#the dash is going wild tonight so why not drop this

[realcube]

SO SOAKED ༉‧₊˚.

wet n wild with hq men

characters ❣ sugawara, suna, oikawa, kageyama & atsumu (all ts!)

tws/tags ❣ semi public sex, fingering // tit jobs // flashing, praise // riding, slight degradation // vaginal — minors dni!

KŌSHI SUGAWARA always walks you home after a date, especially one that ended as late as it did tonight. unfortunately, half-way through the journey it began to rain. it was only a drizzle at first which is why you both opted against hiring a taxi, but before you knew it, the weather had escalated to a full-on downpour, resulting in you both having to dash home, using suga's jacket as an umbrella. it wasn't an especially effective substitute, you both realised as you stepped under the protection of your front door canopy, giggling at each other's drenched and dishevelled states. but something about seeing your hair dripping, clinging to your glowing skin and your long, wet eyelashes — so doll-like — tempted him. he leaned in for a good-bye kiss like he always does but this time, as your damp lips danced with his, while one hand cupped your cheek, the other wandered downwards, peeling up your dress so your ass was exposed. then, he slips two fingers right into your pussy, smiling into the kiss when you gasp, and roughly pushing you back against the door. "kōshi.." you whine into the kiss as he makes shallow and gentle movements with his fingers, "we should go inside." he exhales out his nose and continues to grind his wet body against yours, "let me make you cum first, sweetie."

RINTARŌ SUNA took you to a music festival, but he should've warned you first about the tendancy of people to throw their drinks around, otherwise you wouldn't have worn a white shirt. the incident caused suna to get a little damp too, but the issue was more pressing in your case as it caused your whole top-half to be see-through. the drenched fabric clinging to your supple chest, along with the sight of your cute nipples poking out had suna dizzy. you didn't want to ruin the festival experience for suna so you offered to go get dried up on your own, but suna was uncharacteristically keen to come with you. however, instead of exiting the crowd and leading you to a bathroom, he guided you to a wooded area adjacent to the festival. hidden behind a tree, he locks his lips with yours, which is surprising but you eagerly reciprocate. he parts only to meet your eyes and mutter while tugging at the bottom of your shirt, "why don't we hang this to dry?" you nod, and within seconds he's tore it off you, tossing it over a tree branch. for a moment he revels in the sight of your unobstructed tits. fumbling with his belt buckle, he uses his other hand to press down on your shoulder and you know to get on your knees. once it's free, he prots it against your cheek and smirks at how promptly you open your mouth, but he pulls away and shakes his head, "no, baby." he says, "with those pretty tits."

TOBIO KAGEYAMA doesn't understand how hot he looks after practise. what he sees is a sweaty, gross mess. but you see your ripped athlete husband, damp clothes sticking to his toned body, with shining skin and shallow breaths. it's reminiscent of his state after going for a few rounds, so it makes sense that it would turn you on. and although he is tired, kageyama is never going to pass up an oppertunity to screw you. he is laid on the bed, with one flexed arm supporting his neck so he can look at you, and the other clamped on your waist while you bounce on his cock. a sharp breath is pulled from him with each drop of your hips, and his eyes are fixated on your sopping pussy and how it hungrily swallows him up. "this needy, eh?" he comments through pants. you'd reply but you're too fixated on riding him, and trying to cope with ceaseless amount of pleasure his fat cock sends washing through you. "better make yourself cum on it." he grits.

TŌRU OIKAWA goes crazy when he sees you walking around the house, fresh out of the shower, in nothing but two towels. a big one to wrap around your hair, and a much smaller one around your body. so small it grants him a peek of your shining, perky ass with each step. he tries to wash away these impure thoughts with a shower of his own, but that doesn't work. he changes into his nightwear and you walk by him just as he is getting out of the shower, then gasp as he snatches the towel that had previously wore on your body, exposing you to the nippy air. instinctively, you use your arms to cover yourself, "tōru, that's mine!" you yell, watching him dry his hair with it. "oh, sorry, princess." once he's done, he holds it out and offers, "let me put it back on you." you pout and nod. lowering your guard, he saunters towards you and muses, "my gorgeous girl. you know what you do to me when you walk around like that." he puts the towel behind your back, but you lean in for a heated kiss before he is able to fully put it on you, hence he drops it. his hand grips at your ass while the other rubs betweens your damp folds, massaging your clit, "i should give you some attention, huh?"

ATSUMU MIYA knows exactly what you want when he comes home to see that you've run a bath. not just any bath either, one filled with rose petals and decorated with scented candles and glittery bath-bombs, while a romantic playlist plays nearby. and one that you've sunk into, completely nude, with your hair loose, which you know he goes nuts for. he playfully narrows his eyes at you, as he throws his bag down under the sink, "now, this is nice n' all. but i'm going to need you to use yer words, sweetheart." he says, while taking his jersey off, and you shrug. "i just wanted to do something nice for you. my hard-working husband." "so, you're horny." he chuckles, without missing a beat, as he slips into the bath with you, "luckily for you, my dear, you've been on m' mind all fuckin day. that tight pussy." he slurs, while idly circling your clit with his thumb, causing you to whimper. then, he leans back against the side of the tub and stretches his legs out, motioning to his lap, "get t' it." eagerly, you scramble forward, onto him and align yourself with his cock. slowly, you sink down onto it, the water gently waving as you do so. your eye squeeze tightly shut, a mix of pain and pleasure shooting through you and your walls desperately contort to accommodate his length. he's been in you so many times yet it's still so filling. he runs a wet hands up your waist, over your tits, mesmerised as droplets fall from your nipples. "so sexy."

[amethystfallenangel]

soda (pilot kelson x reader)

You groan, swatting the fly away from the counter. It's too hot behind this counter, you've been working long hours at this gas station. Customers are rude, impatient and in a rush. And you're stuck here, forced to be professional and patient. You've even gotten bored of your phone, so you dash it onto the counter, huffing and leaning against the boxes behind you, opening one button of your t-shirt because of the unbearable midday heat.

Suddenly, you hear the rev of an engine outside and the squeak of tires. Here we go again, another frustrating customer to make this infernal wait even worse than it already is. You pay no attention to the two customers who saunter into the shop, laughing obnoxiously, but as they stumble to the counter, you grin slightly. They're quite young, around your age, if not one or two years younger. One of them has a shaved mullet and wild eyes, with a loose tank top and a stupidly wide grin. He's busy checking out the bubble-gum selection, commenting aimlessly on each flavour. His friend, however, seems unbothered, his downturned blue eyes staring at you softly. He has messy hair, the brown strands sticking out weirdly. He fiddles with the zipper of his bomber jacket, offering you a crooked smile. He speaks to you in a slurred, clumsy voice, as if completely faded.

"What soda do you recommend?"

You sigh, smiling sheepishly.

"Uh, I don't know. Fanta, maybe."

He leans over the counter, clasping his hands, lifting his bushy eyebrows and gazing at you with his puppy-like eyes.

"You like citrus drinks?"

"Yeah, sure." His attempt at making conversation is terrible, but it's cute. You glance quickly at his friend, who is still rambling on to himself about the flavours of bubble gum.

"Citrus drinks suck. I prefer Coke, or Dr Pepper."

You nod blindly.

"Uh, yeah, we have Coca Cola too." You point to the fridges where the cold drinks are.

He narrows his eyes playfully, and then ambles off curiously, promptly returning with three cans of soda.

One Coke, one Dr Pepper and... a Fanta?

You tilt your head at him, a question in your eye.

His friend, who you later learn is called Jack, interrupts, still grinning.

"That's his way of asking you to hang out with us. Oh, I'll have the strawberry bubble gum too. Thanks, sweetheart." He places a 15 dollar bill on the counter, but before you can hand him his change, he skips away, whistling, back to the car, with his Dr Pepper and his bubble gum.

You're left with the droopy eyed young man, still leaning across the counter with a playful smirk. And of the soda, obviously.

You chuckle, twirling a piece of your hair from under your cap, as you lean across the counter yourself, your shirt a little too revealing for the young man not to smirk a little wider.

"So, soda boy, what's your name?"

"Why, you wanna buy me a drink?" he teases.

You chuckle lowly, glancing at your Fanta and his Coca Cola. Good come back. He's quite witty, clearly. And playful.

"Thanks for the soda, by the way," you hum. "I'm still on duty, though. I'm not sure I can hang out with you guys. I appreciate the offer, of course."

"We're in the nearby town till tomorrow, though," he croons, edging closer to your face. You shake your head, amused.

"That so? Fine, then. I could use a night out. You guys aren't serial killers or thieves or anything, right?"

He giggles, popping open his can and taking a sip.

"Would that make us more interesting?"

"Not exactly the word I would use. You still haven't told me your name by the way."

"Pilot. I'm Pilot Kelson" He holds out his hand comically.

"Pilot? That's an interesting name." You go to shake his hand, but instead he takes your hand and places a gentle kiss on the back, looking back at you with a loud laugh.

"You're very bold, Pilot. Or maybe just completely high."

"Does it matter?"

"I don't mind. Pick me up at 6 tonight, soda boy." You grin and then place a quick kiss on his cheek. His jaw drops in a cheeky grin, and he winks as he walks away.

Your shift was boring. Two more smug faced truckers came in for a few beers, nothing special. When your shift ends, a car is already waiting outside, and as you leave the shop, jamming the door for the next person to start their shift, the car headlights are flashing wildly, Pilot and Jack waving their arms frantically out of the windows. You giggle at them being unnecessarily noisy, wondering what on earth you've gotten yourself into. Your Fanta is still in your bag.

"Hey soda boy," you joke, as you get in the back of their messy car. His friend turns his attention to you, eyeing you up and down greedily, but somewhat respectfully.

"I'm Jack, by the way," he says, his eyes sultry.

"Nice to meet you, Jack."

You drive to a lively, crowded bar. Inside, there are road stop signs and buffalo skulls as decorations. It smells strongly of whiskey, tobacco and steak pies. There are multiple coloured jukeboxes, pool tables, booths and flickering warm overhead lamps. You know this bar well, you used to come here with your old man way before he became a trucker. You smile to yourself as you lean over the sticky, heavy oak counter and greet the bartender. Jack already seems to be in conversation with a cute blonde in a leather skirt. The pair choose a bluesy rock song on one of the jukeboxes. You order drinks and Pilot follows you eagerly to a table, leaving his friend with the girl.

"So," you say, biting your lip in amusement, "why'd you ask me to accompany you guys anyways? And why are you leaving so soon?"

He chuckles lowly.

"Actually, Jack was caught screwing some guy's wife in Las Vegas. We're basically just on the run, cus' the husband was a raging psycho who sent some guys after Jack. Oh and I asked you cus' I find you hot. And funny."

You snicker, almost spitting out your drink.

"Talk about be bold."

"Yeah, Jack works as a pool cleaner, so he didn't really care about leaving his job."

"And you tagged along? That's wholesome. What do you do?"

He scoffs, seemingly lost for words, before chuckling again.

"I'm technically a drug dealer."

Your eyes go wide. Well, this sure is an eventful day.

"Oh."

He leans back into his chair, flinging an arm around the back of your chair. You can feel one of his fingers brush your back and it sends a chill down your spine. He's starts to draw lines and circles on your back with his finger.

"You don't think less of me, though, right?" he coughs, gazing at your soft features with his lazy eyes.

You turn your head to face him, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. Your demeanour is calm, but you're a little flushed.

"No. I mean, you guys are a bit too wild for me, but I don't think less of you, no.

He smirks, the hand on your back sliding up to the back of your neck, to gently guide your head closer to him.

You playfully poke his stomach and he pulls back, groaning in annoyance, as he rolls his head back. Then, without a thought, you climb up onto his lap, so that you are straddling him. His head shoots up eagerly, his hands almost just as quickly moving to your hips.

You cup his cheeks as your noses almost touch.

"You're an interesting guy, Pilot."

"You mean 'soda boy'?" he laughs, his hips involuntarily bucking up into yours.

You gasp slightly, widening your eyes at him.

"Okay, soda boy," you tease, "show some restraint. We're in public, remember."

He leans in close.

"Then let's go back to the motel," he grins.

Leaving the car with Jack, both of you rush out of the bar, walking with incredible speed to the grimy motel where the two troublemakers have been staying for the past two days.

You both stumble into the motel room, as you slam him into the door. His hands finds the hem of your skirt as he tugs as it. You giggle, throwing you bag onto the carpeted floor. You both almost tackle one another onto the floor, rolling around, unable to keep your hands to yourselves. He manages to pry open the rest of the buttons of your t-shirt, as his body presses flush against yours. As he is peppering your neck with hot kisses, he kicks your bag, and your unopened can of Fanta rolls out. Pilot turns around to look at it, with an amused smile, and with his head buried in your chest, he mumbles "I might have to help you finish that drink."

"I thought you didn't like citrus drinks," you manage to say, between passionate kisses.

"I wouldn't mind trying."

You tug at his messy hair and he groans, although not in annoyance this time.

This is by far the most interesting one-night stand you will ever have.

[warmerthanhotcoco]

sweet as candy

Tags: Remus Lupin/Reader, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter, Remus Lupin & You, Lily Evans Potter & You, Remus Lupin & Marlene McKinnon, Gryffindor Reader, detention dates, because Remus Lupin is in detention, First Kiss, confessions (?), '70s Music, Marauders Era (Harry Potter)

Summary: Remus Lupin is sent into detention with Filch for pranking the Slytherins. Except Filch is never really there himself at detention so you slip into the trophy room to lend a hand to a friend. What if said friend becomes something more by the end of the night?

A/N: Had a Remus Lupin-obsession and a "Hooked on a Feeling"-addiction for a while now, damn it feels good to let it all out haha~ Hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading xx

The Hall was chaos tonight. So much so it almost sounded less like dinner and more like a bazaar. Young and intelligent Remus Lupin was known across Hogwarts for both his erudition and pretty face. Though he was only one of the many heartthrobs Gryffindor House boasted of, he was famously “the only innocent one from Potter’s lot”. The other fourth years had already agreed among themselves that Lupin will definitely be made Prefect next year.

Naturally, when people found out how McGonagall had dished out detention on the Golden Boy, the rumour mill of Hogwarts ran wild. Even the teachers (rather, especially the teachers) were shell-shocked. How and why Lupin was caught jinxing the Bludger right on the Slytherin’s practice day, they couldn’t fathom.

But you could.

“Honestly, Remus, you’d have saved your neck if you simply told the truth!” Marlene McKinnon shook her mane. “To hell with nobility!”

“The bloody snakes deserved it,” Sirius Black agreed. “You don’t have to be scrubbing bronze with Filch ‘cause of it!”

Remus simply shook his head in response, barely looking up from the book he had his nose buried in. “It’s already over with, Pads. I don’t mind it, really.”

“But this time it’s just you!” Potter whined. “If you’d just let me admit to McGonagall that you did it for a prank of mine, then at least we can both serve detention.”

“Honestly, Jamie. I can handle it alone very well, relax.” He held out his hand across the table to where you sat. You dropped a tart onto his scarred palm. “Thanks. No more arguments on this, guys, I’ll be fine.”

James Potter sniffed, picking at his food. It was true, Remus had been jinxing the Slytherin brooms and the Bludgers to help with a prank James had planned on the wretched rascals of the Slytherin Quidditch team. He had not counted on McGonagall walking past the Quidditch Supply Room on her way to the grounds… finding the door open… and then catching his friend mid-crime. This was not the first time Remus would be serving detention, thanks to his reckless friends. But this would be the first time he served alone.

In short, James was torn. Though really, you couldn’t comprehend what his problem was. The trophy room was always unlocked thanks to Peeves, it wasn’t too hard to slip inside to accompany a lonely friend.

Because that was exactly what you did.

“Where are you going?”

“Oh. Just… going for a walk?” You grinned anxiously.

Lily Evans chuckled. “A walk to the trophy room?” She waved a hand to shut your stutters. “Oh come on, y/l/n, I’m not daft. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

“…Oh.”

She stifled a laugh at your surprised expression. “Well run along, Longbottom’s on Prefect patrol today.”

Every Gryffindor knew Frank was the sweetest friend to all: he almost never told on a housemate. Perfect. You waved good night to Lily before dashing out the dorms, tiptoeing out of the common room and striding down the hallways to Filch’s trophy room. You didn’t bother knocking, slowly slipping the door open. Remus was there on the far end of the room, humming to himself as he rubbed a cloth on an ancient cup.

It wasn’t until the door creaked shut that he looked up. “Oh. Y/l/n? I didn’t know you were in detention too?”

“I’m not as stupid as you, Lupin,” you chuckled. “I just… dropped by to check on you.”

“… It’s past curfew.”

“I am aware,” you slid your fingers along a line of medals on the wall. “What’s that song you were singing?”

“Humming,” he corrected with a smile. “Born To Be Wild.”

“Steppenwolf?” You cocked an eyebrow in amusement, Accio-ing over a cloth to start scrubbing the dusty medals. “Didn’t think that would be your taste.”

“It’s less taste and more… meaning,” Lupin shrugged with a mysterious glint in his eyes. “You don’t have to—“

“I just want to help you,” you tossed another cloth at his face to shut him up. He let out a bubbly laugh and caught it before going back to his own work. “Meaning huh… Meh, I still prefer something more dance-able.”

“Dance-able?” Lupin chuckled. “Is that a word?”

“It ought to be so I shall make it one,” you grinned nonchalantly.

“Name a dance-able song that fits Your Excellency’s tastes.”

“Hm... Hooked on a Feeling?”

Lupin turned to you with raised eyebrows, fingers slowly rubbing along the rim of a cup. “Just because it is dance-able? Or…”

“It has meaning to it, I suppose. I’m…”

“Hooked on a feeling,” Lupin bobbed his head to the beat you hummed.

“I’m high on believing…”

“That you’re in love with me.”

“Who knew Pretty Prefect Lupin was a singer,” you smirked. Hearing no laugh in response, you looked up from the cabinet of medals to find the boy silently staring at you. His head was tilted by an inch, like a pondering puppy. His eyes twinkled like he had just discovered something truly interesting and amusing. And he was smiling: that tiny tip of his lips that often signalled he was really liking said discovery. It sent a shiver down your spine, but also pleasantly churned your stomach. This is it, you told yourself. Time you pulled the line Dorcas had been nagging you to use at some point in life. “Like what you see?”

“I very much do.” The smile grew a millimetre wider. Goodness the room was bloody hot—

Click. Creeeeeeak… Snap. The door opening and closing on its own made you jump out of your trance and shoot a hex at whatever terrifying spirit was— “Oh. Potter. Have you not heard of bloody knocking?”

James pulled off his Invisibility Cloak, tucking it away and muttering the counter-hex on the attacked Sirius. “Have you not heard of patience?”

“I’m the best at Defence for a reason,” you stuck out your tongue. “What are you doing here?”

“I do believe that is for us to ask,” Black raised an eyebrow.

“I...” You averted your eyes back to the medals, shutting the cabinet and moving onto the shelf of glass prizes. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m here under detention too.”

From the corner of your eyes you could see Lupin paused in his attempt at reaching a high shelf, before casually proceeding. Phew.

“Oooh interesting,” Potter skipped over to you. “What did you do?”

“Encouraging Peeves to hit patrol Prefects with muffins.” That wasn’t a lie: you had done that, just that Prefect Lupin was the one who caught you so you never really got detention. “I suppose you two are here for moral support? Where’s the mouse?”

“Funny you should call him that,” Potter grinned subtly. “Pete fell asleep early.” His voice trailed off when Black tugged on his sleeve. James looked around to meet Remus’s eyes: the Prefect was signalling something to him. Something you didn’t quite understand but… you could surmise well. “Oh, right! The homework, yes, yes, Merlin, I forgot. Do we have to submit it tomorrow, Pads?”

“Yep.”

“We really should go finish it then…”

“I’ll write yours for you, Remy, you wrap this up quick and come get some sleep.” Sirius shot him a wink, mouthing ‘Have fun’ before dragging James outside and shutting the door.

Your eyebrows had reached your hairline by now. “… What on Earth was that about?”

Lupin shrugged, a half-smile on his face. “The not-so-true answer? I reminded them of homework.”

“One that doesn’t exist. In case you forgot, we share the same classes.”

He only grinned wider. “The honest answer? I chased them out.”

“Why?”

Both your dust-lined shelf and his greasy cupboard had long since been abandoned.

“Because it isn’t often that I catch a moment longer than five seconds with you, without half a House or my dear friends to butt in. Even rarer than catching you lying so smoothly.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “If I'd told them I was here to accompany you, they’d announce a wedding by morning.”

“And maybe I wouldn’t mind that.”

Good Godric did you want to wipe that self-satisfied, all-knowing grin off his face. Which you did. Gryffindors weren’t known for avoiding their impulses after all.

The grimy cloth lay on the shelf. There wasn’t much distance to close so it was only a matter of seconds you saw the pleasant surprise blossoming on his face before your lips met his. You waited for a response, which came fast: Remus cupped your face, returning the kiss all earnest and happy. His hair felt soft on your fingers. One hand raked through the golden strands while the other traced the scars across his face — all those jagged lines that only served to make him all the more handsome. He was soft and delicate, a thumb stroking your cheek, kissing so slowly and tenderly that you felt your brain and knees melting. It was nothing passionate, nothing even close to the X-rated literature Dorcas read: it was laced with all the chocolate he ate, and as gentle as the boy himself, as light and soothing as his hold on you. Merlin, he was so sweet.

It took a while for him to pull back, still not letting go of your face. “‘Lips as sweet as candy’ indeed,” he was grinning oh so merrily. “Your stash of Honeydukes jars is paying off.”

“Says the one who literally tastes of chocolate,” you quipped before gulping at how… odd that sounded.

He laughed at the fierce blush that painted your ears. “You spend too much with Dorcas, love. A— I meant— …Sorry.”

Oh, the delightful squirm in your tummy. “No, I like the sound of that.”

“Oh do you now?” He snickered, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Good. Though we really should wrap this up, love.”

His grin was contagious. “Well… you’re the one in detention, forced to clean by hand,” you said, pulling out your wand. “I’m not.” With that, you pushed away from him, going about the room waving your wand at the different shelves and cabinets, cups and medals, trophies and awards, Scourgify-ing some and using polishing charms on others. Over ten minutes later, you wiped your brow and turned around, blushing at the way Remus was watching like you had hung the moon. “What?”

“Surely I get to stare as much as I want now,” he walked over.

“I suppose so…”

He placed a chaste peck on your lips and held out his arm. “Come on, before Sirius comes looking for us and Lily has to save us all from McGonagall.”

You laughed and walked out the door, hugging his arm closer when a Prefect passed by. Privilege number one of being a Prefect’s partner: you get to walk around wherever, whenever, as long as it’s with them. You bit your lip, realising you had just called yourself Remus’s partner. Oh well, nothing wrong about it… “Remus.”

The boy’s footsteps stuttered for a bit at the first name. He turned to you, beaming wide. “Yes, love?”

God this was wonderful. “Why do I have a bad feeling Dorcas and James will be exchanging galleons with Sirius next morning?”

“…They definitely betted on this.” And Sirius definitely betted against it being the clingy prick he was, but neither of you needed to say it aloud. Instead, Remus held your arm closer, warily grousing, “Breakfast will be fun.”

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Thranduil and Josie- The Red Carpet Part 2

Important summary: Halloween 2022. The red carpet pre-party continues with photos galore! Lestat's Halloween masquerade ball is hosted by none other than the dashing Marius de Romanus. This is a two part chapter and all just for fun and is not really taking place before the party. I just thought that with all the doom and gloom, the readers could use some light and even some comedy. So, Enjoy the show and all the amazeballs attire I have dressed our characters in! Remember, the characters are Lestat's guests and only have access to his wardrobe which is his stockpile of mainly gothic attire over his centuries. He does not collect elven garments as vampires despise the sprites, although I think he may have a growing secret soft spot for the Elvenking. Have fun and be sure to comment on your favorite outfits!! (Mine by far is Louie, Lestat's brat cat, who I have given a "special" power to. I mean, to be fair, everyone else has some, so why not him? After all, he IS a vampire's cat.)

NOTES: PLEASE READ! All of my artwork is for pure entertainment. They're far from perfect as I am no photo shop expert so I am sure you will find flaws. If you like any and want to share or use them in your fic for some reason, please DO! I will not be a snot about it and harass you like one has done to many others, myself included. There is always someone that has to suck the fun out of everything. A fun sucking vampire per se.......like Raven lol.

*Language, sexual references, angst, SMUT*

All Hallows' Eve 10pm.

The song "I'm too sexy" kept up in repetition as the photographers all swarmed the blue room when Thranduil and his Queen, you, entered for your photo shoots. Getting shots of the Elvenking was a rare treat and to see him in gothic attire was even more of a rarity as it was simply non existent. You were surprised that Thranduil was even allowing himself to be photographed in such appalling garments as that is what he thought of them, but as he said...he was doing it solely for you.

After your first one together was completed, Thranduil went into the dressing room and began changing in to his next one. The rooms had been pre-prepped with his and everyone's chosen outfits and was filled with wine which you knew your King was over indulging in at that very moment to ease his disgust. You about dropped to your knees when you saw him come out.

My god did this man slay black leather like no other could, you thought. Not even Lestat. And that little pop of the cherry red vest took the ensemble to a whole 'nother level of hotness. The press was eating this up. "That's it Thranduil, make love to the camera! Thranduil can you smile for us? King Thranduil, you're gorgeous baby...you're dashing, debonair and frankly quite delicious!"

Your core was spinning in ecstasy. If his next look was anything like this, you were going to have to be scraped up off the floor. Thranduil could hear your thoughts and reveled in them as he grinned at you.

Once he had enough of the constant flashes in his eyes, he went to change in to the next costume, which was the way he perceived it.

And "holy shit" was all that escaped your lips when he walked back out. More black leather slightly tinged with burgundy around the outer lining and half of the vest. And that damn belt buckle was staring you right in the face. You wanted to rip it off with your teeth. Yep, you were done for... and speaking of buckles, your King better buckle up for the wild ride he is going on tonight when you both have your own private after party. His eyes popped at your thoughts and he gave you a wink that screamed bring it on.

Even Louie was consumed with fascination of the Elvenking as he joined in for the viewing. Louie really seemed to adore Thranduil. What animal didn't? It was like he had this special connection with them and was even able to telepathically speak with them. It was like their souls were one.

Off Thranduil went to put on his last piece of wardrobe. Suddenly, a huge commotion took place just outside on the red carpet so you had to go take a peek to see who had arrived. Hopefully Haldir and Legolas who were going to get an earful from you for being late. When you saw....and smelled who it was, your heart dropped after it skipped 20 fast beats.... Garrett.

What was it with these men and black leather. You couldn't help yourself of gritting your teeth in pleasure seeing Garrett this way. A long black leather trench coat paired with a simple black tee shirt, black ripped jeans and black combat boots. The women were going ape shit and you could hardly blame them. "Garrett! Bite me! Suck me! Show me your fangs!" were only some of the sexual comments being screamed at the tall, dark and handsome King Garrett Lee. Even Louie was starstruck as he gazed up at his favorite long time buddy.

His molasses aroma swept through the air as he paraded down the runway with the bottom of his coat swaying like the boss babe he was. He spoke with Marius for a few minutes and then his eyes connected with yours as he glanced around secretly looking for you. It was no secret to you though, You knew that's what he was doing. He politely ended his conversation with Marius and bee lined straight for you.

"Hey little one. Long time no see. Damn girl, you are on fire. You look absolutely beautiful tonight, but then again, you always do." The look in his eyes was so genuine and they glistened of a sapphire blue, the same hue you saw the night he cried in your arms after revealing his past life to you. You had truly missed him.

You were speechless. All you found yourself doing was throwing your arms around him. Garrett gladly reciprocated and squeezed you tight. "You missed me that much huh?" he chuckled into your ear. "Well the feeling is mutual." The paparazzi were on this like flies on shit. Anything for a good scandalous photo which Thranduil did not need. You instantly regretted it and quickly withdrew your arms. Flashes from the cameras went wild as they swarmed around you and Garrett like vultures with 20 different questions shouting from 20 different voices. "What is the nature of your relationship with King Garrett? Are you having an affair? Are you sleeping with the enemy? What does Thranduil think?" You began to hyperventilate as they kept closing in around you and threw your hands over your face, then buried yourself into Garrett's chest.

"Back the fuck off! NOW! All of you....or you will be sorry." Garrett growled in such an ominous tone. You glanced up at him and his eyes glowed bright blood red. You were right before, when you suspected the red was a defense mode color...but it also seemed to be a pissed off warning hue as well and you knew he meant it. So did the screeching vultures when they saw his eyes. Gasps filled the room and all went silent as they scurried back like scared little mice. Garrett could have taken all 50 of them out in only seconds and they knew it. How stupid could they be, you thought, to push a vampire's buttons, especially that of a King vamp.

Marius and vampire guard zipped over like lightning scaring the bejesus out of you when he appeared out of nowhere. "Now now everyone...there is no need for such haste. Garrett, escort Josephine back into the blue room and I will handle this." The vexed vamp reluctantly submitted and walked you back with his arm over you like a wing, shielding you.

As you entered the room and looked up, there stood Thranduil who had witnessed the entire scene. "Thranduil!" you cried and ran straight into his arms. Your King glared at the other King.

"Josephine...it is time for you to go change." Thranduil snarled without taking his eyes off of Garrett.

"But Thran..."

"Josephine...glenn hi!" (Go now). You gave Garrett a worried look and then did as you were ordered. "Garrett....what an unpleasant surprise to see you here with your hands all over my wife."

"You saw what happened. I was protecting her. You're welcome by the way."

"I did not thank you. It would not have occurred if you had minded your distance."

Here came the press again as they were drama magnets. "Thranduil! Garrett! How about some shots together! Two King rivals next to each other. The fans will go crazy for it! Even better, bring in your wife for a threesome!"

Thranduil towered over the now shaking shutterbug. "I suggest you mind your suggestive words regarding my wife unless you want to find yourself begging for your worthless existence. Will that not be the story of the night? Pig-ignorant paparrazo falls at the mercy of the Elvenking. Great headline would you not say? I could even hold my sword to your throat giving all the others that profitable and memorable money shot as you would not be around to collect on it."

Garrett intervened to keep Thranduil from murdering the petrified photographer in the public eyes. "Come one guys....no one needs to lose their head over a few photos. Whatcha say Thrandy, let's humor them. I'm always game for a threesome." Garrett grinned from ear to ear and sped off to the men's dressing room to change.

You had came out just in time to catch Thranduil's serene display of rage. "Let's just humor them and take a few photos so they'll get off our backs and we can then go enjoy our evening."

"I was about to humor them until I was rudely interrupted." Thranduil then looked you up and down. "Such beauty you hold yet again. This will cost you tonight. I will not endure having my image displayed in the same photo with a vampire for free. It is challenging enough to be in a room consumed with the filth." Thranduil deviously grinned and watched his own fingertip trace down your chest and into your cleavage.

"Deal." You bit your lip as your eyes tauntingly peered up into his.

Garrett came out and the photo montage began. Thranduil only agreed to having one taken. His face spoke volumes on how thrilled he was. And then there was Garrett trying to intimidate Thranduil by staring at him in which he failed miserably at. Thranduil was not dissuaded by it in the least. You, on the other hand, were imagining all the scandalous headlines they were going to caption this photo with. "2 Kings in love with the same Queen"...or "An Elf, a witch and a vampire walk into a masquerade ball" or even worse yet "A Masquerade Threesome. King Garrett Lee says 'He's game'."

(The photo of Thranduil is not my edit)

Thranduil immediately headed off for the wine after enduring the worst 3 seconds of his life. Garrett then continued his own photo shoot. For his first one, a backdrop of a library was lowered down per his request. He certainly looked sultry and charming in the burgundy velvet jacket over a black frilled silk shirt and coordinating top hat.

"Would you grace me with taking a few photos together?" Garrett sweetly asked you.

Thranduil still had not returned from the dressing room so you agreed to do some. For the first one, Garrett changed in to a black velvet jacket but still wore the same shirt and pants. Another stunning combination, you thought. A backdrop was lowered of Lestat's castle with the glowing red full moon above and congruent windows.

(The photo of Garrett below is not my edit)

You then went to find another outfit and surprisingly found a pairing one to Garrett's for a woman but in black. Needless to say, he was enamored by it but decided to put the burgundy overcoat back on for that little bit of added color. The camera flashes went off like a strobe light. "Yes! Twinning. You two are smoking hot. Look at that chemistry! Unbelievable! Let's do one more kids and then I am told the Prince of Mirkwood and Marchwarden of Lorien have arrived."

Finally! you thought. What in the world took those two so long was beyond you, but deciphered it to be their constant bickering.

You and Garrett quickly changed and took the last photo that a dining room backdrop was displayed for. Garrett was dashing as always in a long sleeved black satin shirt and vest with a scarlet scarf resting around his neck and tucked inside the front of the vest. You sported a simple sleeveless black dress with your hair down and held a golden mask up to your face with black feathers attached, revealing only your eyes as you peered over it.

Garrett's eyes were now saddened. "Josephine. I am honored that you did this for me. I will cherish the photos always as I know that is all I will ever have of you. I must go now. The party's just beginning." He grinned and kissed your forehead, then slid into his long leather jacket and dashed away.

"Garrett!" you shouted as you ran to the doorway...but he was gone. You looked up at the big screen and caught him swooping into the ballroom and joining into a dance with his fellow vamps.

Your eyes then caught sight of something so magnificent. Haldir and Legolas all extravagantly dressed up and smiling at you. "Where in the hell have you two slackers been?" you huffed. "You missed the entire photo montage!"

"No we did not. We watched on the big screen after we strolled down the red carpet. There were too many fans and press to try and push through so we enjoyed it from afar."

"That still does not explain why you both were late. Thranduil is not happy."

"No...I am not." The King said as he appeared behind you. "This entire evening has been one tremendous headache and to add insult to injury, you two embarrass me by your unpunctual arrivals." Thranduil was right in your eyes. His image was reflected off both that of his heir and his closest confidant.

"I apologize Adar. The attire was...."

"Nonsense! Enough with this ridiculous babble. I do not approve of the attire as well but I have suffered it without revocation and so shall the two of you."

"Yes Adar." Legolas shamefully replied and went in to the blue room with a humiliated Haldir in tow. Damn did these elves look fine, you thought, but you didn't let Thranduil here your thoughts on that one. Haldir in particular. He would always hold a piece of your heart.

It was time for the two elves shine. Prince Legolas unwillingly went first. He wore a form fitting satin navy blue suit and tie with a leopard like print on it and held a coordinating top hat in his hand and...he totally owned it. He reminded you so much of Thranduil.

Haldir coughed and simultaneously whispered "blueberry." The shot that was taken was priceless as Legolas glared at the mischievious marchwarden.

"Haldir!" you reeled in a whisper and smacked his arm. "Legolas...you look so.....divine. I have no words. You are.....beautiful."

The Prince's eyes widened. "R..Really? You do not think I am joke worthy like Haldir seems to think?" Legolas asked as he gave Haldir another glare but this time with a confident smirk that you justified for him.

"Absolutely not! Pay no attention to holier than thou Haldir and go change for your next shot." you told him as you gave a scowl at your best friend. Legolas smiled and went on his was.

"Nice jo...real nice. I do not presume I am better than anyone else." Haldir huffed and took his place to be photographed. You had hurt his feelings and it was written all over his face.

Haldir did look quite ravishing, you had to admit. A black ensemble with a burgundy vest and a black cape long enough to cover his ass. White ruffled shirt cuffs that were only visible at his wrists made the outfit explode in elegance. You couldn't believe these two bitched about the clothing when they were completely rocking the goth attire.

Haldir pouted and went to change in to his next and came out minutes later with a matching Legolas. You were mind blown as were the photographers. "Twinning! Yes! You guys are both killing it!"

The only difference between to the two ebony satin suits and white shirts were the bow ties and belts. Yeah...you were secretly drooling.

"See! Look at you two! You both are like....amazeballs. And the twinning thing....sexy as hell!" you laughed. Legolas and Haldir glanced at each other with shy grins. Yandere Thranduil stuck his head in the air and peered down at you with squinted eyes for your comments. "Oh Thranduil. I meant nothing by it except that they look great. Do you not think they do?"

"Then why not just say they look great without the extra descriptive emphasis? They are presentable." That was all you were going to get out of Thranduil when he felt showed up. "

You snuck your hand under his long coat and grabbed his ass. "How is that for extra emphasis." you smirked. As Thranduil still held his prior form and eye position at you, a tiny grin curled on one corner of his mouth.

The elven boys came back for their last shoot. Completely twinning again and leaving you speechless.

Black and purple satin! Both different iridescent shades of the plum color and different styles of vests and bow ties.

"You guys! Purple! It is my favorite color....I am so amazed by you both right now."

"I feel like a giant eggplant." Legolas scoffed.

"What is it with you and comparing yourself to food?" Haldir snickered.

"Well...it is true. The black one made me feel like a stick of licorice."

"Now that you mention it, I can see the resemblance." Haldir chortled. "Just think...if you had been able to wear green...the jolly green giant climbing up his celery stalk."

Thranduil's eyes squished shut and his lips pursed. "Sometimes I wonder if either of you are worthy of the titles you hold." Off he went to guzzle another glass of wine. You looked at Legolas, then Haldir...and you all burst into laughter.

"Everyone, everyone! Can I have your attention please!" Marius proclaimed. "If you bring your attention to the big screen, I have a special guest via skype, that could not be here tonight due to lack of notice. An unusual but respected guest he is. We vampires keep our peace with him as he is favored for the mind fucking Dorwinion vintage all of middle earth craves. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you....the notorious, the infamous, the warlock we love to hate....Stephane Narcisse!"

The crowd roared and your jaw dropped. Thranduil's eyes formed into a tiny slit that offered him enough room to glare out of at his long time nemesis. Although the two were rivals and constantly throwing passive aggressive insults at each other, they still had a strange mutual respect for each other. Your thoughts were that Thranduil had to keep the peace so he didn't lose his imported wine contract, because as Marius truthfully described, it was the most craved, potent and mind fucking vintage in all of middle earth. A little bit went a long way no matter the shape or size of the consumer. Basically...moonshine, 151 rum and everclear all wrapped in up in a pretty wine bottle but tasted like grapes. And yet Thranduil could down it like a glass of water and then some. But the again, an elf's liquor tolerance was incredibly high....except for maybe Legolas'. That thought made you giggle as you remembered him announcing to your entire wedding reception room that he could feel tingling in his fingertips.

Stephane's distorted image appeared on the screen and then cleared. "Lord Narcisse....welcome to Lestat's masquerade ball. Happy Halloween!" Marius commenced.

"Thank you Marius. I am happy to be here for all Hallows' eve." Narcisse's voice echoed through the room.

"It seems you have a magnitude of fans here judging by their reaction. Tell us, what is it like there in the city of Dorwinion."

"Well Marius....it is like the NYC of middle earth. The city that never sleeps."

"And I am sure that keeps you busy for the party goers. The high demand of your wine is record breaking. So tell us...inquiring minds want to know. What is it like being involved in King Thranduil's orbit. I hear the Elvenking is your top client."

Narcisse was definitely dressed for the occasion as he sat in his foyer. Black leather pants and boots, a white undershirt that ruffled around his neck and a burgundy leather overcoat laced in designs of gold.

"Oh you know...the usual."

The fans laughed and cheered at his reply....so did you actually, but inside your head. He wasn't lying, you thought.

"So tell us then...how do you deal with such situations?"

"I struggle a lot."

"Oh? Selfish how? Do tell." Marius chuckled.

"What can I say? Be at that a warlock, I am still a man. I am not a soulless animal although some are."

"Are you speaking of your twin brother commonly referred to as Darken Rahl?"

"Respectfully, that is not something I am willing to discuss with you or anyone for that matter. I hope you all enjoy the festivities and my signature wines. It was nice chatting with you." Obviously Marius struck a nerve and Narcisse was cutting the cord. "Josephine...if you are watching. Cheers love. See you soon." Stephane took a sip of his wine and the live feed went dead.

You were dumbfounded at that moment and could feel Thranduil's fiery stare upon you. "Thranduil...I..I do not know..."

"I have had enough of this night." Off the King went making his way through the rowdy crowd. All you could do was chase after him.

"That....pompous...." Thranduil snarked and tore his overcoat off, tossing it across the bedroom and pouring himself a huge glass of his archenemy's dorwinion wine and downing it.

"Thranduil...I am sorry. I do not know what that was all about."

"It is not that difficult to translate. It was a provocative statement to me. He desires you and was making it prominently known. Spineless son of a ...."

"Hey!! Baby..stop. Do not let him infuriate you this way. My heart is yours and yours only. Now...I think it is time to find my genie and give him a good rubbing, yes?" you said as your hand grasped his cock.

"I think the genie needs more than rubbing." Thranduil's aroused pupils lowered down to you. "All those...threats you made for our after party...I am ready to partake in them."

"As you wish my King." You scooted a chair in front of the bed. "Stand in front of it."

The wicked grin that formed on his face was taunting. He did as you asked and with one swift shove to his chest, he plopped into the chair with a gasp escaping his smiling mouth. You reached under the bed and pulled out some rope that was secretly planned by you all along. Round and round, you draped it over him and tied his hands together. He didn't fight you one bit. It in fact turned him on desperately as his cock became quite known through his pants. He spread his legs with an inviting moan tumbling up his throat as he gazed at you in desire.

There your King sat, bound and tied before you with elven knots that Legolas taught you to do. Thranduil of course could easily break free of them....but he didn't want to.

You moved to stand between his legs. His head arched back to peer up at you as he held a "fuck me now" grin on his face. You slowly bent down and took his beautiful face in your hands, then pushed your mouth over his, leaving you both taking in a deep gasp. Your tongues slithered about each others and then you yanked away with a seductive look while he sat with his mouth still open and tongue slightly out. Your hands glided down his muscular arms as you dropped to your knees, then they found their way to his belt buckle. You undid it, then took his zipper down. The one thing that truly turned your core inside out was that he was commando. Just the way you liked it. Simple access. You worked his pants down under his ass and then he wriggled about to help you get them down to his ankles.

This was certainly an image you would never forget. Your King, tied to a chair with only a shirt on and his bottom half stark naked with a full attention cock twitching at you. You took down the top of your dress letting your breasts stare at him. Then, with one knee and then the other, you climbed upon him. Thranduil was trembling with the fact he could not touch you. He was at your mercy and god did he love it. Your hands rested on the back of the chair as you positioned yourself over the head of his throbbing member. "Josephine...." he mumbled with his eyes closed. "I...I could come right now."

"Save that for this." With that said, you pushed yourself all the way down on him, taking him in fully in one thrust. Thranduil's body jerked so hard, the chair slightly tipped like an old school swing set if you swung to high. You gripped on firmly to his hair with each hand and began pumping him.

Thranduil lasted about 10 seconds and began moaning your name. His hips slammed up into you as his summery fluids shot into you, which in turn caused your simultaneous release. Your nails dug into the back of his neck as you unwound.

"Untie me...now." Thranduil commanded with full blown black pupils.

You climbed off of him and did as he ordered. You no more than got the rope free of his hands and he hoisted you onto his waist as he stood up. He got to the bed and dropped you onto your back. You gasped in ecstasy as you hit the mattress. What a sight. A 6'5 elf standing over you between your spread legs with only a shirt on and bare naked from the waist down....and a raging cock pointing at you. He kicked his boots off, then his pants. Like a prowling lion, he slowly climbed over you, then with one swift thrust, his cock filled you up. You screamed and bucked as he began vigorously fucking you. With each jab to your inner core, it ignited your g spot. Swirls of color bursts swarmed your sight as you climaxed, screaming his name. The sound of his name shrieking from your lips triggered his release. Out came exasperating grunts from his mouth and erratic palpitations from his cock. His forehead laid heavily atop yours as you both gasped for air in the aftermath of your explosions.

Thranduil stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. "Well...now my love....we have a Halloween masquerade ball to attend."

Multiple scratches arose on the inside of the bedroom door. "Let me the fuck out!" You and Thranduil sat up in shock to see Louie's scarred eyes from witnessing your bedroom blitz................

*Stay tuned. The next chapter will pick up where chapter 81 (Paint It Black) left off as Josephine and King Thranduil enter the ball. Hope you enjoyed the show!! Thanks for attending! What a refreshing ride! My brain is now recharged and ready to take on the amalgam and series of unfortunate events. Brace yourselves. It's gonna be one hell of a wild night."

@redeemer46

Masterlist

[all-that-is-gold-is-now-gone]

Alicent had taken a seat near Daemon, her hands set gracefully in her lap, making sure to cover the red marks as best she could. She imagined he already saw them...she had thought about wearing gloves, but she never did that and was sure he would ask why. So she tried to ignore the aching of her nailbeds which had been torn raw the night before after a meeting with her father. He had spoken to her once again in the late hours of the night, pestering her about any word from Daemon, of course, she had none and had reported so to her father many times, although Otto seemed keen to keep tabs on her new husband. Now, low and behold here he was. Alicent could see her father now, already planning to summon her away tonight or something. To get a report on the Rogue Prince, as if Daemon didn't know his intentions already. Alicent imagined whatever they did speak about and what he did tell her wasn't ever completely true. She was somehow thankful for that, that Daemon never revealed anything Otto could squeeze out of her.

Alicent straightened a bit as Daemon spoke about their marriage, her father. His words echoed in her head for a moment.

My house. My protection.

Alicent almost wanted to believe it. That she was in fact safe from her father. A thought that both gave her some hope and sent a shiver down her spine. That she thought of her father as someone she needed refuge from. The young Hightower looked back at her husband and put a graceful, partly convincing smile on, "I am sure I don't know what prompted you to say that." She squeezed her palms together, resisting the urge to bite at her thumb.

"Rhaenyra is well." Alicent smiled again, happy to move to a different topic of conversation, "annoyed a bit, your brother, the king." She cleared her throat, "keeps insisting at shoving suitors at her." She relaxed a bit more her shoulders dropping some, "she complains about them daily." Alicent's eyes fluttered to Daemon's features, hoping to gauge a reaction. She knew her husband and the princess were friendly, they were family, but there were times before her marriage to Daemon and perhaps a few moments during that she had caught glances between the two. Glances that perhaps revealed a yearning of some sort? Alicent didn't rightly know. She wasn't sure she wanted to. Alicent knew she was a poor match for the Targaryen Prince. She was very much the opposite of him, he was wild, free, and daring while she...well she was not. But Rhaenyra was. Alicent cleared her throat and stood, turning to grab another cup to fill with wine, her nail digging into her skin for a few moments as she turned away from her husband.

"What?" Alicent whirled around back to her husband as he announced they were leaving. Her eyes were wide and she stared at him like a stunned deer for a few moments, "I-we, I can't." The words came out of her mouth before she even realized she was saying them, "my father would never...he wouldn't approve." She watched her husband dash around their room already beginning to pack. Alicent inched closer but mostly stayed still. Truth be told, be down she was feeling something, excitement? At the idea of going to Dragonstone, of leaving court and her father. She also noted Daemon's words, he said she was in need of separation. It stunned her a bit, did he really see how distressed she was in the Red Keep? No one else did.

Swallowing Alicent moved, stepping closer to the bed, and looking at the gowns Daemon had laid out, picking three before she began folding them and setting them in a pack.

He noticed everything about Alicent, how she smiled, how she stared. He also noticed her nails and red scarred bedding of said nails as he was handed a glass of wine. He took it gladly. "Thank you, Alicent" He replied swiftly, giving a small smile when she said she missed him and he took a long drink allowing for some silence between them. Purple eyes looking at his new wife intently.

"You are under my house. My protection. You have no more duty to your father than any other members of the council." He reminded the young woman.

"How does my niece fair? She wasn't near when I saw my brother to give away the crown i'd earned im victory" He knew the girls were close, near like sisters but Daemon couldn't help but notice how his neice stared daggers at him as he danced with Alicent at their wedding and how she had pulled Lord Harwin Strong into dance. To make him jealous? He wouldn't know, as much as he would have liked too. He couldn't risk any affairs or the like, not with Otto Hightower as a father-in-law.

"I'm bored" Daemon announced as he set his wine goblet down and got up from the chair and looked at Alicent. A devilish smile came to his lips and he offered her his hand. "Come, let's go to Dragonstone. You've in need of separation from this place. I've no reason to stay here for terribly long." Daemon started to pack what they would need, mainly packing light for Alicent, giving her a few looks at her dresses and then back at her trying to decide and then put them down, letting his wife do it instead. "Caraxes can carry a bit of weight but not much" He advised.

[tommytranselo]

some headcanons about henry’s childhood & father

the FP files list 6 brothers.  i think henry was the youngest partly bc it makes the most sense to me why (apparently) only he was sent to america but also because i think henry being a literal seventh son is very fitting given he’s superstitious and has...odd luck (things go wrong constantly but he keeps escaping death).

a lot of his brothers were already establishing their own lives when henry was a baby, and several of them got married when he was a kid; some of them moved.  by his teenage years he rarely saw them all in the same place, and a couple of them he was already beginning to lose contact with even before leaving sicily

(context for this: i didn’t realize at first they’re listed alphabetically, not by age, but whatever) the second youngest brother was salvatore, and he and henry were always close.  they wrote letters back and forth for a while; after silvio died, sal said he was taking their mother and leaving the country, maybe heading for greece.  they made it, barely, but after a while the letters petered off, and then in 1940 greece was invaded, and, well.  henry never knew what happened.

silvio was a very quiet, unemotional man–think vito corleone from the godfather.  he never raised a hand to any of his sons and rarely even raised his voice, but he was terrifying when he wanted to be and even scared the shit out of henry sometimes; with just a look and a few words he could leave grown men shaking in their shoes, and it’s something henry’s tried to emulate despite that not really being his own personality.  he was no-nonsense, set in his ways, and very catholic, which is partly why henry’s remained so as well despite it seeming contradictory to his line of work.

his mother was a lot more of a loudmouth than his father, and she’d seen some shit in her time.  one of henry’s combat lines is (iirc) “like my mother always said, you can never have too much ammo,” so (because i think women with big guns are cool) she was the first to ever let him shoot–she was a crack shot with a rifle and let him fire hers once when he was a kid, and it promptly knocked him on his ass–they never planned to tell his father about that, but one of henry’s brothers let it slip, and silvio was pissed.  he taught henry to shoot a pistol later, but eleanora trained him with the rifle, and mother and son share a fondness for big guns (the classic box art has henry holding a rifle despite never using one in game, but i can dream).

silvio never let his sons use profanity; he thought it was coarse and unprofessional, and blasphemy in particular he scolded sharply.  henry never really swore much till he picked it up from clemente’s guys, and luca quickly had him using fuck as a comma.  he still doesn’t really blaspheme unless he’s really upset, so if you hear him drop a “goddammit!” you’d better be worried.

henry never really outright lied to his father much because he wanted to be a good son, but he was dishonest–he was very much a “don’t tell dad” kid and had a bad habit of lying by omission, being evasive, saying things that weren’t “technically” lies and thinking it didn’t count; he’s a known lover of loophole abuse, and sal used to joke he should become a lawyer.  after realizing honesty wouldn’t get him anything in clemente’s organization, he gave up on the technicalities and just started lying about everything.

the reason his english is so good is because his father wanted him to learn early, and he started studying at 13 (heh).  henry thought (or told himself) at first it had to do with connections in america and eventually helping out with the family business, but it was always about silvio being concerned with the political situation in sicily and thinking they might need to leave.  looking back, henry sees that as one of the first signs he should’ve known something was wrong.  he also saw a lot of american movies both as a kid (as imports were common post-wwi) and after arriving in the states, which helped as well.

he used to run small(er) jobs for his father, along with several of his brothers, and he’s been “in the business” for the majority of his life.  it was one of those jobs he got shot for the first time, at age 17.  they rushed him to the doctor, his dad driving and sal in the backseat with him trying to calm him down.  henry completely went to pieces crying and panicking, and his father said nothing about it, but he looked so disappointed that henry swore never to cry in front of him again.  it was a promise he kept, even two years later when he was leaving for the first time–he waited till he was out of sight.

there was a brief time when he deeply resented his father for sending him away–shipping him off to a foreign country, alone, his entire life turned upside down all at once; he was bitter even if he knew it probably saved his life.  those feelings changed once he got the inevitable news of his father’s arrest and later death, and he always kind of blamed himself for not making silvio come with him or doing something.  after working under clemente for awhile, though, he started to realize he was right about being too old to make the trip–not just physically, but he was too set in his ways and couldn’t have adapted.

wrt what he says in ch5, “wiseguy” and “man of honor” mean very different things to henry–his father was the latter, and most of the gangsters he met in america were the former.  he tries to explain the difference to vito once, but ends up getting agitated and quickly tells him to forget it.  he idolized his father as a kid, always wanted to be him, and the shame of not living up to him is something he grapples with daily.

[luimagines]

Hey, could we get the boys kissing the reader please?

Masterlist

Absolutely!

If the reader gets to give the boys kisses, it's only fair that they get kisses in return!

Fair warning, these are more or less platonic.

Content under the cut!

Twilight

“Twilight I think I died.” You blurt out one day.

Twilight stops what he was doing and tilts his head on your direction. “Run that by me again?”

“This is all a dream isn’t it?” You gulp and pull your hair a bit to feel something. “Did I die? Am I dying? How do I know you’re real?”

Twilight pauses and puts his things down. He walks toward you and puts his hands on your shoulders. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Before I met you, I got hurt...bad... And I had a dream.” You say.

Twilight then bends down and kisses you nose.

The action stuns you and you blink in an attempt to process the absurdity of it.

“Did that ever happen in your dream?” Twilight bites his lip to keep himself from smiling. This was supposed to be serious- you might have been having a crisis.

“No?” You answer with a small child like shake to your head.

“Then you’re not dreaming.” Twilight answers simply.

“Is that how that would work?” You reply.

“Do you want it to?”

“Yes.” You nod and walk with Twilight to help him out with his earlier chores. “I don’t like thinking of the alternative.”

“It’s you’re dreaming I’m sure our group is more than wiling to find ways to induce your awakening.”

“Like what?”

“Throw you off a cliff? Set you on fire? Get the cuccos nice and angry-”

“I’ll take your method over that thank you very much.”

Wind

“It can’t be that bad.” You roll your eyes and put your hand son your hips. “Why do you hate it so much?”

“It’s the principle of the thing.” Wind explained. “If I went back home and they found out I did this, I would never be able to live it down.”

“Would you do it for a Scooby Snack?” You ask instead with a teasing grin on your lips.

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“Please don’t make me.” Wind whines. “I’d do anything.”

“If it’s any consolation, it’s not my idea either.” You sigh and cross your arms instead. “But the faster we do it the faster we can get it over with. It’s not like we have to talk about it ever again.”

“No please-” Wind gets onto his knee, saying your name and crawling to you that way. “-You’re my last hope. Don’t let this be the end of it.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic.”

Wind grabs your hands places a clumsy kiss on your fingers as he pleads. “Can’t it be anyone else? Please! Please, please please please please!”

“Oh my goodness! OK! I’ll go talk to Time and Twilight and see if we can get Legend to do it or something.”

“Yeeees.”

Hyrule

“My everything hurts.” You whined and rolled over, grasping your side in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure there. “Was I stabbed? I feel like I was stabbed.”

“You were, in fact, not stabbed.” Hyrule kneels by your side and lifts your hand to access the wounded area a bit better. “But you did land really harshly on the rock below us. So try to take it easy for a minute, ok? We’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

“Who is this we you speak of?” You sigh as the pain lessens and take a deep breath, trying to sit yourself up. “I just see you.”

“Yeah, Wild is on his way over, so it’s about to be we.” Hyrule snickers.

“I see... Thank you ‘Rulie.” You smile a bit and loosen up your muscles. “How did I even fall to begin with?”

“Bad bomb placement.”

“Ah.” You say, as if that answers your question. “Well that explains everything then.”

Hyrule looks up at you and sees your face. “You’ll be ok.”

“I mean I hope so.” You shrug and Hyrule leans in to place a small kiss on your forehead.

“Wha-”

“Magic enhancer. Good for one extra minute of healing time.”

“You’re a dork.”

“You love it.”

Warrior

“I hate this.” You groaned as you walked through the dungeon. “Why are we here again?”

“Because we have a mission to clear the darkness and this is a hotspot. We clear this area and then we can move on to the next until we’re all done.” Warrior shrugs, fully understanding the sentiment but not wanting to ruin his reputation.

“This suuuuucks.”

“I knoooow.” He snickers.

“You’re making fun of me but I know you feel the same way.” You tilt your head back and look at him by shifting your eyes.

“Yeah but you don’t see me complaining.”

You groan louder in response, purely out of spite at this point and shove him slightly by the shoulder.

“Is there anything I can do to make it better?” Warrior asked teasingly.

“I want a sick prize at the end.”

“I can wager in a kiss.”

“Not from you.”

“No?” Warrior laughs louder and spin on his heel, walking backwards as he talks to you just a little ways ahead from where you are. “Am I not worth enough?”

“I have only the highest of standards.” You deadpan. 

“I’ll have you know that my kisses are completely worth it.” Warrior twirls his hand upwards for fan fair.

“Doubt it.”

“I’ll prove it.”

“Doubt it.” You grin.

Warrior rolls his eyes but lets you catch up to him before leaning over suddenly and kissing on your hair line.

“Cheap shot.” You snort and push him away. “You’ll have to do harder than that. I bet the prize at the end is cooler anyway.”

“Tough crowd.”

Time

“Time, would you be a dear and help me out with one little thing?” You called out, fighting one of the knots that kept your bag to Epona’s side but Twilight was no where to be found so it’s not like he could help you.

Time looked up and saw you struggling with the bag and the rope that held it in place. An amused smile crossed his face and he got up to make his way over to you.

You huff and stomp your foot when it refuses to let go just in time as the man himself makes it to your side. “What seems to be the problem?”

 “I can’t get my bag out!” You whine. “Twilight does such ridiculous knots and I can’t figure it out.”

“Let me see.” Time rolls his eye and steps into your space, checking at the problem in front of him.

It was way more complicated than Time would think Twilight would purposefully do. It looked staged.

Luckily he knows his pup well and managed to get it untangled with seconds.

“How?” You frown and pout. “How did you do that? I thought I would have needed to get my knife or Legend to get rid of the spell.”

“Twilight doesn’t like spells or magic in general.” Time smirks and sees the opportunity in front of him.

You reach out your hand to take the bag with a sigh. “Yeah, yeah I know. Thank you, I was getting frustrated.”

Time grabs your hand with his free hand, bringing it up his lips and places a kiss on your knuckles. “A hero’s work is never done.”

“A-ah.” You blush with wide eyes. “Right.”

Wild

“I have no idea where to go from here.” Wild sighs and places his hands on his hip, keeping the wooden spoon angled away from his clothes.

“What’s up? Need help?” You stand up and walk toward him.

“The stew needs something. But I don’t know what.” Wild huffs and chews on his lips as he thinks.

“Salt?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” He picks up his slate and takes the rock out, chipping small pieces off before stirring to dissolve it.

He brings the wooden spoon to his lips to taste it but he doesn’t seem satisfied with the result. “It’s better but not enough.”

“Can I try?” You offer and move closer to the pot.

He sighs and gives you the spoon with a bit of the broth. It’s delicious as expected but he’s right. A bit lackluster.

You smack your lips together and move it around on your tongue and try to figure it out. “Maybe Goron spice? Not enough to feel obviously but anything spicy tends to heighten existing flavors.”

Wild thinks about it before going through with your suggestion. He stirs for a hot minute before his eyes light up at the taste.

He spin to you with enough force to startle you, but before you can move away he grab your face with his hands and brings you forward giving you a whopping kiss onto your forehead. “That’s just what it needed. Thank you!”

You wobble for a moment when he pushy you away but you smile regardless. “You’re welcome.”

Legend

“And here we have the best of the rest, Mr. Fancyprance Mcfickle Bottom.” Legend knelt to the ground after speaking and place a kiss on the back of your hand.

“I take it back. We’re doomed. We’re never going to be able to sneak into the gala.” You lament and take your hand out of his gasp.

“How dare you doubt my acting skills.”

“Can you at least try to take this seriously?” You stress. “This is a big moment for the kingdom, if one thing goes wrong tonight, we’re all going to pay the price.”

“It’s not like any one going to die if we don’t do well toni-”

“Did you not read the note?” Your stare widens. “I can’t believe you. There’s going to be an assassination attempt. It’s why we’re even going to begin with!”

Legend pauses as he considers your words before sobering up and standing taller. “Alright. From the top. This is what we have to do.”

“Thank you.”

Four

“Ok, I have no idea where you’re taking me, but it better be good because I’m a lot less graceful when I’m blindfolded.” Four said over his shoulder as you guided him through the underbrush.

“Just trust me.” You grin. “You’re going to love it.”

“I hope so.”

You giggle and continue to push him ahead. “Ok, wait here I’ll be right back. Don’t take it off just yet.”

“You are so lucky I trust you.”

“Good.” You dash off and grab a small parcel that was hidden in a hollow tree truck.

You run back to him and pull his hand in front of him, placing it gently on top of his palms. “There. Open your eyes and open the box.”

Four grips the wrapping and takes the blindfold off with one hand. “What is it?”

“A gift silly!”

“Ok, yeah, but what’s inside?”

“Open it and find out!”

He smiles and gently rips the paper that covering the little box, eyes widening as he recognizes the design within. “How did you get this?”

“I save up for it. It’s a thank you.” You bite you lip and take a small step back. You’re beginning to feel a little flustered by his reaction even if you think you have no reason to be.

Four drops the paper wrapping and opens the box. “You got me this?”

“Yes. I thought we established this.”

Four beams and doesn’t even open the box all the way before he runs at you and practically tackles you over. “Thank you!”

“You’re wel-”

Four take the breath to plant a big ol’ smooth on your cheek, silencing anything else you were going to say.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” 

It’s the happiest you’ve seen him.

You can’t even get your thoughts together before he give you another hug and dashes away from you to enjoy his gift.

Or brag about it to the others.

You wanted to avoid that, which is why you brought him all the way out here beyond the camp...but you can never really tell what he’s going to do next.

You smile regardless and touch the spot on your cheek.

At least he likes it.

Sky

“I have no idea how you do this Sky.” You gulp and lean over marginally over the edge. “I hate free falling. How is this a fun thing to do?”

“It’s not so bad when you can trust your loftwing to catch you.”

“I don’t have a loftwing. You keep using that word and I have no idea what you mean.”

“You’ll be fine anyway. The water will catch you.”

“That’s not remotely as reassuring as you think it is.”

“You’re over thinking it. Stop thinking.” Sky laughs a little as he gets closer to you.

“Easier said than done.”

“Trick yourself then.”

“How?”

“A distraction would be a good start.” Sky hums.

“And how to suppose I distract myself?” You deadpan.

Sky shrugs before leaning over and giving you a kiss on the cheek. It stuns you enough that freeze on your spot and Sky takes the opportunity to spin you around by your shoulders and promptly shoves you off of the cliff side.

He dives in right after you when he sees your head pop out of the surface, laughing as he goes.

[sunder-soul]

hii what about Tom Riddle being fucking jealous about reader ?

So I got massively carried away with this one lol, apologies if this isn’t what you were expecting, my imagination went wild!

PART II AVAILABLE! 💖

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.  

Jealousy

Summary: Reader has to tutor an insufferable jock and Tom Riddle starts acting very strangely indeed. Wordcount: 1.8k Content warning: none.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The Great Hall was bright and lively with morning sun and the chatter of students, spoons clinking against bowls and butter spreading on toast.

“What is he doing?” you whisper to Margot sitting next to you at the table.

“I think he’s attempting to show off,” she giggles back.

You were both watching Austin Varrowe, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, obnoxiously demonstrate his Beater swing for a series of very bored looking Ravenclaw girls who weren’t paying him any attention in the slightest.

“Slughorn’s making me tutor that idiot,” you grumble.

“No way,” Margot grins, rounding on you.

“Yup,” you sigh, “can you believe it? Two evenings a week for the rest of the term… I think I’ll brain myself with a cauldron by Friday.”

Margot pats your shoulder sympathetically.

That evening, you reluctantly set off for the dungeons to meet Varrowe with your bag slung over your shoulder, but as you round a corridor you very nearly bowl straight into someone coming the opposite direction.

“Riddle,” you say, surprised, “sorry, didn’t see you there.”

Riddle takes a step back and tidily clasping his hands being his back. “You’re out rather late,” he said smoothly. “And in the dungeons, no less. Are you lost? The library is that way.” He nods back down the corridor.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Riddle was such a know-it-all. “I’m meeting someone, actually,” you say dismissively, checking your watch. “In fact, I better get going or he’ll think I’m standing him up.”

Riddle looks very briefly surprised, and then a cool look of disapproval settles on his fine features. “I don’t suppose I have to remind you that curfew is in two hours,” he says stiffly, “you wouldn’t be intending on breaking that, would you?”

You snort a laugh and step past him. “Thanks for the reminder,” you say sarcastically, “see you later, Riddle.”

You manage to get away before he can say anything else.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Varrowe,” you call, giving your friends a quick wave as you dash to catch up to him in the throng of students making their way to their next class. “Are you free tonight?”

“Oh – right,” Varrowe says, looking dispirited. “Sure. Seven o’clock?”

You nod and lean closer. “Please make sure you actually bring your textbook this time,” you mutter, managing to keep your exasperation off your face. “You do in fact need to read it at least once to pass the class.”

Varrowe grins and reaches out to ruffle your hair. “You’re smart,” he says loudly, “barely understood a thing you said last time.”

“Right,” you say through gritted teeth, trying to tidy your hair. “Well, see you this evening.”

“Sounds good,” Varrowe shrugs, wandering away.

You sigh. Slughorn better appreciate your sacrifice; tutoring Varrowe was the equivalent of torture. You turn on your heel to catch up with your friends, but once again you come face to face with –

“You have got to stop sneaking up on me,” you say dryly, “seriously, Riddle, it’s creepy.”

Riddle’s eyes slide from Varrowe’s retreating form to your face. “Is Varrowe the one you were meeting last week?” he asks smoothly.

The question surprises you. “Yeah, why?” you frown.

“And you’re meeting him again?”

You arch a brow at his decidedly clipped tone. “Yeah but don’t worry, I promise I won’t break curfew, I know that’s of the utmost importance to you –”

“An odd choice,” Riddle interrupts, something uncharacteristically irate in his voice, “Varrowe.”

You stare at him. “…Is he?” you ask pointedly, unable to think of anyone more in need of tutoring. Only yesterday Varrowe had lost his phial of Flobberworm mucus and had asked Slughorn if he could just use some of his own instead. “I think he’s the perfect choice.”

Riddle’s eyes flash. “I should be going,” he says curtly, “see you in class.” He gives you a single, stiff nod and leaves without another glance.

You blink after him, shaking your head in confusion. Riddle was acting very, very strangely.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“So if you overboil it, it’ll turns green,” Varrowe said slowly, peering at the notes on Veritaserum on the desk between you, “but if you underboil it, it’ll get those weird lumps?”

“Yes,” you say with great relief.

“Is it better to overboil it or underboil it?”

You immediately regret having felt relieved. “It’s better to do neither,” you say flatly.

Varrowe heave a great sigh and carelessly leans back in his chair. “I’m too tired for this,” he complains. “Did I mention that we had an extra Quidditch practice this morning?”

He had. Six times.

You slide your things into your bag and stand. “You’re right, it’s late,” you mutter, “we can pick this up again on Monday.”

Varrowe gleefully stands too and is out the door of the Potions classroom in a heartbeat. “Are you coming to the game next weekend?” he asks you in the corridor outside, unsubtly flexing his shoulder muscles as he pretends to roll them out.

You very nearly roll your eyes. “Sure, I’ll be there.”

“Excellent,” he grins, “I’ve been working on this tag-team move with Procker that’ll really have Slytherin guessing, I’ll have to show you later –”

“Varrowe.”

The voice is crisp and cool, and it doesn’t take a genius to guess who it is.

“Riddle,” Varrowe says, looking disgruntled. “Why are you here?”

“I’m a prefect, if you recall,” Riddle says in a glacial tone, “patrols are part of my responsibilities.”

“How very fortunate indeed that you were patrolling this exact corridor at this exact time,” you say with a hint of sarcasm. “Merlin, imagine if we’d forgotten about curfew.”

Riddle’s dark eyes flash to you, and you impassively hold his gaze. “You should return to your common rooms,” he says delicately, “or I will be forced to give you both detentions.”

“Steady on Riddle,” Varrowe grins, “we’ve got half an hour yet, give us a second to say goodbye.”

Riddle wrenches his eyes off you and fixes Varrowe with a very cold look. “You will go at once,” he says in a dangerously soft tone, “do you understand?”

Varrowe bristles, standing taller and pushing his chest out in a way he clearly thinks is intimidating. Riddle looks utterly unfazed.

Sensing trouble on the horizon, you grab Varrowe’s sleeve and tug him back. “Come on, Varrowe,” you say quickly, “let’s go. You’ve got practice in the morning, right?”

Varrowe glares at Riddle who was yet to move an inch, his expression still cool and blank. “Right,” Varrowe growls, “yeah, let’s go.”

Varrowe turns and stalks off, not noticing that you don’t follow. Instead, you round on Riddle.

“Will you explain what the hell is going on?” you whisper angrily.

“Watch your tongue,” Riddle says sharply.

You glower at him. “So sorry – I mean, will you please explain what the hell is going on?”

His eyes narrow. “It would not be wise to antagonise me,” he says icily.

“Would it not?” you breathe, stepping closer. “What are you going to do, dock me points? Give me detention?”

Riddle’s eyes are dark and hostile, and something works in his jaw as he glares back at you.

“Back off, Riddle,” you snap, “I don’t know what your problem is with me, but seriously, drop it.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he breathes.

“Oh? You always threaten people with detention when they’ve done nothing wrong? I’m sure Slughorn will be overjoyed to hear that his favourite prefect is abusing his power like that,” you hiss, leaning closer.

Riddle visibly grits his teeth with fury on his face. A tense silence falls, and you suddenly realise that the two of you are standing far, far too closely together.

You step back at once, trying to ignore the strange feeling that swells in your stomach. “Goodnight, Riddle,” you mutter, turning to hurry away.

“Why Varrowe?” he says sharply, stopping you in your tracks.

You look over your shoulder at him. Riddle’s hair looks even blacker in the dark corridor, his burning eyes on yours, the flickering light from the torch on the wall beside him throwing shadows down his cheekbones. “What?” you frown. Now was definitely not the time to get distracted by Riddle’s good looks.

“Why Varrowe?” Riddle repeats stiffly. “He’s a simpleton.”

You blink. “Exactly,” you say slowly.

Something hostile flickers on Riddle’s face before he quickly tempers his expression back into composure. “I appear to have misjudged you,” he says coldly, looking away.

“What are you talking about?” you exclaim in exasperation. “Do you not understand how tutoring works? If he wasn’t absolutely thick I wouldn’t have to waste my evenings explaining to him that Cough Potions are for curing coughs and not inducing them.”

Riddle stares at you. The silence drags on.

You sigh impatiently. “I’m going to bed,” you grumble, turning away again.

“Wait,” he says sharply.

You wheel around, annoyed. “What?”

But your frustration is wiped away in an instant because Riddle is once again much too close. So close, in fact, that you can see the shadows his eyelashes are casting down his cheeks and the heat in his eyes as he looks down at you.

“You’re tutoring him?” he asks quietly.

You nod silently, your throat suddenly thick with nerves.

“That’s why you were meeting him.”

You nod again, unable to look away from him.

Riddle hums contemplatively, his expression smooth as his dark eyes roam your face. “Good,” he murmurs.

“Good?” you whisper.

Riddle’s lips curve into a small smirk, his head tilting slightly, and you absolutely do not blush at the sight. “Weren’t you going to bed?” he asks silkily.

“Worried about me breaking curfew, are you?” you say with a flicker of a taunt, trying to ignore your heart pounding quickly in your chest.

Riddle’s smirk grows. “I told you not to antagonise me,” he says smoothly as he steps in even closer, so close that his robes graze against your arms and you can feel warmth radiating from him as he looms over you.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, “seems to be going pretty well for me so far.”

Riddle’s eyes flick between yours, and for a single burning moment the tension is so thick that you can hear your pulse thrumming in your ears, your gaze dropping to his full lips and seeing his do the same to yours – and then just like that, Riddle steps away.

“Goodnight,” he says evenly, “I trust you can get back to your common room without supervision.”

You nod blankly but Riddle is already turning away and disappearing down the dark corridor, melting into the darkness. You stand there a moment frozen in place, your cheeks burning and your heart still racing as the cold air rushes in where his warmth had been brushing up against your skin.

Riddle was acting very, very strangely indeed.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

PART II AVAILABLE! 💖

[bcdaily]

jily childhood friends running into each other years later?

Ta-dah! Thank you for the prompt! Now I have to write shorter things, or I’ll never get another done. XD

She knew that hair.

It was a glimpse—a fleeting hint of familiar dark chaotic strands protruding above the multitude of milling heads inside the crowded hotel lobby. Lily stopped where she stood, certain—certain…but that was foolish, surely? It was hair. Billions of people had hair. Even distinctive hair like that. And what would he be doing here, what were the chances…She darted left, slipping through other conference attendees, following the bobbing head of black. Her fingers toyed absently with the lanyard around her neck. Her feet kept moving. She was closing in. But—shit—he was turning into the next doorway. She’d lose him—

“Potter!” she shouted.

The bobbing black head stopped in the doorway threshold. He turned.

Something pulled inside Lily’s chest.

God, it was.

His mouth—an older mouth; familiar features spread across a matured frame, sharper and wider—formed her name. A question. His head tilted.

She squirmed around the last huddled group of conference-goers blocking her path. A middle-aged skeletal bloke shot her an annoyed look as she prodded past him. A server carrying a tray of canapés swerved around her. She wished the tray had been alcohol. She might need it. She wasn’t sure.

James Potter had grown up to be tall. Cresting six feet, easily. His limbs were long, his chest wide, but his hair—that hair—hadn’t changed a bit. Neither had his smile: bright, crooked, with the same infectious delight he’d managed so easily at eleven, now captured just the same in a man of twenty-four.

Twenty-four. They were twenty-four now. She hadn’t seen him in thirteen years.

“Lily Evans,” he said, audibly this time, and the smile grew brighter. “Shit.”

“Shit,” Lily repeated, laughing. Now that there was nowhere to go, no further crowds to weave through, no mop of dark hair to stalk, she was not quite sure what to do. She hadn’t thought past the part of just confirming it was him. Somehow, magically, him. Strange, strange, strange. Now they were standing before each other and—

And he was good-looking.

Had been, back then, at eleven. But that was eleven, and those things didn’t often last. Features shifted. Bodies changed. Conventions came and went at whim. Who could keep up?

James Potter could, apparently.

Not that that was the point. She hadn’t chased him down because he was fit. She could only see his head, for Christ’s sake. She hadn’t known. Not about the height, about the posh specs and the twinkling hazel eyes, about the tanned, sculpted forearms revealed beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his button-down. It wasn’t—

He eyed her, eyeing him. “Do we…hug…or…?”

She snorted. “I don’t know.”

“Reckon I ruined it by asking.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Not as natural now.”

“Yes, quite ruined.”

“Ah, well. Will do better next time. Meet again in another…what’s it been? A decade or so?”

“Thirteen years, by my count.”

“Thirteen? Bloody hell, I can’t wait another thirteen years. I’ll be dead. Let’s just—”

And then somehow he was hugging her, and Lily was laughing again, and her fingers were digging into his back as she clutched him to her.

He had a nice back, James Potter did.

A nice smell, too.

The first boy she’d ever kissed remembered to shower. Lovely.

In the past ten seconds, she’d grown greedy and impetuous. As he pulled away, she darted up on her toes and dropped a hasty kiss to his cheek. Stolen, like a criminal. She was in a hotel lobby filled with barristers, and not a single one could convict her, so stealthy was she.

His fingers trailed down her arm as their bodies detangled. Her skin burned along the path.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, stepping back. She really, really needed to step back. “I mean, it’s good to see you—strange to see you, really, but—you’re a barrister?”

It didn’t fit the James Potter in her head. The boy who’d grown up alongside her, had lived in the sprawling, noble house at the top of the hill, running wild with the lot of them in Cokesworth, until he wasn’t. That boy had certainly had the cleverness and confidence to pull off law, but not the patience or deference to its structures and politics. He would’ve collapsed under the piles of paperwork. He would have crowed agony at the rules, the formalities, the bureaucracy. Had that swotty boarding school his parents’ packed him off to changed him so very much?

James pulled a face. “Fuck me, no. I’m running the catering for the conference. My mum—”

“—owned a restaurant,” Lily recalled, somehow delighted not to have pegged him wrong. She closed her eyes wistfully. “God, that’s right. When you moved, we were all bereft. I think I still smell that eggplant appetizer of hers in my dreams.”

“The caponata?” His grin turned sneaky. “She still has it on the menu.”

“Where?”

“Casa. SoHo.”

Lily had heard of it. To think, James Potter, her childhood friend and mild fixation, just a few tube stops away, for who knew how long. “So you’re in London?”

“Since university,” he confirmed. Then his head tilted, and the sneaky smile turned coy. “So you’re a barrister? In London?”

“Yes.” She waved her conference lanyard like a white flag, surrender. “Wildly disappointed?”

“No. It fits.” Humour weaved through his voice—deeper and cooler now, all grown up. “No one could ever win an argument with you. And I tried. It was fun.”

He’d been a menace. He’d taken such delight from getting a rise out of her. But even as children, talking with him had been addicting. There were so few who could match wits with her, even fewer who didn’t take it personally, who dusted themselves off after a rousing debate and stuck out their hand, a shake of respect for the good time. James Potter had been like that. It’s why she’d cornered him behind a tree in the park where they all used to play, just before his parents had packed up house and he’d left for boarding school. With his back against the tree bark, she’d pressed her lips against his and waited to see what he did with it.

He’d cupped her chin with both of his hands and pressed his lips harder against hers.

It was closed-mouths, mere seconds. A first for both of them.

But to this day, Lily’s knees still went weak when someone held her face.

Silly. Stupid. She talked about work to make the memory go away.

“A bit less fun now. It’s mostly forms and deadlines and”—she waved her hand around the room—“swotty, deadly dull networking conferences. I’m just out of school. I hardly do anything yet.”

“But you’re good at it,” James stated, definitive.

She didn’t bother to hide her preen. Was wary by how much pleasure she took out of his automatic confidence in her. “Yes. I’m very good at it.”

They stared at each other, grinning.

He had a girlfriend. Lily was certain of it. There was no way this man did not have a significant other. Or maybe there was a very good reason, because she knew absolutely nothing about him. She hadn’t seen him in thirteen years. Entire lives were lived in thirteen years. Who knew what kind of person he was now? He could cut a dashing figure, hold a conversation, but maybe he also cut up bodies in his flat for fun. Maybe he bit his toenails. Maybe he liked The Big Bang Theory. Maybe he drank milk straight from the carton and then put it back in the fridge.

“You didn’t grow up ugly, James Potter,” she said.

“I looked you up on Instagram a few times,” he replied immediately. “You never post pictures of yourself. But I like your cat.”

“His name is Bosley.”

“I know.”

Lily squinted at him. “What else do you know?”

Hazel eyes gleamed. “Interesting question.”

James Potter’s hands were much larger now. If he worked with his mum in her restaurant, they were probably rough—calloused from use, nicked with cuts and crevasses from an absent knife or oil burned too hot. Eleven-year-old James’s hands had been cool and soft. This James’s hands wouldn’t be.

Lily quelled a shiver.

“You—”

“James?” A server appeared out of the doorway behind him, looking frazzled. “They left behind a case of champagne. I don’t know how. The quiche is running low, and Darnell is feeling ill. What—”

“Send Darnell home. I’ll—” He let out a dissatisfied hum, glancing at Lily, then back at the server. His lips pulled into a frown. He swept a hand through his hair. “Sorry—”

Lily waved him off, though her spirits sank. “No, don’t be silly. Work calls. Feed the hungry. Go.”

He hesitated, his eyes skimming her. “Will you—we’re just catering the event tonight. Swotty and deadly dull, yeah? So you’ll probably skive as soon as you can.”

“No.” She didn’t have any reason to say it so firmly, so quickly. That was just the way it came out. “Work calls for me too. I’ll be here.”

“Yeah?” The frown righted slowly.

She couldn’t believe how ridiculous she was being. Maybe how ridiculous they were both being. She could be a serial killer, for all he knew. Did he not care for the health and safety of his own pretty little head?

Her plan had been to duck out of this conference opening mixer as soon as was physically possible. They were unbearable. That shouldn’t change.

“Yeah,” she said instead.

She was eleven years old, heart fluttering behind a tree. She was an idiot.

“Good.” His body turned, but he was still looking at her. He nodded and repeated, “Good.”

Lily lifted her hand. “Thanks for the hug. See you in thirteen years?”

He smiled. “Something like that.”

She watched his back as he turned through the doorway, stared at the familiar mop of hair until it disappeared around the next corner.

She pivoted on her heels slowly, feeling silly and prickly.

In her pocket, her phone vibrated. She pulled it out and absently glanced at the screen.

She laughed.

James Potter had requested to follow her on Instagram. And he sent her a message.

You didn’t grow up ugly either, Lily Evans, it read.

She was twenty-four years old, heart fluttering in the middle of a hotel.

She shook her head, and pressed ACCEPT.

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober 2021 - October 3 - "Who did this to you?"

Fandoms: Linked Universe

Ao3

Warnings: major injury, attempted murder, blood, near-death experiences

---

Trouble comes with a smiling face; not that Wild knows that yet. All he sees is an eager young woman with kind eyes and a humble dress, offering to show him where he can get some wine to cook with tonight.

He and the rest of the heroes have been on the road for quite a while now, without a single town in sight. Nothing but various barns to cross their path. This is the first actual town they’ve seen in miles, even though it’s not a very big one. Yet, there is a small inn for weary travelers, and a marketplace near the front entrance of the town where farmers can sell their goods and towns-folk and gossip. The whole group of them are rather low on funds, but the market seemed like the perfect excuse to relax. Spend some money that they just barely have. Pretend to be normal people for just a few hours.

Just until sunset.

It was Wild, Twilight, Warriors, and Hyrule out in the market while the others were making deals with the innkeepers to get cheaper rooms and more beds. Wild wasn’t really sure what the others were wanting to find out in the market today, but Wild was on the hunt for quality ingredients for quality food that he couldn’t make while on the road. He planned on making a meal tonight fit enough for Zelda herself, and he needed wine to do it. Not to drink, of course not, but to soak into fine slices of meat to add extra flavoring. Nothing strong enough to get a man tipsy—and if he ends up with extra wine, he’ll put it in a flask and gift it to the Old Man. Hylia knows he deserves it.

But he couldn’t find anything even remotely related to wine in these small markets. Some stalls sell alcoholic jars of milk, but Wild honestly has never even heard of milk that could be alcoholic, let alone ever cooked with it. By the time the sun was starting to caress the horizon, frustration was bubbling in his belly because of this and all he could think about were those berries he saw on a tree a few days ago that looked perfect for making some of his own wine out of.

Twilight and Warriors were looking at a jewel-smith's stall, admiring the finely crafted trinkets and murmuring to themselves about the ones that would match her eyes, or impress that gentleman at the tavern, and Wild soon lost interest in both the stall and his love-sick companions. He had stood several feet off, leaning against a brick wall, eyeing the closest stalls to him and hoping for even a small sight of anything close to wine set up for sale.

And then he saw her. Trouble, despite him not knowing it. He didn’t even suspect it. Perhaps he’s gotten too used to the threats of other worlds, that he forgot the threats of his own.

She walked up to him, a swish to her brown dress that seemed to almost have a pink tint. Her hair was brown, done up in messy braids and a bun above her head. Wild assumed she was the daughter of a farmer who was selling crops from their farm, so he didn’t assess her too critically. Before he knew it, she was stopped a few feet from him, swaying her dress side to side between her thin fingers.

“Is there something you’re looking for, travelers?” she asked, her voice sweet like sugared honey. Beside him, Hyrule blushed a bit at the ears.

Wild wasn’t much in a good mood at the moment, but he decided that asking for help might be his only option at this point. “I’m looking for wine, or any kind of beverage like it made out of berries?”

The girl hummed, pressing her finger to her chin in thought. “The most popular beverage ‘round here is milk…” she said, and Wild’s shoulders slumped. But then she continued. “Though, I know a liquor shop further in town where they sell all kinds of drinks. I’ll show you the way, but it closes really soon.”

Hope surged in Wild’s chest. Perhaps he would be able to make a fancy meal tonight after all! Feeling in lighter spirits than he had all night, he told Hyrule to inform Twilight and Warriors that he would be going to the liquor shop. Wild barely noticed the slight hesitation on Hyrule’s face before he turned and did as he was asked. Wild should have noticed it. He should have thought more about how eager and smooth talking the girl was, should have been more in tune with his companion’s concerns, but he followed her out of the market anyway.

And now he’s here, laying on the ground in a pool of his own blood thanks to a hole in his stomach. The “liquor store” was nothing more than an abandoned shop several blocks away from the market, but he only found that out when he walked inside and saw the hastily put together lanterns to give the illusion of life, each one placed among dust and cobwebs. Before he could even turn back and question what was going on, the girl was sliding her arm around his side and heartlessly impaling him with a familiarly curved, sickle-like blade.

Her laugh was also familiar as his knees gave out and he crumpled to the floor, wheezing. Though not familiar in a way that he knew her name; he knew her kind.

“Wh-” he gasps, using one hand to clutch at the floor blanketed in bloody dust, and the other to press onto the wound in his stomach like he’s trying to keep everything in. “What-”

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here, hero,” the girl… Yiga chuckles, stepping over his crumpled body to squat by his head. “To tell the truth, I’m not sure either. I fell into a portal… and found myself in a whole new world. And I saw you, and your friends. I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to take you down. This is for Master Kohga-” Wild’s too weak to fight her off as she reaches for his body, searching his pockets and taking the only healing potions that he had. “-and for Calamity Ganon. I don’t care what happens to me now, as long as you die painfully and slowly, right here.”

Then, she stands up, takes his potions, and leaves, shutting the door behind her as she laughs into the night.

Stupid. Wild is so stupid. How did he not guess something like this would happen? Did he truly let his guard down so badly that he forgot to always be on the lookout for Yiga soldiers? Has he become so comfortable traveling between worlds that didn’t have rogue Sheikah that it didn’t matter for him to worry about them as much?

He’s going to bleed out and die here, all because he wanted some wine to cook with in a town that only sold fucking milk and he couldn’t bother to make sure the person he was following was actually someone with good intentions. He can already feel his vision swirling, and his entire body feels pathetically weak and cold. The pain is unbearable, bringing tears to his eyes.

He coughs up blood, and does his best to prepare himself for a failure’s death, as he’s too weak to even call for help; let alone try and save himself.

Stupid…

His vision swirls white, and then fades black, and he knows nothing more.

-o-o-o-o-

“Something’s wrong,” Twilight says, several minutes after Hyrule told him and Warriors that Wild had gone off with some farmer girl to find a liquor store.

“Something is wrong,” Twilight repeats when they ask a local villager for directions to the nearest liquor store, and they reply the only alcohol this town sells is the milk in the market.

Hyrule is quick to point out the direction he remembers seeing Wild and the girl go off in, and then they thankfully split up to cover more ground. The second there’s no one to see, Twilight changes into his wolf form, sniffing the air desperately for his kid. Wild’s scent is one that he will always remember, it’s stored and locked within his brain, right next to Mipha, Zelda, and all the kids at Ordon.

He finds Wild’s trail after a nerve wracking few moments, and then he’s dashing through dimly lit streets like his life depends on it.

The feeling of something being horribly wrong only gets stronger when he finds Wild’s scent leading inside a run down looking building with dim, flickering lanterns in the windows. Then, the reek of blood hits his nostrils at full force. He shifts back into his human form and bursts into the front door without a single care on what’s on the other side.

The stench of blood is stronger here, even for his human nose. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that his eyes drop to the floor along with what feels like a stone in his stomach. Wild is at his feet, curled up like a child, red pooling around his terribly pale body.

“No-” Twilight drops down to his knees, already pulling out his spare red potion and gathering Wild into his arms. Wild makes a strangled groan through his throat, but his eyes are squeezed closed.

He’s alive though. The thought that he’s still alive is the only thing that gives Twilight enough strength to pull out the cork of his jar and shove the opening to Wild’s lips.

Wild chokes as the liquid enters his mouth, but Twilight doesn’t let up. It’s preferable to drink red potions, but when it comes to drastic situations like this, just getting it in the injured person's body is enough to save their lives. Wild coughs through the liquid and writhes in Twilight's arms, and it’s all Twilight can do to keep the bottle there and shakily whisper every comforting word that he knows. Eventually, color returns to Wild’s cheeks, and his eyes blink open blearily as his choking turns into instinctive swallows.

When the contents of the bottle is gone, Twilight lets the glass jar fall to the floor as he now uses his newly freed hand to check Wild’s wound.

It’s still nasty, and deep, but no longer life threatening. Another potion or some stitches and Wild will be as good as new. For the first time in what feels like years, Twilight allows himself to breath out a sigh of intense relief.

“Twi…?” Wild asks, voice incredibly small.

Twilight holds him just a little tighter, willing his heart to calm down. He’s almost… he’s come so close to almost losing-

“Who did this to you?” Twilight demands with a bite to his tone that he doesn’t mean to direct at Wild.

Wild doesn’t react to it though. He just closes his eyes and shakes his head. “It… doesn’t matter…” he replies in a whisper. Twilight feels anger swell in his stomach and he almost argues back, but Wild talks more despite how much it must still hurt. “Later,” he says. “’M hurt, wanna sleep. Deal with… it later.”

Twilight takes a deep breath, counts to five, then lets it out. He doesn’t feel any less upset. However, he keeps his voice level, deciding that arguing with Wild here will just upset the boy more than help him.

“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly. “I’m going to carry you, okay? I’m out of potions, but Wars or Hyrule should be nearby with some of their own. Then we can go get a well deserved sleep.”

Wild simply nods and relaxes into Twilight’s arms, breathing a sigh and closing his eyes. Twilight bites his lip, then resolves himself to hold one of his dearest friends close to his chest as he stands up. There’s blood everywhere, staining his hands, his tunic, his boots, his pants. But he got here in time. Wild will be okay.

That’s all that matters now. Once Wild has all his color back and his stomach no longer has a hole in it… then Twilight can make sure whoever did this regrets being born.

“I got you, kid,” he says, “I got you.”

[darkistmalfoyhead]

hermione is insecure about herself (in honor of mental health awareness month)

Thanks, Mione. You’re so bloody smart,

She managed to let out a brisk nod. Yet her throat was tight, a parchment fisted in her hand hidden behind her back. That was all she was, wasn’t it? It wasn’t till she noticed that her arm was trembling that she dashed out of the room, leaving Ron behind.

Hermione’s feet found the stairs before she realized where she was going. The library was dark at this time of night and she dropped her book bag before sinking behind a row of shelves.

Smart.

She hated that word, loathed it with every fiber of her being. The crumpled paper still was in her hand. Gently spreading it out, she tiredly stared at the big, red T slashed across the front. Bile arose in her throat.

Why was that one, small mark so horrifying? Because if anyone found out she was dead. Hardly anyone talked to her already and half the time people only approached her because she supposedly knew the answer to every question in the book. Hermione twisted a lock of hair around her finger. She knew very well how ugly she was- the others had teased her about it in primary school. They thought of her as bookish and strange.

But here it was different. At Hogwarts, her teachers loved her seemingly endless knowledge about the wizarding world. Yet that was the issue. She was not smart, not one bit. No one seemed to understand that she spent hours studying to ensure perfect marks that had become expected of her. And that horrid word had wrapped around her wrists like a pair of chains, suspending her higher and higher from the looming masses below. All it would take was word of how Hermione Jean Granger failed her Potions pop-quiz and she would fall, fall, fall.

She shuddered, tucking her hands beneath her arms. It was dark and lonely tonight. She hadn’t realized that she was crying until a drop of water bloomed on her knee. All she wanted was friends, to be wanted despite the fact that she had no experience with social relationships. But the only reason Harry and Ron stuck around in the first place was because she helped them with their homework every night.

What to do when there was always too much to be done? The library was silent, choosing to ignore the girl who was trying to stop her tears.

Yet the sound of knuckles rapping against the side of a bookcase caused her to raise her head in alarm. Oh, no. Of all the people who she expected to see wandering the library at midnight, it had to be Draco Malfoy. Her eyes widened with fear as he silently picked up her test.

No, no, no,n- and now she was crying. Again. In front of bloody Malfoy. She waited for the taunts, the shallow threats about how he was going to show everyone. What she wasn't expecting was for him to slide down next of her, silently folding the paper into quarters.

Her heart thudded as she scrubbed at her face. He looked more weary than stuck-up, his hair in disarray and shirt disheveled.

I don’t like you,

His voice was flat yet hoarse. She rolled her eyes. But I think, he said, idly rolling the parchment between his fingers, that you need to stop worrying about your marks. Is the world ending? No. So stop sniveling and accept it.

She wanted to laugh at him until she cried. He didn’t get it at all. Not one bit.

It’s not like that, her voice yielded after a while. It was cold, biting in defense to the accusations he had brought. You wouldn’t understand.

Really? Now he was the one who appeared to have bitterness etched on his face. I’m threatened to get disowned every other night. My friends only stay beside me because I’m the heir to one of the strongest families in Britain and everyone else thinks I’m a pompous ass,

Hermione held herself even tighter. They did not speak, neither moving to get up. Draco lay slumped against the shelves, one arm over his knee while the other lay flat in front of him.

Eventually his eyes closed, the paper still twining between his fingers. And Hermione pressed her face into her knees, her thoughts still running wild. She watched his fingers, so, so tired of it all. She wasn’t sure how anything would fare tomorrow, the day after that or even next week. Yet the library wasn’t so lonesome anymore.

[insomniamamma]

Late Bloomers: Ezra x F! Reader w/Cee

A/n: Set in the "Liminal" AU in which Ezra becomes his niece, Cee's legal guardian after a car accident kills his brother, Damon, and costs him his arm. Set sometime between "Ferris  Wheels Are For Old People" and "Surf City Goodness." Reader is Ezra's neighbor. Established relationship (sort of, IDK how to tag what they are). For @autumnleaves1991-blog​ and @clydesducktape​ Writer Wednesday.

Warnings: Not a whole lot. Kissing. Touching. A little spicier than I usually go, which isn't saying whole lot. A little language.  Cee, as usual, needs her own warning. Set during the pandemic shut down. Mentions of covid. Also, I feel like 'The Apple' needs it's own warning. I'll link the trailer at the end.

           "You sure you don't want to come with us, Birdie?" Cee sits at their scarred kitchen table, her laptop, textbooks and a pile of papers around her. She frowns.           "I gotta study," she says, "Ms Stewart is really serious about this quiz. She's not grading on a curve this time." Ezra narrows his eyes.           "You have never spent a Saturday night studying in your life," he says. Cee frowns up at him.           "You've never been in Ms. Stewart's physics class," says Cee, "She's a hard ass. Anyway, I'm still pulling an 'A' in her class, but I don't want to fuck up my average."           "Jesus, Cee," Ezra mutters, and you have to smile. She rolls her eyes.           "I know, I know--"           "Don't say 'fuck' at school," they say in unison.           "They're doing double features all summer," says Cee, "I can miss one. I've seen all these movies anyway." She smirks, "I want to hear what you think of 'The Apple.'" Ezra rummages around for his keys and Cee drops you the most exaggerated wink you've ever seen in your life.           "Have fun, guys," she says.

         Covid has nuked most of the things you used to do for fun, restaurants and shows, hell, even the libraries are closed. The only business in town that's thriving is the Star-City Drive In. There haven't been any big studio releases in a while, so they've been doing Fright Night Fridays and Sci-Fi Saturdays. Tonight's double feature is Flash Gordon and The Apple.          "They've got this weird way of operating the concession stand now," says Ezra, "Cause of the pandemic. You've gotta text them your order and I guess they bring it out to you--" Ezra's gotten pretty good at working his phone one-handed, but you can see the frustration clouding his face.          "Let me," you say, loading the menu onto your phone, "Let's get a big popcorn and share it. You okay with the fake butter?"          "Of course I'm okay with the fake butter, what kind of monster do you take me for?"          "How about candy?" You ask, scrolling through, "It's the usual suspects."          "Sno-caps," he says, "How about you?"          "I'm thinking Milk Duds," you say.          "Now that is an excellent way to lose a filling, Sunshine."          "Popcorn and Milk Duds together? Worth the risk," you say and text your order off to the concession stand. It's not quite dark yet, a reel of movie trivia that no one cares about shines ghost pale on the screen. Ez has got the radio tuned to pick up the sound, but there's not much to listen to yet so it's turned down low, background noise with the cicadas and birdsong. The big screen backs up against a farmer's field run wild and a dark stand of trees.          "Switch places with me," says Ezra, and gets out of the truck. He comes around to your side and opens the door for you.          "Why?"          "Indulge me," says Ezra, so you do as he asks and settle in to the driver's side. Ezra's truck has bench seats with vinyl that creaks and cushions that hiss slightly as you move around. There's a tap at the window and you hook your mask over your ears and crank it down, popcorn and candy and you already payed with your phone, but press some rumpled bills into their gloved hands.          "Why'd you want to switch places?" You ask around a mouthful of popcorn.          "Shhh," says Ezra, "The movie's starting."

         Flash Gordon is just as fun as you remember it being, majestic in its absurdity, a big love letter to all the terrible pulp sci-fi movies that came before, the two of you watch and snark and laugh and sing "Aaa-ahhh" whenever someone says Flash's name. We owe it to Queen, you say, and Ezra smiles big the way he does when something's caught him off guard, the way that crinkles his eyes and reveals his dimples, indeed we do. We owe it to Freddie Mercury.          At some point his arm finds it's way around your shoulders and you lean into him.          "So this is why you wanted to switch spots," you murmur. He raises his prosthetic arm, flickering movie light shining on the double hook at the end.          "Can't exactly get handsy with Mr. Claw, now can I?" He grins, "These hooks might be a little chilly."          "And pokey," you say, demonstrating with a dig to his ribs. The end credits are rolling.          "You ever seen this next movie?"          "The Apple?" He says, "No. Some sort of cult-movie thing. Cee made me promise not to IMDB it. She said I should go in with an open mind."          "Oh boy," you laugh.          "Right? Cee's tastes are all over the place. I suspect this will be either amazing  or terrible on a scale that recalibrates our internal gauge of what terrible is."          "You know she set us up, right?"          "Yeah," says Ezra, "Little Bird fancies herself quite the matchmaker."          "She winked at me." Ezra dimples.          "Did she now?"          "She looked like a cartoon," you laugh, "About as subtle as a ton of bricks." Ezra brays laughter and leans against you, squeezes you closer to him at the same time. He is beautiful when he laughs, all dimples and teeth eyes screwed shut in mirth and you take this opportunity to press a kiss against that tender place on his jaw where his beard refuses to grow. Ezra freezes, you feel his body go rigid against yours, and your first thought is to apologize, to pull back, and then he reaches for you, his broad, calloused palm cradling your face, drawing you to him, presses his lips to yours, a soft, reverent kiss that he does not fully withdraw from, his hand now resting on the nape of your neck, forehead pressed to yours, somehow more intimate than a kiss, this closeness, breathing each others exhalations, leaning against each other.          "Cee's not wrong," you say, "We're good together."          "We are, aren't we?" He gives your nape a gentle squeeze, and lets you go. The opening titles of The Apple flicker on screen and the music starts up.

         "Oh, Ezra, what the fuck did we just watch?"          "I don't know if 'watch' is the right word, Sunshine, we did not 'watch' The Apple. The Apple happened to us."          "I don't think I've ever understood Stockholm syndrome until now."          "I have been assaulted," says Ezra, "My civil rights have been violated."          "It's like..." You trail off, "It's like if someone took '1984', 'A Star Is Born' and 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show' and put them in a blender. I'm pretty sure this movie violates the Geneva conventions." Ezra laughs and so do you, leaning in to each other, giggles that become kisses, soft at first, but increasingly hungry, laced with need, your arms twine around his shoulders, his hand lingers at your side, toying with the hem of your shirt.          "S'okay, Ez," you say as he nips at your jaw and then your neck, gentle graze of teeth that makes you shiver, "You can touch me." He kisses you deep, his tongue fever-hot against yours, hand sliding up the soft slope of your belly, cupping your breast, and you arch into his touch--          Tap Tap Tap. And there's a bright light shining through the passenger's side window.          "Oh shit," says Ezra. You frantically yank your shirt back down, heat creeping up your neck, your cheeks, your earlobes flaming.          "Movie's over guys," says the shadowed figure behind the flashlight's glare, "Take it someplace else." You open the door to switch places back with Ezra, the overhead light shows him red faced and horrified.          "I'm sorry, I just--"          "Get us out of here, Ez."

         You stare out into the dark past the window, half-moon shining over fields and trees like a lazy eye. You snort laughter.          "What's so funny?"          "We got caught," you say, "We got caught necking at the drive-in like a couple of teenagers."          "You're laughing because we got caught?"          "I'm laughing because I've never made out with anyone at a drive-in, even when I was a teenager, and I'm laughing cause we got caught. After watching that trash-fire of a movie. We got caught making out over the end credits of 'The Apple'. I feel like we deserve some kind of award." You rest your hand on Ezra's leg, can just pick his smile in the dim lights from the dash. Ezra chuckles.          "I never made out with anyone at the drive in before tonight either," says Ezra.          "Bullshit," you say, and give him a good-natured poke.          "It's true," he says, "For one, I didn't have access to a car. I would've had to borrow Ma's car, and there was no way that was ever going to happen. Also, I was not what the girls back then referred to as 'dating material'. Skinny as a rake with a mouthful of braces and an obvious birthmark? I was like a puppy trying to grow into it's ears and feet, a late bloomer if you will." You move your hand higher up along his thigh and give him a squeeze.          "Better late than never."          "Indeed."

Flash Gordon Trailer

The Apple Trailer

[ketchupkio]

Pillow Talk

co-written with @mizuriii!!

Rating: G

Category: M/M

Relationship: Legend/Warriors

Words: 2123

Contents:

established relationship, the rest of the polycule is mentioned, trans male character, fluff, like some cavity inducing fluff, light angst, nightmares, prophetic dreams, phantom pain, chronic pain, comfort, Legend and Warriors being mushy, sleeping in the same bed, lullabies, contains like 1.5 references to sex lol, also a reference to Plot??? OWO???

Summary:

Legend and Warriors get some rest... or try to.

An excerpt of something that was supposed to be canon in the AU, but we didn't think hard enough about the timeline first so it's not lmao. Hope you like it!!!!!

Context: Legend, Twilight, Sky, and Wild have just come back from a excursion and traveled the whole night, not sleeping, because they got freaked out by something. Warriors couldn't sleep either because he was worried about them (...but mostly about Legend, let's be real). Legend saw him and immediately went cling! but Wars started spouting theory and strategy and that wasn't super appreciated by the sleep deprived heroes.

The hero with his face currently buried in Warriors’ scarf groaned in protest. “Babe, c’n it wait until ’ve had caffeine or a nap? Please…”

Twilight looked like he didn’t absorb half of what Wars had said. “Strategist brain is appreciated, but a nap would be good, yeah.”

"Er.... s-sorry. We've got these rooms for the next two days, so you're all welcome to head back upstairs if you want...?"

Legend tugged on his scarf, trying to get his eyes to focus enough to glare at him. “You’re coming too. Ya didn’t sleep either, dummy.”

"I-- .... okay, okay, I'm coming. I just wanted to let them know they don't have to rush."

Warriors smiled at him and let Legend push him toward the stairs.

"Your rooms are the three at the far end of the second floor, and the first right hand door on the third."

“Their room is on the third, if you wanna avoid it,” Wind sneered. Hyrule pinched his ear and Legend flipped him off before managing to successfully shove Warriors into the stairwell.

"Are you really alright?" Warriors asked, slipping an arm around Legend’s body. ".....You look exhausted, love...."

Legend hummed. “No one got hurt, but… haven’t been sleepin’ well recently. Barely got any ‘n past few days… Nightmares… ‘N I have a hard time without you...”

"....Me too. When I turn over and you're not there, it's--.... it's cold, you know? But more than cold."

Warriors kissed his temple as he led up to their room, and produced a spare key for Legend in case he wanted to get up and get breakfast before Warriors woke later on, unlocking the door with it before slipping the key into Legend's waist pouch.

"Come sleep with me, okay...? We'll actually get some rest for once."

Legend nodded, and after the door closed, he let Warriors unbuckle his belt and open his tunic. Legend would have dropped them on the floor, but Warriors laid them over the back of a chair, along with his scarf.

“Stays and boots off,” he instructed, and Legend complied with barely an insubordinate tongue sticking out in return. Warriors chuckled at him fondly as he climbed into bed and reached for him, trying to snag the hem of his shirt as he changed into something softer.

“Love you…” Legend murmured. “C’mere…”

"Your wish is my command," Warriors hummed, settling in once he was changed himself, and nestling up under Legend’s chin. His hands pressed gently against Legend’s side and his back, and Warriors took a minute just to breathe in the smell of Legend’s presence. "I love you more..."

Legend would have protested if he hadn’t been so damn tired, so all Warriors got was a (frankly adorable) grumble as the younger hero slung his arms around him and pressed his cheek against the golden hair at his crown. Warriors could feel the tension leaving him as he relaxed, and with Legend’s steady heartbeat under his ear, he could finally breathe easy enough to relax too.

"......Goddesses, we're such anxious wrecks," he laughed after a minute. "Fuck me sideways..."

"Mmh. Maybe tomorrow."

Warriors snorted, then kissed his neck before settling again.

"Sleep well for me, love.... My night depends on it."

…..Legend tried his best. He did.

There were flashes of the desert, of a different era’s Hyrule Castle, of the shade of a king and a jaded prince taking the throne from a corrupt queen, a furious Sheikah founding a rogue organization, and an old, bitter sorcerer with a young face making a deal he couldn’t refuse. Then, dark, choking mists of acid, plants and grass melting at their feet as they advanced, searching, hunting--

Legend shot awake, gasping as phantom pain shot through his arms and back along old, white scars that coiled and branched off like vines through his blood vessels in place of the stinging, corroding pain of acid from his dream.

He didn’t even hear Warriors calling his name until the pain receded to a strong, but not overwhelming ache.

It was dark, he could hear rain hitting the shutters of the windows, and he could feel the storm in his hands and knees and hips.

“Link…” he managed, in an effort to let his partner know he was alive.

Warriors loosed a gasp of relief and worry, and then pulled Legend tight to his chest.

"Y-you were wailing," the captain said, tripping over his words, "a-and crying for me-- are you okay?"

“Sorry…” he rasped, trying to get his bearings. Gods, his throat was raw and he could feel sweat rapidly cooling on his skin in the chill the rain brought. It’d be nice if he could flex his hands at all, or move his anything without it hurting. “I-I ruined your sleep, didn’t I?”

"To hell with my sleep, y-you're in pain, aren't you? Is it the storm? ....Fuck, where'd I put my potion bag--"

“‘S okay, don’t rush… Potions don’t help a lot when there’s nothin’ to heal, babe,” Legend muttered, sluggish even as a sense of urgency crept over him. “...Had a dream. Been having similar ones lately… I have a bad feeling about it.”

"....... Can you tell me about it?" Warriors asked. "You sounded like you were in agony, it scared me...."

Legend leaned into him as best he could. “O-old pain trying to come close to dream pain… It had a sorcerer in it, and a rogue Sheikah… Didn’t Wild say the Yiga from his era used to be Sheikah? This might have been the first of them… Something about Hylian royalty… I-I had prophetic dreams before my first quest…. This feels like those.”

".....A prophetic dream you have bad feelings about....?" Warriors grimaced. "....Should we wake up Sky and the sprite? If you're having prophetic visions, they might be too, but if they're not we can maybe rule out that there's an evil sorcerer on our case."

Legend wanted to ball his fists in Warriors’ shirt, but he couldn’t make his fingers do more than curl loosely. “If I could move, yeah, but that’s probably not going to be for a while… You could get them if you wanted.”

".......Later. When the storm passes, because I'm not leaving you."

Legend let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Thank you…. Come here and hold me? I’m cold…”

He didn't have to ask Warriors twice. The captain practically wrapped himself around Legend, and pulled in close and tight.

"I've got you, love. I'll keep you warm."

Legend kissed whatever part of Warriors was closest, which happened to be his jaw. “....You’re wonderful…”

….Something nagged at him, though. Warriors hadn’t been a part of his dream that he could remember, but…

“Hey… You said I called out to you…?”

"Yeah.... I think you were asking for help...."

“That… doesn’t bode well,” Legend grimaced. “Can you promise me something, though? I mean like actually promise, no matter the circumstances.”

"......You're scaring me a little.... What is it...?"

“Don’t throw yourself in front of anything for anyone. Not even me. Don’t do reckless bullshit that would get yourself hurt instead of others. That’s not to say you can’t defend anyone, just… don’t jump in where you know you’re gonna overextend and get hurt as a result. Does that make sense? I know that’s both specific and not at the same time, but I can’t explain it. I just… have a feeling. Promise you’ll be careful about that?”

"Don't do something reckless that'll get me killed out of some white knight complex and lack of self preservation? Is that what you want from me?"

Legend tried to shrink further into Warriors’ chest. “....Yes….”

"......You're asking me for quite the tall order," Warriors hummed, pressing kisses against Legend’s temple. "Aren't I supposed to be your dashing knight in shining armor, astride a white horse, keeping all the scary monsters at bay?"

He was trying for humor, but humor wasn't a given promise.

Legend huffed, but the kisses were sweet and he liked the attention. “Yes, and I know that’s a whole personality archetype for you, but Link… I’m worried. Please. This wasn’t in my dream, but it’s got the same feeling. Can you promise me that you won’t do something stupid like that?”

"I--"

Warriors hesitated.

".....Legend-- if something happened to you--"

“No, no, that’s not relevant. Link. We carry fairies and spells and items as countermeasures so if we do get into a dire situation like that, we’ll survive and not have to endanger anyone else in the process. There would be no need for you to risk yourself like that, which is why I want you to promise me you won’t. Hyrule has the goddamn triforce. I’m sure if something were to happen to one of us, there would be some way to help that wouldn’t involve you needlessly throwing your life away. Especially if it’s me, who has items so overpowered that I don’t use them, but keep them in reach so if I need to, I can…. You’re not making me feel good about this.”

"......You didn't hear what you sounded like tonight.... I'm sorry, I just-- ....There's not a whole lot worse than having someone you love screaming for you to help them and being helpless... I don't want to repeat that when there's someone trying to kill us."

Legend scowled, then gave a long sigh. “...We also have three partners at home. We have to think about them too. Minimum number of people getting hurt…”

He… felt like he wasn’t going to get his answer at this rate. Goddamnit.

"............That could also go for you, you know.... but that isn't what you want me to say."

Warriors sighed.

".......If you promise not to get into a situation I feel like you won't come home okay in, I won't do anything stupid. Deal....?"

….That was also a hard thing to guarantee. But…

“I’ll try my best. Deal,” Legend said with a note of finality. “...Now kiss me to seal it. We’re making a contract.”

Warriors smiled and tilted up Legend's chin with his fingers, and pressed a soft, but long, luxuriant kiss against his mouth.

"I love you, love.... Please, goddesses above, get some rest..."

Legend stole another kiss because he needed it. “And I love you, Sir Knight… I’ll try, if I can. Tired…”

".... Should I sing for you...?"

When Legend looked up, Warriors wasn't looking at him, and instead trained his eyes on a particularly interesting lump on the old earthen wall as his ears burned.

"Y-y'know.... t'help you sleep...."

Goddesses above, Legend was smitten. Every day he fell a little bit harder for this man.

He kissed Warriors’ cheek. If his hands worked, he’d be tempted to stroke those beautiful, flushed ears and run his fingers over the scarred edge of his left one. “...I’d love that, baby.”

"M'kay..... Tell. No one. Okay?"

“Why would I? This is just for me. Wouldn’t wanna share it with anyone else…”

"Three reasons. Guess their names."

Legend grinned. “Why wouldn’t you want them to know? They’re our partners, we love them. Two are very musically gifted and would love it. While cute, you’re also being silly.”

"Mhhhhhhh because!! It makes me self conscious and people used to stare.... A-anyway, are you gonna hush and let me, o-or what??"

Warriors’ face was so, so red, and Legend was having some very dangerous thoughts about proposing marriage. Nonetheless, the younger hero conceded.

“Gods above, I’m so in love with you. Okay, yes, I’ll be quiet,” he said, tucking himself more comfortably into Warriors and the pillows.

Warriors kissed him again, and sighed, letting his thumb rest on Legend's cheek, the circles it ran over his skin serving as his metronome. A gentle lullaby brought Legend back to gentle shorelines, warm sand and easy, soft sunlight. It nestled him against merchants fabric that smelled lightly of spice and fairy dust, to old books with knowledge ancient and timeless. It brought him round to soft white linen and blue silk, and rocked him gently on the heels of someone taller than he was, pulling Legend over to a gentle heartbeat.

It brought him home even though home was a thousand miles and goddess only knew how many years away from now.

There was something to be said for song magic, because Warriors was doing it, whether he intended to or not. Legend could feel the intent of a spell woven into his voice. It made him feel warm and safe, eased the pain and fatigue of his body, and relaxed him enough that he immediately started to drift off, awash in the calm sea of Warriors’ voice.

He was out like a light.

Thanks for reading!!! Reblogging and/or screaming in tags/replies/inbox is SO appreciated!!!

[toosicktoocare]

I’ve been kind of playing with this ATLA Benders College AU, so I’m just going to roll with it. 

ATLA Benders College AU

Snippet 1: Warmth Beyond a Bonfire

Setting: Junior Year, Sokka and Zuko

“You what?” Katara spits out sharply, hand tightening around her fork that’s raised mid-bite.

Beside her, Aang’s jaw drop, almost comically, his mouth full of food now on proper display, and Sokka grimaces.

“I said,” Sokka starts, drawing out his words slowly as if to dumb down the language, “I invited—”

“—Zuko,” Katara finishes harshly, the name alone leaving a sour taste atop her tongue. “You invited Zuko. The same Zuko who terrorized Aang for an entire year.”

“Now, Katara,” Sokka starts, smiling sheepishly and pointedly ignoring Aang’s eyes burning a hole in his face, “terrorize is a bit of a stretch, don’t you think? He had his reasons—”

“—Family troubles don’t justify his behavior, Sokka! I still don’t understand why you even speak to him.”

“He’s my roommate, Katara,” Sokka sighs, abandoning his fork on his tray. He’ll admit, he was far from pleased when junior dorm assignments dropped online a few months ago, and Zuko’s name was typed up plain as the day itself beside his. He remembers a burning anger swelling in his stomach, and in the days leading up to move-in, he filed multiple complaints to the resident director, both written and verbally, with Katara and Aang always backing him up one hundred percent.

Though, each complaint was always answered with a sigh and a rehearsed explanation. “The dean wants to spread out the fire nation students. He thinks it will help with their location-born reputation.”

Sokka thought it was stupid, and his annoyance, and muted fear, carried over into move-in day, diminishing only when he kicked his dorm door open, multiple bags in hand, and was met with warm, golden eyes, and a soft, hesitant smile that flipped his heart sideways.

Since then, he and Zuko have discovered a balance around each other, and, much to Katara’s dismay, an unlikely bond, one that’s civilized, and one that carries a seemingly one-sided something else that Sokka refuses to bring up to anyone, himself included.

“Your point?” Katara snaps quickly. “Look, Sokka, I know Zuko came back from summer break with a new hairstyle, but that doesn’t change the fact that he—”

“—I think he should come.”

The table goes quiet, with only Aang’s nonchalant chewing filling the silence. He ignores the mirror-like looks Katara and Sokka are shooting him and offers a one shoulder shrug in response.

“Maybe Sokka’s right,” Aang starts around his food. “We don’t know what happened to Zuko, but he does seem different now that he’s spent the summer with his Uncle. He even apologized to me.”

“He did?”

“Well, he slipped me a note in AB History that said ‘sorry.’”

“That’s it?” Katara throws her hands up, a huff slipping past her lips. “Aang, you can’t be serious about this. He hit you and mocked you for an entire year, and I thought he was going to kill you during the Bender Tournament. Do you really think it’s a good idea to be within bending distance at a bonfire, where he will very easily have the upper hand?”

Shrugging, Aang carries his gaze across the cafeteria to a two-seater booth in the back corner where Zuko’s currently sitting, nose buried in some novel with a fire bender and a water bender on the front. Katara and Sokka follow Aang’s gaze, and Sokka unconsciously sighs, dropping his chin in his palm as his eyes drink in Zuko’s hunched over posture and his soft, intrigued eyes.

“I just think he’s different,” Aang says, adding, “for real this time. Maybe he’ll make some better friends if he comes tonight. I think it will be good for him.”

“That’s the spirit!” Sokka pries his gaze back toward Aang, pushing forth a wide, toothy smile as he leans across the table to clap Aang on the shoulder. “We’ll meet you there!” He makes to stand, to return his tray and sneak in some quick studying before his next class, but Katara reaches out, digging sharp fingers into his wrist, and he pauses, frowning.

“Katara?”

“If he so much as looks at Aang the wrong way tonight, I’ll wash him all the way back to the fire nation.”

“Noted,” Sokka says, swallowing thickly, and he tugs his wrist free and makes a beeline to the exit, completing forgetting the tray still in his hand.

***

“I just want to make sure I’m understanding everything clearly,” Zuko starts, one brow arching as he watches Sokka fling clothes out his dresser. “Your sister and Aang were… excited when you told them I was coming?”

They’ve gone through this four times now, and still, Zuko can’t seem to convince himself that Sokka’s story is valid, not even in the slightest. He crosses his arms and nudges a shirt off the edge of Sokka’s bed with his socked foot before drawing his knees to his chest, back resting against Sokka’s headboard.

“Okay, fine,” Sokka drags out, tone low and dramatic, one Zuko’s learned to know all too well. “Katara wasn’t happy about it.”

“And Aang?”

“Aang actually was the one who suggested it would be good that you come.”

Zuko can’t control the wince that pulls across his face, and for a brief moment, he’s lost in hot, burning memories shrouded in anger, frustration, and pain. He sucks in a slow, deliberate breath, one that swells coolly in his chest, and he exhales, breathing out the memory, leaving only the present right before his eyes.

“Why?” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat.

“It’s Aang,” Sokka says, tilting his head, studying Zuko’s posture and the way Zuko always makes himself look smaller than he is. “The kid’s got a heart of pure, unbreakable gold. The point is,” Sokka adds when Zuko remains passive on his bed, “you’re coming tonight. It’s going to be super fun, and I need you to stop pouting and help me pick out an outfit.”

“I wasn’t pouting,” Zuko grumbles as he slips off Sokka’s bed and starts nudging through a pile of clothes on the floor, fingers tightening around a long-sleeve navy sweater with an oversized collar that Sokka doesn’t wear nearly enough, in his opinion. He holds it up silently, and Sokka studies it, tilting his head from the left, to the right, index finger tapping at his chin.

“This could work,” he finally draws out. “Pair this with my black skinny jeans, and some converses, and I think I’ll look quite dashing.”

Zuko chokes back a laugh, trying, and failing miserably, to pass it off as a cough, and his cheeks burn a bright pink when Sokka claps a hand to his shoulder and offers a tight squeeze.

“Now, for you,” Sokka starts, slipping out of his room and down the small hall to Zuko’s room, “do you still have that red, long-sleeve Henley?”

***

Zuko grits his teeth through a small shudder as the chilly October breeze seems to slip right through his thin shirt. He should have grabbed his coat; he tried, but Sokka insisted that his outfit was perfect and that the coat would hide him too much. Still, he should have grabbed it anyway.

Regret feels cold now, and he digs his fingers into his arms and follows Sokka over to the large fire, politely declining a beer as he snags a lawn chair that’s pulled up pretty close to the roaring flames. He watches, amused, as Sokka strides from person to person naturally, but then he can feel a different kind of itching heat, and he pulls his gaze around until he locks eyes with Katara, who’s standing on the other side of the fire, glaring daggers at him. He holds her gaze, guilt coloring his eyes, and she suddenly jerks her gaze away with a low huff.

“Hey, Zuko!”

Jumping, Zuko whips a wild gaze to see Aang taking the seat beside him, an almost blinding smile painted across his lips.

“Aang…” He clears his throat. “Hey.”

“Glad you came!” Aang drops his hand on Zuko’s arm, his smile faltering, and Zuko wants to jerk his arm away, to shrink away from the sudden, blaring look of concern etching over Aang’s face.

“Um, are you okay?”

“Of course,” Zuko snaps, face falling almost immediately after the harsh words fly off his lips. “Sorry, yes. I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking.”

Frowning, Zuko spares a glance down to see that he is, in fact, trembling softly. Beside him, Aang hops to his feet.

“I think someone has some blankets in the bed of their truck. I can get you one—”

“It’s fine,” Zuko spits out a little too quickly, halting Aang mid-step. “I mean, I’m fine. There’s no need.”

“You sure?” Aang’s hesitant, worry twisting ever-so faintly in his gut.

“I’m sure,” Zuko meets Aang’s gaze, and they stay like that, silent, for just a moment, before he’s the first to break away when he hears someone drop into a chair on the other side of him. “Thank you, though.”

“Of course,” Aang says quietly, gesturing over his shoulder. “I’ll just be… around. I really am glad you came tonight.”

Zuko nods, and his tense, squared shoulders slowly ease-up and unclench as Aang smiles and darts off toward a group of freshmen who seem to be far too confused and underdressed for an upper level bonfire.

He nudges his chair a little closer to the fire, an almost dangerous distance if he weren’t a fire bender, and he turns and falls into idle chatter with the person to his left, a freshman, he quickly learns, inquiring about FB 101.

***

“Sokka,” Aang elbows through a group of students surrounding Sokka, who’s mid-story about some absurd trip he and Katara took when they were in junior high. “Sokka!” he tries again, louder, muttering apologies as he slips toward the center, stumbling into Sokka’s side.

“Aang!” Sokka shouts, draping a heavy arm over Aang’s shoulder. “You guys, Aang is the most talented little dude. He’s literally the Avatar! I can’t believe I’m best friends with the Avatar!”

Aang smiles sheepishly at the shouts and catcalls that follow, and he slips away from Sokka’s heavy arm, latching onto it, instead, with strong fingers. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Well,” Sokka draws out, voice sloppy, drunken, “of course you can! Ladies and gentlemen, we shall continue this later!” He stumbles as Aang all but drags him away from the crowd, swaying and staggering all the way to a tree a little way away from the bonfire.

“Yo, Aang, what’s up?”

“I think you should take Zuko back to the dorms.”

“Why?” Sokka whines, blinking slowly. “He was just here.” He looks around, head heavy on his neck. “He’s having the time of his life. ‘S totally good for him here. He’s making tons of friends.”

“It’s not that,” Aang presses, gnawing at his bottom lip. He physically turns Sokka until they are both facing the bonfire, and Aang points toward Zuko, who’s standing frightening close to the fire, bouncing on the balls of his feet and rubbing his hands up and down his arms.

“Zuko’s fire nation, Sokka. I know it’s not that cold for us, but he’s freezing. He was already shivering when you guys got here, and it’s been three hours already.”

All at once, Sokka sobers up, forcing the alcohol that dulls his senses down to the very bottom of his stomach, and he frowns, brows furrowing, as he stares hard at Zuko. “I didn’t realize—”

“Not you fault,” Aang mutters distracted by the warm, tight, constricting hand of concern tugging at his chest. “Just… he really needs to be taken back. I took FB Analysis II. Their bodies don’t process lower temperatures because of their hotter climate. It can be dangerous…”

Sokka doesn’t stand around to hear more, already making his way toward Zuko, footsteps fast, fearfully deliberate, and in seconds, he’s at Zuko’s side, a guilty smile tugging at the corners of his lips when he gets a good look at Zuko’s pale face, paler than normal standards, and the tight clench of his jaw as if he’s physically trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

“Hey, Zuko. I’m beat. You ready to head back?” He goes for a casual route, knowing that Zuko will argue if he mentions they are leaving for Zuko’s sake and not of his own accord.

“It’s still a l-little early,” Zuko says, and Sokka doesn’t miss the small stutter.

“Yeah, too much alcohol makes me go all weird in the head. Not something I’m ready to unbag today.” He nudges Zuko’s arm, and Zuko holds his gaze, the two sharing a silent conversation despite the noise around them, and, after an endless minute, Zuko breaks the gaze with a nod.

“If you’re ready.”

Smiling, Sokka briefly slips away to say his goodbyes, and just minutes later, he and Zuko are starting on the five minute walk back to the dorms, the loud sounds of the party becoming nothing more than faint chatter and music in the distance the farther they walk.

Sokka stays close to Zuko’s side, eyes entranced as Zuko passes a small ball of fire from one palm to the other, the glow illuminating the cloudy puffs of breath in the cold air.

“That doesn’t burn your hands?” He finally asks, mentally wishing he opted for an interdisciplinary track so he could have taken more fire bending courses.

“It could,” Zuko says quietly. “But we’re trained to listen to how our skin reacts to the heat.” He drops the small ball of flames into his right palm and holds it there. “I can instantly feel the heat coat my palm, but it’s not unpleasant. I can hold it like this,” he pauses, raising his hand up a little higher, “until an almost icy prickle begins to stab at my skin. That’s when I know it’s been enough.” He brings his hand into a fist, extinguishing the flame, before he crosses his arms once more, absently rubbing his hands up and down to utilize the lingering heat from the fire.

Sokka drapes an arm around Zuko’s shoulders, playing it off as an easy gesture when really, he wants to offer Zuko as much warmth as he can the remainder of their walk. Worryingly, Zuko doesn’t scoff and pull away. Rather, he leans into Sokka’s side with a small shudder, and Sokka only tightens his arm.

“I’m glad you came tonight. Though, I’m sorry I vetoed the coat.”

Zuko huffs out a laugh that molds into a hiss as a chilly breeze slips across the two. “Nothing a hot shower won’t fix.”

“I give you full permission to take all of the hot water tonight.”

“Good,” Zuko says, a small smile creeping at his lips. “Because I wasn’t going to ask.”

***

Though the shower helped bite the edge of the cold off, Zuko still feels chilled through, even after standing under borderline scolding hot water for the better half of thirty minutes. He’s quick to change into something warm, a long-sleeve, thermal night shirt and a pair of sweat pants, and he snags Sokka’s hoodie off the back of his desk chair when he spots it, slipping it over his head as he walks into the living room.

He spots two mugs of steaming tea on the coffee table, and he eases himself onto the couch, craning his neck to see Sokka popping a back of popcorn in the microwave.

“Movie night?” He calls out, and Sokka whips around, a wide smile pulling at his lips.

“Figured since it’s still early, we could watch something. Your pick.” Sokka stops in front of the couch, head tilting, as he takes in Zuko’s still too pale skin. “How was your shower?”

“Fine,” Zuko says, swallowing back the urge to flinch when Sokka brings a hand up to his face. He closes his eyes, his mind pulling toward a war with the heart that’s thumping rapidly in his chest, but then Sokka just rests a warm palm to his cheek, and he almost reaches up to hold it there.

But, far too quickly, Sokka jerks his hand away, and it isn’t until the rather colorful string of cuss words that follow that Zuko opens his eyes, frowning.

“What—”

“You literally feel like a block of ice.” Sokka storms across their dorm suite, snagging blankets from both bedrooms, stopping at the thermostat on the wall twice.

“Sokka—”

“This is literally all my fault. I thought you looked way hotter without the coat, and now you feel like a fucking corpse.”

Hotter… Zuko’s eyes grow wide, but Sokka doesn’t seem to realize the true extent of any word currently slipping from his rapid tongue. He only blinks when Sokka drops both blankets on top of him, and he struggles to free himself from the tangled mess.

“Sokka, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re damn right you will,” Sokka snaps, slipping onto the couch and tugging Zuko until Zuko’s back is flush against his chest. “Because I will make sure of it.” He fumbles with the blankets, struggling to pull both over and around the two, and all the while, Zuko can’t seem to remember how words work, that he’s supposed to use some combination of his tongue, mouth, and vocal chords to produce sounds that form words.

After a few minutes of breathless rustling, Sokka’s content, rubbing his hands up and down Zuko’s arms from behind him, and Zuko’s stiff as a board, too afraid to move.

“Sokka, this isn’t necessary.”

“Are you starting to feel warmer?”

Zuko open’s his mouth to argue further, but at the question, he closes it. He still feels cold, colder than he’s felt in a while, but underneath the ice, he can feel a faint brush of warmth that’s threatening to crack the ice. Without really meaning to, he relaxes against Sokka’s chest, and he nods.

“Yeah, actually, I am.”

“Then,” Sokka mutters, “it’s necessary.”

[stillebesat]

The Green Gremlin

Danny Phantom: Danny, Dash Blurb: The Ghost reflects the person. Dash had heard that somewhere and after tonight...the thirty-sixth freaking time he’d been turned green...he knew it was right. There was something fundamentally wrong with him. Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort Overall Fic Warnings: Past Bullying Talk, Mind Control mention

Dash had no idea how long the hole in the fence of the Fenton’s backyard had been there and at this point he didn’t care.

Considering he’d found it back in the beginning of sophomore year...and it was still here nearly two years later...he doubted the Fenton Parents even knew it existed since it was hidden behind their shed.

After all, ghosts didn’t exactly need holes to get anywhere. They could just phase through solid objects--ones that didn’t have a ghost shield protecting them at least.

He hissed under his breath, shoving himself through the opening, purposely ignoring how his shoulders--which had nearly gotten him stuck in the hole a month ago at his last visit--didn’t stop him this time.

Intangibility.

Dash gritted his teeth, shoving his way along the gap between shed and fence into the main backyard.

He knew there would be no one home even with the late hour, considering the Fentons were still dealing with the aftermath of yet another ghost army invasion that had compromised most of the student body at Casper High. Fentina--Danny should also still be somewhere on the school grounds with his two weirdo friends, and with his old tutor, Jazz, off at college...it would be quiet here for a while yet.

Not that it would have mattered if they had been home. He’d yet to see anyone come back here unless someone was trying to get Fentroid fit enough to pass yet another fitness test. And that had only happened twice.

Dash reached the brick wall, his fingers--still green tinged from his unfortunate...change today--brushed the rough surface before he placed his back to the wall, sliding down so that the overgrown bush nearby hid most of him from view.

He let out a slow breath, ducking his head against his knees, feeling the hum of whatever protective shields the Fentons had on the building resonating through the wall and matching the burning throb in his chest as he ran slightly pointed nails through his hair.

Another ghost invasion. Another...transformation where the attacking ghost had done something to bring out the more ghostly natures of the student body to make things all the more difficult for Phantom.

And once again...Dash had been changed into that horrible green skinned gremlin ghost creature.

“It’s not fair.” He whispered, fingers flinching away from the pointed tips of his ears.

The Ghost reflects the person. He’d heard that somewhere...probably from Mr. Lancer, and after like the third incident where he’d ended up green...Dash had begun to think there was something to that thought. After tonight...the thirty-sixth freaking time he’d been turned green...he knew it was right.

There was something fundamentally wrong with him.

None of the others, in the dozenish times they had been affected, held such a consistent ghost form when they were altered, changed, or manipulated to be something else rather than human. Whether it was becoming like ghostly Vampires, Sirens, Multi-Colored Blobs, Cyborgs, or various WereCreatures, his classmates had experienced it all.

But Dash?

He remained the green gremlin.

Nothing more. Nothing less. Sure the size of his gremlin form might shift depending on the ghost doing the changing and his...well...anger issues that day.

But overall...Green. Green. Green.

The Ghost reflects the person.

And since halfway through sophomore year Dash had been trying to change that reflection. Be better.

He’d stopped taking out his...issues on the dweebs at school--especially Fen--Danny.

He’d gone to see a therapist.

He’d worked on improving his grades and study habits.

He’d tried to branch out in his hobbies. Sewing, Screenwriting, a disastrous attempt at Acting and yah, just trying anything else he had a slight interest in that wasn’t a sport. That wasn’t football.

...and yet.

He dropped a hand to his chest, rubbing at the burning sensation that no amount of Tums or Tylenol could get rid of and only seemed to grow stronger with every ghastly change he’d been forced into.

He closed his eyes, running his tongue over his sharpened teeth, feeling most of the points finally beginning to shrink. “One more year.”

If he could just survive senior year in this hellscape then…then....

He didn’t know. Colleges only wanted him for his football skills.

Football skills that he should just stop using because that seemed to bring out the worst of the Green Gremlin when the ghosts attacked.

He’d destroyed yet another uniform -his third this year- today at the game when he’d become the freaking Hulk and smashed his way through the bleachers to try and catch the annoying fly that he hadn’t realized was Phantom until after his Hero had burst free from his grip and sent him flying over the school to land face first in the grass by the flagpole.

It was a move that had placed him far out of range of the ghostly lady-like creature who had changed him in the first place, freeing him from her control. Allowing him to run like the coward he was away from the fight and his classmates and get...human again.

Dash let out another shuddering breath, trying to focus on the hum coming from the Fenton’s home as he rested his head on his knees. Trying to ground himself like the therapist had suggested.

He was safe here.

No ghosts dared to attack Fentonworks directly. Not when it housed the only stable portal in the area.

No one would come here to hurt him. To hunt him.

He just needed to wait until the last dredges of these ghost alterations left his body and then he could go home.

Go home to where his Dad would be furious that he didn’t stick it out. Didn’t win the freaking football game.

Like a ghost attack wouldn’t have forced them to reschedule anyways.

It wasn’t like that mattered to his Father though. He only ever cared about football when he wasn’t off traveling for one of his stupid work trips. Nothing more. Nothing less. His Dad hadn’t even noticed that Dash had grown out his hair to cover his ears because they’d remained pointed since Thanksgiving break and he couldn’t hide them any other way. He hadn’t noticed how Dash barely smiled anymore to hide the stupid fangs that had stuck around after the last change. He hadn’t noticed---alot. He’d come home once with his skin still green tinged and his Dad thought he’d been trying to fake an illness to get out of practice instead of recovering from another Ghost Attack.

Dash pressed his hands to his chest, again fruitlessly massaging at the burning ache there.

One more year.

One. More. Year. And he could move out of this place. Get far away from his Dad. From the Ghosts. And hopefully forget this whole gremlin nightmar---

“Dash?”

Dash jerked at the unexpected voice, hissing as he smacked the back of his head against the bricks. Great. Hello headache. Not that he didn’t already probably have a concussion from how hard he’d face planted in the dirt earlier. But still.

“...Dash?” The voice was softer. More cautious. Like the tone you’d use to try and soothe a wild animal trapped in a corner. “You...uh? Okay?”

Dash snorted, resting his head back on his knees so he could better rub the back of it and avoid looking at the speaker--at Danny. “Sure.” He gritted his teeth at the demonic growl that still was his voice. Please let that not be a permanent change this time. “I’m. Just. Fine.”

“You uh...don’t look fine.”

Nooo really? He hadn’t noticed. Dash flexed his fingers, feeling the claws still present, which meant his skin was probably still ghost colored.

Great. Fenton probably thought he was still mind controlled. Why was he even home? Or better yet. Out here? There was no reason to come back here at night--even so, he’d thought that he’d be hidden from view!

Dash exhaled, turning his head to the side, looking up to see his one time punching bag sitting on the back steps, bright blue eyes staring right at him. “I’m fine.” He repeated, hiding a wince as his chest burned hotter for a second. “Just….catching my breath.”

Danny frowned, slipping off the side of the steps to crouch in front of him. “Here? Why? My parents--”

“I KNO--” Dash flinched, groaning as Danny jerked back. He half uncurled, lightly tapping his aching head against the bricks as he closed his eyes. “I know.” He repeated in a softer growl. “They haven’t looked back here yet though. I’ll be...fine...in a minute. I won’t attack you.”

“Here yet---wait you’ve come here before? Why?”

Shouldn’t Fenton be more concerned about Dash still being well….ghostly? Or hurting him? Sure, Danny had stopped running away at the first sign of a ghost attack forever ago, finally taking after his parents in a way. He’d often seen Danny running around with Sam and Tucker helping Phantom with capturing ghosts---liked they’d done tonight. The three of them working together in tandem to keep the football team from rampaging off the field before the Fentons got there.

...Maybe Danny being back from the game already wasn’t that odd actually now that he thought about it. If Fenton was returning with a full thermos of spirits to send back in the Ghost Zone and one of his parent’s devices happened to sensed a ghost nearby---

Dash gave a one shoulder shrug, opting to look at his green tinged hands instead of at Fen---Danny’s face. “Feels...safe here. I guess. No ghosts attack it at least.”

“It feels safe.” Danny repeated an odd note to his voice.

What was he? A parrot? “Yes.” He bit out, clenching his hands before relaxing them. Anger wouldn’t help. It would only make him revert. He drew in a slow measured breath. “What’s the big deal Fent--Danny?”

Danny chuckled and shifted so he too was sitting with his back against the wall of his home. “The fact that you feel safe at my house? The place practically screams stay away to people, Dash, what with the big old Ops center on top and the threat of my Dad causing something to explode here every other day.”

Okay...yah...that...yah. Dash made a face, rubbing his aching chest. “Your sister tutored me here twice a week until she left. Maybe I’m just used to it.”

Danny made a skeptical noise, drumming his fingers on his knees. “It’s probably the increased ectoplasmic radiation here.” He remarked conversationally. “My parents thought they had it contained to the basement...but I can feel it seeping through the bricks. A neutral source of energy coming from the portal, like a recharging station at a cafe but for ghosts instead of laptops.”

A recharging station? For ghosts? Was that the humming sound? Not a shield? No. No. It couldn’t--and he--he---Dash shot to his feet, nearly stumbling into the bushes as his shredded sneakers briefly lost contact with the ground. “NO. I can’t--”

Danny reached out with a surprisingly firm grip, pulling him back down. “Hey, hey. It’s okay--”

Dash growled, hating how feral he sounded as he jerked free, backing--floating--away from Fen--Danny and the house... “I’m not a Ghost, Fenton! I can’t recharge--I can’t--” Crap. His voice was only getting more demonic because he was getting upset. He grabbed his football jersey as he roughly hit the ground, falling to his knees by the shed, clawed fingers digging into the ruined fabric as he struggled to breathe. Ectoradiation. Had he been making the problem worse this entire time? He thought hanging out here was safe! That it would help him get back to normal!

“Hey.” A cold hand squeezed his shoulder.

Dash growled, hunching further in on himself. “I can’t--I don’t want to be this! I’ve been trying to change! And it’s not working. I’m just making it wors--”

“Dash.” Danny placed his pale hand over Dash’s green one before moving it to rest on his chest, right over the burning ache like a cooling balm. “Hey.” He repeated softly. “You’re okay, you’re not a ghost.”

Wasn’t he though? After thirty-six freaking alterations, was he even human anymore? Dash gave a ragged laugh, chest burning hotter under his touch. “Fe--Danny, I’m green.”

Danny hummed, hand feeling all the colder as he tilted his head, frowning as he gave him the once over. “Not your best look, I agree, but you’re not a ghost.” He gave him a half smile, eyes sparking with silent humor. “Trust me. I’d know.”

“Ha.” He couldn’t though. Dash squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on Danny’s hand on his chest, on just breathing. “You can’t know that.” He whispered. “It doesn’t all just go away when the ghost does, Fenton. Not anymore.”

Compared to the rest of the student body, Danny had barely been changed a handful of times. How could he know how ghostly or not ghostly Dash was? Even Fenton’s parents had been wrong more than once on that account.

Danny’s fingers twitched. “...What doesn’t go away?” He asked, an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before.

Danger.

Dash flinched, pushing Danny’s hand away, ignoring how his chest twinged as he moved back to his feet. He had to get out of here. “Nothing.” Fenton was the son of Ghost Hunters after all. He now helped Phantom capture the bad ghosts. How would he react if he saw how Dash had changed? The pointed ears? The fangs? The whatever else tonight’s attack would permanently alter. Maybe his skin would stay green this time. “It’s noth--”

“It’s not nothing.” Danny’s voice was quiet as he too stood, flexing his fingers. “There is an echo to you. Not enough to be ghostly, but far too much to be just regular contamination like the other students have.”

Dash gritted his teeth, shaking his head. He already knew that.

“Dash.” Fenton’s voice was soft. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Why would you want to?” Dash retorted, glaring at the shed, claws digging into his palms as he clenched his hands. “I’m just the bully am I not?” He hadn’t shoved a nerd into a locker in forever, but that didn’t stop them from side-eyeing him and shying away whenever he walked by...especially on a bad day.

Danny huffed. “You’ve hardly been that. We may not...hang out...but I have noticed the change. You’ve been...well...” He stepped into view rubbing the back of his neck, “good, man.”

Ha. “Not good enough.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Dash made a face, gesturing to himself once more, though he could already tell his skin was returning to its normal color. Finally. “I’m always like this, F--Danny. Thirty-six freaking times,” His chest burned as Fenton’s eyes widened. “I’ve been altered by ghosts and I always look like this. None of the others do if you haven’t noticed. They always look different with each attack. But me? I don’t--I’m just---Green.”

He should stop talking. Let it go. It wasn’t like Fenton cared what was going off with his one-time bully.

Yet...He needed to tell someone. Anyone. What he was dealing with. It wasn’t like he could go to Star or Paulina. Not even his best bud Kwan. They couldn’t understand this. They didn’t have to live with the permanent weird.

Fenton did though. His parents had been weird his entire life with their ghost obsesion.

Danny frowned. “So? It’s not like it’s perm--”

“Permanent?” Dash gave a bitter laugh, brushing his hair away from his ears to reveal the points. “Tell that to my ears. To my fangs.” He bared his teeth, ignoring the shiver that ran down his spine as Fenton bristled and bared his teeth right back.

Were Danny’s teeth more...pointed?--No. It was a trick of the light. Fenton couldn’t have fangs too. Dash growled, hands clenching as he heard a slight rumble come from Danny in response. “If those have already changed in me then how much longer before the ghost’s contamination permanently changes my voice, Fenton? My eyes? Will I keep the green skin next time?! Will I permanently remain a ghost and never change back one day? I don’t freaking know and it scares me!”

Because he was the only one. No one else could understand.

Danny shook his head, his defensive stance relaxing as he raised a hand. “Dash, I--”

Dash crossed his arms, glaring at his one time punching bag. “Don’t you dare tell me you understand or some sort of sentimental crap! You’ve been altered by ghosts like what? Three times? How could you even understand? How could anyone understand when none of the others have to deal with this either? Even though they’ve been changed a dozen times, they’re still able to be normal because they never look exactly the same under the various ghosts attacking us. Nothing sticks for them. But me?” He kicked at the grass, already regretting letting his emotions get the better of him, for revealing his...fears to Danny of all people. “I’m always just a violent green gremlin and I hate it, Fenton. I hate it. I’ve tried to change to stop it. Be a better person. And yet I always end up looking exactly--” he swallowed, roughly brushing over his eyes, hating how hot and wet they felt as he finally broke eye contact. “The same.” He whispered.

“It’s not--” Danny cleared his throat, stepping forward to place his hand back over the ache in Dash’s chest. “It’s not...bad to have a consistent ghost form, you know.” He said, giving a one shoulder shrug. “To have the same abilities. To not worry about what power you might accidentally unleash next.” His hand seemed to grow colder on Dash’s chest, drawing the heat away. “I’ve heard people talking. In school. About how they hate that they don’t know what they’ll end up being when the next ghost comes.”

Dash shakily exhaled, leaning into Fenton’s hand despite himself. Kwan had mentioned something like that before today’s game too. How he wished he could just stick with duplicating as his power like Dash was stuck with being a gremlin.

“You’re lucky in that sense.” Danny said in a low voice. “Even if you don’t like being the--” He raised his free hand to make quotation marks. “‘Green Gremlin’ At least you know what to expect when a ghost attacks. It gives you the uhh...field? Yah. Field advantage.”

He--he had a point. Dash did know what to expect. The only thing he had to adjust for was his size. Otherwise...everything else remained the same. He slowly looked up. “Doesn’t mean I like it. Or that I’m any good.” Dash grimaced. “I mean, I attacked Phantom! My hero! Who does that?”

Danny smirked, eyes glinting, reflecting the green glow coming off of Dash’s skin. “You were mind controlled. The entire football team went after him in case you didn’t notice, you just happened to reach him first. I think he understands.”

Dash scoffed, resting clawless fingers on Danny’s hand. “Does he?”

Fenton hummed, surprisingly at ease for being in the presence of his one-time bully. Of course, Fenton had bulked up a bit since freshman year. Gotten taller. Become more of a fighter with Phantom. He wouldn’t be that easy to push around anymore on a normal day if Dash were still the type to shove nerds into their lockers.

“You didn’t continue attacking. You left. That says something.” Danny said, putting slight pressure on Dash’s chest, urging him to take a step back.

Back towards the Fenton’s home. To the...freaking recharging wall.

Dash tightened his grip on Danny’s hand, the ache in his chest fading more the closer they got to the red bricks. “That I’m a coward.”

He shook his head. “That you’re smart. You got out of her control. You came to a safe place to recover.”

Like the Fenton house was actually safe. Danny had been right in pointing that out. No one in their right mind would come here.

So why had he? He shook his head. “If I was any good then I should have fought with Phantom, Danny. Not gone running off!”

Danny raised an eyebrow, pulling his hand free. “Then why don’t you?”

“Huh?”

He shrugged, moving past Dash to scoop up a familiar battered Fenton Thermos from the steps, fiddling with it. “You know what’s going to happen to you right? You Hulk it out. Why don’t you use that knowledge to help Phantom fight other ghosts next time?”

Dash frowned, absently rubbing chest as he looked up at the shadowy ops center perched overhead. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it multiple times. It just-- “I...figured I’d just get in the way.” He admitted, running fingers through his hair, relaxing as he felt the last of the ghostliness leave his body. “I mean, you know how it is, Danny, if we’re altered then it usually means we’re controlled in some way. Sent to attack. Cause destruction and chaos. Why would Phantom trust any of us, let alone me, to help?”

Even though they’d all taken ghostly defense classes. Even though most of them carried a Fenton weapon of some sort that could take down the weaker ghosts. Even then, only Fentina and his friends were allowed by Phantom to get close in a major ghost fight and even so they ran mostly interference. Damage control.

Danny hummed, bouncing the thermos in one hand as he rubbed the back of his neck with the other. “Point. He does tend to...work alone.”

“Exactly.” Dash took a seat on the steps, hunching his shoulders as he felt the hum of the building resonating through his hands. “And me bumbling into a fight with fists swinging would hardly help him.”

“Well…” Danny settled on the steps next to him, placing the Thermos by their feet. “No...probably not.”

That’s what he thought. Still...it was something to reconsider. Especially if he could convince Fenton to give Phantom the heads up that Dash wanted to try and help--

He exhaled, running fingers through his hair, lingering on the tips of his ears. He’d have to check in the mirror when he got home, but it didn’t feel like anything had permanently changed this time.

“Do they hurt?”

“Mmm?” Dash tilted his head.

Danny gestured to him, looking for a moment like his old awkward freshman self. “Your ah...teeth? The ears? You said both had changed right? Do they hurt?”

Oh. Right. He had brought that up hadn’t he? Dash exhaled, resting his head on his knees. “No. Not now. In the beginning, sure. But not now.”

“That’s...good. That they don’t hurt anymore. I--umm...what did you...ah...use for them? To stop the pain?”

Why did it matter? It wasn’t like they hurt anymore. It wasn’t like anyone else--Dash blinked, breath catching in his throat as he abruptly sat up, whirling to Danny. His teeth. He knew they hadn’t looked normal. But how?! “Let me see.”

Danny stiffened, a wary glint of green in his eyes.

Only Dash’s skin was no longer green. Where was his green glow coming from?

“See what? I was just asking a question.”

“One you shouldn’t care about unless you are having the same problem, Fenton.” Dash said, jabbing a finger at him, heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

Not alone. Was he seriously not alone in this? If Fenton!! If there were two of them instead of just him--even if it was Danny, it was someone else. It was-- Dash raked his eyes over Fenton, taking all of him in. Noting all the little changes that he hadn’t noticed before. That no one seemed to have noticed, like the fact that his hair was shaggier than it used to be. Not quite as long as Dash’s hair, but definitely hiding the ears. “Kwan, my best friend, never ever asked me what I used to stop it when I casually brought it up. Why would you ask me unless you have the same problem?” Dash said, trying and probably totally failing at keeping the desperation out of his voice. “Show me.”

Danny bit his lip, deliberately not showing any teeth with the motion, his eyes darting to the darkened yard, then away. “Seriously, Dash--”

Dash growled, hands clenching on the stairs to keep him from hitting something. “Please, Danny. Show. Me.” He had to know. Know he wasn’t the only one. “It’s not like anyone comes back here. Trust me. I know. Besides, your parents will be off decontaminating the school for forever again, if you’re that worried about them seeing.”

Danny flinched.

Ah. So it was something like that then. Dash leaned forward like a bloodhound sensing...well blood. “My Dad doesn’t know either.” He said, quietly. “I get it. Like...how do you explain this to them? Especially when they refuse to listen. If it’s not about football my Dad tunes it out.”

“They only ever talk about eradicating ghosts.” Danny mumbled, running his fingers over his left palm, tracing some invisible pattern. “Never about studying them. Learning from them. Just...how their next greatest weapon will defeat them or permanently get rid of them. It’s not like they want to---”

“See that their son is becoming more ghostly?”

Danny stiffened, a flicker of green appearing around his fingers before vanishing as he let out a slow breath. “Sure...something like that.”

Oh. “That...sucks man.” Dash rested his chin on his hand, eyes flicking between Fenton’s face and his fingers. Ecto energy. Was that why Danny had said he could feel the ectoradiation coming from his home?

Or was it a new Fenton invention that they hadn’t yet introduced to the public to help fight against ghosts?

He frowned, looking away. “I...well I get it. Being scared to tell them. I’ve been on the wrong end of their weapons more than once. It’s not fun.”

Danny hunched his shoulders, rubbing at his own chest. “Yah. I--yah. Most days it feels like they only care that I’m following in their footsteps...hunting ghosts...but beyond that? Beyond the next ghost attack? It’s like good ectoenergy doesn’t exist to them. Or shouldn’t exist. That it’s just bad pretending to be good and should be torn apart. Molecule by Molecule. So it won’t hurt anyone.”

Dash shuddered. Oh yah. He’d heard that particular speech from Jack Fenton before. He’d had nightmares for weeks. How could he have thought that he’d had it rough with his Dad and his football obsession when Danny probably heard that speech on a daily basis? When Dash had seen how they had all those weapons lying around the house, ready to be picked up and shot in the blink of an eye at the merest hint that a ghost was nearby. And Danny lived there. If he was experiencing ghost changes too….How would his parents actually react if it came out that their son had fallen victim to the ectoradiation they, the number one Ghost Hunters of Amity Park, claimed they were protected from?

Not good judging by Danny’s reluctance to admit that there was anything wrong with him in the first place.

Or it could just be his bad history with Fenton. Showing your weakness to a bully--even a former one--probably went against instinct.

“Well...if you...ah...need to tell anyone. Or get some help.” Dash offered, rubbing at his own chest, at the hollowness he could feel. Maybe he had jumped the gun there. Desperate to believe that he wasn’t the only one. That there was someone else who would understand. “You already saw my fangs...so I kinda know...things. Like there’s some creams at my place you could grab...you know...if you are having the same problem. I’d understand what’s going on a bit more than your parents would.”

Maybe. He didn’t know them that well. Maybe he was just projecting his own problems onto Fenton again.

“Mmm. I---” Danny exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck, before nodding to himself, turning to face him. “You’re right, Dash.” He said, his eyes glowing a bright neon green as his lip slowly lifted in a half smile, revealing the gleaming tip of a fang. “You would understand.”

[anotheranimestan]

Picking Up His Drunk Girlfriend: Tsukishima

Fluffy (or as fluffy as Tsuki gets lol)

Time skip!

wc: 1.3k

Request from @estmagnifique ! This ones for you so come get ya mans 🤪

Tonight you were out with the girls at one of your usual spots. They had a special on margaritas tonight. So what if you were a light weight? You loaded up your tab because who could pass up such a good deal?

Your friends started asking you to slow down after three but...they were being dramatic.

After six drinks, four trips to the bathroom and one complaint from the guy you’d accidentally crashed into and made him drop a tray of glasses on the floor, your friends deemed it was time to text your boyfriend to come get you. No way were you making it home by yourself alive. They confiscated your phone and sent the SOS.

He rolled up and you waved your friends goodbye as you walked to the car. Still very much woozy, it’s safe to say you didn’t walk in a straight line.

Making it up to the passenger side you pulled the handle. Locked.

“Hey jerk. Open the door!” You called through the glass.

But he didn’t. Instead he rolled the window down about an inch.

“What’s this? A walking public disturbance?” He said through the crack in a disapproving tone.

You gave him a wild look of disbelief. “What?”

“I don’t know if I should let you in.”

“Shut up Tsuki. Hurry up. Unlock it!”

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t call the authorities and turn you over right now for reckless public intoxication.”

You groaned. “Stop fucking around! It’s going to start raining soon!”

People were staring now. Bewildered at the scene playing before them.

“Better think fast then. I’m sure all that alcohol isn’t going to help with that.” He chuckled. Quite amused with himself. Public humiliation was his favorite form of punishment and reform.

“Are you serious right now?” You whined.

“Right, because I’m clearly the joking type.” He said emphasizing his sarcasm for your current compromised comprehension level.

You swore you’d punch him when you got in there. But clearly you were going to have to play his sick game.

“Ughhh. Fine! Because it’s cold and I’m going to get hypo...hypother-me-ma.”

He laughed. “Horrible.”

“Fucking because you don’t feel like being an asshole tonight!?”

“No.”

“Because I’m your girlfriend and you’re supposed to love me?”

After a moment of consideration, the door clicked open. You hastily went to reach for it but as soon as your fingers grazed the handle the car lurched forward a couple feet.

“KEI!” You yelled. The embarrassment was finally kicking in as you heard snickers from the people standing on the sidewalk.

You went to reach for it again, nearly tripping over your own feet this time. Again the asshole tapped the gas just when your hand neared the handle.

You started banging on the window. “Tsuki! I’m gonna kick your ass!” You screamed in complete frustration. More laughs from the peanut gallery.

“Okay, calm down drunk and disorderly. Get in.” He put the car in park and put his hands in the air as evidence that he was done torturing you.

Finally you climbed in the car and as soon as you shut the door behind you a drizzle started hitting the windows.

You muttered some more curses under your breath.

“Did you enjoy that you sadist?” You mumbled.

“Are you having fun being a delinquent?”

You slapped his shoulder but he just pulled onto the street, unfazed.

“Next time I’m calling Yams.” A poor attempt at getting under his skin.

“Great idea.” He said with a smirk.

You slapped his shoulder again.

“Don’t talk to me. I’m not talking to you for the next ten minutes.” You pouted. He was so mean to you.

“I’m sure it will be less.” He said confidently.

You huffed. He was loving this.

After a couple minutes of silently staring out the window in protest, you felt the alcohol hit your stomach. You closed your eyes and took some deep breaths. But the motion of the car was not helping. The subtle vibrations were making you woozy. The liquid in your stomach started aggressively churning and bubbling. You could feel a little trying to force its way up.

“Oh god—“

“Ahh only 4 minutes—“

“Shut up! Pull over! Now!” You pleaded, covering your mouth trying you best to concentrate on not spewing all over his dash.

He looked over in horror and immediately swerved to the side of the road.

In barely enough time you threw yourself out of the car to release everything out on the grass. It was god awful. You hated this feeling. It seemed like it would never go away.

You spent the next few seconds promising the gods, the universe and whoever else was listening that you’d never drink again. But you felt another rounding bubbling up.

You jumped when you felt Tsuki’s hand on your shoulder.

“It’s okay. It’s just me.” He said quietly, pulling the hair out of your face.

He didn’t say anything else. Just started lightly rubbing your back until you were finished.

It was still drizzling. You knew he hated being out in the rain. Guilt mixed with vomit was an even worse feeling.

“Okay.” You said slowly trying to stand up.

“Maybe you should wait another minute.” You could hear the ill-masked concern in his voice.

After insisting you were fine he helped you back up and lead you back to the car. Making sure you were buckled in before he shut the door for you.

As he rounded to the other side you noticed he’d placed a blanket on your seat. It was your favorite one from his room. He must have brought it before picking you up. You hated being cold just as much as he hated the rain.

Snuggling your face into it, you were reminded why you loved your boyfriend so much.

Settling into his seat, he looked at you wearily.

“Are you going to be okay?”

You only managed a feeble shrug as you sank onto his arm. He pulled the blanket over your head. “Just close your eyes. We’re almost there.” He was extra careful to drive slowly and avoid potholes.

By the time he pulled into your drive way you were in no better state. Unable to move without confidently feeling like you weren’t about to vomit again.

You felt bad. You knew he wasn’t loving spending the night like this. Dealing with a sick girlfriend who doesn’t know her limits. He doesn’t even like alcohol but somehow got pulled into your mess.

“You can just leave me here.” You offered weakly.

“I can’t leave you.”

“Aw.” He was being sweet for once.

“I mean I literally can’t leave. You’re still in my car.”

Sigh. Short lived.

He chuckled. How could he still tease you when you’re like this?

“It’s fine.” He said earnestly.

He sat there patiently while your stomach settled. Holding your hand and gently stroking your head. You’d really fallen into him. You were basically laying on his lap.

After about five minutes of calming silence, you asked him to take you inside.

He helped you get ready for bed with minimal teasing.

You crawled under your blankets, still clutching the one he brought from his house.

He tucked you in but you caught his hand before he could leave.

“Stay for a little while?” You pleaded with soft eyes. His rubs were the only thing hold you over right now.

He couldn’t say no. You looked too adorable bundled up like that.

He carefully snuck in next to you, trying not to jar you around.

He was so long that his feet stuck off the end of your bed. But it was perfect. You curled into his chest as he wrapped you in his arms. Still stroking your hair just like you wanted.

“Are you going to say sorry for being mean to me earlier?” You prodded with a wave of confidence.

“No.” He said with a smile. His placed a few kisses on your forehead and cheeks before settling in for good.

He cuddled with you until you fell asleep. But even then he was too worried he’d wake you up by leaving so he stayed by your side the whole night, enjoying the rhythm of your breathing and kissing your forehead every once in a while for good measure.

~~

Read Iwaizumi’s version here