorite tequila.

Your arms draped around his shoulders as he held you in his domain. One arm relaxed on the bar, the other territorially holding you against him.

As you both downed the shots you noticed him glaring at something every few seconds under hooded eyes.

“What are you looking at?” You said leaning forward.

“Nothing important.” He growled through a clenched jaw.

But you’d followed his eye-line to find the man from earlier at the other end. You grinned in satisfaction.

A devious streak surged through you. Excited to see how your man would react to you now.

“I thought you weren’t jealous.”

His dick twitched at your hand brushing over his jeans.

“I’m not.”

“Well it seems like he’s bothering you. Want me to go over there and have a few words with him for you babe?”

He chuckled. “I don’t think you want to try something like that.”

“I think I might.”

He downed his last shot, the alcohol starting to buzz in his head. He was struggling to keep his temper under control. You were really testing him, on purpose too which made it worse. But he knew how you worked and how to press your buttons.

“Then go do it.” He urged. Releasing his hold on you. Holding his arms up in the air.

You huffed. Wrapping your arms around him even tighter. You hated when he did that. He knew you wouldn’t go. And you hated even more when he took his hands off you.

“You’re so mean.” You whined.

He chuckled. “I’m sorry baby. But you really think I’d let you win this little teasing game of yours so easily?” You yelped when his hand came down heavy on your ass again. Jutting your hips onto his hardened boner. “Unless you’re trying to tell me I have an actual reason to be jealous.” He dared you, looking you directly in the eyes.

He had you cornered again. His little mouse. You couldn’t even pretend to admit that another man caught your eye. And the throbbing in your panties was unbearable now. You were dying to smash your mouth on his.

You whimpered as he swept your hair from your neck. His lips only grazing your skin as he whispered into your ear. “You can tell me the truth baby.” He cooed.

You were barely holding out against him. Your stubbornness was seconds from giving out. His deep voice in your ear had you dripping. You crossed your legs trying to hold yourself together but Aizawa wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Come here.” He instructed as he lifted your leg over his knee so that you straddled his thigh. The pressure against your throbbing sex eliciting a soft moan.

He gave one more glance at the pathetic guy from earlier who was visibly tense. Having to watch you perched on his lap. Wilting over him in submission.

Suddenly you were very thankful you were tucked away where few people could possibly notice you melting over him, a mess.

“So? Should I be jealous?” He placed his final chess piece.

You whimpered more as his hand guided your hips to grind against him. Your stubbornness snapped.

You shook your head no into the crook of his neck. Your pussy started convulsing, desperately wanting him to touch you.

“Say it.”

“No baby. There’s no one to be jealous about. Nothing.”

You whined into his ear pressing your lips against him.

He groaned in satisfaction at hearing you admit it.

He shifted his leg to stretch out your stance. Your knee hooked over his thigh, exposing you so he had full access. The cold air hitting your drenched underwear made your breath hitch.

His thumb massaged the inside of your thigh, causing your hips to buck in anticipation. It was killing you.

“Please Shouta. Stop teasing me.” You whined.

You licked your lips which were painfully dry from lack of kisses.

The gloss of your saliva on your lips made his mouth water.

“You look so pretty.” He said grazing the outside of your drenched panties with one finger.

You bit back a moan that was surely going to be so loud everyone at the bar was going to hear.

“Fuck. You’re so wet...all this for me?” He said hanging his head back as he fought the urge to throw you onto the bar and ram his dick into you. Right where muscle man could see.

Another soft moan from you brought him back though. You nodded, cheeks flushed with embarrassment that he had you this unraveled in front of everyone. Although surprisingly nobody had noticed yet.

He slipped two fingers past your lips. Your tongue swirling around them. His dick throbbed at the sight of your mouth wrapped around him. Sadly wrapped around the wrong body part.

He removed them slowly. Mouth gaping at the saliva that strung off your tongue as he moved them back under your dress, moving your panties to the side and tracing tracing a wide circle around your clit. Just slow enough to hold you on the edge of pleasure.

“I want to hear you say whose pussy this is.” You cried softly. “Tell me baby.” He said watching your face contort at his touch.

You dipped your lips to his ear. Too abashed to look him directly in the eyes right now as he had you helplessly wrapped around his finger.

“It’s yours.” You squeaked out.

“Say my name.”

You were squirming uncontrollably now. But he was careful not to give you what you were dying for until he heard the words spill off your tongue. “It’s yours Shouta...all yours. Please just fuck me already.” You gushed.

“I love how my name sounds in your mouth.” He cooed as he plunged two fingers into you. Feeling the juices swirl around his fingers as he pumped them slowly in and out.

Your hand latched onto his shoulder, digging in at his touch. Your hips couldn’t stop grinding against his hand as you used his thumb as a rubbing board for your clit.

“Look at me.” The sight of your face flushed with pleasure was turning him on even more. Abusing your clit even faster as he felt your walls pulsing around his fingers. The tightness in his pants growing painful at how much it wanted you sat on top of him.

“Kiss me.” You pleaded one last time.

Finally ending his kiss drought, he attached onto that pouty bottom lip of yours. Sucking it hungrily. It had been just as hard for him to keep himself off you. He’d been dying to taste every inch of your body.

You latched onto his lip hoping you’d never have to let go. Biting hard to release all the frustration he’d built up in you. He flinched in pain. Having to slip his hands out of you to pry you off him.

“Fuck.” He said feeling his lip. You’d bit him so hard a little blood had been drawn.

“I’m sorry.” You said biting your nail.

“I suppose that was my own fault wasn’t it.” He smiled before sucking your juices off his fingers.

The sight was enough to send you over the edge. Your pussy was clenching around nothing. Grasping for his dick. You needed him. Right now.

You broke out of his hold and dragged his weight behind you to the ladies restroom. Thanking the heavens there was no line because you would easily have punched your way through it.

Slamming the door shut and locking it he immediately threw your weight against the wall. Picking you up and wrapping your legs around him. You clung to him like he was life itself and started aggressively sucking hickeys onto his neck.

“I missed you so fucking much.” You whined into his ear.

“I missed you too baby. A lot.” He said kissing your neck as he ripped his jeans and briefs down. He couldn’t wait another second to get inside of you.

His dick was rock hard as he swirled the head around your wet opening. Coating it with your warm juices. He groaned loudly in your ear as he sunk into you for the first time.

“Fuck you feel so good.”

Chills went through you as you felt him stretching out your walls. Wanting him to stuff you with every inch he had.

He pumped into you quickly. You relished at the pain and pleasure of his forceful thrusts. He wanted you so desperately he couldn’t control his power even if he wanted to.

He crashed his mouth against yours to muffle the loud moans that they definitely could hear on the other side of the door.

His mouth started sucking on that pink tongue of yours, mixing with the intense pleasure of him rutting into you. Your hold around his shoulders was going limp. He was fucking the strength right out of you.

“Turn around.” He ordered as he placed you back on the ground. Hiking your dress up to completely expose your ass.

He pressed your chest up against the wall. The cold bricks chilling your skin as he pushed your panties to the side again and inserted his entire shaft from behind. Bottoming out with one forceful thrust and holding it there as he hit your g-spot. Pleasure surged through your body, causing you to moan his name.

The sound of his name pouring off your lips was causing rumbling in his head. He felt himself nearing as he rammed into you faster. Dick throbbing at the way your ass jiggled every time he thrust into you.

The knot in your stomach grew tighter as you started rubbing circles around your clit. He was hitting your g-spot with every stroke. You were seconds away from overflowing with euphoria.

“I’m gonna cum Shouta.” You whined as he kept at you relentlessly. Hands clamped on your hips.

“Cum on me baby.” He encouraged as he felt your legs starting to shake.

Just then the knot snapped. And electricity flooded your body. Your hand clamped around his, pulling him against your back in pure gratitude.

Your walls tightening around him sent him over the edge. His rhythm growing sloppy just as he burst, filling you with warm cum. Groaning as he threw his last few weak pumps in pleasure. Coming down from his intense high.

“Shit y/n. Come here.” He said wrapping around your neck and pulling you up to place a sloppy wet kiss on the mouth that had been calling his name.

You both were breathing heavy as he pulled you into his arms. You nuzzled your face into him. Silently worshiping him for the satisfied humming in your body left over from your chilling orgasm.

“I think I missed you more than I realized.” He cooed into your ear. Gently rubbing your pussy from behind. Reminiscing on how amazing the juices felt around him.

You giggled. Yanking him into one last lingering kiss before pulling your dress back down.

He buckled himself up and patted your hair down that he’d disheveled.

When you opened the door, several stunned faces were staring at you.

Giggling nervously, Aizawa pulled you through the crowd to go close his tab out.

He was holding your hand tight as you clung to his arm. Staring at his side profile with hearts in your eyes as he tipped the bartender.

On your way out you bumped into someone’s back. The muscle man turned around in shock.

Not batting an eye you said “excuse me” and kept walking.

You looked up nervously to see Aizawa’s response to the poorly timed interaction but he was just peering at you out of the corner of his eyes with a satisfied little grin.

He grabbed your jaw and pressed a deep kiss on you. Not breaking his stride once as he led you to the door.

“Let’s hurry up and go home. I’m not finished with you yet.”

~~

First smut post so hopefully it didn’t suck 😩

General tags from masterlist: @edgyb1tch @waywardcowboyllamavoid @ladybeautiful18 @halietigges @frosted-flakes @r0zyp0zy0zy @myherosilhouette @wackichris @chargeandinlarge @dumbbird89 @fullsundear @blisssfoooll @tee2cute @dxddydrea @themajesticunicorn

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[rayveewrites]

Ray Hijacks the Team ZIT Ghostbuster AU Again

So @shadeswift99 made a few posts a while ago about a Team ZIT(S) ghostbuster AU, And then I may or may not have hijacked the post to add in ideas for most of the other hermits because why not.

Now, back then I was spitballing ideas and making them up on the spot, which is admittedly my usual writing process, but hey.

That said, I've had more time to think about it, and then last night I blacked out for a few hours and came to with a Google Doc filled with short bios for all of the hermits and a handful of hermit-adjacents. Now, this rapidly turned into an urban fantasy AU in my hands, but hey. It's fun.

This is in alphabetical order, with alternate personas (EX, Helsknight, Beetlejhost) beneath their original counterparts when applicable:

Bdubs

Lives in an old mansion in the woods alongside Doc for reasons known only to them. Bdubs works as an interior designer, with a side gig as a freelance hairdresser. His eyes are unnaturally large, similar to Keralis’, and he is at least partially a plant. Completely feral and frequently gets in trouble for having knives on him at all times. He and Cleo have a thing called Knife Club which makes everyone else nervous. Nobody messes with Knife Club. It’s not worth it. Sunbathes frequently.

Beef

Is a perfectly normal human being. He works as a butcher with a side gig as a graphic designer specializing in album covers and spends his free time playing pokemon and dragging Etho along to social events. He was the first person to spot the cryptid, and the first person who Etho approached of his own accord.

Biffa

Is a ghost possessing a robotic shell. Biffa is from the future. While initially his main goal was to get back home to his own time, Biffa has since made friends and settled down into a new life running a cafe specializing in a wide range of teas. He’s quite content with this, and has actually found himself far happier than he was in his own time. While his nature means he can see, hear and touch ghosts, his body was built specifically for a disembodied soul to be in the driver’s seat, and he doesn’t want to risk another taking control. Also, he has more important things to do than have fistfights with ghosts.

Cleo

Is a ghost possessing her own dead corpse. Her nature allows her to see, hear and touch ghosts. Can and will fistfight spirits. She works as a teacher, so she’s usually busy, but occasionally in really nasty situations the Beetlejhost will drag her in to break a ghost’s legs. Does sculpture in her free time, and is actually really good. The only one who can wrangle Beetle to any real capacity, and she’s learned to keep him on a fairly short leash. Housemates with Joe, and Keralis also pops in pretty frequently. Has Knife Club with Bdubs. Has an enchanted flower crown that prevents her from decaying further; a gift from Beetle. Recently started learning magic in the form of necromancy and illusions. Has an ongoing ‘feud’ with Zloy, in which she temporarily traps his soul in random inanimate objects every now and then.

Cub

A bit of a ‘mad scientist’ archetype, Cub’s experiments are not exactly the most ethical, though they’re at least more professional than Doc’s. Responsible for the creation of Jevin. Cub gets possessed stupidly easily- sometimes willingly- and can usually handle it himself but sometimes has to call for help. Has a magical method of communication with Scar for exactly this reason. Has a day job as co-owner of a business called ConCorp, which he started with Scar. Has probably broken the Geneva Convention.

Doc

Was presumably human at one point. Now an abomination. Repeated experiments on himself have resulted in a massively changed facial and foot structure, a body covered in mottled green scales, claws, and goat horns. He lost half his face in one of his experiments, and constructed a new cybernetic one. He lost his right arm fighting God. Killed said god and would do it again. Lives in a mansion in the woods with Bdubs, though nobody’s really sure why. Owns a casino because of course he does. Also a living crime against fashion, because the man refuses to wear anything other than his tattered lab coat, torn jeans, and crocs.

Ely

Runs the local radio station. Nobody’s ever seen him in person, and nobody knows where he gets people’s voice clips for his remixes. Probably a cryptid. Maybe a ghost. Seems pretty chill, despite the blatant invasions of privacy.

Etho

Is a cryptid. Lives out in the woods in an abomination that can barely be called a house. Has never been seen in anything other than full Kakashi cosplay. Tends to keep to himself, but occasionally lets Beef drag him along to social events, often with Doc and Bdubs. Nobody really knows what his deal is. Probably not human. Probably.

False

Used to be part of an illegal underground cage fighting ring, until she earned enough to buy her way out. Having grown up in said ring, she struggles to adjust to normal life, but living in a town where the barista is a robot and the local tailor has wings makes it easier. She now has a job as security at Doc’s casino, alongside Iskall.

Grian

Is either an angel or a demigod, but nobody knows which. Has wings. Is both a tailor and an architect. A complete gremlin who has elaborate masks of various birds and will wear them to commit crimes. Eats seeds. Messes with everyone else’s plants. Lives in Jungle Wood Flats. Volunteers at the local theatre.

Hypno

Has three eyes, but hides the third one under a bandanna at all times. Can see ghosts with it. Had problems with sections of plumbing randomly getting clogged and also making very weird noises, and eventually called Team ZIT when the plumbers couldn’t find the source. Was prepared for ghosts, but wound up with a slime creature instead. Works in a $2 store for some reason.

Impulse

Is fully human. The most sensible member of Team ZIT (which admittedly isn’t saying much), Impulse has a day job as a freelancer building custom PCs and fixing broken tech. Agreed to the whole ghostbusting deal because he was bored, mostly. Was the first one to meet Skizz face-to-face, and is the one to own that particular place outright. Gets possessed every now and then, usually by larger spirits. Used to run solely on caffeine and chronic anxiety until Zedaph started getting on his case about his sleep schedule. Now he runs on less caffeine, more sleep, and the same amount of chronic anxiety.

Iskall

Was part of a cloning experiment to create the ultimate hitman, and was the only known one to both survive and escape before the whole thing was shut down by the authorities. Their eye and arm were replaced with cybernetics in order to increase their already enhanced abilities, and they were chased by said authorities, eventually winding up on Mumbo’s doorstep and becoming Mumbo’s problem. Now works as security at Doc’s casino, alongside False. Lives at Jungle Wood flats. Occasionally volunteers at the local theatre. Does bonsai as a hobby.

Jevin

Is the slime creature in the pipes. Hypno lets him live with him under the condition he stops blocking the plumbing and making weird noises at 3 AM (Jevin still blocks the plumbing and makes weird noises at 3 AM, just not as much as he was). Has taught himself to take a humanoid shape, and likes having fingers. Sleeps in the bathtub because he can. Was created from a vat of chemicals in a secret lab underneath the house, which used to be owned by Cub. Doesn’t really talk to the man in question that much, but will occasionally refer to Cub as his father for the sole reason of watching him go through eight existential crises in three minutes. Has a glock.

Joe

Head librarian at the local public library, and has read a lot of books on Supernatural Things. Is a veritable fountain of exposition if you can figure out what he’s saying or have Cleo along with you to threaten the integrity of his shins. Has never been seen in the same place as the Beetlejhost. Are they the same person? Are they entirely separate beings? Is there a Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde-type situation going on? Who knows!

Beetlejhost

Literally nobody really knows what his deal is. Nobody. Team ZIT ran into him on a call that they expected to be a false alarm and then he decided to follow them home. Spends most of his time being a minor nuisance in the most bizarre ways possible. Is implied to be responsible for the Ever Given getting lodged in the Suez Canal, but never confirmed. When he’s not bothering Team ZIT or getting them out of tight spots, he’s usually pestering Cleo, the only one who can keep him in line. It’s not really known if he and Cleo have a history or if they’re just Like That.

Keralis

Is a ghost haunting an architecture firm, and is mostly bound to the building, though he can travel to other buildings the firm has built, which is, uh, most of them. Initially only able to do small things- mostly writing notes or drawing diagrams- he eventually meets the Beetlejhost when the latter follows Mumbo to work one day for shits and giggles (he wanted to see how long he could mess with Mumbo before the man noticed. As it turned out, about a week, and by the end it was Iskall who noticed). After a couple of days in which Beetle teaches Keralis Ghost Things™, he scares half the office when he finally manifests for the first time. Has unnaturally large eyes and nicknames for most of the workers. Has no idea how he died or what his unfinished business might be. Very knowledgeable about architecture, and his input is usually very much appreciated.

Mumbo

Is a perfectly normal human being who does IT at Keralis’ architecture firm. Lives at Jungle Wood flats and spends most of his free time tinkering with tech and trying to keep Grian and Iskall out of trouble, which is a losing battle. Has a large, beating golden heart in his flat. He’s not really sure what its deal is, but if he feeds it apples it produces enough power for the entire building. Oh, and if he forgets to feed it for an extended period of time it starts draining his bank account. It’s really weird.

Pixlriffs

Was a perfectly normal human being until he died protecting a certain Russian zombie and became a perfectly normal ghost. Was a reporter in life and is a reporter in death. Runs a blog alongside Zloy about the local goings-on, supernatural or not. The blog’s the type where unless you live in/near the town you most likely won’t stumble across it, but they do have a small following of outsiders who assume the blog’s just a work of fiction. His unfinished business is to prevent Zloy from doing anything particularly stupid, a constant battle. Is able to go more places than Zloy due to being incorporeal, but respects people’s privacy. He’s bound to Zloy to a certain degree, not being able to go beyond a certain range of his friend. The range is pretty big, though, and he has plenty freedom of movement.

Python

Had a run-in with the fae as a kid, in which he accidentally pissed one off. In retribution, the faerie challenged him to answer a riddle or he’d be turned into a snake. Python’s answer was partially correct, so the faerie only transformed him partially. Python is fairly chill, though he strongly dislikes the cold and starts hissing if anyone disturbs him during Sun Time™. Sometimes Bdubs, being partially flora, joins Python for Sun Time™. He’s not venomous, because, you know...python. Also, he has a mildly disturbing habit of strangling rats and mice and then eating them whole, but he can’t help it and just tries not to do so when he has company.

Ren

Is a werewolf. He’s pretty chill regardless of form, though it’s only been recently he’s been comfortable enough leaving his ears and tail visible. He works as a lumberjack. One time Pixl introduced him to Monty Python’s Lumberjack Song and it quickly became his favourite thing. He spends most of his free time volunteering at the local theatre because Ren is absolutely a theatre kid and nobody can convince me otherwise. Gets possessed every now and then. Lives in Jungle Wood flats.

Scar

Works as a landscape developer. Gets possessed absurdly easily, though not quite as frequently as Cub. Has a magical method of communication with him. Technically co-owns ConCorp, but isn’t as involved. His cat, Jellie, is very obviously an eldritch abomination in feline form and he is comedically unaware of this. Lives in Jungle Wood Flats with Grian, Iskall, Mumbo, Stress, and Ren.

Skizz

Is the ghost haunting Team ZIT’s office. He was murdered by someone he’d thought was a friend who was trying to use his place to hide from the cops, and he’s stuck around, haunting the building. His unfinished business is to make sure nobody else uses the building for anyone shady, but the ghost rumours tended to chase most people off. Eventually he gets used to having Team ZIT around, and when Tango admits he doesn’t really have anywhere to go one day, Skizz eventually makes the decision to finally unlock the still-furnished upper floor for him. He’s bound to the building, but Impulse learns that carrying Skizz’s old vest with them allows him to leave. After that, Skizz sometimes accompanies them on missions and occasionally just hanging out. He’s usually more helpful than the Beetlejhost is.

Stress

Is a witch. Stress lives in Jungle Wood Flats and works as a doctor who specializes in supernaturally caused injuries- Team ZIT are some of her best customers. She also sells magic potions of various kinds, and has a side gig as a florist. She’s 90% of the Jungle inhabitants’ impulse control. Also has cryokinesis.

Tango

The Team ZIT member with a car. He gets possessed with frankly ridiculous frequency, but claims not to believe in ghosts for a long time (and keeps up the bit for even longer). Has developed various signals to indicate when he’s being possessed again. The strongest one, a rather nasty demon Cleo and the Beetlejhost had to team up on, left him with his glowing red eyes. He didn’t really have anywhere to go before Impulse bought the office, and tended to sleep on the couch or in his car until Skizz decided to let him into the upper floor, where he now lives alongside Zedaph and Impulse.

TFC

A now-retired ghostbuster, TFC calls in Team ZIT one night when he finds himself in over his head against a ghost with a grudge. He winds up becoming a bit of a mentor figure to the trio, usually coaching them over the phone if they’re not sure how to deal with one of the stranger spirits. Lost his leg years ago in a fight with a poltergeist that could have gone better, and now has a robotic prosthetic made by Doc.

Wels

While Team ZIT was out investigating some rumour or another in the woods, they came across a large stone box. Following video game logic, I guess, they then decided opening this large stone box sounded like a fun idea. Well, Tango and Zedaph did. Impulse was a bit more hesitant. The box actually held a medieval knight who’d been put in an enchanted sleep for centuries by his demonic doppelgänger, and was very much not prepared for modern life. Team ZIT took him to Xisuma, who happened to live closest, and Wels is currently helping out on the farm and trying to adjust to life in the 21st century. He can understand and speak modern English just fine because magic. Volunteers at the local theatre quite a lot.

Hels

Is Wels’ doppelgänger. Technically a minor demon. Won a fight with Wels and sealed him away for centuries as a result. A recurring problem. His real motivation is that he really desperately doesn’t want to go back to Hell, but he’s too proud to admit it. Lives in the woods with EX, who’s basically his only friend, though the weirdo with the brown cardigan keeps pestering him about his backstory and feelings for some reason. Has minor pyrokinesis.

XB

Like Biffa, XB is also a ghost from the future, though it seems to be a different timeline than Biffa’s. His unfinished business is preventing the apocalypse, but he has no idea how to do that, no idea if he’s in the right timeline, and is pretty sure he’s gone back a lot farther than he probably should’ve. Also, there’s the whole paradox issue, where if he prevents the apocalypse he never has a reason to go back and prevent the apocalypse, so he doesn’t prevent the apocalypse, so he has to go back and- he tries not to think about it too much. He mostly just hangs out in an abandoned house on the edge of town and vibes.

Xisuma

Is a beekeeper. Nobody’s ever seen his face; when he’s not in his beekeeping outfit, he’s either wearing a helmet, or (more recently) an extremely lifelike and detailed animal mask (is it a mask?). Actually a shapeshifting alien, he crashed down to Earth after a scuffle with his evil clone and was stranded because Earth doesn’t have the right tools or resources to repair a spaceship. These days he’s actually found he’s happier tending to his bees, selling honey, and helping his friends out, and probably wouldn’t leave Earth even if he could. It’s a simpler life, but a pleasant one. He bonds with Biffa over a shared love of tea and being stranded in a technologically inferior world and finding a home.

Evil Xisuma

Is Xisuma’s clone. Feels that if everyone’s going to call him ‘Evil’ he may as well own it. Shot his original’s spaceship down in a scuffle but wound up being brought down with him. Currently hides in the woods. Generally more of a minor nuisance than an actual danger. Used to spend his free time bothering X but has gotten put off by Wels, who has a problem when it comes to evil clones. His friends consist of Hels, who is a terrible role model, and Zedaph, who’s trying to help him work through his problems behind everyone’s backs. Can summon lightning because he deserves it.

Zedaph

Is the reason Team ZIT is ghostbusting in the first place. He’s a sheep shearer by trade, but that’s a fairly seasonal thing and ghostbusting is more fun anyway. Has somehow never been possessed, and claims it’s because he’s always standing next to Tango. He makes sure the other two gets enough sleep Because we all know they can’t be trusted to do it. Probably has some sort of really bizarre and situational magical powers he is thoroughly unaware of. Qualified to be a licensed therapist. Made friends with Evil X at one point, somehow.

Zloy

Like Cleo, he’s a ghost possessing a corpse. Unlike Cleo, there’s a good chance it’s not his corpse. Eh, it’s not like anyone else was using it. Runs a blog with Pixl, because why not. Was already a zombie when he met Pixl, who was still alive at the time. His body is a bit more decayed than Cleo’s, but it’s fine. His goggles are enchanted with the same preservation spell; it’s not really ever explained where he got them from. Has no regard for privacy but is fortunately unable to turn invisible or phase through walls due to inhabiting a physical body. Both can theoretically physically fight ghosts and has enough time to physically fight ghosts, meaning he would be a valuable ally if he could be bothered. Lives in a graveyard. Has an ongoing ‘feud’ with Cleo, in which he puts jabs at her on the blog. Once spent a week as a (very sarcastic) floating potato.

Hermiton

Is the name of the place they all live in/near. Located in an ambiguous location in an ambiguous country, Hermiton is technically large enough to be considered a city but has Town VibesTM. Supernatural going-ons are a fairly normal part of life, and a good number of inhabitants aren’t humans. Despite this, the wider world seems mostly ignorant of the existence of ghosts, magic, etc. I’m not too sure about geography, but it’s surrounded by forest in most directions and in a warm enough climate to not have snow in the winter (so Python doesn’t, you know, freeze to death). Most people don’t tend to bat an eyelid at strange-looking people walking down the street or serving them at the store; they’re used to it by now. There are several theories as to why Hermiton specifically has so much going on when it comes to the supernatural- ley lines, secretly the resting place of some long-forgotten god, et cetera- but it’s actually more of a case of ‘people who have supernatural traits hear rumours of a place where a lot of people have supernatural traits and go there in search of answers/a place to belong’. This doesn’t exactly explain where all the ghosts came from, but hey. Nothing’s perfect.

[laequiem]

No tricks, only treats [ONESHOT]

/ Cardan and Jude join the rest of the family to enjoy Halloween in the Mortal World.

Part of Tales from the Mortal Realm, a collection of random moments in the lives of the Queen and King of Elfhame.

"Is it strange that I find you attractive dressed as such?"

I was looking at myself in the mirror, assessing my outfit, when Cardan sneaked into the room. His training with The Ghost was paying off, he was as silent as ever.

"Strange? Yes. Surprising? No."

Read it on ao3

"Is it strange that I find you attractive dressed as such?"

I was looking at myself in the mirror, assessing my outfit, when Cardan sneaked into the room. His training with The Ghost was paying off, he was as silent as ever.

"Strange? Yes. Surprising? No."

I saw him prowl towards me through the glass. He slid his arms around my waist, staring at me through my reflection.

Today is October 31st and Oak insisted we join him in celebrating Halloween. Of course, this means we all need costumes. I decided to go as the one character I knew more than anyone else.

Cardan.

I looked through his wardrobe for my outfit. It was quite hard to find a top that was loose enough to account for my breasts, as most of his clothes were tailored to fit him perfectly. I also found a dark blue coat, its collar covered in iridescent feathers. I gave up trying to find pants in his collection, as my hips would never fit, and just wore a pair of black leggings with black combat boots.

"What do you mean, dear Jude?"

"The only thing you love more than booze is yourself."

He raised his brows, making a show of looking offended. 

"Your capacity to lie to yourself will always impress me,” he said then plucked a kiss to my temple, “I love you more than I love wine."

I don’t think I will ever get over him being  caring . It felt as if he was a completely different person from the boy who would disturb lessons just to get attention.

Cardan turned me to face him, then inspected my face. “Something is missing.” He took my hand and directed me to his personal vanity. He opened the drawer and pulled out some cosmetics. He lined my eyes with kohl and coated my lashes with dark mascara. I suppressed my laugh when I saw he was so concentrated that he had stuck out his tongue. Then, he took out some glittery gold powder and applied it on my cheekbones. 

He took a step back to look at his handiwork and smiled.

“And the final touch,” he said as he plucked his crown off his head and put it on my head at an angle, “Voilà!”

I looked at myself in the mirror. I did not bother with any kind of wig. I put my hair up in elaborate braids, letting a few short curls hang in a few places. Yet, even without his signature dark hair, I still looked like him. I made faces at myself in the mirror, trying to get his grin right. 

Finally, I got up. “Your turn now, dearest Cardan.”

When Heather learned that Cardan would be coming too, she started suggesting outfits for him. She even went as far as drawing some of them. Something about his otherworldly looks inspired her. Maybe it's the tail, since a lot of her designs included it: a devil, sexy cat man and my personal favorite, a cute puppy.

In the end, I chose my own, petty idea. I walked in the closet and pulled out the outfit I had the servants clean for the occasion. 

“A King needs his Queen,” I grinned as I revealed the Queen of Mirth dress and crown.

Cardan threw his head back laughing. “You sure know how to hold a grudge.”

Thankfully, my husband was a team player, and he went with it. Even in this, he looked strikingly handsome. Or pretty, I guess. Unfair.

We landed in Maine in the early afternoon. It was strange to be awake so early, but Cardan did not seem bothered at all. We met up with Vivi, Heather, Oak, Taryn and Garrett at the entrance to FallFest, some kind of harvest festival that was held every October in the local park. It had everything from harvest contests to food stands, a section with typical carnival games, a small hay maze and even a haunted house.

I was not surprised to see my eldest sister dressed up, she went crazy for Halloween every year. Vivienne would dress up for a week straight before Halloween, even when she still lived in Elfhame. She was wearing a tight black bodysuit with a tail and claws as well as a black leather mask with cat ears. Heather dressed up as some kind of … plant lady? She had a short bodysuit made of green ivy leaves, green stockings and a long red wig. Oak was with them, wearing a reddish pink shirt with a big yellow star on it. I can only assume they went for pop-culture references I am unfamiliar with.

The real surprise was seeing my twin Taryn and her quiet lover also dressed up.

"What are you dressed as?", Cardan inquired, cocking his head to the side, "You ought to have dressed as Jude, you have already proved to be so good at it."

I snapped my head at him and slammed my foot as hard as I could on his. He was joking, of course. But the peace between me and Taryn was still fairly new. We mostly kept to ourselves and rarely talked. Garrett was back with the Court of Shadow and we were friendly, but he kept his professional and personal lives completely separated.

Cardan was hopping on one foot, scowling at me like he did not understand why I was upset. Taryn understood, though. She was sheepishly looking at the ground.

"I… I'm sorry for tricking you, Cardan."

I tried finding something to say to end the awkwardness. I wanted Cardan to apologize for what he said, but I knew he would not. Fae don't apologize.

Thankfully, Vivi broke the silence. "C'mon guys, we're here to HAVE FUN!" she complained, "What ARE you two dressed as?"

"Phantom of the Opera." Garrett replied.

"Nerds."

"Says the one dressed up as Catwoman." Garrett mocked.

The bickering continued, though less mean-spirited than Cardan’s original comment, as we walked down the main path. Our first stop was the pumpkin carving station. Each couple got their own pumpkin to carve, though Vivi and Heather’s pumpkin was mostly Oak’s handiwork and the couple making sure he did not stab himself. Taryn and Garrett made some intricate flower design on theirs, Garrett being the one doing the carving of course. As for us, well… Cardan had creative ideas, but no skills with a blade, and my skills were more of the  stabbing  variety. We settled on giving our pumpkin a traditional jack-o-lantern face. 

After the effort of carving pumpkins, we were starving. Oak was complaining, dragging his feet on the ground so much that Vivi and Heathers were holding both of his hands to pull him along. Behind them, I saw Taryn with her arm looped around The Ghost's.

I was suddenly very aware that Cardan and I were the only ones not holding hands.

Nobody knows us here. We needn't keep the appearance of the power couple, together to rule and nothing else.

I took my hand out of the pockets of my borrowed coat and tentatively brushed my fingers against Cardan's hand. I saw him whip his head towards me, and I blushed when I witnessed the surprise in his face. Soon enough, he smiled. One of those smiles he kept for me and only me, blissful and happy. The smile he gives me when we have the time to spend hours cuddled together in bed, enjoying each other's presence.

Cardan took my hand and squeezed. I squeezed back.

We spent the rest of the afternoon eating good food, trying to guess the weight of giant pumpkins and visiting a haunted house. Cardan was fascinated by the weird human traditions and absolutely ecstatic about the food. Pumpkin-spiced flavored food will become the new trend in Elfhame, judging by his reaction.

When the sun started to go down, Taryn and Garrett left for Madoc’s, who decided to try giving out candy to the trick-or-treaters. Heather and Vivienne had initially volunteered to take Oak trick-or-treating himself, but when one of their friends invited them to a party, we offered to take him instead. Oak was excited to spend more time with me and “Uncle Cardan”. 

I had not gone trick-or-treating in...10 years? Maybe 12? Since my parents died. Cardan, obviously, had never gone. So, dressed up as each other, with Oak dressed as some cartoon character, we roamed the residential streets of the city to beg for sweets.

“If it is called ‘trick-or-treat’, does that mean I can make bargains if someone refuses to give me candy?” Cardan asked as we watched Oak go up to a house.

I gave him my best ‘I’ll-strangle-you-if-you-do’ stare. “No. No turning people into cats, no curse making them hear imaginary insects buzzing around their ears.”

“Why is it called trick-or-treat, then?”

Vivienne told me they had to explain this to Oak, too, a few weeks ago. Someone at school had mentioned being excited to go trick-or-treating and my brother had been very confused.

“I don’t know.”

Cardan hmmed and smirked, “Perhaps the Folk were involved when the holiday was first established.”

I crossed my arms.

“If that’s the case, not all traditions need to be brought back.”

He laughed at that, then reached around me and pulled me closer to him.

“You win. I won’t trick anyone,” he crooned in my ear, “but I want a kiss for being well behaved.”

I rolled my eyes dramatically. “So needy.”

Once again, I had to remind myself that nobody knows us here. Nobody recognized our costumes today: in the mortal world, dressed as each other, we were only The Guy In An Ugly Dress and Fashionable Emo Boy. Nobody knew we are King and Queen of Elfhame, therefore there are no expectations to be the hedonistic king and his murderous wife.

I slid my hand behind his neck and pulled him down. I felt him smile as I captured his lips with mine.

“Ew, gross!” Oak’s voice came from the other end of the driveway, “Stop that, come here.”

Reluctantly, we pulled away from each other and looked towards the house. Oak was in front of the opened door, talking with a couple. 

“Honey, look,” the tallest woman exclaimed as we walked down the driveway, “She’s dressed as High King Cardan!”

“Oh my god,” the other one replied, sounding so very human, “that sounds kind of profane. Do you think he would have her hung for this?”

As I looked at the two women, I realized that Oak had stumbled upon the house of a Fae couple. They saw through his glamour, and he saw through theirs.

“This is my sister Jude,” Oak started, “and this is my Uncle Cardan.”

Both females had gone completely still and were staring at Cardan with wide eyes. Simultaneously, they bowed deeply. 

“Forgive us, Your Majesty. We weren’t expecting you.”

“We so rarely see our kind around here,” the shorter one said nervously, “we… wanted to meet who little Oak was with.”

“We have tea, if you would like.”

I dared a glance at Cardan and noticed he seemed amused. Was he delighted to make them uncomfortable?

“That won’t be necessary,” he said as he took my hand, “My  wife  has us on a tight schedule, we have other houses to visit. Have a nice evening.”

I caught the emphasis on  wife  and realized they only recognized him as royalty. ‘  Your Majesty ’, singular. I could tell from the two females’ expressions that they also understood their mistake. I felt bad for them knowing they had no ill intent, probably unaware of the situation in Faerie. Yet, I could not help the grin that crept on my face. I worked hard to become High Queen. I fought and killed my way through the ranks, almost dying. Multiple times. I made decisions that will haunt me until the day I die. I am High Queen, and the Folk must know. 

“It was nice meeting you,” I say as I take Oak’s hand, “You are welcome to visit us at the palace if you wish.”

My memories from before Faerieland were to blurry, I did not remember getting so much candy. Did Taryn and I get that much? How could we possibly have eaten all of that? Cardan and I each had a smaller bag, only accompanying Oak to some of the doors, but Oak had multiple full bags. Once he went to sleep, Oriana was more than happy to give us some. She had learned how bad candy was for children’s teeth - even little Fae kids. She filled little bags for us to take back to Elfhame. 

Like anyone eating candy for the first time, Cardan went a little crazy. He wanted to try everything. Faeries might be different in a lot of ways, but I now have proof that chocolate is addictive even to them. 

The High King of Elfhame ate so much candy that he fell asleep on the couch, to the former General’s dismay.

[crashingmeteorz]

more jinjetsongko headcanons because i’m still quarantining so what the heck else am i gonna do.

shout out to @azenkii for coming up with this and supporting my nonsense. also considering calling them the ba sing se bimbos, please share your thoughts.

so like. it’s pretty clear song can handle herself, and even as they’re getting rid of the body, jet is telling her about their group and what they’re doing. song’s in shock, because murder’s not something she’s ever done (but something her mother has always prepared her to do), and so she just is kinda like “yeah, okay, i’ll join, whatever, but does the smell of death ever leave your nostrils or does it stay there forever?”

“it fades,” he tells her happily, slinging an arm around her shoulders, “but don’t worry - you’ll get used to it.”

zuko wants to punch jet in his stupid handsome face because they can’t have the girl he STOLE FROM in their stupid gang but he can’t TELL ANYONE so he’s just bitter about it until song reassures him that it’s okay, he’s forgiven.

despite her capacity for violence, song does not Vibe With It, so she ends up acting as a lookout most of the time. there are other drugs, ones that just put people to sleep for a while instead of killing them, and she tends to use those on any suspicious parties.

if she’s ever in a serious bind, though, she carries a set of needles hidden up her sleeve. just because she’s the least Down with Murder doesn’t mean she isn’t down with it at all. she’s not a freaking narc.

jin previously was Not Down with Murder but when you hide a dead body you have to very quickly Get Down with Murder or Get Gone, so she gets down with it. everything else about her friends (arsonist, terrorist, deadly apothecary) quickly becomes categorized as extremely normal because otherwise her brain would explode.

best asset is her knowledge of the city, and the fact that she can get information from anyone, anywhere. she’s got more street smarts than any of the “country bumpkins” as she affectionately calls her friends, and she puts this skill to good use.

she wants to be able to fight, too, and since both zuko and jet wield dual weapons, that’s how she learns.

(plus, the idea of all four of them being dual-weapons wielders is cool and fun so i’m running with it)

she steals away into the small trunk of family heirlooms that sits hidden beneath a floorboard in her building, and procures two sickles her father used during his time on the farm. interestingly, theyre about the same size and weight as the kyoshi warriors’ fans. if jin were to ever find herself amongst the kyoshi warriors, she’d probably fit in. just a thought.

jin, like jet, is unrefined and fights dirty, but it works and gets the job done. zuko fights with honor and fury. song is light on her feet, and her goal is mainly to get the fight over with. all in all, they make a good team.

obviously, iroh and song’s mother adopt them all. jin is the natural favorite, being genuinely likable and funny, and also the most normal. iroh is also still hoping she’ll marry zuko one day, and song’s mother basically sees any teen girls she meets as someone to be Cherished and Protected anyway.

jet is definitely the least favorite but is also Begrudgingly Beloved by the adults. both iroh and song’s mother are too smart to fall for his slick words, but they find his efforts to be charming endearing. plus, they both know boy soldiers when they see them, and it’s hard for them not to want to be a parent to a kid who’s been through so much.

song and her mother love teasing zuko and iroh for their past encounter. song’s usually the one teasing iroh, and he takes it in stride, always offering her free tea and treats and dramatically begging her forgiveness in a way that absolutely makes zuko sweat bullets. song’s mother is the one who teases zuko, but he’s so awkward and weird about it she just ends up feeling bad and giving him an extra serving of dinner, which jin and jet loudly protest.

all three teens have a different version of a backstory for zuko and iroh. they’ve all shared their lives with each other, except for zuko, and no matter how much they pester iroh he insists it’s not his story to tell.

jin works the circus angle for a loooong time, knowing full well he was full of shit when he said he was in the circus, but hoping to make zuko perform increasingly ridiculous stunts so as to vindicate himself. he draws the line at the tightrope, and gets weirdly quiet about it, so she drops it.

jet thinks zuko was in the war, which is how he got his scar. he assumes zuko and iroh are so poor because they didn’t get any sort of compensation for their part in defending the earth kingdom, which is just what he would expect from their “government”, or as jet calls it, The Man.

song assumes zuko got his scar the same way she did, when the fire nation invaded his and iroh’s village and probably took his father away, too. she also assumes this is what’s hardened him to the world, and is glad he seems to be loosening up a bit around his friends.

jin is the closest, believing zuko and iroh to be deserters of the fire nation, but she guesses they’re from the colonies. she also definitely thinks iroh’s earth kingdom (you can’t live in ba sing se and love it THAT MUCH without having a little earth kingdom blood in you. no way no how). she assumes that zuko got his scar for his treachery, that he left the fire nation because he believed it was Evil. secretly, she believes he’s incredibly brave.

after the war, zuko casually mentions that he got his scar from his father.

“your what now?” jin asks in disbelief. my father, zuko tells her. he recounts the war meeting, the agni kai, all of it.

“and your father, the ex-firelord, he did this?” song asks, deadly calm, messing with a few vials of something Very Dangerous and Very Painful.

“the ex-firelord as in the ex-firelord locked up in the capital prison, that guy did that to you?” jet asks, just as calm, sharpening his hooks. zuko says yes, not sure why they’re being so weird.

“we’ll be back later,” jin tells him. “we have to go do something totally unrelated.”

it takes zuko way too long for the penny to drop because by the time he catches up to them they’ve knocked out half the prison guards and are screaming about vengeance.

(secretly, he’s touched, but he wishes he’d learned his lesson because he goes through the same thing with sokka and katara about a month later).

1  2  3  4  5  6  7  masterpost

[beca-mitchell]

if you wanted to, girl, we could cross that line (1/1)

Summary: Aren't you supposed to book the wedding venue after proposing? Word count: 3,316 words Author’s Notes: I’ve been thinking about recent discussion re: Chloe and Beca's relationship. Specifically how Chloe hates it when people think Beca is some uncaring/apathetic person. Or that Beca is aloof and distant in their romantic relationship. I had some ideas about that, but then it kind of spiralled into this which I don't even know if it addresses any of that discourse at all. But. Anyway. I've been binging Friends, so yes, this is totally inspired by Season 6, episode 22 (and a little of episode 23) of Friends. Fic title from Lauv's "Feelings".

Read below or on AO3.

* * * * *

“Aubrey this place is beautiful,” Chloe gasps, looking around the high ceilings and well-decorated walls of the country club lounge. “You’re really thinking about moving The Lodge to California?”

Aubrey flips through the brochure, nodding along to Chloe’s words. “It seems like a natural choice. Would be nice to expand out here. Lots of companies need their morale boosted.”

Chloe nudges Aubrey. “I’m happy for you, you know? You’ve done so much in the past few years.”

“Chloe,” Aubrey sighs. “Thank you.”

“And I’m so glad you didn’t move to Mykonos and become a doula.”

Aubrey frowns. “I don’t remember saying that.” She flips to the next page of her brochure. “Oh! Chloe, look! They host weddings here!”

Chloe shifts to lean over Aubrey’s shoulder to examine the glossy pages. “Oh wow, I’m sure they must be beautiful here. Expensive too. Oh!” Chloe points to the next page. “They can even host guests overnight.”

“Perfect for corporate retreats,” Aubrey muses.

“Or weddings,” Chloe says, tugging Aubrey’s arm along. “Just think about it. A beautiful day...a little bit of a breeze." Chloe sighs, somewhat wistfully, lost in her own world for a moment. "You’d look beautiful in the dress I have picked out for you.”

“Oh is this your wedding we’re talking about?”

To Aubrey’s immense surprise, Chloe glances away, clearly embarrassed. “I mean. It could be anybody’s wedding. I was just. Throwing it out there. You know.”

“Were you picturing yourself in the wedding dress?”

Again, hesitation from Chloe. “...Maybe.”

Aubrey moves so she’s standing in front of Chloe. “Hey, what’s this all about?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You,” Aubrey gestures with a stern tone. “Getting all weird and shy about weddings of all things.”

It wasn’t that Chloe was fanatic about weddings, it was more that Aubrey knew Chloe was a complete romantic. And passionate about literally everything, on top of that. Plus, Aubrey, in her capacity as Chloe’s de facto best friend, knew just how much Chloe wanted a fairytale wedding. It was something that some people grew out of—Aubrey would know, being all about practicality—but it was also something that followed people and nestled within their hopes and dreams like a permanent reminder of what optimism and sunshine could bring.

Chloe is the embodiment of both of those things and Aubrey is fortunate enough to have experienced such a person in her lifetime.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Chloe begins, going for nonchalance which Aubrey disregards completely. “I just. I—I’ve been dating Beca for a year and a half. And then soon it’s going to be two years. And then...more.”

“That’s how time works, usually.”

Chloe glares at her. “It’s just. Beca isn’t...I don’t think she wants to get married.”

“Has she said that to you?” Aubrey demands, surprised that even Beca of all people would have so little tact to say that to Chloe specifically. Chloe who has had her wedding planned since she was in second grade. Chloe, who would go to the ends of the earth for Beca Mitchell’s smug, talented ass.

“No! No, God, Beca is amazing. And she—” Chloe sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I know what you’re thinking and it’s what everybody thinks. Beca isn’t like that, okay? She loves me and she’s in love with me. There’s no doubt about it.” Aubrey shoots her a skeptical look. “You’re so unfair,” Chloe complains, upon seeing Aubrey’s expression. “She’s an amazing girlfriend. Honestly. Everybody thinks that she’s this distant, emotionless little...” Chloe makes a noise of frustration. “Well, she’s not. She’s passionate and beautiful and so so good at that thing she—”

“Chloe!”

Chloe blushes. “Sorry. But it’s not that. I promise.”

“Then where did...all this come from?”

“Well, I just don’t want to...freak her out.”

“Freak her out,” Aubrey echoes, contemplating the word choice and wondering whether she really does need to talk to Beca about her lack of decorum. “Has she said that to you?” she demands again.

“No!”

“Then—?”

“I just. I know I can be a lot, okay? I know that I want things too much sometimes. And that I can get loud and crazy about things. But I want to…” Chloe glances around. “I want to spend the rest of my life with Beca and I don’t want anything to mess that up.”

“Why would you two getting married mess that up?”

“Um? Hello? Has she not complained about her parents before?”

Aubrey can concede to that. “Once or twice. But I mean...we’re not all defined by our parents’ mistakes.” Chloe shoots her a look. “Okay, you know what? This isn’t about me.”

Chloe giggles, relenting. She kicks her toe against the ground, following the movement with her eyes. “I just know that Beca isn’t thinking about getting married. We just moved in together.”

“Like two months ago,” Aubrey mutters.

“More like four months ago!”

“Oh, but who’s counting?”

Chloe flashes a quick smile. “Yeah, it’s been four months hasn’t it?” She softens. “I love living with Beca. And I love L.A.! Oh—and of course I love that you’re going to be moving here.” She pulls Aubrey in for a quick hug, right in the middle of the hall. “It’s just...everything is coming together. I love my life just the way it is.”

“Chloe—”

It is that moment that a couple decides to make their way through the hall, led by a man holding a clipboard. He appears to be listing off amenities and accommodations.

“—host many weddings a year, especially during June. You are very lucky to get on the waiting list.”

Chloe, never one to really acknowledge social customs, somehow manages to insert herself into the conversation midway. “Is there a long list?” she asks conversationally, a hint of amusement in her tone. She tugs Aubrey along despite Aubrey’s attempts to mind her own business.

The wedding planner scrutinizes their intertwined hands. “Are you two ladies looking to have a wedding?”

Chloe tilts her head before turning to look at Aubrey with a glint in her eyes. “And if we are?”

“Chloe!” Aubrey hisses.

“Well, the wait list is about two years long, so you’ll have to get in line.”

* * * * *

“What was that about loving your life the way it was?”

“It wasn’t serious. I just won’t ever contact them again.”

“Yes, putting yours and Beca’s names down for a wedding venue wasn’t serious.”

“Think of it as a way to drum up some press for when you host corporate retreats there.”

“How does this help me? This absolutely in no way helps me at all.”

* * * * *

Chloe forgets about her little relapse until two weeks later. She and Beca decide to go for a nice dinner at the country club—a place where Beca can maintain some anonymity while they engage in things that Beca would prefer prying eyes to keep away from.

Namely kissing.

“You haven’t touched your dinner,” Chloe murmurs. She smiles as she catches Beca’s next kiss head-on, tilting her head ever so slightly to elicit the quietest of whimpers from Beca’s throat.

“You haven’t touched yours.”

Chloe tenses her fingers, splayed on Beca’s thigh. “Maybe I’m more interested in my dessert.”

Beca blushes immediately and clears her throat, drawing back to take in Chloe’s swollen lips and playful smile. “I’m so happy that you’re mine,” Beca drawls, reaching up to cup Chloe’s cheeks. “But you have to stop saying shit like that in public.”

“Why do I have to stop saying shit like that in public?” Chloe asks innocently, letting her lips and tongue emphasize the word shit while her hand glides further up Beca’s thigh.

Beca’s eyes darken further. She hums, leaning in to capture Chloe’s lips in another kiss. “You don’t play fair,” she complains when Chloe finally draws back and refocuses on her plate of untouched food.

“But you just get so cute and flustered,” Chloe points out. “How can I resist?”

Later, as they are leaving, Chloe barely has time to recall just why she recognizes the man walking towards them before he is greeting them both.

“Hi, Chloe, right? I just left a message on your phone earlier this evening. I didn’t expect to run into you here.”

Chloe opens her mouth, recognition dawning. “Oh it’s—”

“Hi,” Beca cuts in. “What message?” she asks curiously.

“It’s nothing,” Chloe says quickly, an unpleasant heat spreading quickly through her body. “I’ll check later,” she says politely.

“Of course! It wasn’t anything serious. Just letting you know that your position on the wedding venue waitlist got bumped up because we had a few cancellations in the past two weeks. We’re looking at much sooner than two years. Probably within the next year if you want to remain on the list.”

“The what?” Beca demands. “Chloe, the—” Beca looks like her eyes might pop right out of her head. “Chloe,” she hisses, following as Chloe quickly mutters a thank-you and tugs Beca’s wrist along until they reach Chloe’s car. “What the fu—”

“Don’t curse,” Chloe whispers.

Beca presses her lips into a thin line. “Well, what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. Are you mad?”

“I’m just confused,” Beca murmurs, sliding into the passenger seat. “Are we getting married?”

“No!” Chloe exclaims quickly. “No, of course not—”

“Of course not?” Beca echoes. “What—”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just—it was just a dumb thing. Can we…” Chloe rests her hand on the steering wheel. “Can we talk about it when we get home?”

Beca stares out the window for a few long moments while Chloe pulls out on the main road. “Okay,” she finally agrees. “Okay, we’ll talk when we get home.”

The drive home itself is the longest and shortest of Chloe’s life. She shifts uncomfortably more than once, resisting the urge to look over at her girlfriend every two minutes. Scratch that. Every two seconds. She can’t believe that she forgot. That she wasn’t more careful. That a brief, silly moment with her best friend resulted in this. Whatever this is between herself and Beca right now.

It’s the last thing she wants, to have potentially messed something up in their life together.

When Chloe pulls into the private parking lot for their apartment complex, Chloe finds that she doesn’t want to leave the quiet of the car.

“Chlo,” Beca urges softly. “Let’s go inside.”

“I just wanted to see what it was like,” Chloe blurts, too stricken to restrain herself any longer. “I’m sorry.”

Beca reaches out to hold her hand across the console like Chloe wishes she had done during the drive home. The comforting feeling of Beca’s hand in her own makes Chloe look up, finally meeting Beca’s eyes for the first time since leaving the country club.

“Let’s just go inside,” Beca repeats, squeezing her hand.

Chloe hates that she feels too frazzled to correctly read Beca’s expression. She can’t figure out just what Beca is feeling or thinking and she hates that. She hates not knowing the one person she feels like she knows better than any other person on Earth.

“So...like.” Beca exhales, taking the keys from Chloe’s hands and placing them in their little shared bowl. “What did you mean? You just wanted to see what it was like? How do you just see what it’s like to reserve a wedding venue?”

Chloe bites her lip, still afraid to meet Beca’s eyes. She focuses instead on the flowery B&C engraving on their key bowl. It warms her. Comforts her. “I mean...it’s not really a wedding venue. It’s just a country club,” she points out evasively.

Beca snorts. “Where weddings are sometimes hosted.”

“Well. Yeah.”

“And you specifically put your name down—our names down—for a wedding. Sometime in the future.”

Chloe groans at that, covering her face with her hands. “Aubrey pressured me into it,” she lies, wondering if Beca will believe that.

Beca stifles a smile, instead choosing to step closer to Chloe in order to pry her hands from her face. “I bet she did.”

“You’re freaking out,” Chloe mumbles from behind her hands, though she does part two fingers in order to peer at Beca. “You’re freaking out, aren’t you?”

“I mean...I was,” Beca admits. “That was kind of…” Beca ponders her word choice. “Sudden,” she finally says with a delicate tone.

Chloe sighs. “I know it freaks you out when I do...stuff like that.”

At that, Beca frowns. “Do stuff like what?”

“I don’t know. Think about the future. Talk about this kind of stuff.”

Beca’s heart seizes for the briefest of moments. “I don’t want you to think that I’m not…” she swallows. “That I’m not, like, into that. Because I am.” She reaches for Chloe’s hands, pulling gently. “With you.” She bites her lower lip. “I hadn’t thought about it much before you, but it—” Beca laughs, a little breathlessly. “It drives me crazy that we haven’t talked about it, you know?”

“I just thought you weren’t…” Chloe shrugs, though her heart pounds at all of the words Beca has just thrown at her. “That it wasn’t something you wanted.”

“That was before you,” Beca reiterates.

Chloe feels a flush rising up her neck and spreading into her cheeks rapidly. “Beca…”

Beca, to her credit, does not flinch nor shy away. Chloe has been privileged enough to get to know this side of Beca over the past year and a half and especially over the past four months of living together. She is smitten and completely head-over-heels for Beca Mitchell and she doesn’t care if anybody knows that. That being said, she completely understands that Beca might not necessarily be the same, at least in terms of expressing herself outwardly (“Love languages are a thing, Beca!”) but she has never doubted that Beca cares for her. Loves her, even.

Beca is in love with her.

The thought only makes her blush again and offer a shy, demure smile at Beca who merely looks perplexed at the sudden change in mood. “What?” Beca asks quickly. “What is it? What did I say?”

“Nothing,” Chloe chimes in, shifting so that she can wrap an arm around Beca’s shoulders. “Well, not nothing. For you, that was basically a public and cheesy romantic gesture. Like declaration-on-a-billboard level.”

Beca scrunches her nose. “What was?”

Chloe pecks her quickly, enjoying how squirmy Beca is becoming in her arms. “You saying that you think about the future with me.”

“I don’t know if I said it exactly like that.”

“A little like that,” Chloe pushes. She leans in to kiss Beca slowly, letting her breath linger against Beca’s mouth. “A little bit,” she murmurs when she feels Beca take a breath, likely to protest again.

“Okay, maybe I did.”

Chloe relaxes completely, wondering how she got so lucky to fall in love with her perfect match; how she got so lucky to find her soulmate in a world full of people who refused to believe in love like she did. That was a relatively painless conversation, resulting in some unexpected results. Namely that Chloe had been the only one standing in the way of this much-needed conversation, but also that Beca Mitchell wanted to marry her.

The thought only makes Chloe deepen her kiss, eliciting a noise of surprise from Beca. They kiss for a few more moments, hands beginning to wander more boldly and surely as their kisses deepen with each passing second. Beca groans when Chloe’s hands slip under the front of her shirt, fingers scraping up her stomach with purpose.

“Are we still talking about this?” Beca asks, snagging Chloe’s lower lip between her teeth.

Chloe hums, tilting her head to capture Beca’s lips in another kiss. “That can wait.”

“I mean,” Beca begins breathlessly, allowing Chloe to steer her towards the bedroom. “You are next on the waitlist.”

Chloe is already unbuttoning her jeans. “You talk way too much. Shut up, now. I want you.”

* * * * *

Another two weeks later and Chloe has all but forgotten about that wedding venue mishap, too caught up in the motions of her own hectic life and just how good her relationship with Beca has become. She hadn’t thought it possible, but she falls more for Beca every day.

“I can’t believe my girlfriend is ditching me to hang out with my best friend,” Chloe pouts. “This is so unfair. My two favorite people.”

“You could come,” Beca laughs.

“No, you know I have a long shift today.” Chloe sighs. “I’ll miss you. Say hi to Aubrey for me. I know she’s been busy setting up work stuff. Ask her if she needs our help.”

“I will ask her if she needs your help,” Beca says obediently.

“Our help,” Chloe corrects, leaning down to kiss Beca on the lips. “See you!”

Chloe heads out the door, without much thought as to the rest of her day.

Beca waits until she hears complete silence, then she waits for another few minutes estimating how long it would take Chloe to get into her car and drive.

Beca she’s gone, hurry up and get over here

Aubrey Rude. On my way.

Beca rushes to get ready in preparation for her day with Aubrey.

“What did you think of the place?” Aubrey asks when Beca climbs into the car. “Did you like the photos?”

“Yeah, but I kind of want to see it for myself. In person.”

Aubrey scoffs. “Chloe has amazing taste and so do I. We would never lead you astray.”

Beca rolls her eyes. “Forgive me for wanting to see the place where I want to get married myself.”

“Beca, you don’t exactly strike me as the kind of person—”

Beca resists the urge to completely snap at Aubrey or say something snarky to cut off the other woman. She fiddles with the small box inside her jacket pocket before she pulls it out, running her fingers along the velvet surface. She smiles at the thought of Chloe’s expression—what her imagination provides at least—and suddenly she can’t quite wait another moment. She wants to marry Chloe immediately. She wants everything that she always thought she’d hate because of her parents’ own failed marriage. She wants that life and that future with Chloe and she wants it because she knows it’ll work.

It will work because they love each other.

Aubrey gasps loudly, pulling the car off to the side of the road and throwing her hazard lights on. “Beca! You didn’t!” She all but snatches the box from Beca’s grasp, both of them tussling over it for a brief moment before Aubrey finally shoves her shoulder and displaces Beca back into her seat. “Oh my God, you actually bought a ring. Without talking to me. Beca! How could you!”

“I didn’t know I needed your permission to buy a ring.”

Aubrey ignores her, opening the box. Her eyes widen comically and if Beca’s heart weren’t completely in her throat because it is now dawning on Beca that she absolutely craves Aubrey’s approval, Beca would laugh. But she doesn’t. She waits with bated breath as Aubrey lifts the ring closer to her face, eyes practically glittering.

“Are you...okay?” Beca asks. Is it okay? she wants to ask, but refrains.

“This is...beautiful, Beca. This is so beautiful.”

Beca exhales, feeling an entire year’s worth of tension leave her body. “For real? Like you’re not just...saying that, right?”

“No, Beca, I’m not just saying that. This is beautiful. And...and I’m so happy for you.” Aubrey presses the ring back into Beca’s hands before moving to grip the steering wheel with determination.

Beca waits, watching Aubrey for a long moment before she speaks up again. “Are we gonna go, or—?”

“I just need a moment to collect myself.”

“Oh, okay.” Beca flips the box open again, smiling at the ring. “Take all the time you need.”

She has never been more ready.

fin.

[pepethehobbit]

I wrote a van der stoffels AU for the Skam Holiday Event and because I am a giant mess I couldn’t stay with one theme and kind of jumbled a lot of them together? This story is basically for Day 1: Decorations, Day 3: Winter and Day 5: Parties

And because holidays are stressful even with Corona I didn’t manage to finish it on time, but it’s the 26th so it’s technically still Christmas, so I hope it’s okay that I post it now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little snippet of Jens and Lucas being dumb and in love.

„I’m sorry you want me to do what?“

„Pretend? Please, Luc. I know it’s such a weird thing to ask of you but I can’t stand their constant questioning and interrogation any more of when I will finally bring a nice girl or boy home, especially not around Christmas. My family is weirdly obsessed with my relationship status and that it’s currently single. I just want them off my back.”

Lucas hears what Jens is saying. And it’s nothing new either. Jens’ family really is oddly nosy about his relationship status even more so since he came out, as if the fact that he is bi would enhance his chances somehow. Lucas knows this frustration because Jens has talked to him about it a few times especially around holidays or Jens’ birthday, where his family is extra persistent about Jens finding someone.

Jens hasn’t done anything about it, he stays silent and then complains about it to Lucas later. Until now, Lucas guesses. Because Jens just asked him to come to his parents house for a Christmas family gathering with coffee and cake and a later dinner. But that is not the thing that took him by surprise. Lucas has spend a few Christmases at the Stoffels household, especially when his own family couldn’t be there for him or just straight up left one year like his father had. They basically spend every Christmas together in some capacity since Lucas moved to Antwerp when he was eleven and both of them becoming inseparable.

Jens has been Lucas’ best friend for eight years now and at first he thought Jens was kidding, but he recognizes a serious expression on his face when he sees one. He has years of experience to back it up. So that is the thing that surprises him. Jens is seriously asking him if he can come home with him for Christmas to pretend that he is Jens’ boyfriend. Lucas must have been too quiet for too long because Jens begins to backtrack. He shakes his head and then lowers it. His voice is filled with an unusual insecurity.

“Forget it, Luc. It was a dumb question to ask of me. They probably wouldn’t believe it anyway.”

“I’ll do it.”

It slips out before Lucas could consciously think about it.  He wasn’t really planning on saying yes to this, because there was a voice in his head that immediately screamed: “No! Bad Idea!” But with the way Jens head snaps back up to him with a huge smile of relief he can’t bring himself to take it back.

The problem is, Lucas wants to be like that with Jens for real. It took him a while to figure it out after Jens broke up with Jana but he is definitely in love with his best friend and has been for two years. Pretending to be with Jens so his family gets off his back would be pure torture for Lucas. He knows exactly what his best friend is like when he is in a relationship. Jens doesn’t shy away from open affection, says the cheesiest shit that he makes out to be a joke (but Lucas knows he means every single one of them) and is just in general the most attentive and supportive boyfriend anyone could ask for. Maybe Lucas is a bit biased on this topic but he is pretty sure that being on the receiving end of these things from Jens would not help him at all to get over his best friend like he should. Especially with the knowledge that it’s all fake from Jens’ side. He would get a glimpse of what it would be like and then Jens would snatch it all away and thank him for being such a good friend. Lucas is not sure if his heart would survive that.

“Really? Luc, oh my god, thank you! You really don’t know how annoying they are. I don’t know what’s gotten into them lately but they are worse than ever.” Jens seems so relieved and Lucas’s heart breaks a little more. He just needs to be medical about this, needs to set up some rules that he and Jens can stick to so Jens doesn’t do anything that Lucas wouldn’t recover from. Like kissing him.

“Have you thought about how we would sell it? Because your family knows me pretty well, knows we’ve been friends for years. What’s the story?”

Jens ducks his head for a second and then raises it with a sheepish smile. “Well, I didn’t really expect you to say yes to this, so I didn’t do a lot of planing ahead. Maybe we can do that together?”

After an hour or so they had it all planed out and rules to stick to. When Lucas mentioned rules, Jens got a bit confused (Rules? What kind of rules?) and Lucas had to fight down the urge to roll his eyes. “Well, don’t you think that your family will find it weird when we won’t touch all evening? We need some rules of what is allowed and what isn’t.”

Lucas felt so awkward in that moment. Not only talking to your best friend about what is and isn't off limits but at the same time trying to stop thinking about how much he wants Jens to do all of things for him for real. After agreeing that holding hands and a little bit of cuddling is definitely okay, Jens suddenly got very shy again and asked with a small voice: “What about kissing?”

Lucas’ very fast and firm “No!” seemed to shock Jens a little bit and a look of disappointment flashed across his face which made Lucas momentarily mad at Jens. He has no right to be upset about this, he can’t be expecting Lucas to kiss him for the sake of making it believable. Lucas’ could not go back from that. Kissing Jens, knowing what it would feel like, what he could have if Jens only returned his feelings, no that’s too much for Lucas. “No, you’re right. Sorry. I wouldn’t want to make you more uncomfortable about this evening than it will probably already be.” Lucas doesn’t point out that kissing Jens would be the exact opposite of uncomfortable for him and just lets him think that that’s why he draws the line at kissing. “It will be like any other Christmas I have spend with your family, Jens. The only difference is that we will have to pretend to be madly in love, stick to our story and hold hands the entire time, what could go wrong?” Jens chuckles at Lucas’ obviously fake positive outlook for the evening and said: “Famous last words, Lucas.”

And that is how he currently finds himself on the steps of Jens’ old family home with Jens hesitantly taking his hand in his and asking: “Ready?” Jens slowly raises his other hand to ring the bell but Lucas interrupts him: “Wait. Let’s go over it again.” Jens lets his hand fall again and with the other one he gives Lucas an encouraging squeeze. “Luc, we’ve been over this a million times. They won’t notice a thing. We got this, okay?” Lucas doesn’t have the chance to respond because then the door is being opened and Jens’ mum gives them an enthusiastic welcome. She doesn't notice their joined hands and simply hugs them both. It gives Lucas an instant kind of comfort. Mama Stoffels has always been there for him. When he couldn’t be around his own family she opened up her home to Lucas as often and as long as he needed.

“You must be freezing. Come in, come in. The others are already here. You’re the last to arrive.”

They get in and the familiarity of the surroundings help Lucas to calm down even more. He knows these people, he knows the place and he knows Jens. The only thing he has to do is to pretend to be in love with Jens for one day. It wouldn’t even be pretending for Lucas. The only thing he has to do is to let down his carefully constructed wall that keeps Jens from knowing Lucas’ true feelings for him. Lucas only hopes that he can rebuild the wall once this day is over.

Mama Stoffels already left for the living room while Lucas and Jens shove off their jackets, scarfs and beanies, expecting them to follow her to the room where the rest of Jens’ family already waits for them. Lucas looks nervously up at Jens and then at the door which is currently still hiding them from the storm of questions they are about to receive when they walk through that door.

Jens takes his hand again, which is part of the plan and asks: “Ready? We can still not do this. It’s your choice.”

“No, I’m ready. Let’s do this. You owe me big time for this, though.”

Jens grins at him easily and says: “I know, thank you, Luc. And believe me, the next four vettige vrijdag are on me.”

“Alright, I can live with that.”

Jens squeezes his hand once more and opens the door.

Lucas knows more or less everyone in this room. Jens’ parents of course, his little sister Lotte and his older sister Lies he knows best but he has met both of Jens’ aunts, uncles and grandparents several times as well. There are a few faces he doesn’t know, mostly younger kids who don’t pay attention to them anyway (Jens said a few of his younger cousins would be there as well). The first one to see them enter is Lies and Lucas has to hold in his laugh at the way her face goes through confusion, to understanding and lastly arrives at pure and utter joy.

“Oh my god, finally!” Lies all but screams and that works to get everybody else’s attention as well. Lucas feels the eyes of nearly everybody in the room on them and sees how they their gazes swipe down to their tangled hands and up again. He looks nervously over to Jens because that’s most definitely his job right now.

Jens clears his throat and says: “You know how you always annoy the crap out of me to find someone nice to date? Yeah, well. I did.” With that he gives Lucas’ hand a squeeze and raised their joined hands so everybody can see them properly.

The silence that follows is grating on Lucas’ nerves but then everybody kind of erupts in enthusiastic screams and shouts over each other. Lucas’ doesn’t understand everything but he thinks the overall consensus about the revelation is that everybody is thrilled for them and the world “finally” is heard a little too often for Lucas’ comfort.

Lies is the one to bring them all to silence. “Guys, stop! I know we are all thrilled that they finally got their head out of their asses but let them say hello first.” Lucas doesn’t want to think about the implications of Lies’ statement and is glad that he gets distracted by her pulling them both towards the table, giving them both a firm hug and setting them down at two empty seats.

As everybody is kind of settled again, the silence returns and Lucas’ should have known that the gleam in Lies’ eyes would mean that this is far from over for both of them.

“And now the interrogation can begin. So, shoot. How did this happen?”

All the curious eyes are on them again and Lucas looks over to Jens to find him already staring. He hopes his eyes convey his silent support because this first portion of the plan is definitely all Jens. All Lucas has to do is sit here and look convincingly in love with Jens, which again is not really a hardship for him anyway.

“Well you all know that we’ve been friends for a long time now and a few months ago I started to realize that my feelings for him changed.” Jens takes Lucas’ hand again and places it in his lap, it’s an obvious enough gesture to support the story. Lucas notices how the mischievous gleam in Lies’ eyes is replaced with a much softer, fonder one. “Then I drunkenly kissed him at a party one night and lucky for me Lucas kind of stopped me and said ‘Kiss me again in the morning, when you’re not drunk.’ And that’s what I did and now we’re here.”

Lucas couldn’t help the blush that spread on his face, even though the story is completely fake, the thought of Jens kissing him just does that to him. It seemed to help their case though, as Papa Stoffels points out: “Look at you blush, Lucas. I always knew Jens would eventually fall victim to your charm.”

At this Jens lets out an incredulous “Dad!” but Lucas can’t help but laugh. Jens fixes him with an over exaggerated indignant gaze and Lucas just needs to tease him. “So my charms are what finally got to you, huh? Tell me, what exactly about my charms was it? The handsome looks? The devastatingly funny sense of humor? The -”

Before he can continue Jens hides his head in the crook of Lucas’ neck and mumbles loud enough for the others to hear as well: “Shut up oh my god, you’re so annoying.” While he speaks he feels Jens’ lips lightly move against his neck and Lucas suddenly has a hard time coming up with a response. Thankfully, he is saved by Mama Stoffels.

“Well, Jens. You didn’t deny any of those things, either.” Her tone is cheeky and it’s not the first time Lucas’ notices the similarities in their natures between Jens and his Mum.

Jens lifts his head to stare accusingly at the rest of his family and says: “You are all annoying. Can we eat our cake now, please?”

Lies’ fixes them both with a stare. “You can. But don’t think this is over. The interrogation has only just begun. I want to know everything.” Her words sound harsh but she says them in such a fond tone Lucas can see them for what they are. She seems so genuinely happy and not that surprised at the news that he and Jens are dating that Lucas wonders if she has always kind of known how he really feels about her brother. But he can’t worry about that now as they get drawn into the conversation around them. He can feel himself relax in the presence of these people who he would consider his second family. At one point Jens puts his arm around Lucas’ shoulder to pull him into his chest while talking to his grandparents. A gesture they don’t usually share and should feel unnatural but it being the exact opposite. Lucas forgets that this is only pretending and decided to soak up as much of Jens’ freely offered affection as possible. Because if he is only allowed to have them for one night he is going to make the most of it.

He fully snuggles up to Jens, links their fingers together and begins tracing the moles on Jens’ arm with the other. Something he always wanted to do. When the conversation gets dragged back to them and about how they got together, Lucas gets brave and offers a sign of affection of his own. Jens is in the middle of explaining how he confessed his feelings for his best friend when Lucas raises his hand to strike a hand through Jens’ raven black hair. Jens’ falters for a second, then looks at Lucas with big eyes and a small smile on his face that has Lucas’ insides churning. It’s not a look that he would usually receive from Jens and it’s doing things to Lucas, like forgetting that this is all pretend.

“You two are going to be that couple I can already tell. You are both so smitten.” It’s Lies’ voice once again that interrupts their weird moment of eye contact. Lucas tries to find his voice again because Jens is just ducking his head, trying to hide a blush that Lucas can see rising up his neck anyway. He tries to steer the conversation away from them to get them to safer grounds.

“Don’t pretend that you and Josh wouldn’t be the same if he was here. You are ten times worse than us.”

“He is right you know.”

“Mama!” Lies’ indignant tone raises a laugh from all of them and the conversation moves on around them. Jens is still not looking at Lucas and he has pulled his hand back to himself. Lucas nudges him with his elbow but Jens doesn’t look up.

“Hey, you alright?,” Lucas asks quietly so that the others don’t hear.

Jens takes a deep breath and finally looks up at Lucas with an expression that’s much more closed and sadly one that Lucas is much more used to, nothing compared to how he had looked at Lucas just moments prior.

“Yeah, I’m okay. All good.” Lucas is not convinced but he can’t exactly nudge Jens for more when they are surrounded by his family within hearing distance. “I’ll go see if Dad needs help in the kitchen, be right back.” With that he stands up and leaves Lucas confused and alone with his family. Something happened there and Lucas isn’t sure what. Jens is just pretending. Why is he suddenly fleeing when it seems to be working? Isn’t this exactly what Jens had wanted?

Lucas doesn’t have a chance to think about this further as Lotte, now twelve years old, calls for him to come to the door which leads to the kitchen. “What’s up Lotte?” he asks once he has reached her but she is suddenly turning around, calling for Jens in the kitchen without answering his question. Lucas is confused but then Jens stands in the doorway with him and asks Lotte the same question who gazes at them both with a bright smile on her face.

“Look up.” Jens and Lucas share a confused look but do as they’re told and realization begins to sink in. Mistletoe. Lucas lowers his gaze again and locks eyes with Jens straight away. The one rule he is still unsure about wanting to break and Jens seems equally hesitant.

“People are supposed to kiss under a Mistletoe, right? So kiss.” Lotte says it as if this would be the easiest thing in the world and from the corner of his eye he can see that they gathered quite the attention even though the rest of Jens’ family tries to be subtle about it.

He takes a step towards Jens, never leaving his eyes. Jens returns his gaze with an equal amount of vulnerability and questions. Lucas takes his hand in his and decides to just go for it. Screw the consequences. This evening is an exception to everything and suddenly he really wants to know what it feels like to have Jens’ lips on him, at least once. As quietly as possible he whispers: “It’s okay.” He can see Jens starting to argue, he obviously remembers how adamant Lucas was about no kissing. But now Lucas doesn’t care. “It’s okay,” he whispers again and he can see the protest fleeing out of Jens’ eyes.

It’s Jens that closes the final distance between them. He sees how Jens’ eyes flutter shut before his own follow. Their noses touch, sending a shiver down Lucas’ spine in anticipation. When Jens angles his head and finally connects their mouths Lucas can only hold his breath. He thought Jens would go for a simple peck but once their lips are connected both of them can’t seem to let go of each other.  Jens’ lips are warm and gentle and when he parts them against his own he tastes of the gingerbread cake they ate before. He feels Jens stepping even further into his space and beginning to move his lips against him with a slight tremble and Lucas melts into his chest.

A loud whistle is what separates them and they both all but spring apart from each other looking for the source of the noise. It was Lies, of course. Who else could it have been. Lucas chances a quick look at Jens but he is not paying him any attention, as if this kiss was completely ordinary and did not just completely turned Lucas world upside down. Which reminds him once again, this is pretend. Of course Jens is acting like this, because he doesn’t feel what Lucas feels and because he can’t act like this was their first kiss when they are supposed to have kissed for over a month now.

“Oh Lies, shut up. You’re just jealous because Josh isn’t here.” Lies looks like she is ready to throw back another teasing remark when Jens’s father steps out of the kitchen. “Jens, language!” His son ducks his head, ruffles Lotte’s hair, who still stands next to them and says “Sorry.”

“Well, if the show is over now, you can all come into the kitchen. The buffet is open now. I hope you’re all hungry.”

The general commotion that follows gives Lucas some time to collect himself. He tries to catch Jens’ eyes again but he seems very determined to ignore Lucas right now. Jens follows the others into the kitchen to get in line for the food and doesn’t say anything about what just happened. Lucas suddenly doesn’t feel that hungry anymore and flees to the bathroom.

He steps in front of the sink and looks up in the mirror. His eyes automatically zero in on his lips as if searching for proof that the kiss really happened. His fingers gently trace his own lips where Jens’ have been just a minute before, disbelieving. Lucas got what he wanted and it was simultaneously the best and worst kiss he has ever experienced. Kissing Jens has felt like coming home and just so utterly and purely right but it comes with the knowledge that is wasn’t the same for Jens.  He was so nonchalant after, like he wasn’t affected at all whereas Lucas is now freaking out in a bathroom. How is he supposed to survive dinner and a few more hours with this play they put up for Jens’ family. All he wants is to go home and be alone so he can try and forget the kiss that cemented his feelings for his best friend. Before, there may have been a chance of getting over his crush but with the knowledge of how it feels to be kissed by Jens that chance is completely gone. He should have never agreed to this. But he has and Jens is still his friend. Lucas turns on the tap and splashes some water in his face and tries to collect himself. Only three more hours or so and then he can go home. One last deep breath and he opens the door to join the others again.

When he sets foot in the living room/dining room his eyes immediately find Jens and he looks at him as if asking him if he is okay. Lucas tries his most convincing smile and nods once, then turns around and makes his way to the kitchen to get some food. He sits down next to Jens and conversation with his family starts to flow easily again.

Dinner is not as bad as Lucas thought it would be. But he notices that Jens is more distant. Before he pulled Lucas into his personal space as much as he could and now he doesn’t even try to hold his hand. He is worried and relieved at the same time. Worried that he made Jens so uncomfortable with the kiss that he doesn’t even want to hold his hand anymore and relieved because Lucas is sure that he couldn’t have handled more fake affection from Jens. He softly nudges Jens with his elbow to get his attention. Jens turns around and looks at Lucas questioningly. “What is it?”

Lucas slowly leans forward and as quietly as possible he asks: “Are we okay?” Before Jens scolds his expression into a reassuring one Lucas saw the flash of sadness in his face. Anyone else would look over it but Lucas saw and it makes his stomach drop with anxiety.

“We’re okay.” But Lucas doesn’t relax with these words, not in the slightest. He knows that there is something going on in Jens that he wants to hide from Lucas and it's probably his fault and the fact that he was kind of forced to kiss Lucas when he probably really didn’t want to.

After desert Jens’ family slowly makes their way home member by member. Jens and Lucas stay a little bit longer after everyone already left. They are on the floor in front of the fake fireplace and play a round of The settlers of Catan with Jens loosing terribly and Lucas teasing him mercilessly for it, his parents and Lies joining him. Lotte is a sweetheart as always and tries her best to trade with Jens anything that he needs. Lucas is still very unnerved about this whole evening and what happened between Jens and him but this is familiar. It warms his heart to see how easy he fits in here and how natural it seems for Jens’ family to not only accept his presence but welcome him with open hearts to family evenings like this. It works to calm his nerves a little bit, especially because Jens seems to be more like himself as well. He leans more into Lucas and falls into their natural teasing so effortlessly as if he forgot the weird mood that surrounded them after the kiss.

In the end, Lies wins and she demands that everyone bows down to the queen of settlers. They jokingly indulge her but she looses their attention when Lotte runs to the window and excitedly jumps up and down and screams: “It’s snowing, it’s snowing. Look!!”

They all get up to look at the white powder falling from the sky, which has already covered the whole street in a thick layer of snow.

“Can we go outside and make snow angles?” Lotte asks in a voice so giddy that only an overly excited 12-year-old can manage.

“Lotte, it’s way too cold and it’s way past your bedtime already. The snow will probably still be there in the morning and then we can all go outside and have a little walk through the snow together okay?”

Lotte seems to accept that quite begrudgingly and mumbles something about boring party poopers under her breath which has Jens and Lucas eyes meet with shared amusement. His mom and dad usher Lotte upstairs and Lucas takes the opportunity to announce that they should be going as well.

“Lucas, you two can’t go now. It’s a twenty minute walk and it’s snowing very heavyly. Why don’t you two just stay in Jens’ old room? I’ll drive you both home tomorrow after breakfast.”

Lucas wants to argue, especially as he feels Jens stiffen next to him, bringing back the uncomfortable mood between them. He opens his mouth to say something but Lies interrupts him.

“Stop that. You’re not intruding, not at all. You are always welcome here you know that. Even more so then your boyfriend.” She says the last part with a wink towards her little brother who just fondly roles his eyes and shakes his head at his sister’s words. Lucas can hardly argue that but he still looks to Jens for confirmation that this is okay, especially after Jens seemed very uncomfortable with the idea of them staying the night. But then he pulls Lucas more into his side as he sees Lotte’s questioning gaze on them and says: “Sure, let’s stay for the night. More time to cuddle with you.”

Only now Lucas realizes that he has to share a bed with Jens for the night and he instantly regrets it again. Why. Why can’t he just say no for once in his life. It’s so weird between them right now. Even though Jens has him in his arms, he feels more than a thousand miles away from him.

They inform Jens’ parents and soon after say their goodnights to them and make their way upstairs to Jens’ old room. Lucas had tons of sleepovers here and they shared a bed many times before but this is different. He knows that he won’t get an ounce of sleep with Jens so close next to him. Jens informs him that there is a spare toothbrush in the bathroom and gives him some of his clothes to sleep in that he still keeps in his parents place. Even though Jens seems all chill Lucas sees through his act. The air between them is awkward and stilted and Lucas has no idea on how to fix this. Talking about it would probably help but Lucas isn’t ready to loose Jens yet, which will probably happen anyway with the way Jens acts kind of cold towards him.

They take turns in the bathroom down the hall and when Jens is gone Lucas settles in on the left side of the bed towards the windows. Jens comes back, turns off the light and Lucas feels the bed dip under his weight as Jens settles in next to him. The bed is big enough for both of them but their shoulders are still only a few inches apart and Lucas is very aware of the fact that his hand is very close to Jens’ own in the middle of the bed. A very uncomfortable silence stretches unbearably between them, not even a quiet goodnight, and it’s enough for Lucas to finally speak.

“I’m sorry for kissing you, Jens. It was obviously too much and I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable. I know I said no kissing but everyone was looking at us and because you asked about it in the first place, when we sat up those rules, I thought you would be okay with it. But clearly it made you super uncomfortable because you have been weird for the rest of the evening and I’m sorry.”

Lucas is met with silence again and the fact that he can’t see Jens’ face in the dark makes him even more anxious. Then Jens speaks.

“Why did you decide to kiss me when you seemed so appalled to it earlier? You were the one that was clearly uncomfortable just at the thought of kissing me, so you could’ve easily said no or made a joke about it. You didn’t have to kiss me like you meant it when you clearly didn’t want to. So, why did you?”

Lucas is taken aback by the hurt in Jens’ voice and hates himself for being the reason for it. It makes him want to be honest, maybe Jens will be even more mad at him for basically using him but at least he won’t hurt him anymore by lying to him.

“I wasn’t appalled to the idea of kissing you. That is the whole problem, actually. I said no to kissing at first because I knew there would be no going back from that for me. But in that moment today I just went with the excuse because I knew it would be the only opportunity for me to ever know what it would be like to kiss you. And I’m sorry for that. I knew this was a bad idea from the start because I knew that my feelings would ruin this and I-”

A sudden light makes Lucas stop in his apology and confession in one. After adjusting to the sudden brightness he sees how Jens sat up in the bed and turned on the light in the bedside table. Lucas sits up as well and waits for Jens to say something. But he just looks at him with wide eyes full of doubt but also… hope?

Lucas sees how Jens’ hand slowly reaches for his own and sucks in a breath when Jens intertwines their fingers together. “What are you doing?”, Lucas asks with a shaky exhale of breath and looks up from their joined hands to Jens’ eyes. Something seems to be decided in Jens’ brain because the doubtful expression vanishes and is replaced with a softer look full of affection and determination.

“Luc, okay first of all. I wasn’t uncomfortable when we kissed, not in the slightest. Quite the opposite really. If anything it made me come out of my denial and proofed what I suspected for a while now.”

“Which is?” Lucas asks when Jens doesn’t continue. Hope begins to settle in his chest and an excited warm and fuzzy feeling spreads when Jens raises their joined hands to his lips and kisses Lucas’ hand.

“That I am in love with you.”

Lucas can’t do much but stare at Jens completely speechless as an overwhelming feeling of happiness washes over him. He feels how is lips stretch into a smile that he can’t help and then he grabs Jens by the front of his shirt, pulls him towards himself and kisses him again. Jens’ surprised yelp is smothered by their lips softly moving together and Lucas feels how Jens melts into him after the initial surprise. He lets his hand slide from the collar of the shirt to Jens’ neck and begins to play with the short strands of hair. Jens lets out a little satisfied sound and opens his lips for Lucas, inviting him in.

Lucas feels like he is floating when they eventually break apart. His eyes stay closed for a few seconds to bask in this feeling only a little while longer. He opens his eyes and is met with Jens’ most beautiful smile and begins to realize that he is the reason for that. Lucas can’t help himself and steals another short kiss from Jens before he says: “I love you, too. In case that wasn’t obvious.”

Jens laughs and shakes his head in disbelief. “God, Luc. Today was pure torture. The whole time I was asking myself ‘How can he be so good at pretending?’ And then that kiss and I… God, I was having a silent freak out after that kiss but I couldn’t show it and you were looking at me like that and I couldn’t handle that it was all pretend, that’s why I was so weird after. I finally came out of my denial for my feelings and it was because of a fake kiss with you.”

“I can’t believe I bought your chill act. I totally believed you weren’t affected by that kiss at all and it made me freak out and flee to the bathroom because I couldn’t handle the fact that I just kissed you.”

“We are so dumb.” Jens says with laughter and Lucas can’t help but agree. During this whole conversation he has been smiling so much his cheeks hurt. Jens is making him so unbelievably happy, he can’t believe he got so lucky.

“So, I guess the plan is off?”

Jens looks at him confused but the smile never leaves his face. Lucas isn’t much better off. “What do you mean?”

“You know, the plan where we would’ve told your family that we broke up in three weeks because we are better off as friends?”

At that Jens face light up with remembrance and he gets a teasing glint in his eyes. “Oh that plan. Yeah, I mean, I guess you can carry the title of my boyfriend a while longer if you want to,” he says with over exaggerated nonchalance.

“You guess?” Lucas indulges him in his teasing, tries to act offended but he can’t keep the smile off his face or the happiness out of his voice.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t bother me, you know. As long as you keep doing the things a boyfriend does,” Jens says with wiggling eyebrows and a teasing smirk. Lucas can’t help but lean in and wipe that smile of his face with his own lips. “Oh, I see. And what does that entail, exactly?” he asks when he leans back.

Jens closes the distance again and whispers against his lips: “More of that.”

They fall asleep embraced in each other and Lucas couldn't remember a time where he slept better than in Jens' arms. He woke up before Jens and lets himself admire the beauty that his a sleeping Jens. It's as if his fingers have a will of their own when they begin to trace Jens' face, from his forehead down to his eyebrows, then his nose and lastly his lips. They begin to twitch into a small smile but his eyes stay closed. Jens lets out a content hum. "I could get used to waking up like this."

"How long have you been awake?"

"Oh long enough to know that you've been staring at me," Jens says teasingly but he sounds way too happy for Lucas to really question if Jens is bothered by it.  

Jens finally opens his eyes and reaches for Lucas' hand which has fallen down between their faces after Lucas was done with caressing Jens' face. He intertwines their fingers together and snuggles up even closer to Lucas.

"So, last night wasn't a dream then?" Lucas can't help but chuckle at the clichee words but he also kind of melts at Jens' sleepy and hopeful voice.

"Would it have been a good dream?"

Jens looks up into Lucas' blue eyes and with an expression full of affection and love he says: "The best."

Lucas agrees. He could get used to waking up like this as well.

[voidstilesplease]

Fandom/s: Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Heroes of Olympus

Pairing/s: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Rachel Elizabeth Dare/Percy Jackson

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Tags: Alternate Universe - Mortal, Cheating, Friends to Lovers, Friends With Benefits, Jealousy, Angst, Bad Decisions, OOC Characters, a significant amount of Taylor Swift references

Chapter 3

But the possibility that Piper knows about it didn't cross her mind. Percy had mentioned being back in town for a few days now, but Piper could not have known that, right? If Piper did, she would have told Annabeth right away because if anybody knows about Annabeth's broken heart pining after Percy all these years, it's Piper. She would've said something.

III.

And soon enough, you're best friends.

Laughing at the other girls who think they're so cool.

/./

Annabeth jerks awake from disturbances originating in the general vicinity of her kitchen. In her half-asleep state, her usually sharp mind turns to a useless mush. So with what mentality she can grasp, she concludes that it's possibly just her cutlery deciding to worm their way out the drawer to skydive to the kitchen floor. Her dream-silly brain likes the image she conjures. After all, not everybody's cutlery would be as adventurous as hers if that should be the case.

Maybe they want to remind Annabeth that they still exist, and she can use them sometimes. Good point, she thinks, but between blueprints after blueprints shoved to her at work, she doesn't have the time to be guilty about using only one spoon for her morning mashed potatoes. Unless it can wash, wipe itself dry, and put itself back to the drawer, she's sticking to her one-spoon-morning routine, thank you very much - that's all she can spare the time to clean.

She squints one eye open and sighs in relief to find that her entire bedroom blanketed in the same comforting darkness that engulfed her to sleep the previous evening. Yesterday morning had been hell. The sun had glared at her accusingly like she had done something wrong by sleeping it through past her alarm after a murderous evening at work. Usually, Annabeth scares people away when she glares at them, so she tried to glare back at the sun, and if she didn't have a degree in architecture and a line of buildings credited to her name, she'd have doubted her own intellectual capacity. She had hauled her ass up from the bed and went about her routine like she'd swallowed an entire pack of Sour Patch in one go. That morning would have sucked completely if it weren't for Percy.

Percy. Who's back in town. For good.

Whom Annabeth is going to have dinner with this evening.

A smile automatically tugs at her lips. In her kitchen, something clatters again, and she sighs. She moves her head to peek up at the alarm clock on the table. It's only fifteen minutes past seven.

She groans.

Now she can hear the blender whirring to life and the unmistakable 'ding' of her toaster. Any sane person who is aware of not having a roommate should already be springing off their bed and grabbing the nearest weapon they can use to bonk the intruder's head.

But Annabeth is used to the intrusion - this is her life now. So, she calmly gets off the bed and folds her sheets. She opens the door to her room and walks the short distance to her kitchen. As the whirring continues, she remembers the first time she woke to the noises. Annabeth wishes she can say that she was calm then, but she wasn't.

She had jumped out of bed, heart drumming so fast in her chest, and took the only item she could find in her room that could bash anybody's brains out - a baseball bat. (She didn't like the sport. It was just a souvenir from a memorable day. Her heart belonged to swimming. Or, though it wasn't clear to her at the time, to a specific swimmer.) As stealthily as she could, she tiptoed on the cold floor to knock someone out who thought they could use her kitchen while robbing her blind.

As it turned out, she had almost bashed her friend Piper.

Piper, bless her, had been unfazed. Not even after seeing the raised baseball bat and Annabeth's wide, frantic eyes. Piper gave her an innocent smile and a chirpy good morning, then went back to chopping celery, ignoring Annabeth's confusion and gaping mouth.

Piper grins as soon as Annabeth appears in the kitchen. "Good morning, Annie!" she lowers the cup of coffee she's holding on the table in front of Annabeth, who immediately reaches for it.

"This smells amazing," Annabeth closes her eyes and inhales. It is why she loves having Piper around for breakfast. She doesn't remember when Piper decided to be her mother, but as long as it benefits Annabeth with cooked meals and non-Starbucks coffee, she's not complaining.

But she can't exactly complain about Starbucks coffee, though. Not when Starbucks brought Percy back to her life - sort of. She realized that if Piper had come yesterday, she'd have missed Percy. But the fates brought Piper to her apartment today so she could meet Percy yesterday. She smiles contentedly at her coffee.

Piper doesn't miss her dopey smile. She raises a brow, pouring the contents of the blender on a tall glass. "Is it that good?"

"No words," Annabeth answers with a silly grin.

Piper draws her eyebrows in suspicion, "Why do I feel like we're not talking about the coffee?"

Annabeth shrugs.

Piper narrows her eyes but lets it go. Knowing Annabeth, it's probably a work-related high. Piper sets her glass of smoothie on the table and sits beside her friend. "Hey, I remember," she says, taking her phone out and starts browsing. "Juniper asked me to show you these." Piper swipes image after image as Annabeth waits curiously. Finally, she passes the phone to Annabeth.

Annabeth takes it and promptly gasps. "Are these for the wedding?" She draws the phone closer to examine the picture. It's of a forest-painted canvas with a man and a woman in the center, holding each other's hands as they walk side-by-side in the middle of a flower-field surrounded by butterflies. Annabeth looks up to Piper for confirmation. When she nods, Annabeth shakes her head in amazement. "That is beautiful."

"I know!" Piper takes the phone from Annabeth, glancing at the picture again before putting it down on the table. "When Juniper sent the picture to me, my eyes goggled."

Annabeth chuckles, "Grover and Juniper commissioned the right artist."

Piper nods in agreement, "And they're even getting it for, like, half the usual price. I suddenly want to get married." She smiles dreamily, reaching for her smoothie.

Annabeth laughs. Jason and Piper have been together since they were in High School. To be fair, they are practically like a married couple - sharing an apartment, sharing bills, considering the possibility of sharing a dog. They've even met each other's parents and got one another's mother or father smitten with them. It's perfectly sensible if they decide to legalize it. With that in mind, Annabeth asks, "So why don't you?"

Piper stiffens, and she briefly averts her eyes before giving Annabeth a wan smile. "He hasn't asked me yet," she says softly, looking away from Annabeth, slurping half-heartedly at her vegetable smoothie.

Annabeth bites her lower lip, mentally reprimanding herself for her careless asking. She didn't mean to poke on touchy subjects. She didn't even know it was a touchy subject at all. "Well," she begins awkwardly. "I'm sure you'll get there anyway." Annabeth offers a smile, hoping to ease the sudden tension.

Piper shrugs, "I'm not in a hurry. Jason's it for me." she pauses, then adds with uncertainty, "I just hope I'm it for him."

Annabeth frowns at the statement. "Now that's ridiculous, Piper." She reaches to touch her friend's hand a bit forcefully. She looks her dead in the eyes and says in total assurance. "Jason's head over heels for you, okay, it's almost criminal that you think you're not it for him."

Piper lifts her eyes, a hint of smile ghosting in her pouting lips. "You think so?"

"You're an idiot for even doubting,"

That seems to alleviate Piper's insecurity, at least for the moment, because she smirks at Annabeth. "Yeah, I guess I'm an idiot. Of course, Jason can't get enough of me. I mean, come on."

Annabeth rolls her eyes. Piper's weird sometimes.

She happily slurps at her smoothie now, humming a chipper tune. She reaches for the plate of toasts and passes it to Annabeth along with a jar of strawberry jam. Annabeth just watches her with amusement.

They eat in silence for a moment before Annabeth hears a clearing of a throat. She looks up to see Piper looking at her intently. Of course, Piper didn't come into her apartment early in the morning just to accompany her to a lovely, peaceful breakfast.

"…Yes?" Annabeth prompts with resignation. If this is happening -and it is- because it's Piper's business now to harass Annabeth, she wants to get it over with sooner than later. She mentally prepares for the onslaught of Piper's usual intros. But, instead of saying "There's this spa that we should check out," or "Do you remember Mark Castillo from 10th grade? Did you see his Facebook status change to Single last night?" or "We should shop new underwears for you, Annie. What you have are boring me to death", she said:

"How's work?"

That certainly catches Annabeth off-guard. Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline.

At Annabeth's incredulous expression, Piper says defensively. "What?" she reaches for another toast. "Am I not allowed to ask about your work?"

"You're not interested in my work." Annabeth deadpans.

"I'm asking, aren't I?" Annabeth detects the unspoken 'duh'. "And I know a little about architecture, mind you. I just want to know how you're doing at work."

Annabeth hums unconvincingly, taking another sip of her coffee. She decides to ride along with it. "Well, for starters, I'm up to my neck busy. As always."

Piper nods for her to go on.

"We've contracted a new project for downtown."

Piper hums.

"It's nothing major, but the area is swarming with water pipes -many of which are old ones- so we have to be extra careful with the planning."

Piper nods, "But you aren't the only one working on it, right?"

"No. I have a team." Annabeth confirms.

"So," Piper stretches the 'o', studying the toast in her hand a little too casually. "That means that even if you weren't around, say you went out or something, a whole team is still gonna work on it?"

Annabeth narrows her eyes skeptically, "…I suppose. I'm not the project head." Annabeth answers slowly.

"So…" Piper looks away again, picking at the toast. "There's no reason to cancel Friday night, right?"

Annabeth purses her lips. She sets her cup on the saucer and folds her arms together, "I already said I would go."

Piper blushes crimson and gives up the innocent, interested-in-friend's-work scheme, "I just want to make sure!"

"I'm going, okay?" Annabeth huffs in mild exasperation. "And, if I ever go back on my promise, you have the permission to drag my ass over to the club."

"Deal," Piper quickly agrees. "Do we seal this oath with blood?"

Annabeth shakes her head as Piper starts laughing.

Piper is weird but a wonder. Annabeth is ever so thankful for having Piper as a friend. They have been friends since the 10th grade when the Cherokee girl transferred to Goode. They didn't particularly become friends instantaneously because she came around the school as Drew's half-sister.

Drew wasn't exactly Annabeth's favorite person on campus. She was a cheerleader who penned herself as the queen of Goode High, dated around, and clung to different guys when her grade couldn't even hang on to a C minus. And her face, always caked in make-up, always smiled condescendingly at everybody as if they were lesser beings. She made Annabeth want to punch something. Anything. Drew's annoying face would have been good enough.

When rumors scattered about Drew having a half-sister on campus, Annabeth was sure she'd be a clone of Drew, and Goode High was doomed. Frankly, their school had had enough mini-skirt, crop-top, belly-button girls who thought the ground they stepped on was sacred. Another one to add to them and Goode would have crumbled. After all, what else could they expect from somebody blood-related to Drew? Annabeth loathed her guts.

As it turned out, though, her half-sister hated Drew's guts just as much if not more. Literally.

She proved that during P.E. class in a volleyball game when she purposely spiked the ball straight towards Drew's midsection hard enough that Annabeth was surprised why Drew hadn't spewed her entire digestive system all over their gym court. Drew doubled over, wheezing in pain and yelling about how Piper tried to murder her. The teacher had to give Piper detention since the girl didn't deny the accusation and refused to apologize. When they took out Drew, who glowered at her sister the whole way out, Piper smirked at her unapologetically and waved her goodbye by flicking her fingers and blowing her a kiss.

Annabeth wanted to slow clap and pat her in the back for a job well done. She didn't need to anyway because the matching gleam in their eyes spoke enough for both of them. Piper and Annabeth became good friends, bonding over a mutual hatred of Drew. Then Piper started hanging out with Annabeth's group of friends, and the rest is history.

"You've got to be honest, though, Annie. You love it when I come by." She sips from her smoothie. "Because then, you won't have to eat packed mashed potatoes again."

"I love mashed potatoes," Annabeth says defensively, reaching for a toast and slathering it with strawberry jam.

"No, you don't." Piper also eats her toast with avocadoes. She gestures at Annabeth's food. "I hope you like strawberry jam."

"It's okay," Annabeth chews. It's decent enough, she thinks. Strawberry had been her favorite jam when she was younger, but that has changed now.

"I just thought maybe you should try a different flavor. All I ever see you have is blueberry. I figured maybe you miss your old favorite."

"I don't. Blueberry is everything to me."

Piper probably doesn't mean to sting Annabeth when she mutters, "Took you long enough to realize it, though."

But Annabeth is stung. And Piper is correct.

Blueberry is Percy's favorite. She had never appreciated it until Percy was gone from her life. She just one day found herself picking blueberry jam instead of strawberry at the grocery. Because, somehow, it made her feel closer to him. It was a futile act, but it was all she could cling to.

They ate in relative silence for a while before Annabeth remembers the conversation over the phone the previous day. It's time to question Piper about it. "Hey," she waits until Piper is looking at her. "You wanted to tell me something."

Piper's brows scrunch up.

"Yesterday," Annabeth clarifies. "Over the phone?"

Piper draws a blank.

Annabeth elaborates, "We were talking about Friday night, and I said yes to going, and then it's like you hesitated over something?"

Annabeth can tell when the realization hits. Piper's eyes widen a fraction. "Oh,"

Annabeth stares expectantly.

Piper looks down, breaking their eye contact, "It was nothing," she says with a small voice.

"You're lying."

Piper doesn't deny the accusation, but her eyes remain downcast.

"Piper, what are you keeping from me?" Annabeth asks, feeling that the playful air around them has been replaced by tension yet again. Piper bites her lower lip, only spurring Annabeth's curiosity. "Piper,"

"Annie, I'm sorry." Piper whispers. She raises her head to look at Annabeth with wide, desperate eyes.

"I can't accept your apology if I don't know what it is for," Annabeth's gaze doesn't leave Piper's. They look at each other - Annabeth urging and Piper trembling.

Finally, Piper sighs in defeat and quietly utters. "It's Percy."

Silence immediately follows Piper's statement. Because for the first time in many years, Piper openly mentions Percy's name in her presence.

Annabeth answers, trying to keep her voice level, "What about Percy?"

Piper gnaws at her lower lip, "I've wanted to tell you, but…"

"But?"

Like a dam breaking, Piper begins barraging. "I don't know if I should be the one to tell you this. I mean, yes, of course, I'm your best friend, but I'm his friend too. And after that-that," she wrings her hands. "I mean, he's been gone for so long, and maybe if I tell you, he's just going to disappear again. He never said anything about not telling you, but I - or, or maybe you're going to disappear this time and I - we can't have any of that, you know? Especially not now. So I decided to wait for the right time, but I don't know if there's ever a right time for anything, really-and, and,"

Piper is talking so fast that Annabeth struggles to catch up. "Piper, you're rambling."

"I know!" Piper whines in frustration. "And I hate to be turned into a blubbering fool, but I… but I want you to know that I kept my mouth shut because I didn't want either of you running away in different directions when the wedding's in a week!"

Annabeth grabs Piper's swinging arms. "Piper," she snaps to get her friend's attention and stop her from ranting anymore. "If you would just tell me-"

"He's in New York!"

It makes Annabeth pause. Well, she knows that. But the possibility that Piper knows about it didn't cross her mind. Percy had mentioned being back in town for a few days now, but Piper could not have known that, right? If Piper did, she would have told Annabeth right away because if anybody knows about Annabeth's broken heart pining after Percy all these years, it's Piper. She would've said something.

But Piper is in her kitchen with a guilt-stricken face. "How long have you known?"

Piper blinks, confused. "You don't sound surprised. Do you know he's back?"

Annabeth nods, "Only yesterday. We saw each other at Starbucks."

"Oh,"

"Piper, how long have you known that he's here?" Annabeth repeats her question, impatient to hear that Piper only actually found out the same day Annabeth did.

But Piper grimaces, hunching in her seat to make herself small. "Since he told Jason that he was coming home," she finally admits. She draws a shaky breath, hanging her head in guilt.

Something inside Annabeth collapses. She leans back in her seat in disbelief, "You all knew?"

Piper quickly shakes her head, "No, not all of us. Only Jason, Grover, and I." Annabeth almost sag in relief to know that she isn't the only one left in the dark about this. "None of us has seen Percy yet, though. He's been busy with the transfer of work location and settling in again. That's also why Friday night is important. He'd be there. For the first time in a long while, we'd be complete."

Annabeth is silent for a period, then nods weakly.

"Do you hate me?" Piper's voice hitches, and when Annabeth turns to her, her eyes are already brimming with tears.

She hates when Piper cries. God, it isn't even her fault that she knows. It isn't her fault that Percy told Jason and Grover, his best friends, and it isn't her fault that Jason told her. Annabeth knows Piper would rather not know. But now that she does, it's not her fault she wants to protect both Annabeth and Percy from each other. Not after what happened years ago between them.

Annabeth stands up and walks over to her friend, who is just about ready to explode. As soon as she opens her arms for Piper, her friend immediately melts into soft sobs. "I'm sorry, Annabeth. I didn't want to lie, but…" her voice catches again, and Annabeth rubs her back to soothe her. Piper must have felt bad about keeping the secret from her, knowing how important it is for Annabeth.

"I don't hate you, Piper. I can never hate you."

Piper sniffles, "I lied to you,"

"You kept a secret." Annabeth corrects. "That's hardly lying. And you did it for a good reason."

Piper pulls away from the hug to look at Annabeth, her eyes still misty from crying. "Thank you, Annie."

Despite herself, Annabeth smirks. "But you owe me a week of coffee and breakfast for this."

Piper laughs, and the heavy atmosphere around them dissipates completely.

/./ curt /./

[forever-more-never-again]

Thaw (A Request)

Requested: Anonymous

Word Count: 2375

Pairing: Natasha X Reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood, murder, fighting

Request: Could you do a Natasha x mutant reader where the reader has frost powers and she can control ice/snow/temperature? Maybe the reader starts off as a villain and gets arrested, then the avengers find out about her powers and send Natasha to recruit her? Thx luv

A/n: Didn’t specify a happy ending so ahahahaha....I may have made this a little angsty....  hahaha don’t hurt me, enjoy

Masterlist

Time seemed to stand still as you ran through the siberian forest.

The snow was pristine and the lack of any animals made it seem like you were running through molasses.

The scenery never changing.

Of course you didn’t feel the biting cold, you couldn’t feel the freezing snow under your bare feet, or the ice cold air drawn into your lungs.

Perks of being a mutant with ice abilities. You never got cold. Never felt cold. It was like you were immune to the one thing that made you a freak to normal people.

The reason you were currently on the run.

“Find them! Now! We can't let those documents fall into the wrong hands!”

The stern, bellowing voice broke through your reverie and you picked up your pace. The files in your hands tucked against your chest.

You had been paid top dollar to steal confidential files from an Avenger sanctioned Blacksite.

You didn’t know what was in the files, you didn’t need to know. 

To survive in a world that had only looked down on you, had been cruel and unjust, you did what you had to to survive. Which was how you found a group of mutants in America that used their abilities to be sold to the highest bidder to survive.

It didn’t matter who bought your service. Be it government, villains, civilians, as long as they followed the guidelines used by the group.

No real names. No contact except through a secure site. Payment up front. And complete discretion from both sides.

You had survived breaking a prisoner of war out from camps in the middle east, stealing a priceless artifact from high security museums. You had even gathered evidence on the occasional cheating spouse.

This was the first, and you thought grimly, last time you would take a request to steal something from the Avengers or SHIELD. 

When you dropped off the files, you would make sure to pass the info to any customers. 

Because being chased by Captain America and Iron Man was not something you ever wanted to experience again.

“Got visuals on them...Holy Shit Cap’ it’s the Mercenary FrostBite!”

You growled low in your throat. Shit.

“Turn yourself in FrostBite! This doesn’t have to get messy!” Iron Man’s electronic voice boomed through the sky.

Turning quickly, without losing momentum, running backwards, you smirked up at the suit flying after you.

“How about no!” You shouted up at him before gulping in a breath of air and releasing it in a slow stream.

Before he could dodge, Iron Man’s entire suit was coated in ice and he fell like a brick out of the sky.

“Tony!”

Looking down, you saw Captain America sprinting towards me, gaze burning with determination.

You winked at him and blew a kiss, which brought up a huge wall of thick ice. And caused a flurry of snowflakes to block his line of sight.

Giving you just enough time to jump into the portal of one of the other Mutants and disappear back to the base in New Jersey.

“Woah. [Y/n], you look like hell. What happened?” The portal wielder, some young guy named Amuk, asked before shaking his head, “Never mind. I don’t care. Just get to the drop off site so you can go on your next mission.”

You huffed. You had just gotten chased by some of the Avengers. But that was the way it was around here. Everyone for themselves. No one was friends. If you died, no one cared. It was just a way to get money and survive.

You had a day before you had to drop the file off at the designated drop off site. And now you were curious.

What was so important in these files that someone paid for you to get them out of a blacksite used by the Avengers?

You tried to never look into what you were paid to steal, but this had your attention now, and the more you tried not to think about it, the more it called to you.

Finally you couldn’t take it anymore, and in the safety of your room, which was really just a hollowed out hole in the side of the abandoned subway station where the group lived, you flipped open the file.

A picture was the first thing to meet your curious gaze.

It showed a cell with the walls covered in plans and diagrams.

You were interested in them as they seemed to depict doomsday devices like bombs, pathogens, and different ways to take out high powered world leaders and officials.

The next page showed a picture of the guy who you believed was responsible for the frantic words scribbled along the diagrams.

A disgraced Hydra scientist. Adal Herscher. Seems like SHIELD had captured him during a raid on a Hydra bunker several years back and now Hydra wanted him back.

Your skin crawled. The money that sat innocently in your backpack now seemed menacing. Blood money.

Inner Ward you were wondering why this bothered you now. You never cared who bought your services before.

Then another side of you piped up saying you never knew who bought your services before so you never had to worry but now that you knew it was Hydra…

Now though, you wanted to destroy this file and get rid of the money you had from the organization.

You knew all about Hydra and you knew what they did to Mutants. How could you be sure that they wouldn’t come after you? 

Even though you were anonymous, everyone who used the group knew that it was run and provided by Mutants. Particularly, mutants that had nowhere else to go. No one to miss them if they went missing.

And then you got to the page that showed who caught him. Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow.

You were embarrassed to admit you felt your cheeks warm as you stared at her picture.

She was so strong and beautiful and deadly. 

“Oi! [Y/n]! Just received a transmission. Whoever asked for that item you acquired wants it at the drop site today instead. Top Priority, they’re willing to give another five hundred grand for it.”

Startled, you slam the file shut and look up at Amuk. He just raised a disinterested eyebrow and waved a hand, opening a portal to where the drop site was.

For the first time in the five years since you had joined this group, you hesitated.

Drawing a deep breath, you stepped through the portal. And immediately regretted it. The sun blazed down on you. Causing you to drop your temperature to stay cool, but also taking a lot more energy from you to do so in the presence of such intense heat.

Looking around, you saw that the drop site was apparently outside the Colosseum in Rome. Great. You knew the client had said the drop site was an underground arena, but you had thought they meant like an underground boxing ring. Not a literal underground arena. 

A bunch of tourists were giving you strange looks as the portal closed behind you.

You were still dressed in the outfit from Siberia which consisted of bare feet, black spandex and a plain tshirt.

Minimum protection, but it allowed you to use your mutation to its max capacity.

You held the file close to your chest, avoiding the weird looks you were getting as you walked to the ticket line and flashed your most innocent smile.

“Hello. There should be a ticket on hold for me. Under S.S. Dereks.” The woman behind the counter clicked a few times on her computer and smiled back at you.

“Yes. Here you are. Looks like you have a pass to tour the construction that is happening to the underground area of the Colosseum, so if you follow that path,” She pointed you in the direction away from the rest of the tourists, “You’ll see the security. Just show them your ticket and you’ll be good to go!”

You thanked the woman and followed her directions, ignoring the uneasiness that came from being underground.

The security guards gave me no trouble, but I eyed the stun guns they had on their belts. 

The underground arena was quiet, and a lot cooler than it had been up top. There were boards of wood and power saws and tools scattered everywhere. Tarp covering areas, and signs marking certain historical stones and areas that weren’t to be touched.

You found a small insignificant toolbox off to the side and opened it up. Inside was the extra five hundred grand promised and you took it out and replaced it with the folder.

“I’m so sorry. I hate that I’m doing this. But I need to survive.” You didn’t know who you were apologizing too, or why you were talking out loud to yourself. But it didn’t help ease the small amount of guilt you felt as you closed the toolbox and began walking back out.\

That was when you felt it. The sensation of being watched. Not giving away that anything was wrong. You began forming icicles over your fingers.

And with one quick twist, you released the sharp claws up towards where you thought the person was.

There was a dim sound of the ice hitting stone, but no one cried out and nobody dropped from the rafters.

“Hmm…” You eyed the dark area suspiciously for a moment, before turning around, and immediately jumping back.

In front of you stood Natasha Romanoff. Black Widow, in her SHIELD outfit and glaring at you.

Snow blew in her face as you threw your hands up and let ice grow on your fingers again in preparation to strike.

But she didn’t charge. She didn’t settle into a fighting stance. 

So you took the incentive to start the banter before the inevitable fight, “How did you find out about this?”

Black Widow shook her head, her gaze softening, “[Y/n] [Y/l/n], alias FrostBite. Mutant Gene carrier that gave ice and snow abilities. Abandoned and ran away from foster homes before seeming to disappear off the map. Joined a Mutant group in New Jersey that sells out their services to the highest bidder. Wether that be murder, arson, stealing, or otherwise. But you, you’ve never killed. The most you have done in the past five years is steal and spy.”

Your eyes were blown wide as she recited your history to you. How did she know all that?

“What do you want with me!?” A growl and snarl ripped from your throat as you raised your hands, the ice on your nails growing to a sharp point, ready to fire at a single moment.

Natasha cocked her head, you tensed, “You stole a file. Did you read it?”

Your eyes swept over to the toolbox quickly, but not fast enough that Natasha didn’t see it.

“We know Hydra wants that file. That they want that scientist back from the black site you stole it from. Why steal for them? You know what they do…”

You felt heat sting your eyes and silently cursed at yourself telling yourself not to cry. You would not show weakness.

“You remember what it’s like, don’t you Natalia Alianovna!” You spat her name, enjoying her mild look of surprise, “Yeah, I know who you are. You should know what it’s like for us who don’t fit into society's perfect little mold. You do what you have to to survive. To live another day. To hope that one day it will get better. I do what I do to survive. You seem to have forgotten what that was like ever since you became oh so popular Black Widow.”

Natasha’s shoulders dropped the longer you spoke. Your voice was growing in volume until you were nearly shouting. And then, with horror, you realized you were crying.

The tears were hot against your cheeks as they fell to the dusty floor.

“Then let me help you. Let me use the power I have now to give you a better future than the one you have right now.”

Her words were so soft. So warm. You wanted nothing more than to agree, to take the hand she held out to you and let her take you away. But you knew that the future was not going to happen.

“Your promises are empty Natasha Romanoff. Empty and cold just like my heart. I have done things you will never find out, things that haunt my nightmares. You can’t save me. No one can.”

A sob heaved through you, causing the ice on your fingers to melt off.

A soft hand on your cheek had you jerking and then you were swimming in emerald green.

“You can choose to be good. You can choose to help instead of hurt. If I can be redeemed, so can you.”

In a sudden decision that you would most probably later regret, you surged forward and captured Natasha’s lips with yours.

The salt from your tears mingled with the heady aroma of cherries and the taste of vanilla on her tongue.

It was everything you dreamed and more. 

Just as suddenly, you tore away from her with a gasp, stumbling out of her reach.

She stared at you with wide eyes, one hand reaching up to touch her lips.

“Take the file. Once I knew it was Hydra that hired me, I didn’t want to complete the mission. Take it and never come after me again. Or I will fight you. Goodbye...Natasha.”

And before she could recover you ran.

You ran with your tears streaming down your face.

Regretting leaving her behind already.

But you knew nothing good could come of you going with Black Widow.

She didn’t know. No One knew. You had been the one...all those years ago...that had murdered your parents when they tried to beat you. You had been the one...that had shot and killed a witness...by shooting through Natasha’s abdomen.

Your crush would go unrequited, but, as you jumped through the portal, you touched your lips, remembering the taste of her, at least you got something to remember her by during the lonely cold nights.

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t​ @mialeelavellan​ @rainydaysrnevergrey​ @platonic-plots​ @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi​ @queenbbarnes​ @mythixmagic​ @chas-z​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @strangersstranger​ @princess-evans-addict​ @rororo06​ @timelordhunterandmysterysolver​ @xxxtwilightaxelxxx 

Natasha Taglist:

@ludwigvonbaethoven​ @hanjiscience-slut @kitten-q-p​ @morbid-gaymer​ @honeybadgerwhodoesntcare​ @sunnyandtwisty​ @zoeyknight​ @kurlyafro​ @thewomanofwonder​ @5aftermidnight​ @myfemininelesboworld​ @gaytrashgoblin​ @marvelb00kwolf​ @multifandom-imagines-things​ @turtlelurky​

Avengers Taglist:

@jadepc​ @marvel-is-a-mood​ @brynnloh​

[xiubaek-13]

Let Me In - Part 2

Prompt: “If I knock politely will you let me in? I’ll make it worth your while”

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Word Count: 4,950

Warnings: Vampire AU, smut, blood, mentions of death, murder & torture.

A/N: Part 1 was in my Halloween drabbles from a long ass time ago. I continuously got requests for a second part so it finally came into being today. Let me know what you think, comments help me greatly given the large breaks between posting for me, they help me work out if I’m still any good at this writing business.

“S-so, a-are you g-gonna k-kill me?” You stutter out, your fear making it hard for you to get the words out.

He smirks and steps back, freeing you from the wall. Before you can even think about regaining some semblance of composure he kneels on the floor and sinks his fangs into the dead man’s neck. Your eyes widen as you stand frozen to the spot, unable to blink, run, anything. It takes all you have just to remember to breathe.

He drops the corpse back to the floor when he’s finished feeding, licking his blood-stained lips as he sets his eyes on you again. “I think you’ve bought yourself some time.” He steps closer to you, caging your body between his arms, your back pressed back against the wall. “Convince me to let you live, but your case had better be compelling since you wasted my time earlier.” His dark gaze feels like its searing lines into your flesh as you feel it travel from your eyes to your lips, throat, & chest before raking back up to your eyes. “You still haven’t let me in.” He smirks.

What was that stupid saying that you used to say to your friends? Mark me down as scared and horny. That’s pretty much where you were right now. Terrified for multiple reasons (vampires were real, one sent a madman to kill you then killed said madman in front of you and was maybe, probably, most definitely doing to kill you) but also horny. It was impossible to deny how attractive Baekhyun was, both before when you thought he was human and now as he pinned you to the wall. Your mind is racing, jumping between freaking out about your impending death and lewd comments about his lips, hands, hips. If it had the capacity to take on anything else it might also be disgusted with itself for allowing lust to creep in at a time like this. 

Somewhere deep down in your psyche a thought sparks. Draw this out, stay alive as long as you possibly can. The longer you are alive, the closer you are to sunrise. Make it to sunrise and escape. It wasn’t much to go on but it was the best you could think of. There was no way that you would overpower him with strength. If you wanted to win here then you were going to need to be smart and bide your time. Use every advantage that you could and the sun was a powerful one. His ego might just be another.

“I want to know more about you.” He raises one brow in response.

“Why?” 

You inhale, steeling your nerves as you say the words that will change your life forever. “In the bar before, we talked. I liked that, liked getting to know you -” the words were not untrue. The bar had been nice. You’d captured the attention of the man every person, men and women alike, desired but he had only had eyes for you. You had been sitting at the bar enjoying your Old Fashioned when Baekhyun had first approached you. At the time it was immensely flattering but in hindsight you were probably just easy prey. You were alone and no one else had been paying much attention to you. “- but now that I know that you’re well, not human, I feel like that was all lies. Tell me about you first. Then I’ll let you in.” 

He shifts back and considers your words. “Why should I tell you anything at all? I could just compel you to let me in and use you until I’m bored of your body.” His tone betrays him. He might be impatient and used to getting what he wants but from the way his tone shifted when he said he could compel you, you could tell that doing so would ruin the fun for him. 

So you played with fire, figuratively speaking of course. Standard negotiating probably wouldn’t work here because a) you were terrified and b) impatient vampire. You weren’t trying to get out of sleeping with him either. You were attracted to him even through your fear and there was no denying that you wanted him. All you were trying to gain was time. The closer it got to sunrise, the higher your chances of survival were. 

So you tried to match his ego to unnerve him.“Where is the fun in that?” You shrug. “If all you want is a body to fuck, then why ask me to convince you to let me live? Surely it’s better for you with a willing participant.” You take a step forward, avoiding the dead body on the floor, and advance on Baekhyun as you continue to speak. “One that wants you, that begs for you, that needs you.” You lick your lips as you finish, your words affecting you more than you thought they would. “Why put it all of the effort at the bar when you could have simply locked eyes and told me what you wanted me to do? I think you enjoy the hunt so why spoil it now? What harm is there in telling me about yourself when I’m just going to die anyway?” You shrug. 

Baekhyun takes a few steps back and looks at you, really looks at you. His eyes narrow as he takes you in and tries to work out your ploy. “Interesting tactic little one. Futile though.” He smirks and turns away from you, heading off towards your kitchen. 

Left with the corpse just behind you, you decide to follow him rather than rush out the front door. Baekhyun has already proved that he is faster than you so you probably wouldn’t get very far and even if you got to a neighbour in time there is the very real possibility that they’d die and it would be your fault. 

As you enter the kitchen you spot Baekhyun mixing drinks. He points at the two armchairs you have in your makeshift reading nook, a place that has brought you comfort over the years. If there was ever a place for you to fight for your life then this would be the one place that would bring you strength. You make your way over to one of the armchairs and sink into its comforting embrace while you wait for Baekhyun to finish making drinks.

“I’ll play your game for now little one but don’t push your luck.” He says as he carries two drinks over, handing you one once he is close enough. You notice that he’s made the same drink that you were having at the bar. “You’re not wrong, compelling a mark kind of ruins the vibe but if I have to do it, I will.”

“Noted.”

“Asking me to tell you about myself is a bit vague given my lengthy existence so why don’t you try something more specific? I’ll let you ask as many questions as you want but there is a price for my answers.” He smirks.

“Name it.”

“Each time I answer you, you must remove an article of clothing. Once removed I’m free to touch the unclothed area. When you run out of clothing, your question time ceases and you submit yourself to me to have you as I please.”

You gulp as you try not to let on how appealing his price sounds. The logical part of your brain tries to yell over the burning lust that is taking over your senses about the dangers involved here but as far as you see it your options are die in pain or die in pleasure. Given the choice, you will avoid pain at almost any cost. He thinks he has you trapped, like a cat cornering a mouse but you aren’t so sure that you’ve been beaten yet. Not that he needs to know that.

“I accept your terms.” You say before taking a sip of your drink. The whiskey soothing any errant nerves. 

You see Baekhyun’s eyes darken with desire as he sits opposite you, a smug look on his face now that he thinks he’s won. “I’ll give you a point for not forcing an unnecessary negotiation or rebuttal upon hearing my price.”

“You said not to waste your time. Your terms are not unsurprising and it did not seem like it was up for negotiation when you delivered it.”

“Smart woman.” He relaxed into the armchair, swirling his drink in one hand as the other beckoned for you to begin your questioning.

“How much of what you told me about yourself at the bar was true?”

“All of it.” He states bluntly, chuckling at the surprised look on your face. “I do work at a law firm in town with 8 others, it’s how we exist in human society. I don’t have traditional family as such anymore as I’ve long outlived them. I do prefer to go out at night for obvious reasons beyond my control and I find great beauty in the night.” 

Baekhyun was right, he had told you the truth, just a very short version of it. Should that make you trust him any more? Probably not, but it did instil a small amount of something in you about him. He could have just lied about everything in order to lure you away but he chose the truth. In some weird way that counted for something. 

“No lies, you just never bothered to dig deeper at the time.” He purred, eyes roaming your body as he waited to see what you would remove.

You slipped out of your leather jacket and draped it over the back of your seat. Baekhyun groaned impatiently when he saw the long sleeves that remained covering your arms. Victory, it would seem, was not yet within his grasp. Begrudgingly he took another sip of his drink as you laughed internally at his reaction.

“Is your normal pattern to trick someone into letting you into their home then you kill them?”

“No. My clan and I have tried many things over the years. Let’s see. There was compelling which was just too easy and made our existence dull, posing as missionaries which weirdly enough worked better than it should have… not that I’ll ever let Suho know that. Next was outright frenzy where we razed a town, feasted and moved on - that was one of the early ones.” He grins as he reminisces. “Where was I, oh yes. We told people we were vampires - that one was particularly popular in the 2000’s, we’ve pretended to be injured or dead then attacked the person who was kind enough to try and help us, also too easy in my opinion but effective. You humans are gullible.” He chuckles. “We also tried to use blood banks but supplies could not sustain our hunger without detection, so then we tried setting up our own donor systems but that was a logistical nightmare and more red tape than you should ever have to deal with as an immortal. Roleplay was a fun one, biting is a real kink for so many people - who knew? - and now the current approach which is an amalgamation of past methods - seduction and pleasure followed by feeding.” He finishes his account of vampiric blood sourcing by licking his lips, his fangs hidden from your view. 

If you hadn’t seen them plunged into the neck of the now deceased man in your entryway you could be fooled into thinking that the man sitting across from you was just that, a man. But you had seen them and you knew they were real. You also knew the telltale signs of an impatient man and Baekhyun was most definitely impatient. 

For an immortal being who could remain as still at the night he was fidgeting and tapping his glass more than any vampire should. Whether it was hunger or something else causing it you didn’t know. The erratic movements were unsettling and causing your nerves to return. His gaze pierces yours as he waits.

You set your drink on the floor and stand, moving your arms behind you as you unzip your skirt, letting it fall to the floor, revealing a small amount of flesh at the top of your thighs, your garter belt and stockings covering most of the unveiled skin.

You hear him inhale, something he does not need to do. “You’re just going to leave it on the floor like that? Little one, it will crumple.” His voice is rough as he chides you.

You smirk and turn away from him before giving him what he wants. You step out of the skirt, bend at the hips and collect the discarded piece from the floor. You can feel his eyes on your ass as you bend forward, leaving little to the imagination. Only a small strip of fabric prevents him from your sex.

After you place your skirt on the back of the chair, on top of the jacket, you sit. Your brain doesn’t register the movement but before you can cross one leg over the other Baekhyun is there, kneeling between them, his hands on the uppermost part of your thighs where the skin is exposed. 

“You,” He growls. “do not know the fire with which you are playing with.” You can see the tips of his fangs now. Your body betrays you as you feel heat and want rushing to your core and your eyes close. His fingers trace patterns into your thighs, ghosting near the edge of your panties and down your inner thighs which only builds your arousal. 

“You’ll beg for me to fuck you before you’re fully undressed little one. Why deny yourself what we both know you desire?” He grazes his fangs along the column of your neck as your core clenches around nothing. 

When you open your eyes he is back in his seat swirling his drink like he had never moved. The absence of his touch left you wanting. Your stubbornness is the only thing keeping you from rushing through your questions because Baekhyun is not wrong, you want him - badly. “Are you going to kill me?”

He cocks his head as he ponders your question. “Honestly haven’t made my mind up yet. Before this current bargain I was just going to fuck you and drain you, the only variable there being if I let you enjoy it or if I let you feel pain. Now… I’m not sure. You might be interesting enough to keep alive for now. It all depends really.”

Your fingers expertly undo the buttons of your blouse and you shrug out of its sleeves, leaving you clad only in your underwear and heels. “On what?” You ask. The lines of this little ruse are starting to blur for you. The original plan to keep Baekhyun talking in order to reach sunrise is fading, leaving only images on the vampire taking you every which way, giving you pleasure you could only dream of. 

“On you little one.” Baekhyun’s voice comes from directly behind you. You feel his hands moving down your sides, one snaking between your legs and gripping your inner thigh and the other splayed over your stomach. You feel his fangs drag over your throat and you shudder. “You might just convince me.” You feel his presence disappear and know without turning around that he is no longer standing behind you. You can feel where his hands were on your body, the ghost of his touch remaining. 

As you look around you can’t spot him anywhere. You know he’s still in the house because why would he leave now? You make your way to the various rooms in your home as you search for the vampire but he is nowhere. You start to feel frustration overtaking your lust as you call out. “Baekhyun! Where are you?” 

His voice sounds from a room that you had already checked, your bedroom. “This game needs to continue in another room little one.” You make your way back upstairs to your room as he speaks again, his voice closer this time. “You are far too indecently clothed to be in a sitting room.” 

As you enter the room you see him leaning against your bedpost, his eyes roaming your body. Your ears register the sound of him moving past you but your eyes do not. The door closes behind you and he appears to have not moved. The fear inside you spikes back up as you witness a modicum of his power. You’ve been toying with him when all along he could just snap you like a twig.the thought terrifies you but you try to push your fear down. It will not help you now.

You saunter towards the bed only for him to hold up a hand and stop you. “I believe you asked a question little one. You know the rules.” Left with only a few options you step out of your heels and continue towards the bed.

By your count you have three questions left before this little game ends and you plan to use them to ensure that whatever happens after doesn’t hurt you and might just lead to you keeping your life. You aren’t going to bother with asking more about his past. You are pretty sure you know enough, he’s been undead for quite some time but from looking at him you would guess that he was in his 20’s when he was turned. He can be cruel - you have not forgotten the madman he compelled earlier - he is determined, overconfident, smug, impatient and alluring and he has made you crazed with lust. 

“How do you want me?” you ask sultrily as you reach the foot of your bed.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him remove his jacket and place it over the chair at your dresser. His shoes and socks are next, then he starts to unbutton his shirt as he moves behind you. You can feel him standing behind you but he does not touch you. He lets the anticipation build, he knows this game has almost reached its end, he is one step closer to getting what he wants from you.

“Naked and wanting.” He confesses. “Reveling in the pleasure I give you, begging for more.”

Your bra drops to the floor, making him groan. “And what will you do to me?” You ask, before he can say anything to alter your train of thought. Your mind is set on one path and one path only now. You want him. You want him to make you forget that you were ever afraid of him, that he ever posed a danger to you, that he is anything more than an incredibly attractive man with eyes only for you.

“Everything.” He whispers in your ear. His hands cup your breasts, fingers lightly pinching your nipples. “I’ll make you feel pleasure like you’ve never felt before. Make you beg for me to never stop fucking you, for me to bite you. And I will, once you beg for it.”

A moan escapes your throat, giving away just how aroused you are. Your hand brushes against his crotch as you move to undo your garter belt and you feel how hard he is for you. He stops your hand and completes the action for you, sliding the stockings down your legs and off your feet. He spins you and pushes you down onto the bed, removing the shirt from his shoulders and undoing his pants as he kneels at your feet. 

“Why me?” you manage to say as you watch him undress, your eyes taking in the lean planes of his body. He wasn’t wearing underwear you muse as your eyes are drawn to his cock, hard and waiting to enter you. His eyes follow yours and he grins when he realises where their gaze has not wavered. Shuffling back of the bed far gracefully than he has any right to, he moves back into a standing position so that he can remove his pants. 

Fully naked, he moves back to his position between your legs. “What’s the point of being immortal if you deny yourself the simple pleasures in life?” he responds as he kisses your ankle, before moving up your calf, to your thigh, hip, breast, neck before finally reaching your lips. “I find beauty in the night and I take what I want. Right now, that is you.”

His lips crash into yours in a kiss that is so desperate that you don’t register the ripping of your panties until you can feel him, all of him flush against your skin. His body doesn’t emit heat, rather it is cool to the touch but it isn’t a bad feeling. Rather it is refreshing in comparison to how hot you feel. His mouth works against yours, the lip ring providing a new sensation for the kiss.

When he breaks the kiss to allow you to breathe you see the dark fire in his eyes, his desire palpable. “You’re mine now little one. I told you your game was futile, that you would give in to me and here we are, your wet little cunt begging for my cock. Do you think you deserve pleasure after how long you made me wait?”

“Yes.” you breathe.

He looks amused. “Oh? And why is that?”

“I was scared of you. There was no desire to let you in before we talked more but now, now I want you even though I know part of the truth about you. You said it was better if the other person was willing, well, now I am.” You laid out the truth for him. You were no longer scared of him even though you knew he could still inflict the worst pain imaginable on you and kill you. What you felt now was desire so strong that nothing, not even fear of death, could break through.

He grinned, baring his fangs to you. “You, my dear, have proven to be far more interesting than I gave you credit for. There is one thing I didn’t tell you though, something that will make what is about to happen much more pleasurable for you. Vampires can direct the blood flow of any body that they are in contact with. You think you want me now? Wait until you feel as though you’re on fire, your skin burning with need as I taste you. You’ll beg me to drink your blood from wherever I please. And I will.” 

You shuddered at his words. Desire pouring through you, making you feel as though you were drugged. “Kiss me.” The words left your mouth without any thought. Baekhyun leaned down and his lips closed over yours gently, seeing if you were going to try and get away from him. When he realised that you weren’t going anywhere he intensified the kiss, increasing the pressure and igniting your senses. 

He ran his tongue along the seam of your lips until you opened your mouth, allowing your tongues to work against each other. You could feel his fangs grazing your lip but it did not scare you, rather it made you want more. His hands roamed your body as the two of you kissed, teasing your nipples and brushing near your core, never where you wanted the friction the most. 

“Please” you moan.

“What do you want little one?” he teases.

“Touch me.” His hands grip your thighs, spreading your legs wide for him. You try to roll your hips, desperate for any sort of friction but you don’t achieve the contact you’re after. You whimper as the frustration builds. You want him to touch you so badly, you need your release and soon.

“Patience little one.” He chuckles. “As flattering as it is to see just how badly you want me, I want to savour this. His eyes drift down. “You look delectable.” He shifts his body down the bed so that his face is level with your dripping centre. 

He slowly drags his fangs from your thigh, up your leg, and moves over your centre, to the other thigh. The sensation makes you whimper as you try to grind your hips, but he holds you down with his hands as you try to find some friction to help you along. “Please” You breathe.

Smirking he moves back to where you need him the most, flicking his tongue against your clit. Your mind goes blank at the sensation as he repeats the motion, deepening the pressure he’s applying until you moan loudly. If anything, it only serves to spur him on, attaching his lips to your clit as his tongue presses and swirls around it. Your hips would have been bucking into his face if he wasn’t holding you down.

He pauses for a moment to confess “You are fucking delectable, I could do this all night.” before resuming his feast. You bite your lip as he rolls his tongue against you, his fangs lightly grazing your clit and sending a whole new wave of pleasure flowing through you. You never expected his fangs to draw such a response from you but you felt yourself moan louder every time they grazed over your clit. You could feel his eyes watching you as he pleasured you, taking in every reaction and building his actions on that. Your arousal builds as he alternates the pace and pressure of his tongue, and increases the feel of his fangs against you. 

“Fuck” you whimper. The sensations are building too quickly and you can feel your release approaching with haste when he detaches his mouth from you. You look down at him and he smirks at you before you can utter a complaint, not breaking eye contact as he pushes one then two fingers into your wet heat. 

You can’t stop yourself from moaning his name as he starts to move his fingers back and forth in a steady rhythm. “You like that?” he growls as you clench around his fingers. “Little one, you are so wonderfully wet. Just for me. You love it don’t you? You love how my fingers feel, how my tongue feels and most of all you love how my fangs feel against your clit. Don’t you?” His pupils are so dark and blown out with lust as he lowers his skilled mouth back to your bundle of nerves.

The combined sensation of his long fingers, skilled tongue and sharp fangs become too much for you. He moans against you as he works, curling his fingers inside you and fluttering his tongue against your clit. You writhe on the bed as he increases his speed to a level that a mere human could never achieve and right before your orgasm hits, he sinks his fangs into you. The pleasure was so intense, so overwhelming that you sobbed his name as he helped you ride out your high. You were too far gone to realise that he was tasting you, really tasting you now that his fangs penetrated your flesh. You felt no pain, only white hot pleasure. 

When he released you he looked up at you, mouth and fangs dripping with a mixture of your juices and blood. Your body still tingles with aftershocks of your orgasm and you feel like you’re on fire. You should be spent but you only want him more. 

God you wanted to him to fuck you.

He flips you over, positioning you on your knees. He grunts as he enters you in one fluid motion. He meets no resistance given how ready you were for his cock. He grips your waist tightly as he sets a brutal pace, the only sounds in the room are of skin hitting skin and cries of pleasure. 

“You fit my cock perfectly. Look at how much you want this, at how badly you want a vamp to fuck the life out of you.” He grunts in between thrusts. 

“Baekhyun. Fuck” You moan when he hits your g spot. 

You had never felt pleasure like this before. You’d had great sex before but this was on a level of its own. Baekhyun had had an unknown amount of time to perfect this act and hone his skills and he was not disappointing. He moved between a pace that felt more like what you were used to and then a pace faster than you could have ever imagined. 

“This.” He growled, “Is how a vampire fucks you.” and lifted your body up so that it was flush with his, tilting your head so that your throat was exposed for him. He ran his tongue along your neck, making you moan deeply as you recalled the feeling of his fangs.

“You want it don’t you?” He asked as he pounded into you. “Want me to sink my fangs back into your flesh as I fuck you?” You couldn’t form words to respond to him, only moans of want and pleasure. He grazed his fangs along your neck and you writhed against the touch.

His fangs pierced the skin of your neck and the sensation barreled you over the edge. Everything was heightened and a feeling that you had never experienced before flooded your system. You felt full, alive, and like you were about to explode. You shuddered and cried out as your orgasm ripped through you harder than last time as Baekhyun chased his. 

The last thing you saw before you blacked out were his eyes, now a deep red as he stared down at your form and smiled. “I think I’ll keep you.”

[akvtsuki-ari]

A Study In Body Language | i. words of thorns and roses

Warnings: mentions of drugs/drug use, swearing but thats about it for this chapter

Length: 4.2k

Authors Note: This is it! I’ve spent the last couple of months writing this first chapter and mapping out this story and I’m finally really happy with it. I don’t really like asking but any feedback on this would be greatly appreciated. I hope you all like it 

Plot Summary: You and Spencer have never really liked each other, but the two of you find yourselves unexpectedly close as Spencer encounters addiction  once again and you aid him into getting the help he needs. 

 In the altruistic language of foreign tongue, and  the flower lettering of love stories, it's important to  remember the context. In which Spencer Reid and you  will fall in love under the circumstantial evidence that the two of you exchange in the language that is physical, no symbolism or hidden messages but instead an abysmal means to end to find each other in places you never expect. In the image of storytelling this is a Case Study In Body Language, and all of it's idealist beliefs and intentions.

___

"I'll be fine," he spoke his words with little seeming confidence. A quietness lulling in his voice. Sudden interest was the best way to narrate the feeling. To see someone you knew so much in a place like that, unexpectedly. On a quiet day, a sunny one. Free of torturous endings and otherwise. His tongue slide across his bottom lips, taking note of it's curvature as he nervously bit at the corners of it. Observing his movement, you can't help but feel compelled by it's dishonesty, fear ruining his usually neutral expression like a stamp of survival marqued on his face. You wish you didn't notice, but it was so unlike him - who wouldn't. His sudden slacked shoulders, his expression folding into itself as he took a means to ignore the things surrounding him, the hairs on his neck oddly raised. These details were inexplicable, insurmountably small. But you noticed, the slight clench of his jaw, the deepness of solitude in his eyes all drew into suspicion, a fear that made the pit in your stomach feel a little heavier than it was supposed to you.

Spencer takes no heed to you, and stands tall on his two feet. He catches himself slipping, and straightens his back before anyone can catch him. Emily only looks onto him with an onslaught motherly concern, and you look at him with one of curiosity. She watches him walk out of the door, but you stop to observe her for a few minutes, her expression falling as well. She pinches her nose softly, bordering exasperation as Spencer walks out of the door and she turns back to her desk. Spencer was never one for dishonesty unless it was in the order for saving lives, but that meant rather sincerely that Spencer Reid was incredible at lying. Dishonesty, and acting out came to him like breathing. The natural reaction of survival, and you guess whatever he was lying about was out of some form of survival. Survival is interesting in that way. You don't take a second thought as you return to your work in folly. Eyes heavy, lashes touching your brow bones as you roll them up trying to keep your head over water, drowsiness symptom of your sickness. An intense cold and a few days later and you were on desk duty, filing paperwork and thinking about warm things - like laying in your bed with the humidifier on and sipping warm soup and breathing through your nose. All things that sounded particularly enjoyable to you.  You shut your eyes, the subconscious maiden of sleep wrapping itself around your shoulders like a plush blanket and lulling you into rest as you slowly began to simmer down to rest. Head down on the desk, papers underneath you at every direction and visibly uncomfortable considering your position. Hotch gave you a soft look of concern before calling your name and waking you up, saving you from the vines of sleep crawling and curling around your legs and pulling you into abysmal rest. You sleepily blink up at you and he almost smiles. You realize your bosses presence above you and snap up into order, rubbing your eyes underneath your lower lash line to try and save your makeup. He looks at you neutrally. "Go home, Y/N, take a few days off. The paperwork will be here for you when you're back and ready," Hotch says with finality. You're too hazy to disagree and you give him a nod, "Thanks Hotch," you say, he nods at you and turns back to his desk in quiet. You quietly pack up your desk and your bag,  saying your salutations to the rest of the office with a grogginess in your voice. Your hear Derek laugh and roll your eyes, not having the energy to hear is "I told you so," because he did in fact, tell you so. But you wouldn't let that hinder you, for now the only thing that was clear in your hazy tangles of thoughts was running to the store and picking up soup and cough medicine, oh - and nasal spray because you desperately craved breathing normal and sleeping in the same way. You look for tissues in your bag, but can't find any. You sigh and shut your eyes in soft exasperation and waited for the elevator ding to alleviate your impatience on home. _ Walgreens and their alternate reality infected your experience unexpectedly, drawing your lithe and attention to roaming the hallways with lethargy. Your subconscious laid out onto the concrete floors and following you as your consciousness slowly let it's eyes shut,  feeling distant, like a bottle tossed in the ocean. Your mental capacity couldn't have been very high at the moment, unamused and trying to pick yourself up off the ground. You hated being sick, a deep sort of uncomfort settled in the pit of your stomach when you tried to to think more than a few minutes at a time and you sighed, ready to totally give into being a slug stuck on your couch to survive. The medicinal aisle seemed to part the rest of the store like the Red Sea. Your eyes hungrily grazed the decongestants section like a malnourished animal. Your hands went to Mucinex D, placing it in the flip up child seat. You could swear that you adorned with as much affection as you would an actual child. You pick up some DayQuil, knowing you had Nyquil in the back of your cupboard somewhere and continued on. A pack of lozenges, a box of tissues, and a bottle of orange juice later, you arrived back into the general weird food section of the drug store, probably hoping to pick up a frozen pizza or something else along those lines. Or maybe you'd pick up some hot Cheetos.. However, those would definitely not aid in your sickness and you overall went against the notion. Junk food was a beck and call to you, your drowsy brain urged for it like no other, and sighing you weakly bent down near the chips to make your choice. Lost in your own thoughts, the feeling of your cart bumping into you slightly startled you more then it should've. You slipped and fell, laughing a little at your own misfortune after the intial interaction. You look up to try and find whoever bumped into you, and not to much suprise, there was Spencer. Wide-eyed, and frightened. Which made you curious, and definitely annoyed. But you let it go, and stood up, dusting off the front of your jeans and turning to him. Spencer eyes were irregular, to say the least. His expression was jittery, like he couldn't hold still and you found it interesting to see him like that. You never had before, he looked homesick almost. There was a longing to be somewhere else that took over the way he moved, and you were unsure how much it bothered you. But he does work with you, you should be polite. "Whatcha doing here, Spence?," you asked casually standing up to face him. He made that little expression he makes when he's trying to deflect from something, Hotch always paired you two up at crime scenes and you took note of it a long time ago, that little change in his voice. You could almost call it aggression, a cutting edge to an overall precious voice. Not that you found him precious, but Spencer Reid wasn't an aggressive type in any way.

“Nothing important,” his voice was crass. More than anything you were confused, not surprised since early on he’d been acting out but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. The jittery nature of all of his little actions, and his deliberate, yet entirely unnatural facial expression sprung you into a spiral of doubt and wonder. Out of all the people on your team, Spencer Reid by some stretch of the issue had the least relevance to you. You weren’t close to him nor did you have any reason to be. Whatever he was lying about was strikingly obvious to you, so you can’t imagine the rest of the team doesn’t see it too. You decide to yourself, it’s frankly none of your business and try to shake off the feeling as best you can.

“Well.. I hope you find whatever you were looking for okay, I’ll get out of your way now,” you say to him forcefully. He gives you a painfully fake smile and continues on his way down the isle, his posture relaxing each step he took away from you. You wanted to roll your eyes, partially at the irritation that riddled you with that looming uncertainty. You weren’t concerned for him by himself, but typically when Spencer decides that something needs to happen, negative or positive, he’s willing to risk whatever it takes. Spencer didn’t take part in niceties, whatever the situation may be, you can only imagine the intensity that would make him act out the way he is right now.

Your eyes felt glued to his silhouette as you watched him disappear around the corner aisle, your body twisted around, hand loosely on the cart handle, almost entranced by his behavior. You shrugged purposefully attempting to shake the feeling at ran up your spine and continued on your trek to freedom from the hellish handcuffs of stuffed sinuses.

_____

God, you loved your fucking bed.

Enough time had passed that you could justify laying in bed and drinking a glass of wine. The sun set peacefully into the night sky, wrapping itself under the cover of the clouds and disappearing to get it’s rest. Following in suit, you felt yourself being lulled into a sleepy, dream-like state. Eyes heavy, sinuses beginning to clear (which made you unbelievably grateful to the big man in the sky,) and finally have shaken off your previous feelings of worry, you down the glass in your hand, and shut your eyes. The prospect of true sleep was something you would die for in this moment, your body finally turning off all of the settings it needed to keep on during the day to.. function like a person. No more thinking at all, just uninterrupted and beautiful sleep, ready to finally hold you tight in its arms and let you sleep. Sleep sounded so beautiful to you, right now. So timeless and wonderful.

Pulling your blanket up to your chest, and curling yourself into fetal position. You turn off your light, and the sudden snapshot of darkness fills you with warmth. Your head is laid up on your pillows in sheer bliss, hair up comfortably. It was picture esque, and made you snuggle further into your main place of comfort and luxury. Taking notice of the way your spine straightens as you lay, and how your face and neck feel against the cool pillows, you can feel your thoughts slowly start to thin out. The vividness of shut eyes slowly begin to pool and then disperse. After what seemed to be a few minutes, sleep finally seemed to come to you.

After all this, the loud, bellowing grumble of your stomach which made your whole bedroom roar, was not only deeply traumatizing, but deeply hurtful. You know when your so tired, and your peaceful sleep gets interrupted, and you just cry? Tears just flow helpless from your eyes and you are irrationally upset and you begin wondering about the universe's most garbage injustice and cry more? That sadness, just hits different. God, fucking damn, your pudgy and hungry existence.

Wiping away your tears, and left feeling oddly pathetic, you pick up your phone from your bedside dresser. The bright white light, blinded you as you looked for places to go eat that could still be open at this hour. You responded to texts from your team while you were at it, the whole day seeming to have gone by too quick to respond in general. Business as usual, of course. Nothing seemed to really matter in all the passing moments that encountered since your teary eyed session. You needed sustenance desperately, you realize. You swing your feet over the side of your bed, and sit up in some sort of unspoken defeat that's entirely unneeded. Perhaps you had a flair for the dramatic, you can’t say that that doesn’t factore itself into your night. You are now simply sleep deprived and hungry and the world made less and less sense as you thought through it.

You stand with little balance or motion recognition in your flawed movement. Your keys sat on your kitchen counter found themselves in your hands as you once again, unfortunately leave your home and place of solitude in hopes of finding cure or remedy. Earlier for sickness and now for.. living? Or something like that you guess. With, for some reason, a decent amount of confidence, your suped up on cough medicine mind decides that waffle house is clearly the right place to be eating your late night meal. It’d be smart to just run down to the store, maybe grab a can of progresso and eat that to numb your body that craves the release of sleep so much, and simply be at peace but no. Why make it easy for yourself, when do you ever do that? You stop in your tracks for a moment, your wash of anger taking your calm rational brain by surprise, as it tries to get you to think through your own feelings, but alas. Angry, Tired brain wins with ease and you let yourself succumb to miserableness for the first time in the day, hunger is a fiend you decide.

The drive way of the Waffle House is just as eerie as you remember, coated thickly with some evil presence no one could really recognize and a smell of marijuana that seemed to hang around even if no one was smoking. An odd place with an odd presence that seemed to call your name, dreaming of waffles and bacon and orange juice at late o’clock in the morning. Time all felt so relative now, you weren’t sure how much it mattered. Taking a seat a single booth in the front, the old waitress came to take your order. You smile at her weakly and order an All-Star breakfast and two chocolate chip waffles and she allows you to relish in your own sad meal in silence. From where your seated you can’t see much but the resident late night guests across from you who are also here to eat alone. You almost want to smile, but that very well may be the delirium that bites at your lungs and doesn’t full allow you to appear normal in the current moment.

From across from you, you see very little. There isn’t many people here other than a man whose staring blankly at the tv and the people who work here who aren’t all too pleased with being there in the first place. There's a brown haired patron across from, he babysits a hot coffee and a waffle that only really have a few bites in it. You stare at him, partially because you don’t care about him looking at you, but also because his clothes make him hard to identify.

And in that moment, you encounter a feeling of such.. intense irritation, that you can’t help but sigh outwardly and wish that you could curse out the bastard in public, wishing you had that much confrontation in you at all. You sigh, and look at him a bit exasperated, knowing that he’d notice you soon enough as you watched and he did.. doing the dramatic (Or maybe just normal, Angry Tired Y/n simply had that kind of control over your perspective) face that he makes when he sees someone he recognizes. You wave at him, knowing that even if you were to eat in the simple silence your body craved, it would fall short to the fact you had to speak with him when he left. For fucking formalities sake, or something like that.

You waved him over haphazardly, your hand begging to be back onto the table with every forced movement you made with such disdain and discontent. He smiles just as fakely back to you, coming over in fake delight and fake joy to see you. What was the point of this shoddy behavior? Oh it was never more unclear than in this moment now, but it had to happen it felt like.

“What are you doing here, Spence?,” you say softly, a weak and overall defeated smile. He looks at you with returned enthusiasm.

“Couldn’t sleep, decided to make a night out of it,” He says with a frankness that could cut through drywall. You have to fill in for the conversation, as if his last words were a silent “your turn,” as the two of you play small talk hot potato.

“Have you eaten anything?,” the question is so mind numbingly simple you want to hit yourself for saying it. It’s also so tedious in the seconds pass.

And as much as you’d love to go on about how generally boring the conversation continued to be, it’s almost you struck a nerve in spencer. But, luckily for you it was all cut short, as Spencers phone rings in his pocket. You watch him pull it out, his eyes settling in some sort of odd panic you don’t really understand. He seems.. frazzled? Frankly, it’s out of character for him to look like that - he expects the worst possible outcome and he tends to be negative for anything to surprise him, surprise you. Who could it be?

“Hey, uh - yeah, I’ll be right there, see you soon,” his hands shake the slightest bit as he hangs up the phone. It wasn’t really something anyone else would notice, but you were a profiler, you did this all day everyday and the way that spencers usually steady hand tumbled onto itself - in such a restricted way got to you. Something was up with him, adversely but you didn’t really know what. Infact, you weren’t even sure how to place it. Nothing in your mind could ever be that bad, unless you had to jump to the worse case scenario. It stung, really. To have the prickly feeling crawl up your neck and weigh your stomach down like bricks, but you had no evidence. Nothing that wasn’t circumstantial, so you couldn’t say for sure. You watched him carefully, as he puts his phone and smiles at you again, as if he were a ken-doll. All of it felt manufactured.

“Urgent personal call, it was nice talking to you Y/N. I’ll catch you when we have our next case,” his tone is abnormally rushed, and he grabs his things and walks out before you can utter any goodbye. This was all so strange, and Spencer was a good actor you knew this for certain - but is it possible that you’re the only person whose noticed in the first place? That couldn’t be it right? There was no way.

There was a slowly sinking that you felt in every part of your body, your mind from both sickness and confusion weighed down like an anchor trying to hold on to a current reality you didn’t want to let go of. You can’t shake the paranoia that places its spindle fingers down your spine, something was wrong - undeniably something was so fucking wrong but what? How could you know for sure?

You knew what do, unfortunately. This was the only way you could know for sure - you think to yourself.

You really can’t believe that you were about follow Spencer Reid to wherever he was headed - you really truly can’t fathom it. You didn’t hate him but you tolerated him at absolute most - at absolute most he was just alright. But he’s your co-worker, he affect the team in more ways than one and the team has gone the hard road many times to save him from his own selfish thoughts and actions and as much as it borders on disgusts you - you have to know what the fuck was going on.

Your own weight feels heavy as you stand on your feet, taking a final bite of all the food on your plate, and beckoning your lovely waitress for to-go for your coffee. By now you suspected you’d need it to even survive this whole endeavor. Stretching, you grab your things and pay your bill, and set foot out into the parking lot.

Spencer was conveniently in the corner, his back facing you as he entered his car. You thank some higher power with great intention for allowing  you to park far enough that he doesn’t see you - you’ve trained in stealth more than once so you suppose this was a mission of some kind. You use your keys to unlock your car to minimize the noise and duck your head down, turning your headlights on and starting your car - angling your mirror to be in direct line of vision of Spencer. He still had not gone into his car, he simply stood in front of you and you couldn’t see what he was doing so you staked him out to see his next move.

The moment was filled with a type of stagnancy that was unfamiliar to you, your fingers felt numb but your hands were simply still. Time was slowed, rallying your last bits and pieces of normalcy as your collective being watched the chaos begin to unfold. In the moments it happened, everything began to still and speed all at once. Spencer enters his car, pulls off into the night and your urged to follow him, like a string was tugging you too him each passing second. You were attached to his presence in that moment, watching over his humanity out of only concern.

The drive was quiet, the city was aching to be asleep and it was. It was just you, and Spencer down and old and unwinding road. He couldn’t see you, you’re sure, but your eyes were stuck onto his license plate like it was the last thing you’d ever see - this was certain. It was unnerving really - the registration of loneliness and callous that you began to feel in the moment. Your neck felt like it’d stop giving support to your head if the time didn’t come and everything didn’t fall into place. Inherently, you knew it was no or never thought you weren’t sure why.

You aren’t sure how long the drive was - the only thing you knew was seeing Spencer pull into an abandoned parking lot. The lights overhead weren’t flickering, they were moving and still and sterile. Spencers car was the only one in the lot, not a soul else. Your eyes observed him carefully, his leaning and lanky figure nearly stumbling over to a brown paper bag sitting underneath pole - a halo of light surrounding it with tangible irony. Spencer puts a sterile glove on and reaches down to pick up the bag. He picks it up, and opens it - reaching in for the contents of what it may be.

Your suspicions, as painful and as downright dark they were, stood clear and correct. Clear vials of Hydromorphone shined under the light like stars, the sterile bottles and the pair needles clear in Spencers hand as he made sure everything he paid for was there and in order. You can’t see his expression in the moment - to be honest, you didn’t know if you wanted too. You’re afraid that what should be pain - would instead be cast with numbness and anarchy. Spencer doesn’t deteriorate often - but when he does the process is fast and volatile. Spencer was so volatile - it made you angry. You pulled your car into the parking lot, the thought or aftermath of what could occur not mattering to you.

Spencer holds the product up to his chest as you pull in next to him. You roll your window down and he’s more afraid that it’s just you - maybe because he knows you’re not going to let him off. If he made it past you right now it’d be by the skin of his fucking teeth - you knew that for certain.

“Put the product in the backseat, and get in the car,” your tone is frank, cold and unmoving. Spencer tries to get angry at you, opens his mouth to start to raise his voice but he’s met with yours instead

“I said get in the fucking car, Spencer,” if the lot weren’t empty, eyes would be on you. Your voice was chilling, and with silence he does as he’s told.

                                  i. words of thorns and roses               “Love speaks in flowers. Truth requires thorns.”

taglist: @cynbx @jhope-jkill @zephyr-studiesjp @skrrrrrrrrrrt

[sillyxkittyy]

I’m With You All The Way

Note: Inspired by a post by @theobligatedklutz. Thank you Hilow for all your ideas!

Summary: When Cyrus decides to stay with TJ during his lunch detention, TJ realizes that maybe getting punished isn’t so bad after all.

Words: 2.5K 

~~~~~~

The ticking of the clock, the silence of the room, the noise of his own fingers drumming on the desk... lunch detention was definitely not something that TJ had been looking forward to. He knew that his punishment could have been far worse than what he actually got, but he still believed that he shouldn’t have gotten punished in the first place. Still, he had made sure to show up, just to avoid getting in more trouble. He glanced around the choir room, silently wondering what was the point of this.

The room was almost empty, apart from a few other students, who had arrived late, probably on purpose. TJ didn’t interact with them though, as they were sitting on the complete opposite side of the room- not that he cared, since they slightly frightened him, if he ever allowed himself to admit it out loud. From where he was, he could hear people screaming, and the contact of their shoes on the floor as they most likely ran in the halls. He took a bite out of his sandwich, sighing deeply as he glanced over at the clock once more. TJ was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a loud sound coming from outside. It sounded like someone had just walked into the door. He couldn’t quite place who was on the other side, nor what was happening, but it seemed like someone was messing with the doorknob. He could hear the rest of the students whispering behind him, but he still maintained his gaze on the door, unsure whether he should go see what’s going on or not. He didn’t have to ponder on it any longer though, because the door finally opened. A brown haired boy barged in the room with two trays of food in his hands. He looked like he was losing his balance, though TJ wasn’t paying that much attention to that, and more on who that boy was.

“Cyrus?” TJ called out as he watched as the other boy clumsily walked into the room, and closed the door behind him with his foot. Cyrus made his way to TJ’s table and was quick to set the trays on the desk.

“Hi TJ!” he simply greeted with a grin on his face. TJ gazed at him, both amused and confused. A small smile grew on his face, although he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “What are you doing here? You... do know I’m in detention, right?” 

“I am aware, but I came to bring you lunch! I uh- wasn’t sure what you’d like so I bought you spaghetti.” Cyrus pushed the tray closer to him, a smile on his face. TJ observed his plate before meeting Cyrus’ gaze. 

“Oh... you didn’t have to do that” TJ started, but Cyrus just shook his head, the smile never leaving his face.

“I know, but I wanted to. As your lawyer, I felt like it was my duty to make sure you at least had good food.” The soft look in Cyrus’ eyes was enough to make TJ melt on the spot. He definitely couldn’t resist to that.

“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you. But... I think you’re overestimating my stomach capacity” he remarked with a slight chuckle. Cyrus shook his head, giggling. 

“Not all that food is for you, silly. The other tray is for me because I’m staying. I also came to keep you company” he replied, taking a chair and putting it on the opposite side of the table, and sitting down. TJ found himself smiling when he saw how the chair was backwards. It was always the small details that made Cyrus even more attaching.

“Are you even allowed to do that? You’re not even in detention” he questioned, pursing his lips. Cyrus shrugged.

“I... actually have no idea. But I also don’t want to let you sit here alone in this large room, when I can be here with you. I’m your lawyer, I’m not letting you down”  TJ noticed the look in Cyrus’ eyes, the same look he got whenever he was determined about something. It was subtle, a slight flicker in his eyes, but it didn’t escape him. At that moment, he knew he wouldn’t be able to change his mind. 

“What if you get caught, though?” 

“I try not to think too much about that” Cyrus admitted with a sheepish smile. For a few seconds, TJ didn’t reply as he watched the other boy eating. If he was completely honest with himself, he didn’t mind to have Cyrus with him in detention. In fact, he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t secretly happy about it. Things were always better with him around. The fact that Cyrus was willing to maybe get in trouble just to keep him company made him feel warm inside. The smile on his face simply widened.

“Well, look at you, living on the edge” he teased, which only made Cyrus laugh. TJ tried to ignore the loud beating of his own heart at that moment. “Seriously though, I appreciate it. I had a feeling that hour was going go be long and painful”

“Aw, it’s no problem at all. Anything to make your detention better” TJ simply chuckled and slowly started eating. He was eternally grateful that Cyrus had brought him food. He had packed his own lunch, but in the morning rush, he had accidentally taken the wrong sandwich. It wasn’t the worst thing ever, but he and his sister definitely had different taste in food. He suddenly glanced up when he felt Cyrus shake his arm. 

“TJ? Why are those people over there staring at us?” Cyrus whispered, a slight look of fear in his eyes. TJ looked over at the group of students, who were actually looking at them. The look in their eyes showed no sign of mean intention, just of pure curiosity.

“Oh, don’t worry about them, they won’t hurt you. I think they just know you’re not supposed to be there” TJ simply guessed, shrugging slightly. 

“How would they know that? Is it that obvious?”

“It’s probably because of everything you’ve said and done so far. That and you look like an angel” ‘literally’, TJ thought to himself, but he kept that last part to himself. Cyrus giggled.

“Well, it’s true that I don’t look like bad guy.” He admitted with a smile.

“No, you don’t. You’re probably like the sweetest person I know” the compliment seemed to touch Cyrus because TJ saw a small smile discreetly creeping on his face.

“Aww, TJ. That’s kind of you” TJ could’ve sworn that Cyrus’ cheeks were redder, but it was probably his own imagination. Cyrus cleared his throat and glanced back at the other group of students. 

“Why are they sitting so far away, though? Was it their choice or yours?” Cyrus inquired, turning his gaze back at TJ before gasping. “Oh my god, wait... are they like... those people in the movies who are always in detention? That are there so often they spend their lunch times here? That just don’t care about the rules? Because that’s the vibe that they’re giving. This guy is literally engraving his name on the desk” TJ couldn’t help but chuckle as Cyrus was rambling. It was one of his favourite things in the world, listening to him talk. He could sit there and listen to him ramble all day.

“Honestly? Probably. They arrived 10 minutes late, and I’m, like, 99.9% sure it was on purpose” 

“So I was right! I can’t believe I’m sitting in a room, in detention, filled with rebels. This is so exhilarating!” Looking at Cyrus' soft little smile across the table from him, TJ realized something startling. This was the first time in his life that he didn't want detention to end. It didn’t matter if there was another group of students in the room, he felt like there was only him and Cyrus. The other boy really knew how to make everything else disappear. Their gazes met and TJ felt like he could melt on the spot. 

“Am I one of the rebels?” TJ asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. 

“Well, you did steal a golf cart twice, so yes.” This made TJ laugh, and Cyrus was quick to join him. The others were probably looking at them weird, but TJ didn’t care. He never thought he’d be laughing at all in lunch detention, but it seemed like Cyrus had that effect on people. On him, more specifically. “Do you know what rebels usually have? Tattoos!”

“You want me to get a tattoo?” TJ raised an eyebrow. Cyrus shook his head.

“Not exactly. I want to draw something on your arm.“ 

“Oooooh! Well in that case, go right ahead.” TJ stretched his arm and raised his sleeve. Cyrus cautiously took his arm and pressed his pen on his chin. 

“I’m gonna draw you a skull. Because that’s a classic” Cyrus pursed his lips in concentration as he started sketching. “Just saying, I’m not an artist, so it might not be that good.”

“Aw, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll like it anyways” He sat back in his chair and observed Cyrus as a few lines started appearing in his arm. The way the other boy’s nose crinkled in concentration, or the way his tongue stuck out were enough to drive him mad. Such little details and yet they seemed so important to TJ. Every time he thought he couldn’t like the boy even more, he did something like this and proved him wrong. Cyrus’ hand shifted on TJ’s arm, brushing against his skin and making him shiver.

“Okay, I think I’m done! Does it look good?” Cyrus asked, finally letting go of TJ’s arm. He looked so unsure of his work, TJ could guess by the look in his eyes.

“It looks great! Very rebellious too.” TJ complimented, looking down at it and smiling softly. It seemed to be what Cyrus wanted to hear because he smiled as well! 

“Thank you! I wasn’t so sure because I don’t normally draw skulls.” Cyrus admitted, putting the pen away. 

“Did something inspire you for it? Or was it just random?”

“Oh... well, I drew it like that because it reminded me of you. See, it looks tough on the outside, but on the inside...” he puts his hand on TJ’s chest. “... it’s soft.” TJ wondered if Cyrus could feel how fast his heart was pounding. Was this really the way he saw him? Either way, it was probably one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to him. 

“Awwww, Cyrus.” There was no way he could hide his blush after that. He started nervously playing with his sleeve, feeling like his heart was going to pop out of his chest. He took a deep breath. “You’re really too kind. First you making yourself my lawyer, and now this... I really don’t deserve any of this” TJ grimaced, sighing. “I’m grateful for it, but you... really don’t have to” the look in Cyrus’ eyes softened at that, and he shook his head, taking TJ’s hand. At that moment, TJ felt like his heart had skipped a few beats. 

“TJ, don’t think like that! You do deserve all of it. You’re my friend, I’ll do anything to help you, okay? This is literally no trouble at all, and I’d do it again if I had to. Don’t worry about that.” Cyrus assured, smiling. “You always deserve the best. Speaking of which, I have one last thing for you.” Cyrus announced, bending down to his bag to take out a small box. “Open it!” TJ glanced down down at the box, and up at Cyrus before taking it and opening it. If there were moments where TJ thought that his heart would pop up, this time it literally stopped. 

“Cyrus... you didn’t.” His eyes widened as Cyrus grinned. Inside was a cake, a small white cake that look like it had been meticulously hand made by Cyrus himself. He glanced up at Cyrus, dumbfounded.

“Yup! I baked you a cake. Like I told you I would, right?”

“I didn’t... I didn’t think you were serious.” ‘I’ll bake you a cake with a hall pass in it’ he was so sure Cyrus was just playing along, but he actually meant every word of what he said. “Oh my god, I swear to God if you actually put a hall pass in the cake-“

“Unfortunately no. The cake was kind of fragile, and time was short.” Cyrus sighed but TJ just shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter. I still really appreciate. Thank you. Seriously.” 

“Taste it!” Cyrus clapped his hands excitedly, patiently waiting. TJ took his fork, ready to eat.

“Wait, you don’t want a piece?” 

“No, I’ll be fine. I have dance class after, I’d rather not” TJ chuckled a bit and cut a part of the cake, before putting it to the side. 

“Take it for later. You deserve it.” Cyrus smiled at him at that, taking the small piece with him. 

“Thank you. I will eat it later.” TJ nodded his head before eating the cake. It didn’t take him time to finish it because it was so good. He really had a talent in cooking, TJ could tell. 

“It was really good. Thank you so much for this. I’m... really lucky to have you.” Their gazes met and TJ instantly knew he would remember Cyrus’ smile at that exact moment forever.

“I’m the lucky one here.” The bell suddenly rang, cutting right through their little moment. TJ had almost forgotten that this wasn’t going to last forever. He let out a sigh, and found himself almost feeling disappointed that detention was over. Cyrus bent down and took his bag before standing up and putting the chair back its place. He walked back to TJ’s desk.

“Hey uh- thanks. For everything. It means the world to me, you know. You’re definitely the best lawyer ever.”

“Anytime. You’re my best client” Cyrus grinned. “Now, I’d stay longer, but my dance teacher hates when people are late. Best not to provoke her on purpose.” TJ chuckled and nodded.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the trays. You go to your class, okay?”

“Thank you! I appreciate it.” Cyrus seemed to hesitate before giving TJ a small hug. “I’ll see you later, okay?” He flashed him one last smile before running to the exit. TJ watched him leave as most of the other people left as well. He just stayed in his seat, letting out a long sigh of content. 

“Yeah... see you” he watched him run off, a small smile on his face. Most of the remaining people passed by him with a smile on their faces, but he just shrugged them off. I’m the lucky one here. If this was how detentions we’re going to be from now on, maybe he should get in trouble more often. He raised his sleeve to look at the skull drawing, only to smile softly. Maybe lunch detention wasn’t so bad after all.

[isidar-mithrim]

Perhaps it seemed a day like any other to those who hadn’t been at Hogwarts to fight the last, decisive battle.Then the news of the victory and the name of the fallenbeganspreading and – for better or worse – it suddenly became a day impossible to forget.

{Collection of drabbles, flash fics, short one shots}

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{Disclaimer: the one shot is inspired by the first chapter of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince; you may find similar expressions and some direct quotes.}

I gift this (hopefully decent) translation of the firs chapter to the lovely @elanev91, because she's written an amazing Jily AU with Lily as Minister of Magic and James as Prime Minister :) If you are into Jily AUs, you can’t miss it!

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The Prime Minister

It was still dark when he suddenly woke up.

He realised in an instant that something was different, but he needed a couple of seconds to guess what.

He raised his hands in front of his eyes, moving them just for the pleasure of doing it at his own command.

Finally, he was free.

The Prime Minister looked at his wife, asleep on the other side of the bed. He smiled, almost moved realising that, despite how careless he’d been in the past months, she’d patiently stood beside him.

A stomach cramp took him by surprise, and he suddenly realised how hungry he was. Too often they’d kept him on a leash preventing him to be properly fed, too often they’d interrupted his rushed and improper meals.

He got up hesitantly, afraid that his legs wouldn’t support him; it was a relief finding them as solid as ever. He went in the kitchen, put the kettle on and grabbed four slices of bread, slipping them in the toaster – it was the first time in months he touched electronics. He looked for milk, sugar, a teabag, jam and butter, and when water was hot and the slices were ready he and arranged his breakfast with no hurry. The meals was essential, but the simplicity of it helped dissolving a tension in his muscles that he wasn’t even aware of until then. He took all the time he needed to finish his breakfast – it was quite early even for his standard, after all – and then he went to the bathroom, eager to enjoy as a free man the pleasant sensation of hot water flowing upon his skin.

Before getting in the shower he studied his reflection on the mirror: he was pale and gaunt, but clean-cut; his stubble was less than a day old and his hair was messy from the night, but decent.

Unlike his Junior Minister, who’d entertained the public impersonating a duck, he’d always had to act beyond reproach in his professional capacity – that Who-Know-Who had probably thought he’d have been of a better use remaining credible. They didn’t bother with appearances when he was with his family, though, and he suffered a great deal because of it. He had no idea how he was going to justify his past behavior to his wife, but the fact that she stayed through it all made him hope that she’ll eventually forgive him. After a last look at his reflection, he entered the shower and let the hot water wash his worries away.

It was half past six in the morning when he descended in his office, ready to start working again as a free man.

**

When he reached his room he went to the window and opened it for the first time since ages – they’d never bothered to make him do that, as if they weren’t even used to.

He couldn’t resist the temptation to peer outside, letting his gaze wandering while the early breeze caressed his face.

The weather was unusually nice: the morning mist was already fading, the sky was cloudless, the air fresh, and for a mere minute he let himself enjoying it, almost pretending that London was embracing his renewed freedom.

He then lowered his eyes on Downing street, already alive with cars and people, and he noticed a funky cluster of persons dressed in weird long robes; they were whispering in excitement, and he imagined they were heading to some sort of convention – didn’t those Star Wars fans celebrate their beloved saga at the beginning of May? Yes, that must have been it.

An instant later, a horrifying thought crossed his mind. What if he’d lost track of time under that spell, and it was actually Halloween?

He hurriedly grabbed his personal phone from its belt pocket to check the date, and a wave of relief washed over him when he read it was May the second as he’d expected.

It was only when he saw a flock of owls crossing the daytime sky that he finally put the pieces together.

He remembered needing a fistful of second to found the source of the rhythmic patter. He’d been astounded when he’d seen the majestic brown owl that was pecking insistently at his window in full daytime.

He’d turned the other way, ignoring the bird, but it’d kept drawing his attention from the window. Eventually the Prime Minister had opened the window, letting the owl storm in. It’d dropped an envelope on his desk, dunked his beak on his tea, eaten a biscuit and left.

Still taken aback, the Prime Minister had read the letter, which had turned out to be pretty short.

The Ministry of Magic has fallen. The Minister is dead. I won’t be able to come to your office anymore. – C. Fudge

He’d barely finished to read when a hooded man in a black cloak had entered in his room and had waved his wand.

The Prime Minister clenched his fists at the memory.

By now, he knew enough about magic to be aware that it couldn’t be a coincidence that those owls and those wizards – they hadto be wizards – had appeared precisely the day he’d regained his free will, as it couldn’t be a coincidence that the mist was finally fading away.

It was time to demand an explanation.

For years he’d tried to ignore it, but this time he stepped firmly towards the small, dirty oil painting in the far corner of his room.

It was frustrating to find it irrevocably empty.

**

He had to wait several ours before the froglike man with the silver wig came back to his frame.

The Prime Minister been pacing on the antique rug when he finally heard the awaited coughing. He’d been eager to talk to the portrait, but he walked towards him feeling rather anxious nonetheless. After all, as far as he knew the last wizard he’d met was the one that put him under the Imperial Spell – or whatever it was called.

He greeted the man with a stiff nod, and in response the portrait began speaking with his usual crispy voice.

“To the Prime Minister of Muggles. Urgent we meet. Kindly respond immediately. Sincerely, Fudge.”

He sighed in relief learning that his visitor was going to be Fudge. Even if the wizard had always brought bad news and had the bad habit to treat him like an ignorant schoolboy, the Prime Minister wished his return was a good sign.

“Oh, well… er, very good, then… he may come” he mumbled. He then remember that he was the one that had wanted the meeting in the first place, and added with more resolve that he “had to urgently meet him too, anyway.”

He hurried behind his desk and he’d just finished adjusting his tie when bright green flames burst into life in his marble mantelpiece and a man came out, a lime green bowler hat in his hand.

“Prime Minister!” he exclaimed delighted, stepping forward to offer his hand without even caring to brush the ash from his cloak. “What a pleasure to see you!”

Fudge was thinner and balder than the last time he’d seen him, but the wide grin on his face made him look several years younger.

The Prime Minister shook his hand and politely greeted him, but he wasn’t affected by the wizard’s mirth.

“You look well!” said Fudge with enthusiasm, taking a sit. “Sure, you’re a bit knackered, but who wouldn’t be after months under the Imperius Curse?”

Imperius, that’s how it was called.

He needed few seconds to grab the other implication of those words.

“Wait, you’re telling me you knew?” he asked bewildered.

“Of course I knew!” exclaimed Fudge. “Who didn’t know?”

The Prime Minister suddenly remembered why he disliked those visits so much. “Well, why haven’t you done something, then?!”

“Don’t you think we didn’t try! But it was utterly impossible to sort thing out with our own Minister under the Imperius Curse as well.”

“Your Minister was controlled too?” he asked, taken aback.

“Unfortunately, he was” said Fudge wearily, losing his mirth for the first time. “He was You-Know-Who puppet.”

The Prime Minister didn’t miss the use of the past tense, but Fudge kept talking, cutting his attempt to demand an explanation.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Nothing personal, but they want me to check if you’re clean. I can only be that sure, you know?”

He did’t know at all, actually, and he certainly didn’t appreciated his hygiene to be questioned, but his retort was stuck in his throat when Fudge took a glassy spinning top from a pocket and laid it on the desk. Even if motionless, it creepily stayed up.

“Well,” said Fudge, cheerful again, “I suppose it’d spin if you’d still been under the Curse!”

“I’m not under any curse anymore!” he argued indignant.

“No, it doesn’t look like that. Well, that’s a wonderful news, don’t you think?” Fudge asked, clapping his hands in delight.

“Of course I think it is! And since you clearly weren’t the one to set me free, I’d like to know why the spell broken! And I also demand an explanation about those dressed up wizards in Downing Street, and don’t even let me start about the owls!”

“Sure, sure, you’re right, you’ve the right to know… but Merlin, I can’t believe there still somebody that haven’t heard the news!” Fudge said with excitement, and he felt the sudden urge to punch him in the nose. “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead. Harry Potter defeated him!”

At those words, the Prime Minister leant heavily on the back of his chair and took a deep breath.

“So… it’s over?” he asked hopefully.

“Well, it’s gonna be a while untile we catch all the survivor supporters, settle things with the Muggleborn, retake control of the Dementors, prevent little retaliations, etcetera, but yes, it’s over” confirmed Fudge. “We won.”

“When?”

“This evening, at Hogwarts. You know, our school. A huge battle, many dead. We’ll remember them with full honors, of course, but today wizards and witches all over the world are celebrating. I believe we’ll make a breach of the Statute of Secrecy as the last time” Fudge added with a knowing smile.

The Prime Minister had no idea when that ‘last time’ was, but he nodded nonetheless, finally feeling thrilled as well.

It’s really over…

“I’m sorry we couldn’t protect you, you know? But it’s nice to see you’re fine, considering our last two Minister are dead” admitted Fudge hesitantly. “And of course, if you wish, I can send a team to change your family memories.”

Of course.

“I… I’ll think about it, thanks.”

He wanted to be involved with magic as little as possible, but at the same time he hated the idea of making things up to give his family a believable explanation.

“Well, don’t hesitate to ask if you’ll need something! You know were to find us.”

The two men stood up. They were about to shake hands again when the Prime Minister recalled a last, essential question.

“So… are you the Minister again?”

Fudge smiled sadly. “I highly doubt anybody we’ll ever want me covering that role again, to be honest. But don’t worry, you’ll be happy to know that the Wizengamot picked Kinsgley Shacklebolt as acting Minister of Magic. He’ll pass by one of these days.”

The Prime Minister felt relieved at the welcomed news. Even if at the end Shacklebolt failed to protect him, he remembered him with fondness, and he’d been very sorry when they’d made him spread his mugshot.

He smirked at the idea that he had had the new Minister of Magic as secretary of his outer office.

While Fudge disappeared among the green flames, the Prime Minister thought that perhaps, for the first time, he was going to be treated as peer by the other Minister.

[andaleduardo]

Rooftop N.11

Ao3  N.10  N.12

Preview: Eddie studied her intensively that dinner. Looking at the lines mapping her face and wondering: What makes us different?

What defined you own me? What defined you’re right and I’m wrong?

Nothing defined it. That’s the answer.

Monday 24.05.1993

Monday night could be described with simple words: a mess.

Richie was shaking way too hard to get a firm grip when climbing down, and his eyes were still too watery to make out the exact spots he should have stepped on. As a result, he ended up losing balance and having a bad landing, bending his ankle slightly and falling on his ass in the middle of the Kaspbrak's backyard.

His breathing was off, accelerated and wheezy. Richie wondered if that was any close to what Eddie goes through.

It hurt, it hurt it hurt it hurt.

He grasped at the front of his shirt with one hand and lifted the other up to cover his mouth.

He kissed Eddie.

Slowly, whimpering and hiccupping, he lifted himself off the ground and limped his way to retrieve his bike from the grass, not even bothering to wipe off the dirt from his clothes. Richie couldn't trust himself to ride, so he took rushed steps home, bike by his side. With a swirling, distracted brain, he hoped that no cars would come crashing onto him, for he had no capacity to look out for any incoming danger. By the time he got to his street, his tears had dried, his ankle stopped aching, but his chest remained alerted and alive. A mess.

Luck didn’t seem to be on his side, as if that wasn't already obvious. Richie got home safely, at least, and he was looking forward to… well, maybe to drown in his loud thoughts for the night. Sue himself for crying. Think about the horrible consequences of what he did. Anything, really, rather than what actually happened.

Before he could reach his bedroom door, a heavy hand settled on his shoulder and dragged him into the kitchen, where he was forced to sit at the table, dinner served, with both his parents staring expectantly at him. As if they accomplished something amazing and needed their son’s approval.

Richie’s eyes were, without a doubt, still bloodshot, puffy the least. The shaking was bad, too. He couldn't draw a line between trying to act normal or freaking everyone out.

"Is it Christmas, already? What a lovely family reunion." He licked his lips, they tasted salty.

"Richard." His mom, (Wow, his mom!) glared at him, before laying a hand on top of his. Richie stared down at her skinny fingers on top of his, ringless for once. Seriously, the way he was shaking was preoccupying. He retrieved his hand to himself with the excuse to start eating.

"Bueno appétit." He said through an obviously forced smile.

  The meal was close to be over by now and everything still felt weird, unreal. Their voices were far, but there, the food was tasteless. He couldn't control his own body, moving on its own to grab the fork and wrap around a glass of water.

I kissed Eddie.

He was torn out of his inner battle by a heavy slap against the wooden table. Then a sigh. The water in his cup trembled, and Richie related to it.

"Are you on something, Richie?" His dad's voice stopped him from getting the fork to his lips, took Richie a few seconds to let it sink.

…He thinks you’re drugged.

Slowly, Richie put the fork down and stared at the two foggy figures in front of him. He wanted to scream.

Look at them, looking at you. They think you've lost it, they think you're an addict. They think you're gone, lost. They must love you, that's how it works. They must love you.

Right?

The two figures became less human, the food started to lose its scent, too.

They think you're a freak.

  Eddie pushed you away.

  Richie laughed, ran a hand over his hair, scrapped his chair on the floor while getting up.

He didn't hear his own laughs, he didn't hear the chair, he didn't command his body to get up. He didn't command his mouth, either.

"I really must fucking be!” He exclaimed enthusiastically.

He left the kitchen, then. Didn’t hear any protests, didn’t feel the ground under his feet as he padded his way down the hallway towards the bedroom. The door shut behind him.

Richie heard it close.

-click-

Richie thought back to a few hours ago, when he had woken up and been so sure that the day was a promise of a good one. And despite all the events that just happened to him, to them, despite the way he was feeling right now, at the end of the day, there was one thing he could be sure of.

Eddie kissed him back.

 -

 It’s been nine minutes since Eddie had to sit down for dinner after being kissed. Which shouldn’t be something worth mentioning, or thought of, because people do that all the time. A lot of kissing happens everywhere, all the time.

But not for Eddie, no. But once again, it’s not every day that you push away the person who kissed you because you were hit with an image of… of?

Eddie searched and searched, and nothing came up. But it was probably due to the rollercoaster of emotions hitting the sides of his skull from the inside. Or because he was distracted looking at his mom's face while she ate. It was sort of disturbing, but he’s gotten used to it by now.

Oh, right! A demon clown masked as a rotting hobo who also happened to offer him blowjobs in forgotten dreams. And recurring memories, apparently.

Eddie felt the poor amount of food he managed to eat slowly inch up his throat. He gulped it down with more peas.

There was an image stuck on Eddie’s brain. And it was Richie, the moment he burst into tears after their lips separated. Later, Eddie would learn to connect to that feeling. For now, he feels extremely worried and guilty and sad, because when Richie cried Eddie felt like the world needed to stop until he could prove to him how much he’s worth.

Eddie tried to push these thoughts away, at least during dinner, because he couldn’t afford another confrontation with his mom about anything at all. So he had to look as normal as he could from the outside, which was possibly the hardest thing he ever tried to accomplish while his brain was filled with Richie.

His scent, like the quarry’s water; his warm skin, heated by the sun all day long; his revolted eyes filled with emotions Eddie couldn’t comprehend, yet; his touch, desperate, needy, welcomed; his lips, as full as Eddie as ever seen them, as pretty as Eddie ever thought of them to be; his tears. They weighted more than Eddie could have ever carry. But now he had to, for he was the one who caused them.

It was a stupid assumption, but Eddie was absolutely sure his mom knew about what he did. As if he had the evidence slapped on his face. Maybe he had, actually.

Do people change after kissing for the first time?

He studied her intensively that dinner. Looking at the lines mapping her face and wondering: What makes us different?

What defined you own me? What defined you’re right and I’m wrong?

Nothing defined it. That’s the answer.

You don’t own me. You’re not right. I’m not wrong. (If only he could believe that.)

The way he is shouldn't harm anyone, unless people are consuming hate for every meal. Much like Eddie has been doing since he can remember. Much like he was doing right now.

He stared down at his barely touched plate. As an excuse, he told his mom he ate just before coming home, which she wasn’t happy about.

She feeds you hate, you feed her lies. It goes the other way around too, doesn't it?

Eddie didn't want to answer.

    Tuesday 25.05.1993

  It was very late, Richie needed sleep and he should have been in bed for a long time, by now. But he couldn't.

Yes, it was late, but time had no voice when it came to a swirling mind hit with a wave of inspiration. It was more forced than hit, actually. He needed to get things done as soon as possible, that entitled forcing his eyes to stay open and his hands to work faster than his thoughts could be generated. Which was already pretty fast, believe it.

And inspiration might even be the wrong term, also. Richie didn't have a lot of that, he had the full living experience. That’s what got the words flowing.

 Today was a silent nightmare at school, a poor attempt at pretending nothing had happened between them. Or more like processing what happened quietly to themselves until the right time came around, or until they went insane. Richie was close to crossing that line.

Around this time of the school year, some teachers ended classes a little bit earlier, which made the whole “avoiding one-on-one contact” thing easier.

But Richie was pretty sure everyone knew something was up, anyway. Yesterday they were in the best mood possible, and their friends saw him leaving with Eddie. It wasn't too hard to figure out why both of them looked like they hadn't slept for a year, nor smiled. Even if their giggles had been painting the quarry less than 24 hours ago. (Not that Richie knew if Eddie looked as miserable as he did, neither of them stared at each other once.)

That was the reason, Richie suspected, Bev cornered him after school was over and stopped him from going home to mourn alone.

Richie spent the whole afternoon in her company, walking mindlessly trough the streets of Derry while she tried to get him to talk. He was grateful to have her, really, but he wasn't in the mood to talk about what happened, yet. He simply told her they argued, which was only half of the whole truth. Bev dropped it for the moment, and they talked about other stuff. About her aunt, her house life changes, about stupid things and whatelse. It wasn't until they were sharing a slice of lemon pie from Derry's local diner that she dropped a bomb on him, or something close to that.

“We should play some of your originals next time.”

The suggestion had Richie dropping a fork for the second time in less than two days.

They were, indeed, planning on having a second party this week as well, because, why not? It was a success, and everyone enjoyed themselves.

“Something about relevant people in your life.” Bev specified.

Yup. There it was.

She was hinting at him singing dopey love songs, or something. Maybe she thought that he’d come up with a great way of relieving his deepest sorrows surrounding Eddie through heartfelt songs.

The thing is, Richie didn't want to do that, and even if he did…

Most of his originals were left unfinished, his quick-thinking brain spat out half a song and then decided "Well, that's enough sharing for a day." Also, more importantly, they were all about his insecurities, about himself, about the non-great side of carrying a life as Richie Tozier.

He didn't have it in him to write about anything else.

He never wrote a song about those kinds of feelings, or Eddie. And there’s boundaries, for Christ’s sake. ‘Hey, Eds. You just rejected me and I couldn’t take it, so here’s a song I wrote about you.’ Yeah, sure.

He didn't turn her down, instead, he asked. “Do we have enough time for something like that?"

A long argument and a few lemon bites later, they met in the middle. The party would be put off to Saturday night, and in return Richie would bring them some originals to test out next afternoon. That meant a single day away.

So, when Richie got home today, he had no choice but to go through the few pages filled over the last years with shitty lyrics, trying to find some that he didn’t hate as hard as others. He spent the rest of the day changing some things, making them better and coming up with melodies for the ones he forgot or the ones he didn't like enough. He hadn't look at the clock yet, but he felt the need to rest weighting on him. There wasn't really a point in going to bed if he’d just stare at the blackness of the insides of his eyelids. That’s what happened last night, and he knew it wouldn't be much different this time.

At some point, he wondered if there would be a dinner served table today, but he suspected that yesterday was a once in a lifetime occurrence. (That didn’t go that well, to be fair.)

His hands were smudged from the pencil-written words, a headache was starting to grow form, but he knew he wouldn’t leave this unfinished. Now, he stared at the paper sheets scattered in front of him. A sigh left his tired body, reminding him of the dull throbbing forming in the small of his back.

It’s been one day; Richie tried not to feel too guilty. So far, he was failing.

 -

 It was late, Eddie was in bed trying desperately to fall asleep, but it wasn't working so far. His brain was incapable of shutting off for a minute, always screaming back to himself and indulging in useless lectures and self-advice that he knew he would never act upon.

He tossed aggressively around in his bed, angry at himself and needing a way to push all of the hateful energy out of his body.

It’s been one day. A single, miserably long day. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about it. He tried really hard, but it was there in the back of his mind at any time of the day.

Giving him little nudges in the shoulder: Hey, so… Richie kissed you.

Flicking his forehead: You kissed him back, by the way.

Like shoulders bumping in a hallway: You liked it, don’t deny it.

It was honestly fucking exhausting. The worst one so far had happened while he was trying to focus on the words on the board of his philosophy class.

It felt more like his chair disappeared from under his body: You pushed him away, you dumb fuck. Nice move, jerk.

He felt stupid and awful and guilty for the way Richie was left, confused. Eddie was so goddamn angry with himself.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

Today, there were actual times when he had to sit down and think back to the moment. The reason why he pulled away from Richie’s touch was mostly a complete blur, again. Yet, he knew there was something beyond his usual worries, because one thing he knew for sure was that not even once did it cross his mind how wrong it was to kiss another boy while he was doing it.

Eddie had to grab his hair strongly and really focus on the thing. And even then, the leper’s image and voice were so faded and weak that he couldn’t be sure if it was that that led him to feel burnt, anymore.

It’s been long since the leper encounter. Eddie wouldn’t say he forgot, but he certainly didn’t spend a second thinking about it, anymore. It was scary how quickly it faded from his brain if he wasn't purposely dragging it back. This was a fight against himself. Eddie didn't want to remember, but he couldn't forget. Richie deserved an explanation, and Eddie started to believe that by the time he felt ready to give it to him, he wouldn't remember again. He didn't know if he should be grateful or not. Which was worse? Forgetting or being haunted?

The forgetting itself haunts him, still.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie threw the single sheet covering his body to the feet of the bed, battled with it for a while when it got tangled on his ankle, and got up, defeated. With a locked jaw and a tense neck, he strode up to the mirror standing on top of his dresser, and even with the shitty lighting, he studied his restless reflection. It stared right back at him.

‘What have I done?’ He groaned internally. He fucked it all up…

Eddie tried, in vain, to spit something out, anything. The silence was deafening, a soft buzzing mushing his brain. He had to do this, the first step was this, right here.

He stared at his mouth, but all it did was remind him of  Richie’s.

Go on, do it. Say it.

But nothing came and no words formed. Only pictures and colors and emotions that he couldn’t name or put into words. They didn’t feel nice.

Eddie placed his elbows on the dresser and dropped his face on his hands for a few exasperating seconds before looking up to the mirror again.

He lost count of the minutes that passed, each of those suffocated him more and more until he gave in to his weak knees and had to sit down on the floor. His blurry eyes focused on the dark handles his mom had picked out when she bought him the dresser. They had soft edges, to prevent kids from getting injured. She had said-

He couldn't do this.

Everywhere he looked, there was always something to remind him of the things that could go wrong if he ever accepted who he was.

Especially in that mirror.

   Wednesday 26.05.1993

 "I can't believe how fucking great these are."

For a moment, Richie was confused. The words were definitely something Beverly would say, but it was actually Mike who spoke. In fact, Bev hadn't said anything at all since Richie passed them his drafts filled with awful handwriting.

"Yeah? You think so?" Richie, who was sitting on their famous red couch staring at his two friends leaning against the stage's side, finally looked up to Mike's face expectantly.

"Yeah, man! You have talent, Rich." To that, Richie smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck, not really sure how to react.

He adverted his attention to Bev. From the corner of his eye he saw Mike doing the same. She had a conflicted expression, eyes locked in the papers she was holding.

"You do have talent, Richie." She then moved away from the stage and kneeled down in front of him, putting the papers slowly to the side and hugging Richie around the waist, his knees between their bodies.

"Aw, Marsh. You're getting all sappy for me here?" He held her back, anyway, no one wanted to refuse a hug from their favorite read-head.

Mike chuckled light-heartedly. "Your words moved our girl."

"Shut up." Bev's voice came muffled from Richie's shirt before she detached herself from him and sat down on the left side of couch, instead. She picked up the paper sheets again. "It's not my place to ask this, Rich. But this..." She handed him the top sheet, Richie accepted it and quickly realised which song it was. He cut Bev off before she got the chance to speak.

"I know, it's not like that."

"We love you, Richie."

"I know, it's not like that, I swear." He repeated. "I know how you guys feel about me. This is just…” how I feel about myself. He finished the sentence to himself.

"But what you wrote... it sounds..."

"Yeah, it does." He chuckled poorly. "But it's not about-, at least not just that… it's-" He sighed. "Please, don't take it at heart... I didn't mean to-"

"We know. I just needed to make sure you know how much you mean to us, okay?"

Mike sat at his other side. Richie stared at his knuckles for pure entertainment.

"You do mean a lot to us." Mike said, it was something more in tune with his usual comforting words. It made Richie smile.

"My words moved you, too, uh?” He scratched his wrists mindlessly. “You guys mean a lot to me, too. I’m sorry the song sounds so... harsh?"

"I think it sounds the way it should." Bev put an arm around his shoulders, Mike mimicked her actions from the other side. "It sounds like you feel, or felt, when you wrote it."

Mike rubbed random circles on Richie's shirt. "And we can make it justice, now. Together."

In that moment, Richie thought of saying something. Or everything.

That he couldn't hide the way he felt for Eddie anymore, that he was sick of pretending, and tired. That Eddie drove him crazy when he showed off any signs of possibilities that never had a title. That Richie did something reckless on Monday, something that felt incredibly right but wrong at the same time. That he had been feeling guilty over it because he didn't want to push things further than they should be pushed, and that all he could think of was the need to apologise. That things could have gone differently. That maybe it would have worked out better. That he was going nuts without knowing what to do, if he should even do anything besides waiting.

That he needed to talk.

Instead, he said.

"Shall we start a real practice, my trustful comrades?"

 -

 Spending time with his mom was just as bad as he remembered. The only difference was that when he was younger, Eddie didn’t know why he felt so weird when he spent afternoons in her presence, now he does. He simply hates it. They had already watched three episodes of some unknown baking show, and Sonia was in total bliss that her son was spending his time at home with her, for once. Eddie was so bored that he even pretended to have homework, but even then, his mom begged him to do it next to her, so he’s been doing English exercises that he had already done before. It’s not like he would have gotten any real work done, with her constant comments about the contenders’ clothing choices or physical aspects.

Eddie supposed it was his own fault that he was stuck at home. He put himself there. Instead of choosing to hang with any of his friends, he had actually chosen to come home, not really sure of what he was expecting from that decision.

After the fourth verbal attack to some woman’s lipstick choice, Eddie not so subtly groaned and tossed his head back against the couch. He actually thought it was a nice shade of purple… His mom stared at him from her recliner.

“Sorry, ma. I can’t really understand this part, I think I’ll go to my bedroom for a while to be more focused.”

She started to say something about tutoring classes, and for his own sake, Eddie blocked it all out before kissing her cheek and rushing to the stairs. He thought about kicking his door open but settled for opening it like a regular human being. Instead, he tossed his pencil case straight into the mirror when he passed it, purposely ignoring the possibilities of it breaking before launching himself onto his bed dramatically. He groaned onto the bed covers. Curiosity won him over after a few seconds. Eddie lifted his head and bent his neck just enough to check for any possible damage on the mirror. There wasn’t any, so he let his head fall back on the sheets, now having his left cheek pressed upon them.

He sighed and allowed himself to rest upon the comfortable silence, but his eyes betrayed him when they slowly drifted upwards and settled on one of his pillows.

For a second, a sudden thought of kissing it for practice attacked his mind out of nowhere. Eddie felt himself grow red, quickly feeling stupid and wanting to throw that same pillow on that same mirror for no other reason than because he hated both those items.

“Great, now I hate myself and my stuff.” He mumbled, annoyed.

He turned his body around so that he could be staring at his white ceiling. Unwittingly, Eddie started to relive their confrontation right in front of his eyes, in this exact room. And he couldn’t help it but picture it if things have followed a different path. If he hadn’t pulled away, left running. If he had said something nicer, truthful. If his past hadn’t come to haunt him on the worst possible moment. It would have been so much better, but that’s all there is to it. These things only happen in his head, in his fantasies. But he decided to feed into these helpless wants and kept on imagining how things would have turned out if he kept kissing Richie.

Eddie closed his eyes, for once, he felt relaxed in the dark that it created. It wasn’t long until he felt himself drifting into a well needed nap.

   Thursday 27.05.1993

 "So, how long are we going to pretend nothing's going on?" Stan asked.

All of them were sitting at their usual table in the cafeteria. Bill had just asked them if anyone wanted to come over after school, to which Eddie and Richie quickly jumped in to refuse, speaking at the same time and so fast that the others needed a second to understand what they'd said.

"Sorry, I have plans with my mom."

"Band practice, Big Bill."

After the awkward silence that followed, Ben was kind enough to break the tension.

"Sure, Bill. I'll come."

Then, Beverly and Mike excused themselves with the same reason as Richie's, leaving Stan to give one last answer. That's when he sighed and asked the question that left the air even less breathable.

"What do you mean?" Ben inquired, after zero responses came.

What followed next wasn't directed towards him, but Ben did feel like he was being scolded. Stan had that power.

"I mean are you all kidding me?" Stan snapped, nowhere close to hearing Bill telling him to 'Take it easy, Stan.' "I have no idea what's going on, but it's been three days now and I'm really not a fan of this 'neglecting each other's presence' thing." He looked around the table with obvious annoyance.

"Who's neglecting who, Stan?" Eddie's voice made everyone snap heads towards him, Richie included. He sounded exhausted and indifferent with this topic.

"Oh, I don't know, Eddie. You just told us you had afternoon plans with your mom. Am I supposed to believe that's not an incredible childish excuse?"

Eddie didn't bother to answer, same dead eyes locked firmly with him.

"Just because you and Richie have something up your asses, doesn't mean you can't hang with your other friends, you know? That's us, right here." He motioned one hand around the table, knocking off a juice bottle in the process.

"Stan, that's enough." Beverly cut in. Richie looked down at his lunch.

"I'm only trying to solve things, it's not mature to pretend people don't exist because of a stupid-"

"You have the worst fucking methods for solving things, apparently." Eddie snarled at him. Richie groaned from his seat and buried his face on his hands.

Silence fell around the table again. Richie kept his face hidden for a second before he felt Bev's hand laying on his shoulder. He looked up at her with desperate eyes.

'Smoke?' She mouthed.

"Yes, please." He said out loud, leaving everyone without context. The two of them packed the remaining’s of their food. Beverly pecked Ben's lips and whispered something in his ear before they left through the cafeteria's door, leaving the group in an awkward silence.

After a while, Stan sighed. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am. I don't like to see you fight, that's all."

"No one's fighting." Eddie said, poking his peas with the fork.

Stunned, Stan arched an eyebrow at him. "You're not?"

With a shrug, Eddie tried his best to explain. "No? I don't think so... There wasn't- we just-" He sighed.

"It's okay.” Stan said after the struggling. “You don’t have to tell us.”

Eddie nodded, shoulders slumped. “Thanks. Maybe one day I will…”

 -

 "I kissed him."

Beverly started to choke, Richie didn't know if it was on her own spit or from the cigarette she had been smoking the exact second he blurted that out to her.

"You what, now?" She managed to say through her jagged breaths.

Richie, still in his adrenaline state from the confession, told her again. "I kissed Eddie." Then, he let his shoulders slump defeat.

The moment Bev's lips broke into the hugest grin, Richie grew so embarrassed he turned around from her and kicked the brick wall that belonged to the gym's outside. Beverly was on him in an instant, pushing him away from the wall so that she could face him from the front again, cigarette now stepped on the ground.

"No fucking way." She was beaming at him, eyes all sparkly. "I'm so proud of you, holy shit." Richie, very much red faced, stared at her in disbelief.

"Uh... I don't know how to ask this without sounding insensible but... Are you blind? Deaf? Suffered from possible brain damage?" Her smile slowly started to fall, Richie felt like a jerk. "Bev, my love, guess why we're avoiding each other."

"Gee, thanks, I'm not that stupid." She looked at him with fake annoyance.

"But..." Richie moved his hands aimlessly. "Then why the hell are you proud?"

"Because!" She exclaimed, smile back on her face. "Rich, I'm gonna be honest. I never thought you'd grow balls to do that."

Richie gaped like a fish, his skin somehow feeling more and more hot with every passing second. "Alright, that's valid."

Beverly slapped him on the shoulder. "C'mon, tell me the nitty details."

Richie shook his head and switched his weight on his feet, always finding new ways to fidget in place. He closed his eyes then, so as to not see her face when he said. "I basically tackled him... Oh god. Bev, fuck. It was a fucking mess." He sighed and threw his head back to look at the sky. "I cried like a baby..."

Everything was quiet for a moment, Richie didn't dare to look at her. He felt her hands resting on both his shoulders again. It made him relax.

"I'm sorry, Richie. You don't need to tell me, but you can, if that's what you need."

Richie exhaled through his nostrils and moved around her body without looking at her eyes, or he'd grow embarrassed. He sat down on the gravel, feeling the brick digging onto his back.

He sighed, determined. "I left with him on Monday, after we dropped you off at home."

Quietly, Beverly sat down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. She stayed silent, a sign for Richie to continue.

"I... I don't know what came over me, but I was so happy. We were all so... so us. You know?" She hummed in agreement. "And, and I felt like, I needed to say something, Bev. I needed, or I would explode, you'd be seeing my guts around Derry for months." She actually laughed at that. Richie smiled despite his troubled emotions. "We argued in his room, as I told you.” A pause.  “I think-” He fell silent for a long time, Bev listened closely to his breathing.

 "I think Eddie knew I was going to do something like that, so he tried to stop me." Richie gulped down the tiny knot in his throat. "That's when I ..." Bev grabbed one of his shaking hands. "And then I cried while we were-" Richie chuckled poorly. "Who the hell cries?"

"Richie, there's nothing wrong with crying." Her voice was soothing.

"Yeah, sure." He laughed. "You wouldn't get offended if someone kissed you and then burst into tears?"

She lifted her head and looked at him unamused. "We're talking Eddie here, dickhead. It's not like you two are strangers." Richie shrugged, unconvinced. His waterline was burning.

“That’s not my point, Bev.” He shook his head and let it fall against the wall. “I shouldn’t have done it when he clearly didn’t want me to.”

“Okay, and how do you know he didn’t?” With a groan, Richie kicked his legs out in front of him in a childish move. Beverly poked his side gently. "Can I ask you something?"

Richie didn’t say anything, so she kept going.

"Eddie kissed you back, didn’t he?” At a loss of words, Richie squealed when he started to feel way too warm again. “See? That proves my-”

“-I know, I know! But I also know what he said to me after and that’s what matters in the end.”

“What matters is that you did something that clearly turned Eddie’s world around.” Richie slumped a little onto the wall. He was feeling a little lost, so he looked at Beverly and waited for an explanation.

“You made him experience something that he doesn’t know how to deal with. I think he needed this push, Rich, he can’t run away from what he feels now.”

“Unless, of course, he never talks to me again.” His tone made it sound like a joke, but Beverly saw right through it.

“Above anything else, Eddie is your best friend. He will come up to you, it might just take him longer.”

Richie didn’t feel the need to say anything else. He just sat there in silence, feeling way lighter now that he finally talked to someone. He looked at her, thankful, and Bev knew it was time to drop it.

Richie only broke the silence after six full minutes.

“Can you give me a stupid cigarette now?”

 It was only hours later, when he was on his way home after band practice with a stomach full of homemade orange cake that Mike's mom had baked so kindly, that Richie got a clearer mindset on how to feel.

Ever since it happened, he had been stuck reliving Monday's night, completely unable to put it out of his mind for a second along with the stress that it brought. But today, for the first time, it faded away for a while. He didn’t know if it was because he opened up to someone, but he suspected that that had helped.

It was a weird explanation, and it confused him, too, but if he had to put it into words... It felt like... like he got to the top of a mountain. The way up there was rough, unpleasant. Now, he waited for the outcome, it wasn't up to him to decide anymore. (That was Eddie's job.) Richie either got to stay at the top, or he'd come tumbling down in an even harsher way than the climb. He'd let his body rest at the base, if that was the case.

It was done, there was no going back. He was waiting, because he did what he could, and now he was in this exquisite dullness until the outcome came slamming onto him.

Dull is good, neutral, he could deal with that. Even if his eyes still held hope and sadness when he biked his way home and had to cross Eddie's street. Yeah, he could deal with that, too. He had to.

 -

 It wasn’t supposed to become a self-destructive routine, but that was the only way Eddie could think to describe this. This, being him standing in front of his bedroom’s mirror trying to do something he wasn’t really sure would even work. He was starting to feel stupid and pointless. But still, it was the third night he stood here, quiet, unspeaking and judging himself in endless, soundless ways.

It's the third night he had to look at the childish knobs, the third night he had to stare at his reflection, and the third night he couldn’t help but search for every minor physical similarity he had with the woman who’s currently sleeping on her old recliner, downstairs. So, to put it simply, Eddie has been having the worst possible nights of his life.

His intentions were for this to be the last one.

For a different approach, Eddie started by looking down at the pale wood of his dresser instead of his own face. It was an easier confrontation. Then, he thought back to that first night when Richie found him asleep on his own desk. On that same night, Richie had said what Eddie was trying to, right now. He simply blurted it out, no hate, no disgust attached… It might have been thrown in on a joke, but it still mattered. Eddie could always see when Richie’s jokes were plain bullshit, or when they brushed reality under his breath.

He remembered so vividly waking up to the sound of the window knocking, his heart rate picking up while he locked the door, the breath of fresh air that entered his lungs when he stepped out onto his own roof.

‘The roof.’ Eddie thought suddenly, his neck straightening. He stared in the mirror, but instead of staring at himself, he looked at his window’s reflection, where the night stood, outside. Eddie gave one last, shaky breath before turning around and going straight to his windowsill. He unlocked it slowly, as little noise as possible, and tried not to shake too badly as he stepped onto the rooftop tiles.

There were always more places to find yourself in besides a reflection, and this was one of those places. Richie taught him, without the mean to, that this roof could be a refuge from all the things that happen inside his home.

He allowed himself to take in the night sky, the night scent and the night’s peace. The moon looked tiny tonight, but Eddie felt big for a change. He locked both knees close to his chest and hugged both legs with intertwined hands. Lastly, he inhaled profoundly, closed his eyes, and started off by inwardly practicing the same speech he has been planning to say out loud.

‘You kissed Richie.’ A gulp.

‘You kissed another boy.’ A grimace.

“That’s fine.” Eddie eyes opened in shock, surprised that it fell out of lips without him trying to.

“You’re okay.” He tests the waters, his voice so weak it couldn’t be heard by anyone who tried. Eddie attempted to clear away the knot in his throat. With his premade speech forgotten, he decided to let his lips figure things out word by word. The whispers, although small, sounded stronger than Eddie as ever felt.

“You need to fix things and, and you’re normal… and you have feelings- so, what? Everyone does, that means you’re normal. You kissed a boy and it was Richie you liked it and that’s normal.” Eddie took a deep, unsteady breath and laid his body backwards so that he could stare at the sky. His hands fell by his hips, whole body tense but brave.

For the next words, however, Eddie did have to think and reform and rephrase for at least a couple of minutes, even though they were just two. And when he spoke them out to the night, they were still so far from feeling casual. Barely audible both by choice and small, inevitable hiccups.

“…You’re gay.” He said in a wheeze. “I’m gay.”

He waited for the moon to turn into something evil, he thought he’d be hit with more horrifying thoughts. But all there was to it was silence and the occasional crickets chirping on the tree next to his house. Eddie felt the smallest of chuckles leaving his mouth. He stood out there for longer than planned, until he could control his breathing again and until he had said those two words a few more times. They didn’t feel more familiar by the end of the night, but Eddie knew they would, with time.

When he brought up his hands to wipe his wet cheeks, he could feel the indents left behind by nails digging on skin.

Finding himself was harder than he expected.

   Friday 28.05.1993

  They had lunch outside today because the sun heating up the surface of their skin felt too good to pass up.

It was weird for Richie that his food, for the last week, could be considered a regular meal. No one had commented on it, but they still asked him if he wanted to eat whatever it was they couldn’t finish. Richie declined, but he didn’t pass up on the half jelly sandwich Ben offered today. It was homemade jam, c’mon.

He stretched one arm over the table to accept it over from Ben, who was sitting on the same bench, but in opposite edges. Richie didn’t do it on purpose, but his eyes automatically travelled to the spot where Eddie was sitting, in front of Ben. He almost dropped the sandwich when he saw that Eddie was already watching him with a fond but small smile.

Sadly, said smile dropped as if Eddie had been caught doing something wrong, but Richie beamed back in his direction, maybe too much teeth, before taking a huge bite out of the bread. He saw Eddie’s eyes light up in the slightest, but the boy still looked down to his boring food.

The conversation around the table was flowing easily, the little argument from yesterday forgotten. Richie ate in silence with his eyes trailed either on the table, or on Stan, because looking at Stan was entertaining. There was always something to be noticing. He couldn't decide if he should chance it to look up in Eddie’s direction again, but there wasn’t a chance to choose. Richie’s eyes moved without his consent and landed on that same spot. Surprisingly, Eddie was still looking at him as if he was searching for answers while eating from the little container he brought filled with cherries.

He must have been lost in thought because it took him a fairly long time to react this second time. Richie stopped chewing when Eddie’s eyes widened slightly. With worry, he watched as Eddie bent himself over the end of the table and turned around to start coughing aggressively onto the patches of grass beneath their feet. He was choking.

Bill, who was sitting by Eddie’s side, gave one heavy slap on his ribs from behind, causing Eddie’s body to hunch forwards and almost fall of the bench.

'Don't laugh. Don't laugh.'

“Fucking hell, Bill.” Eddie cursed under a rough, grating voice while turning back up to the table, all red-faced and massaging a hand on his chest. “No need to kill me, it was just a stupid seed.”

In the midst of all the chatter and checks to see if Eddie was actually okay, Richie was having a hard time not making a joke about popping a cherry out loud. He snickered through his mouthful of bread and peach jam, and Eddie turned his head to look at him with fake offense.

“Don’t you dare laugh at my disgrace.” Eddie tried to throw a cherry in Richie’s direction but, at the same time, he fell on another coughing fit that had him miss the target. The cherry fell on Bev’s lunchbox instead.

Richie barely heard her complaints, too focused on Eddie’s features and laughing. Eventually, everyone calmed down, Eddie could breath normally again, and Richie was left smiling dumbly at the almost finished sandwich.

It didn’t matter to Richie whether he climbed that mountain in vain or not. As long as he could stick around to witness that smile everyday, there was nothing else he could ask for.

rooftop taglist:   @richietoaster   @rainydayriots   @reddieloves    @thetrashmouthclub   @lemonboi03 @noodleboyshane    @pillsandglasses   @studpuffin      @dandelion-stan     @reddiesetrichie     @squishynonbinarytwink      @itschunky      @burymestanding     @duderrific    @its-rye @salty-kaspbrak  @youtubequeens   @reddieseggrolls   @addimagination   @pastelstozier @sleepysirenprincess @constantreaderfool   @mrs-vh @eds-trashmouth

perma taglist:  @constantreaderfool   @mrs-vh  @eds-trashmouth @girasol-eddie

[hollandroos]

Heaven and Hell | Extra Moment

King Of Hell!Tom X Fallen Angel!Reader

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 A collab with @thewiseandfree

Summary: Who would’ve assumed that heavens little angel was The King Of Hells soulmate?

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: Sexual themes but it ends before it can get really smutty.

I apologize in advance if the read more tab doesn’t work on mobile!

We are working on the final chapter! but neither of us were feeling like working on that night so I wrote this up!

You stood outside of the throne room, hand on the door handle as you listened intently. The guards didn’t step in at all, in fact, it was as if you weren’t even there sticking your nose into your kings business. By now they knew better than to lay a hand on you, even telling you what to and not to do was off limits and to say that it made you feel… weird, but that was an understatement.

Your whole life you’d been the one getting told what not to do, scolded for simply stepping out with your wings exposed and kept on house arrest but now you practically owned the palace. The people here were afraid of you, sure, but they also worshipped you.

“I don’t care!” Tom boomed, the walls shook. “You went behind my back, did something you knew you shouldn’t have done. You think that I can let you off of the hook for this? The other demons will be outraged if they find out.”

While others were terrified of Tom when he was angry, it excited you. He held so much power and it was enough to have you wiggling around in your seat, or in this case, bottom lip between your teeth and hands growing slightly clammy.

“Then don’t let them find out!” Harrison shouts back. “I knew that if you found out something like this would happen! If I could’ve I would’ve kept her a secret forever.” Harrison spat, anger getting the best of them. The two demons fought like this a little less than frequently, but they always forgave each other in the end. “What’s the difference between her and Y/N?”

“Don’t you dare bring her into this! You know this she’s different.” If this was any other demon, they would’ve had their head torn off by now. But not Harrison.

It was kind of sad really, Harrison was deeply in love with this angel- whoever she was but there was no way he was going to win this debate with Tom. He made it worse by sneaking around behind his kings back- breaking his trust and possibly their friendship. You, however? You could try something else to help him get his way.

Tom breathed deeply, hands digging into the side of the throne. “Can you escort yourself out or do you need the guards to drag you out?”

The whole kingdom- all of hell, in fact, could feel his anger. When the king was angry Hell grew hotter, almost unbearably hot for someone that wasn't already used to the heat. The floor would shake and sometimes cracks would form and while this is only a rumor, one you happened to believe in fact, apparently once it rained sparks.

The door swung open and a red-faced Harrison marches out, black eyes meeting your wide ones and for a second he thinks about storming passed, too angry at the world to start any kind of conversation but instead he just says, “He’s pissed, might want to wait before you speak to him.”

You shake your head already forming an idea. “I’m fine, thank you though.”

You swore that some of your angelic qualities would never leave, such as your desire to use your manners consistently or walk so softly, so carefully that the demons never saw you coming until you were directly behind them.

Harrison walks off and you step into the room, the guards closing the door directly behind you with a loud bang.

“Tommy,” You hum gently, padding closer to your love.

He looks up, eyes still jet black and wings extended to their full capacity. You feel like a deer caught in the headlights under his watchful gaze. “How much did you hear, princess?”

His hungry eyes run over your figure, the black dress you were wearing see through in certain places, a trail of lace following closely. The dress hugged every inch of you, highlighting every curve and making you look like a real queen. His queen.

You shrug like it was nothing as if the previous argument hadn’t just happened. “Everything from the angel to you threatening to kick your best friend out of hell. You can be very mean, you know.” The last part is partially a joke, partially. This was the king of Hell for crying out loud. He was mean to everyone that wasn’t you.

“Hmm, nosy aren’t you?” Tom chews on his bottom lip, knuckles turning white as you stalk forward. The lace following with every step.

“I’m not nosy, just curious. Besides, I could practically hear you from the library. It’s a little hard to read with the two of you going off at one another.” You place yourself in his lap, the large, golden throne the perfect size and you fit almost too perfectly, like a puzzle. Sure- the pieces were a little tattered and worn but they still fit together.

Tom grunts, one hand going to your waist. “I can’t believe him.”

“Have you met the angel?”

You were always the clear-headed one and while Tom loved it, he hated being proved wrong and in this situation, he knew he was wrong. Somewhere, deep down. It was just going to take some convincing.

Tom shakes his head. “I don’t want to.”

You face him from your spot on his lap, body twisting at an odd angle but you could see his face now, from his eyes that were back to their familiar toffee brown to his tousled coffee curls. “Do you forget that I was an angel too once? That my wings were once white?”

“You were never a full angel, darling. You were always meant to be mine- to be a queen.” Tom licks his bottom lip, sticking it between his teeth for a moment and you huff like a child that had just been told no. Tom uses his hand that was on your hip to draw soft circles.

“Hm. But I was still an angel.” It’s true, you were born and raised in heaven. “I know that Heaven is an awful place but not everyone is cruel down there. She may be one of the nicer angels.”

Tom gives you a glance which tells you all you need to know. “From what you’ve told me, all angels seem cruel.”

You huff, frustrated by his stubbornness. “Tommy, to anyone in heaven you’re cruel.” You wriggle around, the material of your dress oddly thin. You could feel everything beneath you. Everything. “Maybe I just didn’t get to meet her? I didn’t go out often.”

“Don’t remind me.” He hisses, not wanting to remember the people that made your life a misery. His eyes grow black with anger and you lean in, kissing Tom slowly for a few moments. He tasted like fresh berries, something the King had been eating a lot since you came around. You’d never get tired of this.

By ‘this’ you meant Tom, a man that loved you and made that clear. You hum in contentment, lips making their way to his neck as your hands trail up and down his biceps. “Haz seems really in love with this girl. We need to give her a chance.”

“Well, I’m fucking not. I don’t trust anyone from Heaven that isn’t you.” He tries not to react to your touch, but his hands that were tightening on your waist spoke for themselves.

You resort to plan B. “What can I do to convince you to give her a chance?”

“I assure you, darling, there is nothing,” Tom smirks, noticing your frustration with the situation when you remove your lips. For a moment he thinks that he won this. You allow him a moment to get cocky, a smirk covering his features faltering when he see’s you eye him up and down.

“Are you sure?” Your fingers brush over his chest, drawing down his chest until they hit his belt. “Nothing, my King?”

Tom shakes his head. “Absolutely nothing, angel.”

You slide off of his lap, Tom removing his hand from your waist in the process and he watches as you, curious to find out what exactly you were planning to do. Your sex life together had been pretty much the same since your first time together, you were still adjusting to things and Tom was nothing but understanding.

So he definitely didn’t expect you to lower yourself onto your knees in front of him, looking up through innocent eyes as both of your hands went straight to his pants, fingers working on the belt.

Tom was torn between smirking and telling you that you didn’t have to do this because while he wanted this- gosh, he really wanted this, he also didn’t want you to do something that you weren’t comfortable with.

“You know you don’t have t-” He stopped, feeling one of your hands palm him overtop of his jeans. His fingers went back to gripping the side of the throne. His pants were growing tighter and any trace of anger after his earlier conversation was long forgotten. All he could focus on was the way your palm worked the growing tent. Whatever Tom was about to say disappeared.

You were delighted with his reaction, yet still new to all of this you had no clue what to do next. It wasn’t until Tom Threw his head back, lifting his hips a moment you presumed he wanted you to tug his jeans down just far enough for some of the tension in his pants to be released. Which you did without a moment's hesitation.

He grumbeled. “I think at this rate, princess, you’ll be getting your way.”

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[jessethejoyful]

part seven, we out

final part of my art school au <3 thanks for all the love and support guys it means a lot and helps me write more

shoutout to my girl @capnhap for the support and ideas (see: rooftop snowbaz)

read it here on ao3

SIMON

Applications for the fall student showcase are posted in the middle of November, outside the main offices. I had nothing from this semester that I felt like showing, nothing that stuck out to me like the ballerina had - but it occurred to me that I’d never seen any of Baz’s artwork in any of the student shows.

When I asked him about it, he balked immediately.

“I’ve just never gotten my application in on time,” he said stiffly, not taking his eyes off the anime we were watching. We were curled up on his couch, me sketching and him trying to do anything but work on art because his hands were cramping up badly, and I had just remembered seeing the fliers that morning.

There was half a foot of space between us, which I tried to ignore. Our toes kept touching.

“Well, now you have the time,” I pressed, dropping my drawing pad to the floor and leaning toward him. He made a clear effort not to look at me. “The deadline is in two weeks.”

I watched his neck move as he swallowed. “I - I’ll think about it.” As much as I wanted to keep pressing, I could tell he was already distressed. I don’t know where we stand exactly, and I wasn't ready to push my luck just yet.

Three days later, when I stopped by his shop for some tea, I brought it up again.

“Penny put in her app for the showcase today,” I said conversationally, leaning over the counter to smile at Baz as he dunked a tea bag in steaming water. His shoulders immediately tensed, and he looked away from me. “She’s pretty nervous about it, but I told her she’d get in, no problem. Like you would.”

He spoke through clenched teeth. “That’s not - the issue.”

That wasn’t what I was expecting. “Then what is the issue, Baz?”

His lip curled, and he practically shoved my tea at me. “What could I possibly put in? I hate almost everything I make after I’m through with it. I could never put anything in with good conscience.”

I don’t think I ever realized how critical he is of his own work. I cast my mind back, to the night when we’d slept wrapped around each other, and when I woke up the next morning. The ballerina, the one I’d thought he’d sold, perched in a corner of his bedroom. The only painting in there.

“The ballerina,” I said softly, and he paused in the middle of restocking lids, hand hovering in midair. “I know you love that piece, Basil. I love that piece. You should put it in the showcase.” I grabbed my tea and smiled at him, and it felt a little sad. “I won’t try to force you. But I think it’d be amazing for you.” I left with that parting remark, and then I don’t see Baz for two days, which was weird because by that point we were spending pretty much all of our free time together.

When I do see him again, I’m sitting by myself on the roof of our apartment, wrapped up in a pile of blankets and doodling idly in my sketchbook to keep my mind off of my animation presentation the next day. I hear a clatter as the door swings open, and I emerge from my cocoon to see Baz standing over me, looking shaken.

“I put in my application,” he says with no preamble, and I smile and try to push my way up, but he just drops down in front of me, grabs my face in his gloved hands, and kisses me roughly, sweetly. I'm surprised, but not unwilling, and I grab the collar of his jacket, laughing around the kiss.

“I’m really proud of you,” I say quietly, sincerely, when we part, breathing heavily. He presses his forehead to mine and doesn't say anything.

BAZ

They send out letters to inform the showcase applicants whether or not they got in. When I get mine, I take it to Simon, because I can’t bring myself to open it. We sit down together at his kitchen table - he says Penny is with Micah, celebrating her acceptance - and he carefully tears open the envelope and pulls out the paper, his eyes moving over the lines.

“You’re in!” he says excitedly, and I try not to slump with relief. “Told you you’d get in!” I roll my eyes at him.

It was hard explaining to him why I hesitated so much. It’s not that I think I’m bad (I know I’m quite good), but it’s different to submit your artwork to someone and have them tell you whether it’s worthy to be shown to other people. He doesn’t have the same anxieties as I do, and I could never really put the feeling into words.

Simon reaches across the table and takes my hand, squeezing it and grinning at me. I squeeze back, and his grin widens.

“What do you say we go out and celebrate too? Anywhere you want to go, on me.”

I look at him, and I'm thinking hard, about that offer and everything else.

“Actually, Simon…” I begin, tilting my head at him, “could we maybe just stay here and do takeout? I don't know if I have the emotional capacity to go out right now.” He looks shocked for a moment, then absolutely beams at me, and I'm blinded by it.

“Yeah, ‘course we can,” he says quietly, lifting my knuckles to his lips and kissing them lightly.

He pushes up and by me to find a menu, and I reach out as he passes me, because I'm useless and so fucking soft for this boy. He stops and leans over me, and I hook my thumbs in the loops of his jeans and drag him to me, practically onto my lap. His hand goes to the back of my neck and deftly pulls out the band holding it back, and I laugh as my hair falls around my face. I know he likes to run his fingers through it, and he does now, and his lips press to my forehead.

I was worried I’d feel more panicked if I got accepted, but here, in this little kitchen with this beautiful boy taking care of me, and me of him, I’m not panicking. I’m grateful, for the opportunity and for the people who helped me get there.

PENNY

The showcase was brilliant, and not just because I was apart of it (though that definitely helped - the piece I put in was easily one of my best, and everyone agreed). We all went together, Micah and I, Agatha, Simon and Baz, and I was surprised Simon agreed to go, since he didn’t even when his work was in it. I suspect I know why he did this time, but I didn’t call him out on it.

It was funny watching he and Baz flit around each other, like they were nervous of brushing shoulders or touching hands, when I know that Simon spent the night with Baz a few weeks ago.

He’d come into the flat late one morning, nearly noon, and I’d assumed he’d been doing another doozy in the lab. But he was grinning from ear to ear, bouncing on the balls of his feet and seeming far too awake for someone who’d supposedly been up the whole night and sporting wild hair that looked suspiciously like his bedhead.

“Hi, Simon,” I’d said, poking my head out of the kitchen door, and he spooked immediately, his eyes flashing wide. Startled, but also… guilty?

“Penny! Hi, Penny!” he said, way too chipper. I leaned against the door frame, wiping my hands on a towel, and stared at him. “Uh, how did your presentation go yesterday?”

My eyes narrowed. “It was fine. Stars across the board.”

His smile returned, but I could still see how sheepish he was underneath it. I know his facial expressions far too well.

“I’m so proud of you, Penny,” he said sincerely, and I wondered for a moment if I was just being paranoid. “You always do so well, and you’re such an inspiration to me.”

He was really laying it on thick. There was definitely something he was hiding, but then wasn’t the time to try and get it out of him. Simon is stubborn when he wants to be, he’ll just stick out his chin and not say a word, no matter how much I badger him.

“Thanks, Simon…” I lifted one of my eyebrows at him, and his grin widened to an uncomfortable size. It looked painful.

“I’m gonna go take a shower! I’ll talk to you in a bit!” And he disappeared into the bathroom. He turned up his music - he only listens to Adele when he’s in a really good mood - and I sat down at our little table, thinking hard.

That’s was when it me. He must’ve been with Basil .

I couldn’t believe he was hiding this from me. I guess I do give him shit for talking about the guy too much (“He wore a tank top today, Penny! A tank top ! I could see his shoulders !” - can you blame me for being tired of it?).

I went and hung out at Micah’s apartment the next day, and he just laughed when I complained.

“Did you ever think that maybe Simon’s embarrassed about it?” he suggested, stirring at something that smelled amazing on the stovetop. He makes us dinner every now and then, and I’m always blown away by his cooking. Thank God one of us can cook.

“Yeah, but, I know everything embarrassing about Simon! He doesn’t have any self preservation around me, he tends to just say whatever’s on his mind.”

Micah shrugged. “It’s delicate, Penn. You told me Si’s never had much of a relationship, so maybe he’s keeping quiet so he doesn’t hype himself up too much or start over-analyzing everything like you tend to stir up.”

“I do not!”

“You so do !”

I huffed out a breath, kicking at him from the chair I was in, and he laughed again.  “Fine, maybe I do, but it’s not my fault he’s picked up the habit.” My hair was feeling heavy, and I quickly tied it up on top of my head. “So he’s embarrassed. Or nervous. I guess that’s fair, but I can’t believe he’s managed to keep it quiet. He’s an awful actor.”

“Both of you do tend to wear whatever you’re feeling front and center on your faces.”

“Micah! I do not !” He looked at me over his shoulder, and I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Just let him come to you, babe,” he said, carrying the food over to the table and sitting across from me. “I’m sure they’re both still figuring out what they are. When Simon’s ready, he’ll know where to find you.”

I hate it when he’s right.

SIMON

It’s nearly Christmas. Finals are over, but the closer we get to the holiday, the edgier I feel about the whole thing.

Normally I go back with Agatha to her family’s obnoxiously large house, because I love her parents like they’re my own. But Agatha’s got some kind of horse competition out of town (I’ve never understood the riding, and Ag’s stopped trying to teach me), so all three of them are going to be gone and the house empty. They tried to convince me to come with them, but I always feel so out of place among their posh friends, even when I’m kitted out in my best.

I tell them I’ll probably have to work anyways. And that’s true. Now that classes have ended, I’m getting more hours at work, and I know Anna is happy to have someone to split the time with. She was working practically double overtime before they brought me on.

Penny is going home like she always does, but I can tell she feels bad about it. I keep having to reassure her, over and over again, that I really am fine spending Christmas here on my own. I’m good at being on my own.

I start spending a lot more time on the roof of the apartment. It’s not fancy - some of the other residents have put plastic chairs up there, and Penny strung up fairy lights a few months ago, and they’re still up. That’s about all that’s up there. I like to haul up a pile of blankets and cocoon myself in a corner (I run hot, but I still get cold during our winters) with my drawing pad, just doodling whatever comes to mind until it gets too dark to see my paper. Then I’ll turn the lights on and doodle some more, until I fall asleep or manage to wander back downstairs.

The roof isn’t really to avoid Penny and her guilty apologies, but it’s a nice escape. She keeps sending me these furtive glances when we’re in the flat, so I’ll gather my things quietly and head up. Plus, I like the cold. It clears my head.

Clearing my head lately has been harder. I’m glad the stress of finals is over - I did well in all of my classes, so I don’t have to spend the break feeling bad about myself. But there’s the other, boy-shaped issue I’m constantly fretting about, these days.

It was precious, watching him at the showcase. We wandered around the gallery, not touching but almost, and I saw every time he cast a nervous glance over at his own painting. He never walked us by it, and I let him lead, but he kept a close eye on it and the people looking at it. I saw the way his shoulders tightened every time someone made a comment, but they were all positive, so he didn’t have a meltdown (“Look at those colors . So emotive.” “You can practically feel her pain.”). Even if he wouldn’t admit it, I could tell he was glad to be there. And I was glad to be there, supporting him.

We’re not dating. At least, we haven’t had a conversation about it, so I guess that means we’re not dating. I don’t even know how to breach that shit. Am I supposed to just look at him and go, “So you wanna be boyfriends?”

I can’t imagine those words coming out of my mouth. Until I’m sitting beside him, watching the way his face shifts when he talks, and I think maybe I could manage saying something as embarrassing as that. For him.

It’s late when the door to the roof opens and I’m startled, trying to dig myself out of my blanket hole to see who it is. When I finally manage to pop my head out the top, the first thing I see is Baz again, squatting in front of my pile, illuminated by the fairy lights and looking at me, clearly amused. He’s bundled up, with his hair hidden under a winter aviator hat, a scarf shoved into the collar of his coat, and maroon gloves covering his nimble, beautiful fingers. It’s kind of funny paired with his joggers and what looks to be a pair of thick, woolen house socks.

“Baz,” I croak, my voice weak from disuse. I’ve barely spoken to anyone today, I’ve been up here so long. I start struggling to get out of my cocoon, and he holds a hand out to stop me.

“Don’t get up,” he says quickly, pushing upright. “Penelope told me you’d be up here with your fort…” He rubs his neck, looking uncomfortable.

I tilt my head, peering up at him. “D’you wanna join me?” He looks relieved and nods his head, a small smile playing across his face, and it hollows me out. I start unwrapping layers, and he tries to help, but I don’t think he realizes how many blankets I have, and I see his hands actually shaking with cold.

We finally manage to get down to the base layer, and he awkwardly clambers down beside me, pressing against my side, and he seems unsure of where to put his hands. I take one of them and gently pull his arm around me, and he grins with a loud breath, helping me to close us back in. All bundled like this with only our heads out, we must look absolutely ridiculous, but really no one comes up here during the winter except me. And Baz, apparently.

“I was going to ask you how you weren’t cold out here,” he whispers, his breath coming out like clouds, “but now that I’m in here, I’m shocked you’re not burning up.”

“I prefer being hot to being cold,” I whisper back, and I’m not sure why we’re being so quiet. I clear my throat and say in my normal voice, “Are you cold still?”

He shifts toward me, and at some point during our ritual his legs hand ended up tangled with me. “A little. My face mostly, since it’s out of the blankets.” I lift my eyebrows at this, and carefully extricate a hand from the folds, and cup his cheek with it.

His little intake of breath nearly kills me. “How’s that? Better?”

“You’re like a fucking furnace,” he says impishly, and I’m glad he’s not trying to be soft right now, because I might just die on the spot. “How have you not caught yourself on fire by now?” But he does tilt his face into my hand, pressing against my palm, and I think I might love him.

That thought’s been occurring to me more and more lately, as we get closer and things start to feel less unsure between us. There are lots of things I love about him, from his pretty eyelashes to his full, stupid name (Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. He told me it last week, and I managed not to laugh for a full thirty seconds, which he said was actually impressive), to the way the bridge of his nose wrinkles when he doesn’t understand what someone’s asking him.

But I also think I might just love him, full stop. He’s so fucking good.

BAZ

The look on Simon’s face, that soft, adoring look, is just about my favorite thing in the world. Maybe the whole universe. I’m glad we’re not standing, because it makes my knees weak.

He is like a furnace, and under the blankets, it’s so warm that I’m actually comfortable. My face is hot where he touches it, and I savor the feeling of his skin against mine. I let myself enjoy it, because I know that he’s mine. I can see it every time he looks at me. I don’t know if he’s figured out that I’m his, that I have been practically from the beginning of this, but that’s why I came up here. To tell him so.

Penelope figured, when she opened the door to see me.

“Simon’s on the roof,” she’d said, thumbing upward at the ceiling. I saw Micah behind her, pop up over her shoulder to wave at me, and I waved back. “His cold tolerance isn’t human.”

“Oh, right,” I half-laughed, because my heart had been pounding as I’d expected Simon to open the door, and I thought I’d confess my love to him as soon as I saw his stupid face. “Thank you.”

I turned to go, but Penny spoke again. “Oi,” she said, her hand coming out to lightly grab my upper arm. I looked at her, surprised. “Just - you’re both idiots. I want to make sure you know that. And if the two of you start messing each other around, I’m going to beat you both within an inch of your lives. Got it?”

The smirk that rose up on my face was far too good-natured. “So noted.”

Wrapped around him now, warm for once in this appalling weather, all I can think is about the promise I’d made to Agatha, and now Penelope. I would never do anything to hurt him. And I’ll keep him from hurting himself, for as long as he’ll let me.

“Oh, you came up here looking for me.” Simon’s blue eyes bore into my own grey ones. He looks almost scared. “Was there something you wanted?”

I can feel myself backing down, something wicked and black in the form of my anxiety closing a fist around my chest. I fight against it, shoving it back, and slowly drop my head to rest my forehead against his shoulder. He must be practically eating the fur from my hat, but he doesn’t say anything. His arm just comes around my shoulders as he pulls me to him, and we stay like that for a while.

The stars begin dotting into place above us, even though they’re hardly visible through the city light pollution. But I know they’re there, even if I can’t see them, and they’re comforting, considering the whirlwind of emotions I’m trying to kick down right now.

I manage to lift my head, and Simon meets my eyes again, grinning with his rosy cheeks, ruddy from the cold. “Hi,” he murmurs, bringing his thumb up to stroke across my chin. And I can’t say fuck all, so instead I tilt toward him, and he tilts toward me, and our lips fit together like it’s the most natural thing in the world for us. Which at this point, it is.

Simon whispers my name, and it sends a thrill down my spine, and I kiss him again, and again, and again, and he’s everywhere around me, he’s everything, and it sends me reeling.

It starts as a muttered admonition, and he doesn’t hear me, doesn’t react. I trail my lips up to his eyes and kiss them shut, and say it again, just a little louder. “ I love you .” He freezes under my hands, his eyes flashing open, and I don’t back down, I don’t run away, because I know what he’s going to say when he opens his mouth.

“I love you, Baz, you shit,” he says, and I snort with laughter. “You shit, I was going to tell you that! You beat me to it!”

“It’s alright, Simon, I know you’re slow on the uptake.” He growls, but he’s grinning and it’s lovely, and he pulls me roughly against him, our lips meeting again in a messy lock.

Now that we’ve said it, we can’t stop saying it. We’re muttering it, shouting it, gasping it. We whisper it to each other, giggling like children, as we escape his fort of blankets and stumble back down the stairs. Kissing and tripping over each other, we practically fall through my doorway, trying not to make enough noise to wake the whole building. Not that we’d mind, or notice, either way.