#then like halfway through the rest of the choir came on and it was the classic Sugar Cloud standing on the box choreography

[justarandombrit]

So I had a dream I went to see RTC live, but I only remember what Sugar Cloud was like.

More info in the tags ↓

[wroteclassicaly]

Warnings: Language, smut, NSFW goodness, vaginal fingering, finger sucking, & Steve comes in his pants.

A/N: Well, this wouldn’t leave me alone, the dash was horny for Steve too, and my mind spiraled. *Eddie Munson voice* @pastel-pillows & @dr-aculaaa — this is for you! ;-)

You couldn’t stop the way your legs began to shake, calves tense, thighs jiggling from the jostle you accompanied yourself with, toes of your sneakers dipped into the green carpeting and digging in, only to bounce seconds later. You swear you can hear your heartbeat rushing in your ears, bursting the drums, echoing your sinful sentiments, a choir of nasty little devils whispering encouragement into your ears, their sharp teeth sucking at your lobe. It all started with watching Steve rearrange his trunk this morning before you rode with him to work at the store. He’d pulled out his nail slayed weapon, twirling it like it weighed nothing and he did it for a living. You went doe eyed, becoming dizzy and dumb.

Robin had rolled her eyes, following shortly behind for her own ride. “So glad I’m not straight.” She was forever onto you.

And the duration towards Family Video wasn’t any better. With the ping pong weather of the Midwest, you’d all had your windows down and it kept blowing Steve’s unruly mane, resulting in crunching leather, twisting upon by his clenched fingers as they shifted to raise, his wrist tendons flexing beneath a rolled Henley, his digits pushing back the tendrils that had mounted his forehead. With a slow morning, it gave you three some time to unwrap new snacks to restock the front counter with. Only… that packing tape was always tough and you left the letter opener in the back (you could never find it, really), so Steve came to the rescue. He’d fetched his keys from the employee lockers, bringing them into the front with one announcement: the metal ring swinging along his defined pointer finger. With a freshly manicured nail bed and a calloused padding around the digit’s tip, you were all but salivating.

Praying made everything worse for your state, and you’d resigned to indulging in every waking fantasy as you watched Steve roll his sleeves up until they crested over his forearms and rested around his elbows, giving you VIP access to each and every tendon, vein, freckle, mole, and muscle that the limbs possessed, complete with his signature watch wrapped around his left wrist. Robin had backed away and busied herself further towards the front, not wanting to be smothered by your increasingly unstable pheromones. You thought that maybe asking Steve for help instead of watching him grit his pearly whites or lick his tongue out over that dark stubble beginning to work its way into his flesh, circling his mouth in the most luscious ways, all because the tape was being stubborn against his keys — wasn’t a smart choice. He had refused with a smile, leaning over the cardboard and giving you a direct eyeline down the collar of his shirt, curly chest hair peeking back at you. On your way around the counter after nearly collapsing, Robin had poked her finger into her mouth and mimicked a gag, rolling her eyes at your middle finger return.

And that leads you to your current continued predicament, the slutty saga trotting along. Steve makes a noise of eager mirth and that goofy grin of triumph washes over his features, his fingers tucking into the packaging and flipping the lids, curling.

Curling…

You choke on your own spit, a deep breath coming out choppy. You immediately warm with embarrassment and maneuver your way through the stale air towards the restrooms. You’re barely inside a stall before Steve comes in behind you, halfway in the doorway, hand tightened knuckle-white around the silver handle, little denim jeans strapped to his thick thigh that is raised slightly, his Nike sneaker toe pointed into the floor to hold his place. You watch his arm prop, his brows cinch in confusion.

“Honey? Everything alright?”

If you speak it’ll all vomit out in a pornographic moan, so you can merely shake your head. Steve immediately reacts and joins your proximity, nearly caging your airspace in, his cologne draping around you like a fucking winter coat. Your eyelids flutter closed, your body stepping back, then in. This is ridiculous. It’s not like you two haven’t fooled around before, on nights where the action was slow and the adrenaline ran high.

He always said you could talk to him, ask him for and about — anything. It’s a comical slow motion when his hand raises, veins defined and running alongside his creamy skin that will tan in the coming Spring, it never fails to. He seems to feed off of your look, patience his new virtue. You permit his thumbpad to stroke a shred of hair to tuck it behind your ear, causing your nipples to harden in your bra’s confines.

“Steve…” And his breath hitches, because even underneath the sickly fluorescent lighting he can see your dilated pupils.

“Oh.” His own voice has gone rasp, scattered. But there’s a battering jealousy that gnaws at his abdomen, fanning its green flames into his esophagus. He could choke on the bile that someone else might have caused your pent up responses.

It’s like he knows what you’re going to say before you do, but he encourages, stroking ever so softly along your cheekbone now. “What do you need?”

You mewl and sway into him, chests brushing, lips parched when they peel apart. You can practically taste his cinnamon breath spray on your tongue. “Need to touch myself.” You settle for a more hands off approach, not wanting to push, especially at work and with your shared best-friend thirty feet away.

Steve, however, he surprises you. He purses his plush lips into a plop, sclera glazed over with honey hot arousal. “Yeah? You think I can watch you do it? It’s been so long since you’ve let me see you between your legs, baby.”

It didn’t matter anymore if you were thinking about someone else, because you’re going to be thinking of him now — only, just. He wants to make sure.

You’re almost warning him, but when your jaw drops and your tongue is present, his thumb glides along your skin and presses inside and over the wet muscle. Steve has never seen you react so strongly, your left hand reaching out and fisting into his shirt, bunching it and yanking him into the stall with you, kicking it shut, his back falling upon the cool, doodle littered metal. He hisses, a fuck being spat into the air. You’re trembling into your ragged breathing, vest rippling with the waves of your heaving breasts. You look at him from beneath your lashes, fluttering, sucking with purpose on his thumb.

His cock swells instantly, straining uncomfortably against the zipper of his light blue Levi’s. It hits him then, what you have wanted. Or rather, who. He feels a possessive pull that’s stronger than gravity, polluting every bit of air that enters his lungs. His arm wraps around your lower back and his forearm jostles a chill down your spine.

You make room and claw your vest off, letting the cheap polyester hit the tile floor, helping yourself to his arm around you, bending to having his palm splay along your tailbone, caressing, moving upwards seconds later. Your hand untangles from the now wrinkled fabric of his shirt and moves to your jeans, pushing and twisting, getting them to a place where they drift down your hips and pool around your knees. Your panties are next, so sticky and hot between your thighs that it strings from you to glistening fabric, Steve’s mouth watering.

“Dammit, honey. How long have you been like this for?”

You’re panting, whimpering, his light kneading in your tense muscles, finding him eventually cupping your neck with a heavy and large palm, fingers tickling your jugular. Your pulse is thumping sporadically beneath his touch, he notes with fascination.

“All day.” You reveal. “Because of you and these.” You say full out, tongue lolling out and licking another one of his fingers into your mouth — salty and all Steve.

Those carmel colored brows, they rise into a question. You nod once more. “Please?”

Steve dips in, drops his wrist to nudge the meat of your thighs further apart, and he swipes a finger through the soaked seam of you, collecting what he can, rubbing along the rim of muscle that keeps your beautiful inside from him — pushing it when you begin to shake and plead. Your whispering praises and thank yous, ready to worship at the temple of Steve Harrington. He adds a third finger to your mouth and thrusts, wiggling them along the wetness, marveling at how it pools in the creases where your lips meet your cheeks.

“Like that?” He draws out a gruff groan, tossed about by the electric force and your perfect lips closing around his fingers, sucking him like it’s his dick and the world is about to end.

You give him that look, and that familiar adrenaline finds its way to the surface and screams, taking you and Steve within its clutches. He’s smirking at your mumbling around him, a pathetic but purely diabolical sight. He’s so hard it hurts to move, knees bumping yours, and your body pliant and fucking yourself on his hand, your lips spread apart and scattering your cream across his palm each time you push back down against him, arching to help nudge his fingers into a deeper crook. You grip his wrist bone and tap, tracing those veins, and you finalize by digging your nails into his forearm. He retaliates and holds on the back of your tongue, making you sputter and choke, spit dribbling out and squishing around his knuckles.

“Yeah, gag on it. Fuck, you’re about to cum already, do you feel it?”

And you do come, seconds later, licking and biting at Steve’s fingers, squeezing his arm and practically humping his hand until it subsides. Your head is spinning when you touch back to planet earth, Steve shaking and folding in on you, his sticky fingers falling from your pussy, the softest noise coming out of his throat and barreling past his lips.

“Holy shit…” you look right at his crotch in time to see the denim darken with his load.

He finds your neck and kisses, returning cute and shyly, his own hand leaving your mouth, pruned and sated.

“I can’t believe I just got off in my pants. Christ, honey. You’re fucking ridiculous today.”

Steve-speak. All dopey and cheesy, uncaring that he busted like a horny teenager. But you didn’t care either, so he didn’t feel the need to be ashamed.

Whilst he helps you readjust your clothing, a shrill voice sounds from the other side of the room.

“You better wash your hands,” Robin yells.

You’re sheepish, wincing, but Steve… he winks at you and slides his still—wet fingers into his mouth, making a nice show of cleaning them, looking proud once he finishes, responding with a vocal, “They’re clean, doofus.” And he leans in towards you, an afterthought, your noses brushing, as he whispers lowly, “Just gotta run home and change my pants now.”

[yourdeepestfathoms]

So I have a head cold at the moment, I’m immunocompromised, may we get some sick chaos choir headcannons pretty please with a few sprinkles on top?

-✨

of course! hope you feel better, anon! 💕

Okay, so we all know Ocean basically has no immune system and Always Gets Sick

But Penny has an immune system of pure IRON

Homegirl NEVER gets sick

Nobody knows what the hell kind of vitamins and CBD oils she was being given at Elysium Farm, but she’s like a Barbarian that chose Totem Warrior as its sub-class. Immune to basically EVERYTHING (except Psychic damage lol)

Also, Ricky has a weak immune system

He and Ocean are sick buddies!

Noel is the overdramatic sick person

Noel: I’m dying!

Constance: You have a cold

Ocean 🤝 Noel - Not wanting to ever blow their nose because it’s embarrassing

Meanwhile, Mischa will, no fear. And he sounds like a goddamn TRUMPET

“And this is why I refuse to blow my nose in front of you people” -Noel (with Ocean nodding at his side)

Constance will make soup for people who get sick!!

And that soup is like it’s made by ANGELS

If God is real, some of his holy essence is in that soup

That soup will make Noel religious

It’s just really good okay

Once when Constance got sick, the others decided that they would make HER soup!

It, uh

Well

It certainly was a liquid-based food that they made

So none of them knew the recipe (it’s a secret), so they tried to wing it

That didn’t work

They used Way Too Much chicken broth, so it tasted kinda chemically for some reason (based on when I attempted to make egg drop soup, used too much chicken broth, and it tasted like a chicken marinated in cleaning chemicals…with eggs)

They didn’t have the noodles Constance usually used, so they used spaghetti noodles 😭

Halfway through, they were like “this isn’t gonna work,” ditched the soup (didn’t throw it away, though, because that would be a waste), and decided to make something else

Mischa suggested porridge!

Easy peasy!

Except it was not easy, and it was not, in fact, peasy

Constance can hear the choir’s shouts of dismay from her bedroom

Noel and Penny had to rush to interfere with her when she came out of her room to see what’s going on

“No, no, everything is fine!” “Yeah, everything is fine! Go back to bed! We got it all under control!” “OW, I JUST BURNED MY FREAKING HAND!!”

It was a mess (literally)

Okay, okay, away from that!

Other various headcanons for the choir while sick!

So we all know that Ocean will REFUSE to rest when she’s sick until she’s either forced to rest or passes out

Mischa is kinda the same way, but not as severe

He just doesn’t like being seen as “weak” because of his whole Tough Guy persona

He doesn’t mind the other kids taking care of him, though! However, he WILL roll his eyes and act like he doesn’t care (he cares immensely)

Meanwhile, Noel will tuck himself in bed like a sickly Victorian child when he just has a little fever

Ocean will do the choir’s work if they’re too sick to do it themselves (she doesn’t mind, it gives her something to do)

Constance encourages everyone to get a lot of rest when they’re sick!

On the other hand, Penny will message the sick person wanting to play Pool on Game Pigeon to keep them busy

[my-chemical-wheaties]

Albums That I Listened to in April 2024

This month started out a little slow and then went wicked fast in terms of how motivated I was to listening to albums. I largely attribute this to a depressive episode that I was dealing with starting in late March and going through part of early April. Once I had the energy to actually listen to music, I went through albums in pretty rapid succession, and I was done with listening to all twelve by about halfway through the month (So much for saying that I needed to pace myself in March's post. 😅). Hopefully, I actually take my time more with this project in May.

Here's what I listened to this past month:

Crashlanded - Madeline Edwards (2022)

Love in Constant Spectacle - Jane Weaver (2024)

Spirit of Eden - Talk Talk (1988)

Speaking in Tongues - Talking Heads (1983)

Trail of Flowers - Sierra Ferrell (2024)

Oracular Spectacular - MGMT (2007)

Pamyu Pamyu Revolution - Kyary Pamyu Pamyu (2012)

The Colour of Spring - Talk Talk (1986)

Cheese - Stromae (2009)

Fabiana Palladino - Fabiana Palladino (2024)

Under the Pink - Tori Amos (1994)

Come Around and Love Me - Jalen Ngonda (2023)

If I were to rank these albums, here's how I'd do it:

Spirit of Eden: As someone who tends to gravitate towards art pop, I had always meant to get into Talk Talk, but never really delved into any album of theirs until now. Oh my god, was I missing out! This album is an absolute journey from start to finish and the instrumentation and transitions, both within and in between songs, is incredible. I just know when I listened to this that these tracks sounded amazing performed live. On top of that, Mark Hollis (Rest in peace) is a phenomenal singer and lyricist. The emotionality in his voice is palpable and really adds to how powerful these tracks are. Talk Talk is truly an underrated band and anyone who is interested in art pop or is trying to get into more 80s music absolutely must listen to this album. 10/10

2. Under the Pink: Tori Amos is an artist of whom I highly respect and adore, but I also haven't really gotten into a full album of hers before. Only her sophomore album, Under the Pink manages to be sonically cohesive without sacrificing any of the unique personalities of each track. I thought it was interesting how the album goes back and forth between telling fictional stories as vignettes and giving the listener glimpses into Tori's own life. Based on what I've listened to so far, this is definitely among her most underrated albums. 8/10

3. The Colour of Spring: Since I absolutely loved Spirit of Eden when I listened to it, I decided that I should give another one of Talk Talk's albums a try. I think that Spirit of Eden is the better of these two albums, but The Colour of Spring is phenomenal in its own right. I love the little details like the children's choir on "Happiness is Easy" or the harmonica on "Living in Another World." On top of that, tracks like "April 5th" and "Life's What You Make It" are incredible. To me, this is just about at the same level as Under the Pink. Between their two albums, it's clear that Talk Talk were on top of their game in the 80s and are a truly underrated band, at least in North America. 8/10

4. Speaking in Tongues: Talking Heads are revered among both other artists and music enthusiasts, and for good reason. The melodies are solid and all have their own unique grooves to them. I also think that David Byrne's voice complements the instrumentation, too, which sounds like differing types of squiggly lines. I don't really know what else that I could say about this other than it is just bop after bop and a fun album to put on every once in a while. 8/10

5. Come Around and Love Me: I had never heard of Jalen Ngonda before until he was recommended to me on Spotify and I've got to say... this album is really good. Its sound kind of reminds me of Marvin Gaye or something that Motown would put out, which makes the fact that this came out just last year a little shocking. The only real critiques that I have are that it gets a little redundant having nearly every track begin with a drum fill, and I thought that the track "Lost" was kind of half-baked. Overall, listening to this album was a pleasant experience and I hope that Jalen's work gets more exposure. 7/10

6. Trail of Flowers: Sierra Ferrell appears to be a fairly new artist who is combining folk with country music and honestly, I'm here for it. She brings a lot of energy to this album, and I appreciate her ability to paint pictures with her lyrics with the backdrop of some truly beautiful strings-based baroque instrumentation. Even tracks that I felt like needed more work like "American Dream" and "Chittlin' Cookin' Time in Cheatham County" still have a lot of potential. I think that Sierra has the prospectives to become a wildly successful artist, and I am eager to see what she puts out in the future. 7/10

7. Pamyu Pamyu Revolution: For the longest time, I only really knew Kyary Pamyu Pamyu for her song and music video for "PONPONPON" that went viral online in the early to mid 2010s (And also for somehow knowing Charli XCX), but I had never really sought out the full album "PONPONPON" is on until this month. I wouldn't necessarily call it groundbreaking, but each track is loaded with infectiously catchy hooks. This album is really just bop after bop. If you're looking for something in the same vein as Carly Rae Jepsen with a touch of eccentricity, this is definitely a project worth checking out. 8/10

8. Oracular Spectacular: MGMT seems to be a popular band with people around my age (Gen Z-ers), so it only made sense to explore their work more; especially since I listened to their sophomore album Congratulations back in December. I had already heard the three singles from this era before and they're all as phenomenal as always, and the deep cut "Of Moons, Birds, and Monsters" is a lovely acoustic guitar-centered track. I really didn't care for "The Youth" and "4th Dimensional Transition," though. All in all, this is a pretty decent indie album that has held up pretty well. 8/10

9. Fabiana Palladino: Apparently Lorde was recommending this album to people, and it appears to be getting positive reviews, so I thought that I would check it out. There are some great tracks on here, but there are also some that are pretty boring and were kind of a chore to get through. Overall, this album is pretty hit or miss, I would only suggest checking it out if you're curious to know what producer Jai Paul has been up to lately. 7/10

10. Crashlanded: I've been meaning to get around to listening to this one for a couple of months now, and I'm glad I finally did. The production on this album is exquisite and in all honesty, is probably a large part of the reason why I enjoyed listening to it. Madeline's voice is also great and overall, this is a strong country album from one of the genre's newest artists. The only track I didn't care much for is the title track, mainly because it's one of those songs that wants to have a message, but doesn't necessarily have one, and it consequently comes off as a little cringey. Otherwise, a lot of these tracks clicked with me immediately upon listen. "Forehead Kisses" is a particular favorite of mine. 7/10

11. Cheese: Stromae is one of those artists that I keep hearing people praise a lot online, but I haven't heard much from him or heard very many people talk about him in person. This is his debut album, and it sounds so different from the couple of his songs that I have heard. I was kind of expecting a more experimental pop sound, but this is more of an electronic/dance record. It's not bad at all, but I do think this is a situation like Waxahatchee's Cerulean Salt that I listened to earlier in this challenge, where it's clear that this only sounds rougher compared to what I imagine their future albums to sound like solely because it's their debut. Overall, though, it's a decent listen. 7/10

12. Love in Constant Spectacle: I had never heard of Jane Weaver prior to listening to this, I just stumbled upon it while looking for something to listen to on Album of the Year and decided upon cursory glance, that it's something worth checking out. I was kind of under the impression that this was going to be an art pop album, but it's more like an alternative/indie rock album in the same vein as some of Feist's work. Sometimes it can get a little boring while I'm listening to it, and I feel like Jane is trying to have a Julia Holter moment with this album at points. While the aforementioned Julia Holter/Feist-esque aesthetic doesn't really land at all here, I will say that there are still a few good tracks on this album. 7/10

I already have a few albums lined up for next month, so it will be interesting to see how that plays out. I think I will be skewering more towards indie and older artists, which should be an interesting listening experience for me.

[simeons-sinful-saint]

Summertime Happiness

(OM) Boys (excluding Simeon, Solomon) x GN!Reader

Synopsis: the beach episode

WC: 3.2k

Note: it’s summer, and I miss the beach. I really want to go so I projected it here. I will say this is a part one bc I plan on writing smut for part two and you get to pick which ending you want. For example, you could pick to spend the night with Diavolo or you could choose Mammon. I’m challenging myself to write for each character so we’ll see how that goes.

“Beach! beach! Beach!” Mammon, Asmo, and Levi were chanting in the back of the car.

“Guys, we’re not even halfway there.” You groaned. They had been like that ever since you got to the human world. They then started squabbling about what to do. Mammon then tried to steal Levi’s tablet. Asmo seemed to ignore them completely.

“This would be our first human world beach! Of course, we’re excited. Just think of all the photos I could post.” Asmo was gleeful, the main person who suggested this trip.

“Well can you guys keep it down. I’ll turn this car around if you don’t!” They shut up, leaving you able to concentrate on the road, “You guys are lucky that Lucifer is in the other car.”

“I didn’t know you could drive MC.” Satan was in the front seat next to you.

“Of course! I’ve been driving since I was 16.”

“I’m sure you could teach Mammon how to drive safer.”

“Oi! Quit insulting me!”

“Honestly, why couldn’t Belphie be in my car. He’d just sleep.” You grumbled under your breath.

“I still don’t understand why Diavolo would want to come here when he has a beach of his own. Besides the beach is stupid.” Satan was now complaining. The choir in the back started up again, and you could feel the headache develop.

Instead of listening to them, you turned the music up to drown out the noise they were making.

That’s when Barbatos gave you a call. You answered it hands free, “hello?”

“MC, it seems the young lord would like to visit the nearest rest stop. He wants to see a human world gift shop.”

“There will be gift shops at the beach!”

“You don’t understand MC! I heard rest stop gift shops offer a wide variety of trinkets that the state offers.” Diavolo sounded too excited for you to say no.

“Also, Beel ran out of food, and we don’t want him to rampage in the car.” Lucifer sounded annoyed, probably because he got put in the back seat since Barbatos was driving.

“I’m hungry…” you could practically hear Beel’s stomach growl from the backseat as well.

“I suppose we need to fill the cars up with gas as well. There should be a rest stop at the next exit.”

“Understood. We’ll follow you to the rest stop of your choice.” Barbatos hung up. The music resumed. Hopefully, they didn’t hear the commotion from the back of your car.

You pulled off the next exit to arrive at a big gas station/truck stop. Parking your car at a pump, the others got out of the car to stretch their legs.

“You guys go ahead and get some snacks or drinks. Make sure to get me one too. The others should show up shortly.”

They walked into the shop thankfully not arguing. Barbatos shortly pulled in at the pump opposite of your car.

They also got out, and Diavolo practically ran to the shop with Beel following behind him.

“Lucifer, please don’t let them get into any trouble. That’s the last thing we need.” He nodded already looking annoyed. Upon inspecting their car, you could see Belphie peacefully sleeping in the back seat.

Barbatos walked over with a map consulting you on the best route to the beach. Their D.D.Ds didn’t have human world GPS, and of course, they didn’t have any human world phones to access it (and you weren’t planning on buying a new phone.) With a pen, you highlighted the route after consulting your GPS. You knew that Barbatos wouldn’t get lost behind you, but it was nice having this assurance.

Barbatos then turned around and excused himself from your discussion, heading towards the gas station shop. You tended to both of the cars, making sure that they were filled up and ready to go.

When you saw all of them come back to the car, Mammon was thrown over Barbatos’s shoulder.

“Put me down!”

“I’m sorry MC, but Mammon will be riding with us now.” You didn’t even want to know. Beel now was in your car, which solved part of the headache that was going on.

Lucifer simply texted you:

Mammon tried to steal

You knew that Mammon was going to be harshly punished in Barbatos’s car which he deserved. The last thing y’all needed was for the cops to come and arrest Mammon.

You noticed how many bags of souvenirs Diavolo was putting in the back of the car. It looked like he swept the store clean of everything. Same with Beel but with food.

“Beel, please make sure to not get food everywhere in my car. My parents would kill me if I ruined their seats.” He nodded and kept chowing down on the bag of chips he got.

Satan just shook his head and handed you a granola bar and a soda. Thankfully someone remembered to get what you asked for.

You all loaded the cars back up and set off once more. This time your car was quieter, and you were so thankful for that on the rest of the way to the beach.

—

“Finally! We’re here!” Asmo exclaimed when you parked the car at the condo y’all would be spending time at. Barbatos shortly pulled in next to you.

They got out of the car and met up with you, “We’ll need rolling carts for all of our luggage and supplies. They should be in the lobby’s office.”

Lucifer and Barbatos left to go fetch them and check in to the condo for you.

It was surprisingly easy to get all of the suitcases, beach supplies, and coolers up to the room. You made sure to get a big condo so everyone could get their own room (saved yourself the headache of who will be rooming with who.)

“Alright everyone, time to set up the ground rules!” You gathered everyone to the common room, “Make sure you all remember your human world names. Please do not stray too far from the others. We do have the beach for ourselves here, but the public beach isn’t too far from here. Please be careful to not wander that way. We have an itinerary for dinner and free times. Please do try to behave yourselves over the week we are here. Other than that, we’ll have fun!”

They all agreed and left to go unpack their stuff.

“I really hope we can get through this without any trouble. We’re spending too much money being here instead of being in Devildom.”

—

The sand was nice and warm. The sunlight danced over the waves, making the ocean sparkle. Lucifer and Barbatos already got the umbrellas and beach chairs prepared, so all the rest had to do was get into swimsuits.

Running out to settle down on a chair basking in the sunlight was your first objective.

“MC, you need to apply sunscreen before you sit out in the sun.” Barbatos walked over with the spray on sunscreen.

“Right. I forgot.”

“MC, I can help you put on your sunscreen!” Asmo ran over to you, “Then you can rub it all over my body.”

“Oi! If anyone is going to rub sunscreen on them, it’s going to be me. I’m their first so I have that right!” Mammon was quick to swoop in and grab the bottle out of Asmo’s hand.

“You can’t use that excuse every time. Especially since you’ll never admit how you feel.” Satan was the next one to take the bottle.

“I-I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you know you’re a simp.” Levi came up to y’all, “O-Of course I will apply sunscreen on you MC. Who am I kidding you’ll never pick me.” You could hear every mumble under Levi’s breath.

“What on earth are you all doing?” It was Lucifer, “they are perfectly capable of putting sunscreen on themselves.”

“But their back! They couldn’t possible read that part,” Asmo flirted, “and I’m the perfect person.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes and took the bottle out of Satan’s hands, “I’ll put on your sunscreen MC”

“No fair! How come you get to do it?” They started to whine. Honestly at this point you didn’t care who put it on you.

“Thank you, Lucifer,” you turned your back towards him so he could apply the lotion on you. Feeling his hand run up and down your skin did feel nice.

The others continued to bitch at Lucifer about it.

“Haha! Your brothers are lively as always.” Diavolo stood next to Lucifer, who only sighed at his comment.

“I’m afraid so.”

Now that everyone was prepared, Mammon, Asmo, Levi, and Beel ran towards the water. Belphie was already asleep on a beach chair. Satan sat next to him with a book in hand. Diavolo was forcing Lucifer to build a sandcastle with him, while Barbatos helped by carrying buckets of ocean water.

A smile grew on your face as you ran towards the ocean yourself with a floaty, finally able to relax and play with everyone there.

When entering the nice warm water, you’re immediately dunked in. Rising back up,

“Mammon! You ass!” You move your hair out of your face.

“It’s ok MC, he did the same to me. He has a death wish,” Asmo looked furious. Every time he’s swim close to Mammon, he would simply swim away.

“Didn’t peg you as a good swimmer.”

“The great Mammon can do many things!” His laughter was infectious, and your anger fizzled out as you see the brothers chasing each other.

“Ugh, what normies.”

“What did you expect to do out here Levi?”

“Well you see I saw in this anime called A Trip to the Beach turns into a romance story and-“

“Forget I asked. I’m surprised that Mammon didn’t dunk you.”

“The water doesn’t scare me.”

“Makes sense. You do kind of control water. I guess this would be the best place to summon Lotan, besides the fact this is a human world beach.”

“Hahaha. I have no plans of doing that. My Ruri-Chan towel and bag would get soaked, and I don’t want that.”

“Right…”

You then heard eating sounds in your ear. Turning around, you see Beel mouth full of fish, “You can’t just eat the marine life here!”

“But I was hungry…”

“Then go to shore and grab some of the food we brought down here!”

Beel took you up on that offer as soon as he finished devouring the fish he caught with his bare hands. You just prayed he left something for the rest of you, lest you have to go back to the condo and get more.

Mammon quickly swam back and hid behind your back, practically using you as a shield.

“Don’t use MC to protect you!” Asmo was coming in hot. You dunked yourself under the water for Asmo to finally catch Mammon and push his head in the water.

Upon both of you returning to the surface, you shook your head to get the salt water out of your ears.

“You pushed too hard Asmo!” Mammon bitched.

“You brought this upon yourself!”

“Can you both shut up? I’m trying to fantasize about Ruri-Chan.”

“Stay out of this otaku!” They both shouted at the same time. Levi clammed up.

“Of course, they think I’m some weird gross shut in…”

“Oh Levi, that’s not true. Just let those two idiots fight and dunk each other under water. Let’s go back to shore and hunt for seashells!” He felt better from your words. Grabbing the floatie that seemed to be abandoned (you’re glad it didn’t float away into the sea), you both swam back and went to dry yourselves off.

Beel was devouring all of the food in the coolers you brought.

“Satan! Why didn’t you restrain him?”

“Huh, it’s not my job to keep Beel from eating everything. That’s Belphie’s.” You glanced to see that he was asleep basking in the summer sun.

“Of course.” You turned your attention back to Satan, “why don’t you come with Levi and I to hunt for seashells?”

“No.” It was immediate and caught you off guard, “I’m at the climax of this book, and I’ll do beach stuff when I’m done. Except go into the water.”

“Still don’t get it, but whatever.”

You grabbed the necessary supplies to gather seashells, and you made your way back to the shoreline with Levi by your side.

“Let’s see if we can find one that’s not broken! I’d love to get to a nice cone shaped one” Levi cheered up.

So far, you’ve only found broken sand dollars and pieces of broken corral, “well this isn’t great.”

“Oi! Why you hogging MC all to yourself?” Mammon always knew how to ruin a moment.

“Hey, Mammon~”

“Y-yeah?”

“You want a dollar?”

“Yes! Giving money to me is an investment-“

You simply placed a sand dollar in his hand causing Levi to practically die, howling about how you got him good.

Mammon just stood there looking like he could turn to dust at any moment. You couldn’t help but laugh.

Satisfied with your haul, you and Levi placed the bucket of shells back at the beach chairs.

“Still reading Satan?”

“Yes, and it’s getting good so leave me alone.” You roll your eyes in response. Levi said he would chill with Satan in the shade, something about getting his daily log on bonuses.

Shrugging, you turn on the group you hadn’t visited yet.

“Lucifer! Diavolo! How’s the sandcastle coming?”

“Well…I tried making a sand sculpture of Lucifer, but it doesn’t look anything like him.” Diavolo pouted. Upon looking at the pile of sand, you tried to hold back your laughter. If this was supposed to be Lucifer, then Asmo should really give him a makeover.

“The important thing is you tried Diavolo,” Lucifer tried to hide his annoyance, but of course he was bad at that (he would never admit it though.)

“Maybe we should take a break, my lord.”

“I guess so.” You felt bad and patted Diavolo on the back.

“You’ll get it right the next time you do it. Here why don’t I show you something humans do on the beach!”

Diavolo perked up, and the three of them followed you back to the shaded umbrella where their beach chairs were. You sauntered off and grabbed four bottles of beer and a bag of limes you cut up earlier (thankful that Beel didn’t eat them.)

You handed them the beer as well as a bottle opener, “Ok, so typically on the beach with this brand of beer, you push a lime into the neck of the bottle. It helps add flavor to the drink of the summer here.”

You demonstrated for them, even though Barbatos was a step ahead of you anyway. Diavolo looked at it all with wonder, taking a sip after preparing it, “Fascinating! Is this really what humans do?”

“Some. I like to do it when I go to the beach. It’s nice and relaxing. Plus, the advertising says to do this.”

“I do have to say, it does add a little aromatic flavor. However, I’ll have to decline drinking more than I already have.” Barbatos handed the bottle back to you. Even though you knew he had his reasons, it bummed you out a little.

“Well Lucifer! What do you think?” Diavolo turned towards his friend who was happily drinking his.

“Honestly, I needed some sort of break after being in the sun for so long.”

“Well, I’m glad I was able to help.” Lucifer smiled at your response, praising you about how you’re always a help to everyone.

You sat down next to them on the sand and just took in the calmness of the beach air, the smell of salty sea water filling your nose. It was enjoyable to have one moment of relaxation.

“Hey MC! Belphie’s awake! Help us throw him into the ocean!” You could hear Mammon from the other side of the beach.

“Your brothers are always so exciting, Lucifer,” Diavolo was laughing and was waiting for Lucifer to laugh along with him.

“More like a headache…”

“I’ll go over there so they don’t bother you three. Remember to get the relaxation you need. The three of you work way too hard, you deserve a break. That goes for you to Barbatos! You don’t have to be a butler here.”

He laughed at your comment, “So noted.”

Satisfied, you ran back over to the others.

“If you like to live, you’ll let go of me” Belphie was trying to fight, but with Mammon, Asmo, and Levi together, he didn’t stand a chance.

“Same for you Beel! Put me down so I can finish my book!”

“Nah, you can finish your book later. We’re at the beach. You should have fun with us!” Mammon had a death wish. They managed to pull Belphie and Satan into the water. Belphie at this point had already given up.

Satan, however, was like trying to bathe a cat. Extremely unhappy about it. He screamed profanities and was about to go apeshit, until you were by his side and holding his hand.

“It’s ok Satan. They just want you to have fun.” He huffed in response with a hint of blush developing on his face.

Finally, all of you were in the ocean, splashing water at each other, seeing who could hold their breath the longest, and float around letting the water massage your worries away.

The fun eventually was coming to a close. The sun started to set, and everyone went to pack everything up.

“Hold on!”

They turned to look at you who has a mischievous look on your face, holding up sparklers in their face, “They’re a lot of fun to have on the beach too.”

Everyone was about to decline until, “Ohhhh, that sounds like fun. I’ll do it with you MC.”

Diavolo started to take sparklers from your hand and went to get a lighter.

“Well, I guess I can do it too.” Mammon said.

“It does sound like fun. Plus, I can take all sorts of photos to post when we get back to Devildom.” Asmo ran to be by your side.

“Don’t eat the sparklers Beel,” Belphie said walking over with his twin.

“W-well it’s a normie thing to do, but if MC wants to do it then I will too.” Levi took a sparkler from the packet.

“As long as Lucifer isn’t going to participate then I will too.” Satan said.

“Too bad because Lucifer has to do this too!” Your words sounded very adamant, leaving Satan with no other choice.

Lucifer sighed but then smiled, “As long as your happy MC and Diavolo.”

You squealed in happiness. As you lit the sparklers, everyone waved them around. Asmo took photos of everyone with theirs. Mammon tried writing words (they didn’t look good.) The rest were happy to chase each other with Diavolo and Lucifer standing on the side. Diavolo was mesmerized by the sparks shooting out, and Lucifer couldn’t help but laugh with him.

Barbatos filmed the entire thing for everyone to remember later. One of the best days ever.

—

After showering, you noticed the night was still young. Everyone was kind of doing their own thing now.

You didn’t want the night to end too soon. Hitting up the town seemed like a good idea.

You sat thinking of who you should bring with you.

[holdingforgeneralhugs]

HELLO my sweet Emma 🥰✨here I am, sending you my holiday-fic request! How about a cosy Christmas oneshot with my favourite trio, Skip, Malarkey and Penkala? Perhaps involving some Irish traditions? 😍

I can’t wait to see what you’ll come up with! Ily my friend ☘️💛

Linda my dearest 💓 I am oh so sorry its taken so long for me to get to this lovely request! I hope you like it 💓

Mortar Squad Christmas in Ireland

"Chrissakes Malarkey, couldn't we have gone to church tomorrow instead? I'm freezing over here."

Malarkey rolled his eyes and punched Skip on the arm good naturedly. "Because," he explains, "midnight mass is tradition, and you two came to Ireland with me for a traditional Irish Christmas so here we are."

"Well Malark," Penkala chuckled, "I don't see why mass tomorrow would be any less holy than mass at midnight."

"You're missing the point boys, now shut your yapping and get on board."

It turned out that midnight mass was rather nice, with the choir and the candles lighting the church. Afterwards they walked home in high spirits, and were glad of the warm fire when they got in from the cold night.

"Right," said Malarkey, rubbing his hands together, "who wants a hot port or a hot toddy?"

"I'll have one of whichever bottle your hand lands on first," laughed Skip, and Penkala grinned in agreement. They may have drank a few too many, but it's Christmas after all, and they were still I'm high spirits when they woke up the next morning.

"Ham sandwiches for breakfast all round?" Asked Malarkey, handing his friends two plates stacked with sandwiches. The rest of Christmas day was spent in similar fashion, and by the end of the night they were stuck to the couch with their stomach's so full they could hardly move.

"Wow," sighed Penkala, eyes closed and head leaning against the back of the couch, "you Irish sure do know how to put on a spread."

"We're known for it," Malarkey grinned, stretching his back languidly. They played boardgames for the rest of the night, and things got pretty competitive between the three of them. They laughed and bickered, but it was all in good fun.

The morning after Christmas they were woken bright and early by Malarkey shaking them awake.

"Get up idiot's, were going on the poc fada," he said, pulling off their duvets and dragging the curtains open.

"Jesus Malark," Skip groaned, "waking us this early is just senseless."

"I agree with Skip," mumbled Penkala, covering his head with a pillow.

"Toughen up boys," Malarkey laughed, "it's a Stephen's day tradition. So get your asses up and your warm clothes on quick, or I'll eat your portions of sausage and egg. It took a little longer than he'd have liked, but eventually Malarkey's two best friends trudged into the kitchen and wolfed down their breakfasts.

"So what's this poc fada anyway?" Asked Penkala as they walked down the road and joined up with the large group they had gathered at the crossroads.

"So the organisers choose the road route and how far we have to go. Then the aim of the game for us is to hit the ball along the route with the hurley. Whoever can get their ball to the end of the route with the fewest hits wins."

"You know what," grinned Penkala, weighing up the hurley in his hands, "this sounds like it could be fun."

Malarkey was of course very excited to introduce his American friends to the locals, who were all interested to see how the visitors would get on in the competition.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this," said Skip when they were halfway around. He picked up the ball and swung at it again, whistling in delight as it sailed through the air and landed up the road.

"Hell Skip, colour me impressed," laughed Malarkey, walking along up the road with them.

"Better than me, that's for sure," grumbled Penkala, who'd lost his ball after the first few hits. Skip laughed and threw his arm around Penk's shoulder, ribbing him good naturedly.

"I gotta say Malark," said Skip later that evening, after they'd gotten home and had a round of tea to warm their frozen fingers, "spending Christmas in Ireland with your folks has been great."

"Yeah, you better be careful Malark," teased Penk, "we might just stick around."

"Well you've managed to charm my nan," chuckled Malarkey, patting them both on their shoulders, "so you're welcome back anytime."

Taglist:  @tvserie-s-world @geniedocroe @generousdreamlanddestiny @sunsetmando @cagzzz107 @howunexpectedlyso @alejodi0nysus @sunflowerchuck @now-im-a-belieber @its1000cuts @50svibes @eugene-emt-roe @pennyllane @televisionboy @scientistsinistral @sparkyluz @ask-you-what-sir @parajumpboots @mads-weasley

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 21: Huangshan

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Listen, I am giving myself whiplash with how much I keep wildly swinging between whether I prefer Liu or Lao LOL. Hope you guys are having just as much fun! I missed Liu. Lawd, did I miss him. Also I did not intend for it to take this long to get to the CHOICE. It's coming after the part with Liu and some plot stuff that has to happen to trigger it! Also, I miss Chen, so she'll be back after Huangshan. ALSO have you looked at pictures of this place?? SO PRETTY!! Much love, hope you are all well. <3 Thank you for the love as always. I appreciate you so much.

Next Update on Saturday. New story on Sunday!!

Part 20 Part 22 Chapter Index

Kung Lao was a bruised, bloodied, and pale mess the next morning and much of your spare moments were spent tending to wounds and trying to get him to sit for a damn minute. He fought you at every second, as if taking care of himself would somehow make it worse.

The morning dragged on, and you were grateful to check out and make your way to the roof. Kung Lao closed his eyes, praying, and lightning struck the roof for you to travel through. It was still weird and a little beyond belief, but you’d fought a monster last night, so you had to suspend your inner skeptic and go with the flow. You handed over the carefully wrapped bell which Raiden set behind him on a pedestal that had been added since you left.

He thanked you for your duty and you offered Kung Lao a hug and tried to convince him, again, to take care of himself. He insisted he was fine, of course, but also wished you good luck. You wasted no time. Raiden summoned his magic lightning again, offered you a neatly written note from Liu, and then you were alone.

The weather in Huangshan was gloomy, just the way you liked it. The sky was gray and rumbling with thunder, the slightest hint of sun peeking through to offer warmth between the gaps in the clouds. You unfolded the note as you walked along the tourist filled streets. He’d even started the note with niceties. Oh, Liu. He hoped you were well, he found you a place to stay and took some liberties that he hoped you were okay with. He also left you a time and place to meet him. It was the lobby of the hotel that he had booked for the occasion.

You were early and it felt nice to be alone. Your nerves were shot from the lack of sleep the night before and from Kung Lao’s… everything. A walk alone would do you some good. The small town halfway up the mountain was geared toward tourists. Hotels, boutiques, restaurants, and the like.

You’d missed China. Japan had been beautiful but this was home.

You stopped a man who looked confident in his way around town and asked him for directions to the hotel that Liu had written about. You bowed politely as he pointed you in the right direction. As you turned the corner, you heard a choir of angels in your head. Clothing stores. Real clothing stores. This was how you were going to blow the rest of your money.

You spent the rest of your alone time shopping and afterward you were proud to say you’d had enough clothing for an actual wardrobe. Different kinds of shoes, cute and practical, underthings, things to wear to bed, casual things, dressy things. Things you never would have allowed yourself to spend money on before. Money didn’t seem to matter as much as it had before all this. Then you’d bought a little bag to pack it all in and shoved it away. You’d got some other necessities too, things that had seemed everyday basics had become luxuries.

You’d changed after purchasing your clothing and jeans and a t-shirt had never felt so good. Even though you’d bought a bunch of new things you decided to keep the hanfu and gi that you had been gifted. You liked them well enough. It was the lack of choice that had bothered you.

The Huangshan Yeechoi hotel was more modern than the one in Japan had been and much tidier. You felt out of place, but no one gave you a second glance, so you were grateful. It wasn’t that it was fancy, just that it was different than you had expected. There had been no room number in the note Liu had left you, just instructions to meet him in the lobby.

Thankfully, Liu Kang came from the stairwell moments after you arrived. You’d been just about to ask the clerk behind the desk for his room number and so instead you dismissed the clerk and walked to join Liu. He’d gotten new clothes too! How nice. Not much different from what he usually wore but it was novel to see him in something other than the three gi that he rotated daily. It was mostly black, except for the red sash around the middle, a different shade of red than usual, and the sleeves looked like they had been torn off- as if he had been terribly angry that they existed. There was a subtle pattern stitched in white on the side of the gi. It looked to you like an abstract dragon, but you didn’t linger long on it. As always, his prayer beads were wrapped around his wrist.

He greeted you with a smile and stopped just before you with a respectful bow. “It’s good to see you, Y/N.” His smile faded quickly as he stood upright, and you averted your eyes immediately. Bruises. There were bruises and you knew he was going to hate it. You’d briefly forgotten about them with all the other craziness.

“Good to see you too, Liu!” You tried to save face, but it was too late.

“Japan must have been something.” He furrowed his brow with concern and tilted your chin up to get a better look at your neck. Your face was instantly red. “Are you okay?” That had been the worst of it, but you’d barely had time to think of it that morning because Kung Lao had been so much worse off than you were. You should have worn a scarf. Damnit. It looked bad when you thought about it. Like you were either being abused or had a very specific kink.

“It was an adventure but I’m fine. I promise. It’s obviously sore and bruised but I feel great otherwise.” You were tired, so that was an exaggeration, but it felt good to have accomplished something and to be out of the temple. He continued to examine the bruise as if he didn’t believe you, so you swiped his hand from your chin, gave it a squeeze and then set it down. His disbelief faded and his smile returned. Your nerves about your connection, your friendship, returned screaming into your brain.

“You brought a bag?” He gestured behind you. You realized that probably seemed funny since you had no intention of staying for too long.

“…yes.”

“Well, the woman at the front desk will make sure it gets to our room. We have plenty to do.” Liu rested his hand on the middle of your back and guided you to the front desk. You spoke to the clerk there. She was incredibly accommodating. Liu offered her your room information and you handed over the bag. Then you went on your way. He led you from the lobby of the hotel and walked slowly through the streets of the tourist town. “Tell me about Japan.”

Boy, there was a lot to say about Japan, but you figured he probably meant the artifact and how you’d fared.

“There was a monster which I didn’t think existed so, processing that.” You were surprised to hear Liu Kang laugh. You’d had a lot to process that had been otherwise beyond belief. “It was protecting a dotaku which I now know is a decorative bell used in rituals during ancient times. The monster was very grabby.” You gestured to your neck. At least it hadn’t left a bruise when it had backhanded you across the room. The last thing you needed was people looking at you like you were in an abusive relationship. At least the neck thing could be explained away for the most part.

“Tell me about the monster.”

“Monster is maybe not the right word for it uh… okay, never mind, it’s the only word for it. It was made from tar and stunk to high heaven, and it was huge.” You jumped so you could reach the height of the monster, which was higher than your jump, but Liu would get the point. He was an excellent listener.

“How did Kung Lao handle that?”

“Oh, you know, like Kung Lao does.”

“Chaotically?” Liu chuckled.

“I’ve never seen one man thrown through so many doors.” You drifted off and he laughed again. The sound of his laughter was sweet, not as hearty as Lao’s but more under his breath and twisting his face into the cutest smile. You’d made Kung Lao out of ink to protect you. That seemed important but you hadn’t processed it yet, really. Your brain was buffering.

“Really though, is he okay?”

“Much worse off than I was because of all the doors and walls but I took care of him the best he would allow. I’m hoping he’ll actually keep his promise to go to the infirmary.”

“Raiden will make sure he does.” Liu reassured you. “Trust me, this won’t be the first time he has to be dragged there. Or likely the last.” He stopped, looked you over and then continued, purposely avoiding eye contact. “Was he on his best behavior?”

“Is he so often in trouble that I should have been that worried?”

“Kung Lao doesn’t like to listen to directions, and he was with you and I know how he is so…” He glanced at you curiously again and you laughed in disbelief. Liu Kang was fishing for information! Interesting. Now that you knew they gossiped about you, you wondered what exactly the gossip consisted of. They were up to something, and you were going to get to the bottom of it. Maybe you had spent too much time with Kung Lao. Liu Kang had always been honest with you, you thought, and now you were suspicious of every word. “He has a track record for trouble, that’s all. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t give you a hard time.”

“If you have something to ask me, Liu, then you should just ask me instead of this little word dance you’re doing. Are you feeling me out for information and what about?”

“I say what I mean, Y/N.” Liu knit his brow in confusion but still smiled at you. You sighed because that didn’t seem right. Something was off. He could be frustrating too sometimes, you supposed. He had a way of saying things without saying what he meant to say and leaving you guessing at what he had meant. You’d had so many close calls between you now romantically. At least four that you could think of offhand that had nearly killed you. But then it was like nothing had happened. You didn’t talk about it. There was no follow through. If he said what he meant to say, then what did saying nothing mean?

That hurt.

And they’d gossiped about you. Kung Lao and Liu Kang had in some way gossiped about you. You clenched your jaw in frustration. You didn’t have time for this. You had work to do.

“We can talk about it later.” You decided. “Have you figured out anything about where we should go?” That had been the reason he’d gone early you’d been told but you had no idea what was true and what wasn’t anymore. Your head was mixed up and your brain was buzzing.

“Yes. One of the areas from your vision is called the Seas of Cloud. Raiden mentioned that you saw images of deceased emperors, so I was looking into that too.”

“It was in quick flashes. I didn’t understand what they were at first.”

“There are tales about this place and the yellow emperor after which it is named. He used the waters of the springs here to gain eternal life in these stories.”

“Is that your way of saying that you think the springs might be related?”

“Anything is possible, but I figured it was worth looking into. There were springs in your vision too if I recall.”

“Yeah. I saw a bunch of dead emperors and a spring, but it wasn’t… it was different than I expect the ones here to be? It was in a cavern. It felt secret.” You admired the gray sky but still felt tense all over. You had to breathe and let it go but the more you tried the more frustrated you became. “So, we’re narrowing it down to the springs and the Cloud Sea?”

“Yes. We aren’t too far from either of them but it’s still an endeavor to explore. Yet, it is less than the whole of Huangshan.”

“Probably somewhere between if I had to guess. I followed him in my vision through the mountains up to the clouds and into this cavern that had a spring inside it. Oh! Do they have maps of the mountain? Sometimes with places like this they will list caves on the little brochure to explore.”

“I thought of that. Regrettably, the caves are not mapped out and most are off limits without a tour guide.”

“What if we told them that we lived in a cave. Do you think that would help or cast aspersions?” You considered. There you were, trying to defer your frustration and inner struggle with sarcasm again. Liu chuckled.

“Probably the latter. We know what we’re looking for at least and it shouldn’t take terribly long to hike the area. If we don’t find it then we can start to worry.”

“I have a feeling that it’s secret. I don’t think it’s going to be easy to find. Maybe we should try to feel around for information instead of wandering blind?” You stopped walking, trying to take things more seriously. That was hard.

“I suppose that we can play tourist. We’ll stop at the springs and ask an attendant if they know anything about a secret or hidden spring in the caves.” Liu suggested. At least it was a better lie than fake date.

“Fine.” You said flatly and were annoyed with yourself almost immediately. This would be so much easier if your visions weren’t all over the place and fuzzy.

“You seem irritated.”

“Oh?” You bounced on your heels and shook it off. You were sulking. You had to cut it out. “No. I’m sorry, Liu. I didn’t mean to come off that way.”

“Are you sure, Y/N? Because you seem… annoyed and that’s not like you. If I’ve done something to offend you then we should discuss it.”

Oh no. He was good at confrontation. Damnit. “No, you didn’t do anything like that, Liu.” He had but not on purpose, you were sure. You were just touchy after the day before and overthinking. You had to stomp out that inner voice, but it was so loud. Your anxiety hadn’t been this bad since you were a kid. “I’m annoyed with myself. I’m sorry it’s coming out at you. It’s not intentional.”

“Y/N, you…”

“Don’t tell me not to be annoyed with myself, please. If I could navigate these visions in a way that made sense, then we wouldn’t be so lost on where to look and having to spin ridiculous tales and theories of where to go and what we might find. I could just lead us there and that would be that. And if my brain would just calm down, I wouldn’t be so annoyed. It’s a perpetual cycle.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself. Besides, I don’t mind spending a day or two in Huangshan with you, Y/N. It’s a nice change of pace from Raiden’s Temple.” He smiled sympathetically.

“It’s just like you to put a positive spin on everything.” You scoffed.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!”

“No!” You huffed defensively and then pouted. “I’m coming off grumpy, aren’t I?”

“You are.” He smiled, but amusement danced in his eyes. He thought that your frustration was either funny or cute. You supposed you were grateful for that.

“I don’t mean to. I’ve got a lot on my mind. I’m surprisingly sore from the whole monster thing too so there’s that.” You rubbed nervously at your neck.

“That is a pretty bad bruise, Y/N.” He tilted your chin up again and you grabbed his hand and pushed it away.

“I really should have worn a scarf so you wouldn’t keep pointing it out.”

He laughed and led you through town and along the path that went to the springs. Liu had picked the perfect location for you to begin your search. It was a short walk from your hotel. There were buses that offered transport, but it seemed such a short walk that it was likely for those who were elderly or drunk.

“This is a popular tourist spot. It was difficult to get a room. I don’t usually stay in places like that, but it was the only vacancy that would accommodate us both and be close enough to where we needed to look. I figured that we didn’t know how long it would take us so the luxury would be a nice break.”

“Makes sense.” Why was he trying to justify his selection to you? You liked the hotel. It was nice.

“Grumpy,” he whispered, leaning close on one foot with his hands clasped behind his back.

“I’m trying so hard, Liu.”

You reached the gate to the springs. You couldn’t see the water beyond it, but you could hear people within, and you could feel the steam and heat even from outside. There was a large building with two doors separated by male and female for changing. In front of that was a booth where a young man sat reading a magazine and looking extremely bored.

“Should I meet you inside? We can see if anyone knows anything?”

“Or we could try the attendant first.”

“Him? He’s a distracted kid who has no interest in our questions, Liu. Look at him.” You nodded discreetly toward the young man. He was likely in his early twenties and doing this just for a paycheck by the look of him.

“Yes, but you’re well… you.” He gestured to you, and you looked down at yourself, brow furrowed in confusion.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You laughed in disbelief.

“You know what it means.” He turned his gaze away from you, hiding his smile but you saw his cheeks turn pink just enough. As quickly as you had noticed it, it had passed. “Now, go be charming and ask that kid about a private spring in a cavern closer to the Seas of Cloud.” He grasped your shoulders gently and turned you toward the booth then gave you a gentle nudge forward. You stuttered on your words and stared forward in complete awe. What the fuck?

Fine. You’d try but he was biased, at the very least. You weren’t built for this kind of thing. You’d always been awkward and terrible at flirting. Gah, you were blushing now too. This was the worst. Okay, deep breaths. You could do this. You didn’t have to be flirty or cute. You could just ask the question. Liu waited behind you, but you didn’t think he was far enough away to be as subtle as he thought he was being.

“Excuse me,” you began politely.

“Just you? Or your friend too?” The attendant didn’t bother looking up at you from the magazine that he was reading.

“I have a question for you, actually.”

“I’ll try to help if I can. Go ahead.” He closed his magazine and finally looked up at you, looked you over, and then was still clearly disinterested. He was working. You knew he would be!

“I heard some stories that there’s a spring in a cavern offsite. Further up the mountain and closer to the Seas of Cloud. I think that it’s considered private. Maybe even off-limits. I was curious if you knew anything about it.” You did your best to sound curious and charming, but you had no idea how it actually came off since you’d been so damn grumpy. The attendant looked from you and then peered around you to Liu. He closed his magazine, folded his hands, sighed heavily, and gave you a knowing look. Oh no, he’d immediately misinterpreted your intentions.

“Look, I’m going to be honest with you.”

That was a bad start.

“Oh, I think you maybe…”

“I’m just filling in for my sister today. I needed the extra cash, and she has a date this afternoon.”

You laughed nervously and looked back to Liu since that was where the attendant kept looking suspiciously. “I think that you misinterpreted my intentions. This doesn’t have anything to do with him. I just had heard a story and was curious. A private spring sounds really beautiful.” You were the world’s worst liar. You couldn’t even come up with an excuse other than you thought it might be pretty.

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Do you not know then?” You were grumpy again. Damn.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I can’t help you.”

You were flustered beyond recovery now. He had misinterpreted your desire to see a secret spring and the only thing you could think to do was stutter that he had done so. Then Liu was standing behind you, one hand on your back, the other on the counter.

“Is there a problem?” Liu sounded curious and offered a smile, but the attendant rolled his head back and groaned.

“I am not making enough money today to deal with this.”

Liu straightened his posture in surprise and looked to you for further explanation. At least you weren’t the only one flustered. That made you feel a bit better. You turned toward him and he placed his hand on your arm gently. That was probably not helping your case, but it felt nice. “I asked him about an off-limits spring closer to the Seas of Cloud and now he seems to have confused my desire to see this beautiful spring with something…” You stuttered in a frustrated whisper and couldn’t seem to find the word, the obvious word. Instead, you smooshed your hands together in front of you.

“Oh?” Liu tried to interpret your hand motion and then laughed in realization. “Oh. Intimate.”

“That’s it.” You pointed at him. “That’s the word.”

Liu let go of your arm and leaned against the counter with a sigh. “How much would it take for you to give us an answer?” You snapped your head back to Liu so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

“Look, dude, I don’t even work here usually and…”

Liu Kang placed some yuan on the counter and you stared at it in horror, mouth hanging open. Then you had to close your mouth tight to keep from bursting into hysterics. Your eyes were burning, trying not to cry with tears of laughter. Liu Kang was bribing a stranger to give you directions to a romantic hot spring instead of just explaining himself. Of all the possible outcomes you had expected this was the funniest one.

“Whoa, man… look I…” The attendant stared at the money on the counter and Liu tapped the bills before sliding them toward him. You were dying. This was where you died. RIP. Tears. You blinked them away. Your cheeks hurt from keeping it together. This was amazing. “If you take the main path up it branches about an hour in. Take the left fork and then walk for a bit. As you get close to the Seas of Cloud there’s a few caves. One of them has a spring in it but it’s hard to find with all the trees and not exactly safe. Gives me the creeps. That’s all I got.” He scooped up the bills. “Have fun man and if you get caught it wasn’t me who told you.”

“Thank you.” Liu bowed his head politely and then, hand on your back, led you away from the booth. You started up the hiking trail that had been pointed out to you and then you burst into hysterical laughter, practically hyperventilating from having held it in for so long. Liu pulled his hand back and stared at you with some concern as if he didn’t understand why this was hilarious.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He gently brushed his hand over your shoulder.

“What the hell was that?”

“Oh. I guess it was funny. He was going to think whatever he was going to think, Y/N. Sometimes we have to use other resources to get what we need.”

“Oh my god, does that mean you bribe people often? I didn’t expect this. I’m sorry. I wasn’t emotionally prepared for how funny that would be.”

“Only when they’re more convinced by money than words, Y/N.”

You took deep breaths to get yourself together and cleared your throat.

“How very Zen of you.”

“Come on, now.” He chuckled and placed his hand again at your back to lead you along the path that would start your hike. “We have private springs to find.”

“This day keeps getting weirder by the second.” You blinked away the remaining tears from your fit of laughter.

“Was it really that funny?”

“Liu. My stomach hurts from laughing.”

He shook his head with a smile as you continued on your way.

[enbies-and-felonies]

Only Then I am Human / Only Then I am Clean

(AO3 link)

@jatp-rules-my-life, this is your fault (based on this post)

Summary: Alex listens to 'Take Me to Church' by Hozier and maybe it affects him in a way he wasn't prepared for, maybe it just let's him heal a little bit.

warnings for homophobia and religious themes

taglist, just ask to be added or removed (i know it's not my normal work but,, yeah): @barrel-of-cat-mituna @completekeefitztrash @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @lemontarto @hershis-kotlc @genesiscaveat @everything-else-and-mars @juline-dizznee @chaotic-basics @an-absolute-travesty @classyfunnyquotesmuffin7 @smolanxiouscatvoids @itstiger720 @introvertedscarecrow @sunset-telepath @an-idiot-in-a-trenchcoat @cowboypossume @anaccidentwaitingtohappen @sofia-not-sophie @fire-sapphics @dr-alan-grant @real-smooth @juline-dizznee

The first time Alex heard 'Take Me to Church' he was on the verge of dozing off, which was an interesting feeling as a ghost, like he was a boat tethered to a dock and he might drift away if he fell asleep for too long. The evening sun was casting lazy beams through the windows of Julie's garage, and he smiled as the warmth hit his face, causing his eyelids to droop lower. At least as a ghost, he could still enjoy some of the simpler things in life.

An old radio crackled on the little table nearby, playing songs Alex had never heard before. He enjoyed a few of them, but others he rolled his eyes at. Idly, he wondered if Reggie and Luke were having fun with Julie; She had taken them on a trip to see some sights, but Alex had opted to stay home, feeling listless, and decided to catch up on whatever new tunes had came out since he was alive.

He bopped his head slightly to 'Bad Liar' and hummed a bit to 'Counting Stars'. He had missed out on a lot of good songs. Yawning, he stretched and settled deeper into the couch, giving a contented sigh as the next song started playing, a strong piano coming in and setting the tone.

Alex liked the man's voice, and he raised an eyebrow at the lyrics.

"-She's the giggle at a funeral / Knows everybody's disapproval / I should've worshipped her sooner."

He sat up and cocked his head by a margin, feeling a tiny, guilty thrill at the way his lips quirked at the lyrics. There was a forbidden excitement that came from it's gentle blasphemy.

"Every Sunday's gettin' more bleak / A fresh poison each week."

His heart twinged. A choir, a pulpit, fire-and-brimstone preaching, he was just a kid-

"We were born sick / You heard them say it."

He sucked in a breath and his eyes flew open, throat tightening like a noose, trapping his breath like a fluttering bird in his lungs.

~~~

"This Sunday we will be touching upon the topic of a Biblical marriage!" The preacher's voice booms across the congregation, and fourteen year-old Alex's stomach sinks as he tries to slouch further down in the pew, as if he could just slip low enough that the words won't catch in his heart and weigh him down like so many stones. He briefly thinks about the millstone the preacher once mentioned. He tried to remember the context, but the only thing he comes up with is that it was for people who sinned. He gulped.

"Now, 'what exactly is Biblical marriage?' you might be asking yourself! Biblical marriage is a holy union between one man, and one woman-"

Pastor James' voice carries on, and Alex does his best to let the words pass through his ears without hearing them, the rocks weighing him down turning to boulders. His stomach turns.

"-now, the men gotta love their wives!! Just like Christ loves the church, and cares for her. Marriage is a wonderful blessing, the greatest blessing we could ever experience in fact! It is perhaps the second greatest gift God has given to humans, and as such we must respect it.

"There are many ways you can disrespect the holy marriage bed. Divorce of course is one of them. In fact, in Matthew chapter nineteen, verses one through eight-"

Alex tries to tune him out harder, knowing what's eventually coming and yet still hoping to avoid it. He counts the number of stained-glass windows -twelve without turning to either side, thirty-six if he rotates all the way- and taps his fingers on his leg to the cadence of Pastor James' words.

One, two, three, four. One and two, and three, and four-

He makes increasingly faster and more intricate beats, imagining drumsticks in his hands, base-drum pedal beneath his foot.

One and two-o-o, and four and, one and two and three-e, four-

His fingers are pattering rapidly, and he forces himself to swallow, trying to remember not to bounce his leg, trying not to distract his mom and dad, trying not to dwell on the words he can't avoid, trying not to scratch at his wrist, trying-

He can't breathe. He's trying to calm himself down but his fingers aren't a drumset and he can't play away the sin that coats his soul and he's just a kid but he can't breathe, he can't-

"And that leaves us with those who have disrespected the sacred act of marriage by letting themselves be lost in sexual perversion. I am, of course, referring to those disgusting individuals who have chosen to live the transsexual and homosexual lifestyles. People like these were born sick."

Alex's hands quit their anxious movement. He's completely still. He was born sick.

He was born sick.

~~~

"The only heaving I'll be sent to / Is when I'm alone with you."

And he started breathing again.

"I was born sick, but I love it / Command me to be well / A-a-a-amen amen amen"

Air was rushing back into his lungs and maybe it was the way reliving that memory gave him closure, but it felt like the song was purging the preacher's burning words from where they'd branded his heart with wounds he never thought would scar-over.

Alex felt his eyes close again, letting the lyrics and the lilt of the man's voice wash over him in a cleansing baptism. His fingers began pattering against his lap, joining in with the beat, weaving him together with the music, becoming one with it.

"We've a lot of starving faithful."

He thought of himself when he was younger, sitting in church week after week begging God to fix him. He thought about the girl who bowed her head at the foot of the altar the Sunday after a lesbian couple was attacked, he thought of the way her fingers linked together like someone else's hand used to hold them, and he thought of the way she cried: silent, tears streaming down like shooting stars, her lips whispering unspoken prayers.

This song was for him, he realized. It was for him, and every moment he cried himself to sleep under his parents roof, thinking he was dirty, thinking he didn't have God's love, didn't have God's forgiveness.

It was for every time a prayer caught in his throat like a trapped butterfly, the prayers he could never bring himself to say because he was 'unworthy'.

"I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife / Offer me that deathless death / Oh good God, let me give you my life"

The lyrics seeped under his skin, replacing the lies that he had believed over the years. The lies about himself, about his faith, about his gayness-

Washed away like a world-destroying flood.

Because this song? This song was for every cold-shoulder from his parents instead of a warm hug, and it was for every time he had to watch him mom recoil from his touch, every time his father didn't quite meet his eye.

"There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin."

The first tear slipped past his eyelashes, and he heaved a shuddering sigh.

"Only then I am human / Only then I am clean."

He cried, but there was a smile on his face.

~~~

When Julie and the boys got back, the radio was long silent, but Alex still sat on the couch, tear-tracks on his cheeks and a relieved smile on his face.

He had sat there a long time, reliving moments in his life, and then letting them go, letting them be washed away. He was quiet when he was surrounded by the rest of Sunset Curve, letting himself be held by them; Julie comfortingly running her fingers through his hair, Reggie linking their fingers together and side-hugging him, and Luke tugging him halfway onto his lap. They were his family, and they loved him.

"You okay, Lex?"

Alex took a deep, slow breath, letting himself take in each of their faces, and he gave a small smile.

"Yeah, I really am."

[pregnant-piggy]

A little elf

Ron Weasley x reader

This is part of All I want for Christmas is fanfiction

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: pregnancy, slight mention of abortion

A/N: I’m back with a pregnancy-fic (gotta be true to my url in some way). This fic is all support and Ron’s soft and protective side

As the skies grew more pale outside, the rain and wind of the autumn made place for the cold and ice of the winter. Grass turned dry and died out, leafs had fallen of the trees and froze overnight. Icicles hung from the corners of buildings if it had frozen and the roads were getting slippery.

The shops had taken out their Christmas decorations and red and green adorned the streets. Fairy lights had been hung in trees and gardens flickered at night with colours shows in the shape of reindeers and fat Santa’s. At some houses Christmas trees were already standing in living rooms and cringe texts hung behind windows. Children dressed as angels went past streets, singing Christmas carols to whoever passed.

Normally you loved to walk outside at night and look at all the decorations. Countless of rounds you had made around the block with Ron every December. You knew which houses did what for Christmas, which ones were the first to put up the tree and which families always forgot and then put up the lights on Christmas Eve.

However, tonight none of the decorations were noticed by you as you walked home. With your hands in gloves in your pockets and your scarf tightly around your neck, you walked as slow and fast as possible; wanting to get home as fast as possible yet not wanting to get there at all.

Faint carols reached your ears as you turned around the corner to the street of your house. Halfway on the street stood the choir you hadn’t seen yet this December. You had gotten to know the leader a few years ago and feared you wouldn’t get out of a conversation when you walked by.

You took a halt in front of the choir and listened to the children together with some of your neighbours. Mrs and Mr Sanchez, the couple that lived next door, stood listening happily with their arms around each other. You watched them for a while as the choir sang ‘O Holy Night’.  

And indeed as you had thought, the leader of the choir, Francis, walked over to you after she had told the children to continue to sing.

‘Hey, y/n, long time no see!’ Francis happily said.

‘Hello, Francis,’ you nodded. You weren’t exactly feeling as ‘jolly’ as one might be in such a scene, but you conjured a smile on your face for the woman in front of you. ‘How are you?’

‘Busy, busy, busy,’ Francis said. ‘We are booked full for December. I don’t think I have a day off. But that doesn’t matter!’ she quickly added. ‘I enjoy working with these children so much. I believe they truly are my Christmas miracle!’

A bit more genuine smile came to your face. Francis was someone who was grateful for everything that was going on in her life. She enjoyed every second of her life and made sure she did plenty of things that she could look back at when she was old and grey and stuck in a chair at a retirement home. You loved to listen to Francis’ enthusiasm. Though you didn’t see her very often, because she was indeed always busy, the times you did see her you always were happy.

‘Is Ron not here? You usually come together,’ Francis noticed and the smile fell off your face.

‘He was busy,’ you lied, putting the fake smile back on your lips. You glanced around. ‘Are you coming back here?’ you asked, hoping to change the subject.

‘One more time, on Christmas Eve,’ Francis said.

‘I’ll make sure to come and bring you some snacks.’

‘They would love that,’ Francis sighed. One of the children signed for her and she had to leave you alone. ‘I’ll talk to you soon, y/n.’

‘See you soon.’ Francis went back to the choir and you turned around and walked to your house.

The light in the kitchen was on and a yellowish glow shone on the bare bushes in your little front yard. In the spring and summer they would be full with flowers and green leafs, but in the autumn and winter they lost their beauty.

Taking a deep breath you put your key in the lock and opened the door. The hall was dark and the door to the kitchen closed, only a stripe of light coming from the crack between the door and the floor. When you closed the front door behind you and put on the light, something dropped in the kitchen and a moment later the door was opened to reveal Ron.

He was wearing the apron you had gotten from your great aunt, one with little flowers and bees. His cheeks were red and there was a smudge of flour on one of them. The red locks that needed a haircut, though you actually liked it better like this, were standing in all ways, like it looked when he woke from a rough night. On his lips played a relaxed smile, that soon dropped as he noticed your tense state and worried eyes.

‘What’s the matter, sweetheart?’ he asked and quickly walked over to you to help you take of your coat.

While he turned around to the coat rack, you answered. ‘I’m pregnant.’

Ron dropped your coat on the floor and he spun around. His eyes were big and his jaw dropped. He stared at you for a second, before a big grin formed on his face.

‘That’s amazing! You’re pregnant? We’re gonna have a baby?’

‘No, it’s not! We aren’t prepared! There’s no room in our lives for a baby! What about our jobs? And our friends? We can’t just come over with a baby! Our lives would change so much!’

Ron took your hands and tried to look you in the eye, but you kept your gaze at the ground. He pulled you in an embrace and a tear escaped your eye. His hand rubbed soothing circles on your back and his lips were pressed against the top of your head.

Ron brought you to the kitchen and sat you down on a chair. He turned the stove off and gave you a glass of water before he took place opposite of you. He waited until you had drank the water and then took your hand over the table, forcing you to look him in the eye.

‘Listen, I am not forcing you to have this baby. It is your body and your decision and I am no one to change that. But I also want you to realise that this could be a good thing. Can you imagine how our lives would be if we had a little one running around? A happy baby, part you, part me. And it won’t be so difficult with jobs, you could even just keep yours the way it is now if you want. I won’t mind working less, I actually was thinking of already doing so. It is scary, but we will make it work.’

Ron squeezed your hand and you chuckled softly while the tears were streaming down your face. Ron got up from his chair and sat down in his knees in front of you. He wiped away the tears from your face and pressed a kiss to both your hands.

‘I am not asking you to make a decision right now, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘But just think about it. I will be happy with whatever you decide, as long as I am with you.’

You smiled tilting your head as you watched Ron get up and continue with dinner. His words had put your mind to work, but you pushed it aside for now, feeling that your emotions would influence the decision.

For the rest of the evening you talked with Ron about other things. You told him about Francis and the choir and he talked about his work and the new invention George had made. Of course you couldn’t just forget you were pregnant, but you just didn’t pay much attention to it and you noticed neither did Ron.

A part of you felt guilty for the burden you had placed on his shoulders. He had seemed so excited when you told him you were pregnant and the look on his face when you told him that you weren’t ready was still fresh in your mind.

Ron had sensed how you were feeling, like he always could. At night as you lied in the dark in bed, his hand took yours and he gave a little squeeze.

‘Don’t feel guilty, sweets,’ he said. ‘I am happy with or without a baby. Really. I support you whatever you decide.’

‘Thank you,’ you said with a hoarse voice. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you more.’

}|}{|}{|{

For a few days you and Ron didn’t talk about it. You both just went your normal ways, doing what you normally did. But that didn’t mean that you didn’t think about it. In contrary, it was all you could think about. You tried not to show it too much to Ron, but you knew he noticed. He was a little more gentle towards you, making sure there wasn’t anything to worry about at home or making sure you were comfortable.

Those days you barely slept. You ate little and felt nauseous with every smell. You were always cold, but whenever you put on a jumper you were hot. Your lips were cracked and your eyes dull. Your skin was breaking out and with every hand that you brushed through you hair, you pulled along hairs.

On the fourth day of all this, you had called in sick from work. After you had reassured Ron that you would be fine on your own and that he could just go to work, you were alone for the first time in a week.

Your plan was to just stay in bed all day, but an hour or so after Ron left you got antsy and wanted to do something. Your bed was uncomfortable and warm and you couldn’t lie in it for another second anymore. So you shuffled downstairs in a pair or leggings and one of Ron’s jumpers. You made some breakfast for yourself and after that sat in the living room staring at the TV for a while.

If you had watched TV the whole time or had fallen asleep, you didn’t know, but around lunch time you startled awake. You turned off the TV and decided to go for a walk.

It was snowing outside and the world glistened with little crystals. It wasn’t so cold that the streets were slippery; the snowflakes only lied on the ground for a second before they melted. Soon your hair was wet from the snow and your cheeks cold, but you didn’t mind. The cold, fresh air did you good.

In the park close to your house you sat down on a bench and watched the people around you. There was an elderly couple walking arm in arm with each other. Two businessmen sat on a bench not far from you. They were talking about something you didn’t understand and you frankly didn’t care about.

The park was fairly empty for the time of the day. Normally it was full of people that would take a little stroll at lunch time, especially in the holiday month. But today it was empty and you liked it so.

You sat on the bench for a while, just staring ahead of you, until you were started by a woman with a stroller.

‘Can I sit here?’ she asked and you nodded at her. The woman flashed you a smile and sat down next to you, turning the stroller around so the child in it was facing whom you assumed to be their mother.

You paid little attention to the people next to you. Or at least you tried to. The mother had started to talk to the baby while giving them little bites from a piece of bread. The baby giggled when the woman started to make funny faces and you couldn’t help but smile.

The baby looked at you, when their mother turned to take something from her bag, and made grabbing hands to you. You chuckled and stuck out your tongue to the child. They copied you and chirred with excitement.

‘She seems to like you. Usually she’s not like that with strangers,’ the woman said when she turned back. ‘Do you have kids?’

‘Uh, no…’ you said and flashed the woman a quick smile.

‘I’m not judging you!’ the mother said quickly. ‘It’s just usually mothers who make her feel comfortable. Maybe you just have a special talent.’

You laughed and shook your head. ‘No, I don’t think that is it.’

‘Well, at least you made her happy,’ the woman said while she got up. ‘It was nice to meet you.’

‘You too,’ you said and smiled at the mother and waved at the baby. You watched them walk away and then got up yourself. With renewed confidence you walked home and for the first time since you had heard that you were pregnant, you felt happy.

}|}{|}{|{

That evening you had taken a hot bath, soaking off all the negativity you had been holding for the past days. You were standing in front of the mirror in your underwear and stared at your belly. Your finger was tracing your skin lightly, as if you were tickling the baby that was growing inside of you.

‘Sweets? Where are you?’ Ron yelled from downstairs as soon as the door had shut behind him.

‘Up here,’ you said with a distant voice as you kept staring at your mirror image.

Loud and fast footsteps were heard on the stairs and Ron came bursting into the bedroom. Worry stood on his face and he was panting lightly. You looked up confused to him.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked and the anxiety left his face as you nodded. ‘Why are you standing there?’

You shrugged as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your hand had dropped from your stomach and was now hanging along your body. Ron took of his coat and stood behind you. He rested his cold hands on your shoulders and you hissed.

‘Oh, sorry,’ he muttered but when he tried to take his hands away you kept them there.

You looked at Ron through the mirror and smiled at him. ‘I made a decision.’

Ron froze and you turned around so you could look at him. He looked at you with big eyes and you took his hands, placing them around your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

‘We’re having a baby,’ you whispered softly.

Ron stared and after a few seconds swallowed. ‘We’re having a baby?’

You nodded and giggled at Ron’s anxious face. He started to smile and pulled you close against his chest. His hands on your back were cold and his cheek in your neck too, but you held onto him. For minutes you stood like that, until Ron turned you back to the mirror and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his hands on your lower-stomach. His touch sent shivers down your spine and sparkles through your veins.

‘We’re gonna be parents,’ you said.

‘We’re gonna be the best parents,’ Ron said.

- - - - - -

Taglist:

General HP: @kitkatkl @girllety @yuptha-tsme @sleep-i-ness @iamak20 @thefuturelawyer @weasleydream @missmulti @deafgirltingz @moonstarrnghtsky @mytreec @lilulo-12fanfiction @emmaloo21 @kashishwrites @ananad1 @figlia--della--luna @kylosleftbuttcheek @mrs-malfoy-always @thefandomplace @magicwithaknife @mt2413 @aesthetically-hailey @superbturtlemakerathlete @the-natureofme @missswriter

MASTERLIST

[xenteaart]

A Thousand Buzzing Bugs

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Request: Well, hello! Would I like to place an order with Five for 'Umbrella Academy'? Could you do one where Five has a panic attack and the reader calms him down by singing? It is my way of comforting my friends and family.

Note: thank you so much anon for requesting this, I really enjoyed writing it! also my requests are still open so please feel free to drop your suggestions in my inbox or DMs <3

Warnings: mentions of PTSD, descriptions of a panic attack

After successfully stopping the apocalypse and saving the world, you would expect life to get easier. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the case for Five. 

He was so used to living his life on the run, always restless, tense and having some sort of threat following his every step that when it was time to finally stop he simply didn’t know how to. 

As the Hargreeves siblings’ lives were slowly but surely falling into place and giving them a sense of stability and security, Five had absolutely no clue what he was supposed to be doing. So he was stuck with himself in the agonizing and seemingly frozen present, left to deal with the baggage of his traumatic past and the horror of his uncertain future. Naturally, since his brilliant but cluttered mind wasn’t occupied with anything urgent or even remotely important, it was bound to catch up with itself. 

You didn’t have to be a genius to guess Five had PTSD and had to break down sooner or later, so you kept an eye on him. 

Well, you always have done because he had a truly exceptional talent of getting himself into potentially lethal situations, but this time you were properly paying attention. 

It was a rather quiet evening at the Academy, and if it weren’t so completely and utterly empty, you’d probably even dare to call it peaceful. The house didn’t feel very inviting when no one was home, its huge corridors and cold walls only serving as a painful reminder that everyone else had other places to be and things to do. Everyone except you and Five, because neither of you belonged in 2019, both ex-Commission assassins with barely anything but bloody history and hardship to remember. 

You were currently in the kitchen fixing you and Five a dinner while he was absent-mindedly tapping on the table with his fingers, waiting for you to finish. You weren’t the type to get bothered by repetitive sounds easily but Five just wouldn’t stop, his gentle tapping gradually turning into aggressive and loud knocking.

Five’s mind was starting to feel like a pool of thick slime, his thoughts barely moving through the cold sticky texture, getting caught halfway and immobilized instantly like a silly trembling fly in a cobweb. It was merely annoying at first but became truly terrifying in a matter of seconds.

“Are you okay?” you asked as you turned to face him, your gaze filled with irritation and genuine worry all at once. The question clearly snapped him out of his thoughts and he flinched a little, furrowing his eyebrows and curving his lips in a displeased expression.

A thousand bugs were buzzing under Five’s skin in a vicious choir, itching and burning and aching and tingling. His own heartbeat was pulsating in his temples, making every other sound around him muted and dull, only intensifying the crackling static in his ears. Five’s palms were getting clammy.

“Fine.” he replied, his tone sharp but somewhat anxious. You noticed that Five was still fidgeting, rubbing his fingers against each other and picking at the skin around his nails, and it almost looked like he wasn’t even fully aware he was doing it. His breathing became fast and shallow, and you recognized what was happening right away. You were no stranger to panic attacks - you knew one when you saw one.

Five, however, wasn’t at all familiar with the feeling, his first assumption misleading him to believe he was having a heart attack which was a fairly easy mistake to make. He was beginning to feel very light-headed, unable to grasp onto any passing thought and figure out what the hell was happening.

You put your spatula down and quickly washed your hands in the sink. As you approached Five, you rested your hands on his shoulders carefully and then wrapped your arms around him from behind, putting some pressure on his solar plexus with your palms to help ease the anxiety. 

You were watching Five closely, reading his body language to make sure you weren’t making him feel claustrophobic because there was always a thin line when it came to situations of such delicacy. At the end of the day, every person was different and needed different things but what you were doing seemed to be working a little which only proved your theory that Five wasn’t the kind that needed to be left alone. And it made perfect sense considering his flashbacks and anxiety were heavily related to his many years of solitude and hopeless isolation from everything and everyone he ever knew and loved.

“I got you, you’re alright. I got you,” you uttered quitely, your voice perfectly steady and confident, its tone sparkling with care.

Five gave you no reply, closing his eyes shut and squeezing your forearm instead as if it was the only thing that could keep him grounded and sane. The most important thing now was keeping his focus on one thing and preventing his mind from wandering off into the intrusive thoughts and anxiety territory any further. You leaned a little closer to his ear and started humming some random melody, suddenly remembering that low frequency sounds were known to have a deeply calming effect on people. It was a good sensory trick that worked wonders to catch one’s attention and distract them from whatever it was that was making them feel uneasy. You knew that because you used to hum and sing to your own self a lot whenever you were anxious or panicking, which arguably wasn’t as effective as having another human being do the job and hold you close but it helped nonetheless.

As your soft singing continued, you pressed your cheek against Five’s, feeling the little drops of cold sweat on your skin as his slightly wet strands of hair were sticking to your temples. You didn’t mind. 

The time was passing by at a funny and fairly confusing pace, taking away your ability to tell whether it had been 5 or 15 minutes. It didn’t matter either way because your top priority was calming Five down and making him feel safe, and you would keep holding him for as long as he needed.

He was probably going to brush it off later and act like nothing ever happened, a little too proud in nature and a little too puzzled by his own brain to properly address it, let alone saying “thank you”. But after many years of being by Five’s side you knew his heart well enough to see he was thankful even if he never verbally confirmed it.

Five’s heartbeat was starting to return to its normal pace under your palms and you couldn’t help but smile at your little victory, placing a gentle chaste kiss on his forehead and casually saying:

“So... rice or pasta?”

[cockasinthebird]

hi!! can you write steve getting all horny in class and billy noticed it and because of the dick he is he throws steve a paper where he says all filthy things and the way he would fuck steve right now and steve’s trying his best to keep himself calm. then of course billy fucks steve in the janitors closet after the class.

Oh dearest anon, believe you me when I say that I have been thinking about this already, and then you come in here to read my goddamn mind, you gorgeous piece of filth!! Hope you’ll enjoy!

-

Steve Harrington is a normal teen in his senior year of high school. He shaves his face every morning, struggles with all of his homework, drinks shitty cheap beer, has a babysitting job, and he owns his fair share of Playboys and watches porn during late nights on the TV in his living room.

And sometimes those images invades his mind when he's sleeping, as is only normal for any typical hormonal 18 year old.

They had been so vivid this morning, only to be interrupted by the blaring of his alarm clock, with no time to fix the situation or he'd be late for class again.

They're there now, halfway through first period and he's sitting with his chin in hand, drooling slightly as he daydreams about things vastly more interesting than algebra.

Soft thighs, exposed tits, plump lips, long hair. It's quite well known that Steve Harrington is easy and frankly a bit loose, but can he truly be blamed for his incessant neediness, when there's a lack of love at home? Who isn't touch starved and constantly seeking heat.

Lesser known fact is how he dreams of things he shouldn't. Hairy pecs, muscular biceps, strong hands, hard cocks.

Girls are nice and gentle and delicate. Laurie, Amy, Becky, Nancy. Pure and kind and good. They smell of flowers, feels like silk, sounds of an angels choir.

But they cannot compare to the way the right guy will reach everywhere. Tommy, Billy. Bending him over, fingers digging inside, stretching him out, slapping into him with such fervor he'll walk funny for nearly a week. Their musky smell, calloused fingers, animalistic grunts.

And it riles him up. Can't help but drift off to think about Billy. Won't even fight it, as he finds himself in Hargrove's bedroom, the place reeking of sweat and cologne and testosterone, Billy standing by his small, cheap bed. Shirtless with the body of a bronze statue, pants unbuckled to expose a blond trail of hair disappearing beneath his tight briefs. A hand caressing the outline of his-

There's a sudden kick to his shin and he's wide awake, still in algebra class, the teacher scribbling away on the blackboard as he drones on about whatever. Steve wipes off the bit of drool that has fallen down his chin and looks to his left to see...

Billy Hargrove, pulling his leg back from having just kicked Steve awake. He's all teeth in a mischievous grin, eyes heavy and intense as he catches sight of amber hues. Quickly he glances down, far down, then up again, as if to gesture for Steve to do the same.

So he does, and oh... He stops moving as if that's any less suspicious than what covering his crotch would have looked like. A bulge in his jeans shows that he's sporting far more than just half a chub, and he can feel his fucking heart beat in his hardened flesh, as he stares straight ahead into the back of the brunette in front.

Perhaps if he thinks really really hard about math and algebra and numbers, he can will it away with a headache borne from straight up confusion as to why x and y matters.

When a paper ball flies in from the east and lands perfectly in the middle of his textbook. He glances shortly over at Billy, who's resting on his hand, blinking slowly and expectantly for Steve to unfold the little crumbled up note.

Steve shifts around uncomfortably, hoping to find a way where his jeans doesn't apply too much unwanted pressure on him. And when he sees what Billy has written down here, his face goes impossibly red with a faster heartbeat.

Need a hand there, pretty boy?

He looks at Billy who has the audacity to wink and stick out just the tip of his tongue. Scribbles out a stern and serious No. then throws it back.

Billy lets out a light huff in disbelief, raises his brows in the same tone, then throws the ball over.

I don't believe you. What were you dreaming about?

And Steve grips his pencil with near breaking force as he considers telling the truth, even though just thinking about admitting to it sends pulses through him. It's been so long...

You.

The way Billy then grins reveals everything he's thinking, and the sight of it only makes the whole situation... harder.

And he brings his pen to paper... and he doesn't stop. Writes and writes and writes till nearly every line is filled out, before tossing it right back with such a masterful flair from basket practice.

Oh yeah? What about? The time in your pool where I proved just how long I can hold my breath?

Steve is quick to throw Billy a rather dangerously wanton glance, and watches how he wags his tongue, then back to the paper.

Or in your living room, where you had been so angry with me at first, for wanting to fuck you right there on a couch that costs more than my fucking car, but you loved every single inch of me. Moaned and cried out as I came inside your tight hole.

He shifts in his seat again and looks around to ensure that no one has noticed how flushed he is, but everyone else here seemed to have dozed off as well.

It's been too long pretty boy. Last time we had any fun was in my bedroom, right? Where you were such a cock hungry slut, spread out on my sheets as I fucked you raw and you complained for days about it, but I know you're just waiting for me to make a move. And maybe I've been teasing you for long enough.

Fuck, would it be too obvious if he decided to run out now? Excuse himself and make a go for the bathroom? Each curve of Billy's meticulous handwriting only making his situation worse, word by word. He can feel how pale eyes stares, and oh he burns under the attention.

Want to feel your ass sucking me in again, clenching so tight around my fat cock baby. I want you all dripping wet and praising my name as I fuck you so good and hard.

And Steve's doe eyes goes impossibly wide at the last line.

Can't wait till after school. Meet me in the janitors closet after class.

Billy is the first to stand when the bell rings out, and he makes sure that Steve catches how he licks his lips, stares intensely, as he struts out of the classroom, winks with a grin before vanishing through the door frame.

Steve is the last to leave, pretending to struggle with getting his books into his bag as everyone else goes without paying him no mind. This has got to be the longest fucking hard-on he's ever had, and it is painful.

When he finally stands up to leave as well, he clings to his backpack as if it's the most precious of his belongings, carrying it low in his arms but in a tight grasp, as he attempts to cover himself up in a less-than-awkward manner, but truly he looks like a moron.

Without ever even thinking about it, he finds his way to the janitors closet, needy and aching for release; to be filled completely and touched finally. Because, as much as it pains him to admit, Billy was right. Steve has just been waiting, patiently so, for the bully to reach for him again and push him around, shove inside.

From the crack in the door, light blooms and illuminates Billy's rather impatient figure that leans against a dirty sink in the darkness of the limited space. But only for as long as it requires to allow Steve through, and once the door is closed they're wrapped up in near pitch black, the only light comes from underneath the door.

But they do not need to see, when they can feel.

Feel firm and rude hands grab on to Steve's gorgeous ass. Feel a moan travel out as bodies collide. Feel teeth bite at his lower lip just to receive an apology by a searing tongue. Feel his chock-full erection grind against where Billy is quick to fill out himself.

If anything, Steve loves how small he feels when he's with Billy. Sure he's taller, with or without the hair all pomp and grand, but the way Billy just manhandles him like he weighs nothing is such an intense thrill that he can't get from being with girls. Tommy has tried, but he's just too soft and caring, and that's dangerous territory.

“Shit, ah- Billy-” Steve fights to keep low, but the way Billy rolls his hips more brutally at his sounds only urges him on. “A-ah fuck!”

“Mmh you're such a fucking pervert, Stevie,” Billy drawls out and scrapes his teeth along Steve's neck, tongue out to taste how his pulse quickens. “Were you really dreaming about me?”

“Y-yes,” his response a whimper, and he pushes Billy away just enough so that he can work at the buttons of his red shirt.

And the bluest eyes to ever exist admires the rushed movement of fingers, stares down and lets Steve do all the work that he's so willing to offer up. Once the last button comes loose, Steve dives right in; wraps his arms around Billy's muscular torso and brings their bodies flush together. He kisses and moans into the heated skin by the crook of Billy's neck, all the while bucking his hips forward to force hardened flesh together. Feels the rough pleasure nearly blind him as he gets lost chasing his high.

Enough soon becomes enough, and Billy growls out, yanks at Steve's hair to bring him away from where he's sucking a bruise mindlessly - too high for his collar to cover it. Branded in a way that might anger Billy, but there's a desire for the attention hickeys bring, for how everyone will stare and wonder.

He doesn't say anything about how badly he wants to fuck Steve right this second, just grabs him by the hips and spins them both around till it's no longer his ass that's getting jabbed at by the sink.

Steve leans back a bit and grabs hard onto the gross edges of metal, as Billy's hands makes short work of his belt and zipper, to allow way for his harsh hand to force its way into boxers wet with pre cum. And Steve takes a sharp inhale and bites down on his puffy lip to keep his voice under control.

“Can't believe how hard and wet you already are, baby,” Billy's own voice a thing of lewd intentions through flashy teeth, and he wraps his fingers around Steve's intense length. “God, you're so fucking hot. Can't wait to feel you stretched out around my cock.”

“Billy...” Steve whines and brings one hand up to pull at Billy's open shirt till their lips meet again in a feverish heat.

His own tongue is quick to surrender and fall into the slippery rhythm that Billy demands, a dance a bit too quick and uncontrollable, but it matches so well with the crazed movement of calloused fingers on sensitive skin.

“Fuck, Steve,” Billy grunts out all impatient. “Turn around.”

And Steve doesn't need to be told twice; the moment that hand is gone from down his tight trunks, he does just that, spins to then bend over, barely catching himself on the sink as Billy shoves him forward. It takes just as short a moment before his pants and briefs pool around his ankles.

The both of them share no more than two things in their lives: ceaseless impatience, and an incessant craving for the other.

“Do you have lube?” Steve asks and twists to look behind, although there's barely a thing to be seen under the cover of darkness.

“Of course, you never know when you'll need to bang a princess real quick between classes,” the grin in his tone so ardently clear, Steve can perfectly imagine what he looks like.

There's a brief rustling as Billy bends down to rummage through his back pack, and next there's a pop, as the lid to the tube flicks open.

Steve breathes something near a moan, as cold, slick fingers run across his outer rim, and his head falls to hang low. Hips move by themselves as they chase that feeling; icky at first but it all ignites something so wonderfully as one digit presses in to the first knuckle.

“Mmh yes, oh...”

“Yeah?” The broad finger moves deeper and deeper.

“A-ah, fuck, yes!” And Steve pushes onto it till there's no more length to swallow.

Billy crooks and curls around inside that velvety heat, one which he has been craving for weeks, and makes a silent promise never to go that long without hearing these noises again. Oh how Steve croons and sings out sweet little things just from one finger.

And oh how his voice increases as a second digit is added all too soon, but he seems just as eager to envelop it just the same. Pleasant little words becomes rough curses and heated pleas. Although unnecessary, Billy squeezes out more lube onto where he's fingering Steve's hole with a rapid speed, and the sounds of it all now an obscene squelching as he thrusts inside. He did say he wanted Steve to be wet.

“Shit baby, listen to that-” He slams his hand harder and works his strong fingers with all his might, coaxing out a dozen little ah's and fuck's. “-you're so fucking wet and dripping, your ass soaked.”

“Billy,” Steve is keen on crying out.

“You think you're ready for my fat cock?”

He nods swiftly. “Yes, please, I need you inside me so bad, fuck.”

Belt unbuckles, zipper runs down, and Billy grunts all too loudly as he strokes himself with even more lube. “Yeah you do,” his voice like tires on gravel; rough and heady. He throws the bottle to the floor and grabs on to Steve's hip to help guide himself blindly through the black void surrounding them.

With no mercy he bottoms out immediately, and Steve loses the ability to breathe at the stretching sensation of a too-unprepared muscle, tears stinging his cheeks, but still he pushes back till he has devoured every single veiny inch.

“I'm-I'm- ah,” he whimpers out, unable to think past where pain and pleasure mixes so deliciously.

Lube tickles as it runs down his thighs, his trembling dick dripping with pre onto the floor, and barely does he get control of his breathing again before Billy pulls out just to snap back in deep.

“Fuh-ck, Billy!”

There's a chuckle to be heard, like thunder from behind sculpted pecs, and he sets a mean rhythm of slowly moving out then shoving back inside, each slap of skin accompanied by a naughty little cry that mixes “Billy Billy Billy” with “shit fuck oh”, bordering on sobs.

“You like that, pretty boy?” Billy grabs on with both hands to ensure every thrust plunges as far as humanly possible into the mess of Steve's clenching ass. “Like feeling my big cock filling you up?”

“Yes, Billy, ahh, f-faster, please,” Steve moans out and tries to move, to increase the frustratingly slow rhythm, but Billy's fingers dig deeper into his flesh with bruising force. He's going to be all kinds of sore tomorrow, but oh how it's worth the pain then.

“Since you asked so nicely...” Billy growls out and thrusts faster, skin slapping together with such salacious sounds as he buries his throbbing erection in Steve's aching flesh.

Steve bites into his worn lip till it cracks and bleeds in his attempt to not make the entire school aware of their situation. His ever so lonesome prick dangles freely, and although he feels a near primal need to jerk himself to a quick finish, he can undoubtedly cum untouched with just the furious tempo of Billy's own lust.

A hand fists around dark locks, and Steve's head gets yanked back to where Billy bends forward to groan hoarsely into his ear, spewing out filth and biting with all too sharp teeth and his lobe.

“God you're doing so fucking good for me, princess,” his voice raw sex and fucked out, “your pretty little ass so tight around me, sucking me in deep, harrh- taking all of my giant cock, yeah?”

Fingers grip harder at the smooth edges of the sink they're bent over, and Steve turns his head to try and find Billy's lips. “Yeah,” he whines.

Billy's scorching hot tongue licks across Steve's bleeding lip before bringing the metallic taste inside, and he moves across familiar slickness and swallows every single sound that cannot be restrained, no matter how hard Steve tries to be quiet.

“Shit, Steve, I'm close,” the hitch in his voice a clear indication of the truth.

“Mmh- me too, ah-”

“Want me to...”

“N-no! I- fuck-” Steve has to pause to fight back a threateningly loud sound as Billy's steely cock hits just right. He raises himself up on his toes and feels the head hit it again and again and again. “Right there! Billy- I-I-I'm gonna...”

He can feel the grin press against his cheek, and the way Billy speaks urges him closer, “That's so hot, pretty boy, you getting off on just my cock alone, like the slut you are.”

It takes no more than that for it all to flow over, and Steve brings up a hand to cover his mouth as he paints the dirty floor in perfect white, the heat gathered between his legs blowing up and coursing through his entire bloodstream as his body tenses, muscles flexes, eyes rolling back to be blinded by fireworks that only Billy knows how to ignite.

And the brute behind him doesn't stop moving; continues slamming inside with the same continued fervor as he stands back upright. The pleasure quickly drains out, leaving Steve behind to become all too over-stimulated by the way Billy continues hitting that bundle of nerves that has already been pressed for all it's worth.

“Fuck, Billy,” Steve complains and his fingers curled around the metal twitches with the discomfort of being used senseless.

“I know, I know, I'm almost- arh-” Billy reaches up to hook his hand on Steve's shoulder for leverage, and it takes him a handful of erratic thrusts before he chokes down a moan, nails digging into supple flesh as he cums, completely submerged in Steve's fluttering hole, hips twitching till there's no more heat trapped inside.

He grabs on to the sink beneath Steve for support, otherwise they'd both undoubtedly fall down together, and he pants for air, laughs a bit too, albeit rather weakly from exhaustion.

Steve is... happy, content, tired, as he bends down to rest his sweaty forehead against his hands. This has been hell, in its own sense, of having spent most of today with a strangled boner, exhausted from too little sleep, and having been fucked till he's near sore in the most unhygienic room of the entire school. Also there's no doubt that his hair is a mess.

And then the bell fucking rings.

[pleasantmag]

Review: 11 Albums from 2011

We had such a good time revisiting and reviewing records that came out 10 years ago, we thought it would be fun to revisit some records that came out 11 years ago. What we didn’t bargain on,  was how difficult it would be to put into words how important these records were to us. 

Here is a playlist from the most important songs on these 11 records. 

The Story So Far -- Under Soil & Dirt - AT

Arguably, Under Soil & Dirt is one of the best modern pop punk records of 2011 and I could not write about releases during this year without including it. This 11 track record is pop punk gold from start to finish and Walnut Creek’s The Story So Far’s first full length album. The opening tracks “States and Minds”/“Roam” goes off. It sets the tone for the rest of the record and one of the best opening tracks off of any album. While every track on this album is a banger, you gotta shout out “Quicksand”, “Mt. Diablo” and the closing track, “Closure”. Even though The Story So Far has had great albums since, nothing tops this album.

-AT

Title Fight -- Shed 

What would this list be without including Shed? Yet, I’m having the most difficult time finding the words to express how much this album means to me. Kingston’s Title Fight has become a household name in this music scene as we currently search for a band to fill the void of what this band once brought us. Every day I miss Title Fight. 

Shed is the album that really changed everything for this band. This 11 track album kicks off with “Coxton Yard”, which is classic Title Fight. Yet, we see the band slow down halfway through the album with “Safe in Your Skin” and pick back up with “Where Am I?” Other notable tracks include the album title track “Shed”, “27″ and “Stab”. It’s truly an iconic Title Fight album and will go down as one of the greats in this scene. -AT

Manchester Orchestra --Simple Math 

Manchester Orchestra are truly an underrated band and I’ve said that for YEARS. I think the problem is that they never found where they fit in in the music scene. While this band has written so many incredible albums, Simple Math is no exception. Listening to this album gives me chills. Something I realized about Manchester Orchestra is that we’re always glimpsing into the mind of vocalist and songwriter, Andy Hull and again, this album is no exception. Many of his albums feel autobiographical, rather than storytelling. There’s this vulnerability in these songs mixed with the loud guitars, beautiful harmonies, and even at one point, a kiddie choir on the track “Virgin”. Other notable songs include “Deer”, “Leave it Alone” and the album title track “Simple Math”. -AT

Basement -- I Wish I Could Stay Here - AT

This album was my first introduction to Basement and the first full length by this band. It’s crazy that this was a debut album because it truly does not sound like one and it’s even crazier to see how far this band has come and what a positive impact this album has had on them. It’s so well-deserved. Some have compared Basement and this album as the UK’s Title Fight notably in the song writing and the vocal pitch, which I think is a fair comparison. The opening track “Fading” really sets the tone for this album. While I wouldn’t say this is the best album the band has put out, each track is super solid and really allowed Basement to take off. I mean, it’s wild to think there’s an album I like even more re: Colourmeindkiness, 2012. -AT

The Wonder Years -- Suburbia, I’ve Given You All and Now I’m Nothing

Let’s talk about an iconic modern pop punk record. Suburbia checks every box. “Came Out Swinging” goes down as one of the best opening pop punk tracks of all time. Lyrically, this song is so relatable. Vocalist Dan “Soupy” Campbell sings, “I spent this year as a ghost and I’m not sure what I’m looking for”, which still relates to me ten years later as I’m trying to figure out where I belong in life. Another example of this is in “Woke Up Older”, Campbell sings, "carrying two years in the bags under my eyes”, which is again, how I’m feeling especially during this global pandemic. It’s such an album that tugs at my heart strings. For the longest time I was embarrassed of how much I loved this album, because I felt embarrassed to even like pop punk, but I am confidently putting on the record that this record IS so good. While it has so many great tracks my favorites were always “Local Man Ruins Everything” and “Don’t Let Me Cave In”. -AT

Dead End Path -- Blind Faith

In late 2010 a friend of mine sent me a Youtube link with the full album stream of Death Walks Beside Us. At the time I had never listened to anything quite like Dead End Path It was eye opening. June of 2011 came around, I had been listening to Death Walks Beside Us for a few months, Blind Faith came out and this record is as tough as nails. 22 of minutes of heavy, relentless songs. This record spoke to me lyrically as well, more so than any other hardcore record at the time. It's just songs about despiritation, questioning your beliefs, and depression. Things at the time that I was going through at the time. ”I’m not afraid to die, but I’m scared to death” is a lyric that stood out to me for so long because it's something I feel in myself. This record is definitely in my top 5 hardcore records. - RZA

Touche Amore -- Parting the Sea Between Brightness and Me 

It is truly hard for me to put into words the impact that Parting the Sea Between Brightness and Me has had on me. The first time I saw the video for “Home Away From Here” on like Facebook or on Tumblr I was just enamored by everything I was seeing and hearing. The video was a bunch of photographs taken on tour that were put together to make a video and it was such a cool concept for someone who is both into photography and music. The first day I heard the song I must have listened to it over 70 times, I loved every part of it. Fast forward a few months later, I was in Newbury Comics in Boston, well not Boston but Burlington Mass, anyway not important, I was in the store and I found Parting the Sea Between Brightness and Me on vinyl so i hopped on it, used the free download code to get the record and played it without exaggeration 100,000 times in the past 11 years. The songs that stood out to me the most were “Sesame”, “~”, “the Great Repetition”, “Face Ghost” and “Home Away from Here”. With each passing time I listen to this record I this record becomes more and more important to me. -RZA

Balance & Composure -- Separation

This is another record that when I heard it, it slapped me in the face. “I Tore You Apart in My Head” was the first song I had heard off of Separation, thanks Tumblr. Every song on here is a masterpiece, from “Void” to “Stonehands” to “Fade” to “Defeat the Low” not one bad song in the bunch. This record was also very unique for its time, it didn’t fit into the barriers of pop punk and it didn’t really fit into the barrier of post-hardcore either. It was just a very well made, rather dark sounding record with deeply emotional personal lyrics. I could, and do, listen to this record almost daily. If you haven’t listened to it yet, A. you’re 11 years behind, and B. missing out on one of the best records ever. -RZA

Defeater -- Empty Days & Sleepless Nights

Defeater’s Empty Days & Sleepless Nights is one of the most lyrically dense records I've ever heard, and read. Following the story that started with Travels about a post WWII family where the father is an abusive alcoholic, the mother is a heroin addict, the older son idolizes the father, and the younger son despises the father for all he has done to the mother and the rest of the family. This record follows the two boys after the younger brother kills the father to protect the mother. To write not only one record with such a deep storyline but five, to date, is just incredible. Not only is this record a lyrical wonder but it is also truly one of the best musically too. This isn’t a record where you can just pick one song to call your favorite, it’s the whole record or nothing. -RZA

Bayside -- Killing Time

Bayside has been one of my favorite bands since about 2004. I love their music and they are one of the best live bands I’ve ever seen. But Killing Time was the record that really sealed the deal for me. No record that came before and certainly no record that came after has had any sort of impact on me like Killing Time has. Songs like “Already Gone”, “Sick, Sick, Sick”, “Sinking and Swimming on Long Island”, and “It’s Not a Bad Little War” were such a progression for Bayside. The music sounded fresh and Anthony’s vocals were different. It was such a welcomed change for me at least to hear this record. -RZA

Into It. Over It. -- Proper 

Into It. Over it., what is there to say about Into It. Over It.. He Released Twelve Towns on New Year's Day in 2011, then releasing Proper as the second release of that year in September. Proper was pivotal in the emo revival of the 2010’s that I love so much; From the catchy tunes, upbeat choruses, to the math riffs and fun lyrics make for the best emo record. To me, this record came out at a perfect time and it was written by Evan Weiss solely. He played all the instruments except the drums on the record as well. In my most humble opinion the best songs on the record are “Fortunate Friends” and “P R O P E R”. I wish he’d do a show where he plays the record in its entirety.-RZA

Pleasant Mag’s Honorable Mentions

Fucked Up -- David Comes to Life

Frameworks -- Every Day is the Same

Spraynard -- Funtitled 

Tyler, The Creator -- Goblin

Bright Eyes- The People’s Key 

Harms Way -- Isolation 

Transit -- Listen & Forgive 

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

True Forms in the Stars

Now on AO3! “True Forms in the Stars” - A @do-it-with-style-events Reverse Bang fic, written by me, based on art by @larkartwolf​ !

Months after the Apocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley are slowly working their way towards their happy ending. But a series of nightmares remind them of pains long buried, which can no longer be ignored. If there is to be any hope for a better future, they must first confront the scars of their past.

Read it now on AO3! (includes full image of artwork)

(The full fic is about 12.5k; the first few scenes are below.)

==

Aziraphale took Crowley’s hands in his. “Are you ready?”

“No.”

His eyes darted up, trying to meet Crowley’s, but once again the demon had turned away, jaw tight, rocking back on his heels. “I thought—”

“No, just – just...hold on…”

Crowley pulled his hands free and shook them, rubbing at the back of his neck as he walked away, circling the entire bookshop in a few long, quick steps. Aziraphale could almost feel the nervous energy radiating off him.

“Would you be more comfortable sitting down? Or if we returned to your flat? Or—”

“I don’t think I’m going to be comfortable anywhere.” He raked long fingers through bright red hair, briefly piling it all onto his head before letting it tumble loose around his ears again. “What if it all goes wrong?”

The angel pressed his lips together, forcing down his own anxiety. Crowley needed him now, his strength, his support. Fortunately, Aziraphale had a lot of experience burying his doubts, presenting a confidence he didn’t feel.

“Of course it won’t,” Azirpahale chided gently, stepping up to Crowley, reaching for his hand. “I’ll be there, right beside you.” But Crowley just shook his head, turning further away. “Look at me, Crowley. Tell me what you’re afraid of. Tell me what you think might go wrong.”

“Everything!” Crowley stumbled back, pulling away, to stand in the center of the shop again. The panic was back in his eyes, wide and golden, irises expanding as if to devour the sclera. It wasn’t quite fear, nor pain, nor uncertainty that filled them, but some combination of the three, perhaps something greater, too. He’d be reaching for his glasses in a moment.

This time, Aziraphale moved more slowly, closing the distance, resting just a few fingers lightly by Crowley’s elbow. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have...we don’t have to do this tonight.”

Crowley lifted his head to stare through the glass dome of the shop at the stars: miraculously bright, shining like diamonds, like beacons in the black night. He ached, and Aziraphale’s heart ached to see it.

“I don’t…” Crowley cleared his throat. “I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

Aziraphale slid his hand down to meet Crowley’s, lacing their fingers together, and squeezed.

--

The dreams started shortly after the failed Apocalypse.

Just glimpses of the stars at first, a sense of drifting through them as he once had, so many eons ago that Crowley had all but forgotten.

But each night the dreams grew more vivid.

In his dreams he could see the stars, brilliant lights burning in the aether, inner fires swirling and pulsing like a storm. They sang to each other, they sang to their Starmaker, and Crowley’s heart sang back.

He dreamt of racing through them in his true form, a blazing streak of light lined with wings of fire, long body swirling in his wake like the tail of a comet, like fiery hair caught in the wind. Arcing around planets, setting their atmospheres to swirl and dance. Trailing his fingers through nebulae, creating columns a hundred light years long. Cupping the stars in his hands to breathe life into them, guiding them through their endless dance, their eternal journey.

“So...you’re remembering your time in Heaven.” Aziraphale sat back in his armchair, cup of tea still halfway to his lips. He hadn’t taken a sip in so long that Crowley was sure the angel had forgotten it was there; but the steam still curled past his face, like a veil, a gauzy curtain separating angel and demon.

Crowley looked away, frowning into his own cup of coffee, watching the cream create a bright spiral against the dark background.

He hadn’t wanted to say anything. For months, he’d kept it a secret.

Beautiful months, free of demands and pressure and fear. Days spent on long drives and longer walks, evenings filled with arguments and laughter, sipping wine and speaking of everything and nothing, awash with the simple joy of being together. Sometimes Aziraphale would slide onto the sofa beside him, and more than once Crowley had taken his hand, or rested an arm across his shoulders.

Nearly every night now, Crowley fell asleep on that sofa, drifting off to the sound of angelic humming from amongst the shelves, or the feel of soft fingers brushing through his hair.

Slowly, bit by bit, they broke down walls, building something better in their place.

But as the walls came down, things were revealed. Memories. Emotions. Thoughts perhaps better left unthought.

Crowley woke from his dream every morning distressed, panicked, sometimes crying out, or scrambling to grab at pillows, blankets, anything nearby. And Aziraphale hadn’t failed to notice.

“Not exactly,” Crowley finally conceded. “I’m not...building the stars in my dreams. It’s more like I’m...tending them.” He downed the entire cup of coffee in one gulp, feeling it burn down his throat. Considered miracling up another.

“I’m not sure I follow. Surely it’s the same thing.”

“Nnh. Not really, it’s…” It was something he’d never spoken of, had never even considered explaining to another; and now that he had to, Crowley found he didn’t know what to say. Some things could only be felt, not spoken. “I guess it’s two parts of the same thing, but different. During Creation we…made things, put elements together and…” he waved his arms vaguely. “We created, alright? That’s the job I had. But afterwards… Someone had to watch over the stars. Take care of them. Help them continue to grow.”

“Like a gardener.”

Nodding, Crowley refilled his cup, this time adding something stronger than cream and sugar to the coffee. “That’s what I dream about. The job I was supposed to have. After Creation. If I’d never Rebelled.”

“Tending the stars,” Aziraphale mused, finally setting his cup and saucer onto the desk. He leaned forward – stiffly, as he sometimes did when he’d sat still for too long – and rested his hands on his knees, carefully thinking over his next words.

They’d been circling the topic for weeks now, Aziraphale never quite asking a question, Crowley refusing to give any straight answers. A quiet, polite contest of wills that had ended abruptly when Crowley broke first. Since when was Aziraphale the patient one? When had he learned to keep his eyes so neutral? Every gesture made with such care, as if afraid to scare Crowley off.

Well, he had reason enough. Crowley’s whole body seemed to vibrate with energy, ready to run at any moment. Crowley didn’t know how telling Aziraphale was supposed to help, but if something didn’t change soon…

The angel tapped a finger against his own knee, thinking it all over. “The entire galaxy, you say. That’s...quite a large estate.”

“I guess.” Crowley squirmed in his seat.

“You must have been very important, to be granted such responsibility.”

“Who cares?” Crowley bit off the rest of his angry retort, sprawling back on the sofa, putting more space between them. His head rapped against the bookshelf behind him as he tilted it back, staring at the ceiling. “Didn’t count for shit, once I started asking questions.”

“They punished you.”

“Is that news?” snapped the Fallen. He could almost hear the voices, raised in argument. Feel the hands of Michael’s warriors, dragging him off to—

Fuck. There was a reason he never talked about this.

“They isolated me,” he went on, once his voice was under control. “From the other Starmakers. Pretty early on, long before there was any talk of...Exile or Rebellion. Said they didn’t want me giving the others ideas.” He closed his eyes, trying to remember the thin, clear music of the spheres. “They thought I’d be more obedient if they took away my stars. Just gave me more time to think, really.”

“I…see.” A long pause, silence broken only by the weight of a thousand books slowly settling onto their shelves. “Then...you’ve been alone for a very long time.” Crowley shrugged. In an even softer voice, Aziraphale asked: “Are you still alone in your dreams?”

“No.” His memories turned away from reality, and Crowley’s heart sped up in his chest. “No, I’m not…”

--

“Oh, my word!” Aziraphale’s voice reverberated across Crowley’s skin, sank deep into muscle, flitted around his mind like a cloud of fireflies. Crowley twisted, weaving his body between the stars of a binary system, letting the wings brush through solar flares, sending flashes of light swirling across the star system.

He smiled down at the Principality cupped in his hand, golden body glowing in a faint reflection of starlight.

The two wings Aziraphale wore down his back were shorter and broader than the ones he wore on Earth, more like feathered butterfly wings than those of a swan. More short wings stretched from wrist to elbow, and a feathery crown circled his brow in place of eyes and ears, marking him as a Principality. Two interlocking halos surrounded Aziraphale’s head, slowly turning, dozens of eyes in every shape and color gazing in wonder across Creation.

“Can you hear the music?” Crowley asked, twisting away through the immense void between one star and the next. “It’s everywhere, even all the way out here.”

The starsong wasn’t just something you heard, it was something you felt and saw, a symphony of heat and microwave radiation and stellar winds, things only the highest choirs of angels were able to perceive. So Crowley sang as he flew, shifting his colors, translating the song for Aziraphale.

“It sounds like something Bach would write,” the angel laughed, hands gripping Crowley’s thumb like the mast of a ship. “Sebastian, I mean, or possibly—”

Crowley bent his long head closer, singing more insistently, breath ruffling Aziraphale’s feathers. The Principality laughed again, resting a hand on Crowley’s cheek and trying to sing along. He could feel Aziraphale’s joy and wonder surging through his veins.

“There!” Crowley’s deep voice reverberated between the stars, even as his chest continued to hum in harmony with them. “It’s another of mine!” He pointed at the nebula, greens and yellows and reds stretching across a quarter of the sky. “Let me show you.”

He turned his wings, arching around the nearest star, dragging his fingers through the corona, gathering just a pinch of brilliant starfire.

“I can’t believe you made all this,” Aziraphale said breathlessly, trying to take in the scope of it all, the forest of clouds that could swallow entire systems.

“Well, I had a little help,” Crowley conceded, offering the starfire. Aziraphale accepted it in a flutter of wings, a miniature sun almost too big for him to carry, and cradled it against his chest.

Crowley pulled the Principality closer, cradling him in much the same way – feeling again the delicate touch of one hand wrapped around his finger – then tucked his many wings and dove, the glowing beauty of the galaxy shooting past on either side. When Aziraphale gasped, it sent a thrill of pleasure straight to Crowley’s heart.

Together they spun through the nebula, columns of gas and stellar nurseries on either side. They raced against comets, skimmed over gas giants, darted from one constellation to the next.

When the black hole at the center of it all loomed close, Crowley snapped open a pair of wings – and another – and another, catching the surge of radiation, riding it up, up, up in slow circles until the entire Milky Way was laid out below them, until the emptiness around them was lit by the glow of a thousand galaxies.

“Oh, Crowley,” sighed the angel, face illuminated by the ball of starfire like frosted glass over a candle. “It’s all so...beautiful.”

“Yeah.” He lifted Aziraphale so that his many eyes could take it all in, but Crowley’s own gaze never left his smile. “It’s all yours, Angel. Anywhere you want to go.”

--

“That sounds...lovely,” sighed Aziraphale from across the room.

“Shut up.” Crowley glared at a small potted plant next to the register, which sheepishly straightened its stem. “Sounds...cheesy. Stupid. Like something out of a romance movie, and not even one of the good ones with clever writing.”

“Well, yes. It does.” The sofa shifted under a new weight, and two soft hands enveloped Crowley’s right, drawing it to rest on Aziraphale’s knee. “It also sounds lovely.”

Crowley grunted. His eyes had made their way from the ceiling to the floor, and now he studied how the faded carpet contrasted with the rich brown boards.

The past few months, they’d been able to communicate openly, freely, like never before. They’d been able to be honest with each other, gently circling around the things they really wanted to say, finding the words a few at a time. There was no rush. They had eternity.

But being honest with Aziraphale opened Crowley to being honest with himself, in ways he’d never imagined, in ways he’d come to regret.

He was consumed by emotions.

Crowley always presented himself as superficial, a demon who liked things fast and fresh and cool, jumping from one fashion to the next. It was easier to survive if everyone assumed there was nothing below the surface, no hidden plans or desires that might cause trouble for his superiors. It was easier to live with himself if he pretended not to have hidden depths, that his future contained no hopes, that his past was free of scars.

But Crowley had always felt deeply. And he could no longer deny who he was.

He’d lost all control of them, the complex emotions that, finally released from their cages, threatened to swallow him whole. Fears that couldn’t be contained by words. Losses too deep for him to fully grasp. And a millennia-long desire that moved out of the realm of language entirely.

He wondered how much Aziraphale had suspected. He’d honestly expected the angel to say something first, months ago, release a torrent of emotions in a few carefully selected words. Had something held him back? Or had he just been unsure of Crowley’s feelings?

Well, he’d have a pretty good picture of things after hearing the dream. Crowley stared at the floor ahead of him, heat rising in his face, knowing it was coming, waiting for Aziraphale to ask, to question, to demand Crowley cram everything he felt into three little words that would never contain it all…

Instead, Aziraphale squeezed his hand again and gently prodded: “Tell me the rest.”

“What rest? I wake up.” Crowley’s legs had gone tense. He needed to pace, to shake off the feelings bubbling up inside, but he wasn’t willing to relinquish that warm grip just yet. “I snap back to reality. Dream over.” A quick glance to the side, enough to see Aziraphale wasn’t buying it. “That’s all. The end. Nothing to tell.”

“Please.” One hand held Crowley’s steadily while the other gently pressed his shoulder. “I’ve seen how upset you are when you wake.”

“Ngk. I just—” Panic started clawing its way up his throat. “Probably – don’t want to drink your lousy coffee, you think of that?”

“Crowley.”

“S’nothing! You just – that’s how people are when they wake up. Demons, too. It’s, it’s disorienting, is what it is. You should try it sometime instead of – whatever you do all night.”

“Crowley.”

“Mgrf. And especially if I fall off your bloody sofa, happens – all the time, right? Why don’t you get – get something comfortable if you want me here? Crack my head on the floor first thing, that’ll upset someone.”

“Crowley…”

“Stop, just stop!” He leapt to his feet and tried to stalk away, but the back room left nowhere to go. With a huff, Crowley spun around, arms wide. “Fine. You want the truth?”

Aziraphale still sat on the sofa, hands folded on his lap, endlessly patient. “That’s all I want.”

Read the rest on AO3!

[elydraws]

— haikyuu!! oneshot.

heartbeat in the court

introduction:  finally the big day of the Miyagi prefecture qualifying finals has arrived. Karasuno would have faced Shiratorizawa and you too had the opportunity to confront your stepbrother, Wakatoshi Ushijima.

this oneshot takes place during the Spring Interhigh Qualifiers final. you, despite being a girl, are accepted into the men's volleyball team thanks to your talent as a Middle Blocker. but what the rest of the team doesn't know is your bond with the captain of the opposing team and your hostility towards him, largely reciprocated. in all of this, with so much at stake, just when things seem to get out of hand, you'll find yourself relying on Nishinoya. Realizing that he has always been by your side.

⤿ pairing: nishinoya x reader, nishinoya x (y/n)

⤿ warnings: fluff, hints of divorce and neglect, sibling rivalry, hints of discrimination against women.

>a/n: hello everyone, initially, I had imagined this one-shot with an OC created by me, which pre-made would be Ann Takamaki from Persona 5. 

still, since it would have been very restrictive for some people, I preferred not to specify the physical appearance and make it become a nishinoyaxreader, instead of a nishinoyaxoc.

obviously being Ushijima's half-sister, the surname is necessarily that of his father (Utsui), be patient about it çwç

Also in my head, the protagonist is about six inches taller than Nishinoya, but I have not specified anything about the height, so you are free to imagine her as you like!

I leave you to read, and as usual, I apologize for my english!

Shivers ran through your arms. The game was still at the beginning, barely halfway through the first set, but the air on the field was heavy.

Not even the choirs praising the two teams could muffle the ball's snap against the floor when Ushijima hit it.

Even among the reserves, you could feel the heaviness of those blows. But your eyes couldn't leave the ball, focused on one goal.

You would have liked to enter the field immediately, to demonstrate your skills, and that you were able to stand up to the captain of the Shiratorizawa, but it was not yet time.

You didn't know if Coach Ukai understood your determination to stop Wakatoshi's dunk, especially given the difficulties the first-strings were having. Not that anyone could not blame him. The fact that you had entered the men's team - thanks also to your insistence - was in itself a miracle. Anatomically, both for physical strength and - in most cases - for height, women were weaker than men. But that hadn't been able to stop you.

After playing for a short time on the girls' team, who didn't seem to take volleyball as seriously as the men's, you had decided to put forward a proposal that for many had seemed absurd.

That was the only way you could prove to your father, Takashi Utsui, that you could have been at the same level as Wakatoshi. It had taken two weeks to convince Coach Ukai that you had nothing to envy to the rest of the team. Where your physical strength wasn't enough, you reach them in speed - the only other team member faster than you was Hinata - and if the height wasn't enough, you jumped higher.

Your wall might not be as stable as Asahi's or Tsukishima's. Still, you could read your opponents' intentions and readily respond to their attacks, slowing or deflecting them by using that power against them. That was your strength.

However, the Coach didn't know that you had trained all your life to block Shiratorizawa's captain dunks. Where for many, a left-handed opponent was a problem, you knew exactly how to stop him. 

You had studied it for a long time and know how he played. You had learned to read him.

And now that you were so close to your target, being able to observe it so closely, without doing anything, was making you nervous.

This feeling was starting to become evident as you shifted your weight from foot to foot under Sugawara's inquiring gaze.

"Uh ... Are you all right?" the sound of his voice roused you.

You were so absorbed in the game that you didn't even hear him say your name.

"You look pretty sensitive today, are you okay?"

"Yes, I would just like to enter the field and help my teammates, that's all!" you lied, waving a hand in front of your face as if you wanted to brush off his worries.

"If you say so..." Koshi returned to observe the game shouting cheers to the team after giving you a last doubtful look.

You could barely hold back a sigh of relief.

You didn't tell anyone on the team about your family connection with Ushijima. 

First of all, it didn't seem like there was anything to brag about, nor that it was relevant information for the team -you had already given all your observations regarding Wakatoshi's game to Kiyoko-. Also, no one had investigated it, mostly thanks to your surnames' diversity, and you were happy to gloss over the subject. The relationship between your two families was something you didn't like to talk about.

Takashi Utsui had divorced Ushijima's mother when he was still a child, thanks to an extramarital affair with a foreign partner, or your mother, who then became pregnant. At first, the story had covered up by keeping the pregnancy a secret until Utsui's first marriage could no longer handle both spouses' unhappiness.

So Takashi moved to America with your mother, but you knew that his heart had remained in Japan with his son. No matter how good you were, Utsui only saw Ushijima.

Despite their distance, he was always informed about his scholastic and sporting results to the point of having reports sent about him or cutting out sports articles that mentioned his name. He often called him secretly from his ex-wife, giving him friendly advice on his game or complimenting his victories.

He is so focused on Wakatoshi that he couldn't even see you.

No matter how many trophies you won or if you became the captain of your team, Ushijima always did something extra to win - even if not intentionally - your father's attention.

And things got worse when, for work reasons, the whole family was forced to return to Japan. In the same prefecture where Ushijima played.

So when you entered in the first year of high school, there was only one thing you wanted to prove to your father: you were worth as much as your stepbrother. At first, you believed you could prove that truth thanks to the women's team, but when you started training, you realized that it was not with them that you would reach that goal, and it was almost a coincidence when that idea had crossed your mind.

You accidentally overheard a call between your father and Ushijima one night while your brother told Utsui how that short little Karasuno guy had threatened him to win the final. That statement had gotten on Wakatoshi's nerves, admitting he couldn't stand unwarranted arrogance

. The thing had you on a rampage.

Wakatoshi was like that. He belittled and looked down on everyone. He had done it with you too on the rare occasions you had met in the past, his gaze seemed to judge you every time, and his indifference showed how little he thought of you.

So you decided that if the Karasuno men's team wanted to kick Ushijima's butt so badly, you would more than willingly help them and that this would be the perfect opportunity to prove to your father that you too were worthy of his attention.

But now that you found yourself in the showdown, with the Shiratorizawa continuing to accumulate points after points without your team being able to recover, it was starting to make you hold your breath.

You began to believe that, at that rate, there would be no opportunity for you to play.

The referee's whistle filled the gym, and suddenly there was an almost deathly silence.

Wakatoshi lifted the ball into the air for his next serve.

At that moment, a scream tore through the air "COME ON! BRING IT ON" Nishinoya must have screamed with all the air in his lungs because his voice's sure timbre made your knees tremble with its intensity. For the first time during the match, your eyes left Ushijima's statuesque figure to dwell on the small one of Yu.

But no matter how small in stature he was at that moment, his presence had conquered the entire field, obscuring even that of the captain of the Shiratorizawa. A smile involuntarily pursed your lips.

The slap of Wakatoshi's hand startled even the reserves as the ball crossed the field so fast that you could hardly follow its path.

On the stands, Shiratorizawa's cheering was ready to cheer on another point as the ball headed into the disputed part of the pitch, right in the middle between Daichi and Nishinoya.They both moved, ready to take it. 

Next to you, Yamaguchi made a horrified squeak covering his eyes. "Oh, no! They will collide!"

Such a thought was understandable, neither player had called it, yet they both leaned towards the ball, ready to take it. You would have liked to look away not to see Daichi's figure colliding with Yu's. 

Your heart was beating madly against your chest, yet a part of you knew that Nishinoya would succeed. You had learned to read determination in his gaze, and if there was one thing you knew, it was that no matter how impossible a ball seemed, Nishinoya would have intercepted it.

Your blocks, with him on the court, were even more effective. Your team play was close to perfect when it came to coordination: if you slowed down a ball, Nishinoya was right behind you, ready to catch it.

That's why you knew Yu would succeed this time. He would intercept that scary service.

It was a moment, Daichi withdrew, leaving space for Nishinoya to receive, and everyone held their breath in the gym when the number 4 dropped to his knees and stretched out his arms. As it hit his forearms, the ball slowed and rose for the rest of the team to catch it.

In the Karasuno camp, there was a sigh of relief and surprise before Sugawara, Hinata, and Yamaguchi shouted in chorus: "He got it!"

Yet another shiver ran down your back, but this time, it was an almost pleasant sensation as a wave of heat spread over your abdomen as your cries of joy joined those of the other reserves: "Good job Nishinoya-kun! I knew you could make it! " you didn't know if he heard you or have time to investigate Yu's curious blush on cheeks that Tanaka scored and sent the team wired.

Nishinoya ran to high-five Tanaka, while Sugawara almost thoughtlessly hugged you in enthusiasm.

"Hey! If anyone here has to be hugged by (y / n), it's me!" Nishinoya complained, pointing at number 2 with a homicidal air.

"Or me!" Tanaka joined, giving support to his companion.

Sugawara blushed, apologizing to all three. "Forgive me. I got carried away."

You laughed, finally relieved of the heaviness felt up to that moment, "Don’t worry Nishinoya, if you continue to play like this, there will be more hugs for you!" you teased him with a wink. 

That promise left the number 4 speechless.

Maybe you broke him.

Nishinoya stared at you with blank eyes, entirely still.

You blinked a couple of times, wondering what to do when an almost feral scream rose from his lips "BRING IT ON! I WILL SHOW YOU! I WON'T MISS A BALL!" it looked like he was going to explode at any moment.

Sugawara lowered his shoulders, frowning. "Now I'm almost afraid for Shiratorizawa," he murmured, studying Yu inhale and exhale like fury, taking a new position on the field.

You lowered your head, "Forgive me, maybe I exaggerated ... but better this way, right?" you played down, giggling.

You knew that Nishinoya - as well as Tanaka - had a soft spot for practically... the entire female population of this earth. Still, you would never have imagined a similar reaction from him for a simple hug. Strangely though, it pleased you, and you found yourself smiling.

Shiratorizawa won the first set.

During the second, however, it seemed to rebalance. In the end, both the team seemed to struggle to keep up. 

Shiratorizawa was deciding the pace of the game, and you didn't like it at all. It was as if they already knew they were going to win, and that belief was the same as your stepbrother, that blind arrogance in believing themselves the best. 

You started eating your thumbnail to the point of almost bleeding as you glanced nervously at Coach Ukai in a silent request, but he seemed to ignore your need and impatience. 

You had already begged to join the game after the last time-out. 

"I know I can do it" were these the words you said to Ukai as he silently stared at you, with his head lowered, "I can stop Ushijima." 

But it hadn't helped. It wasn't your time yet. You didn't know if Ukai would ever give you the chance to play during that game, but one thing was sure: the coach had read that assurance's in your eyes. 

Then, with just a few points at the end of the set, it happened. The tactic for containing Ushijima had begun to work. Thanks to the three-way block, Nishinoya seemed to want to fulfill the promise you made him during the previous set, intercepting every ball that the block diverted towards him. 

Shiratorizawa seemed less scary now. 

Tsukishima certainly has exceptional timing, you thought as the team took a moment to congratulate each other, who knows if with him on the field I'll be able to get in. 

Your hopes seemed to vanish when Tsukishima scored a point, making them win the second set with a block on a dunk from Ushijima. 

Although you cheered along with the others, there was a part of you that kept thinking, 'I wish I were the one to hit that spot' or 'I should have been the first to block his attack'. 

You shook your head, trying to get rid of those evil thoughts. 

"Oi!" Nishinoya called you as the teams changed sides for the third set. "Why that worried face?" he asked, tilting his head with a cocky smile "look, it's too late to renege on your promise." 

You jumped, taken by surprise, yet you were convinced that your smile had diverted the team's attention on something else. Still, it wasn't enough to confuse Yuu.

"Oh, it's nothing," you sketched an embarrassed smile when those envious thoughts crossed your head one more time "I would just like to enter the field too, that's all," you admitted knowing you couldn't hide anything from Yu "it's an important game ..." especially for me.

Nishinoya showed his best smile, vigorously slapping his open palm against your back. "I'm sure the coach will let you in before the end. The Nishinoya-Utsui pairing makes sparks!"

At those words, your cheeks flushed.

Perhaps also realizing what Yu had said or aware of your reaction, he winced, embarrassed, and redder than a tomato. His hand quickly moved away from your back as he tried to compose himself, assuming a casual air. "Here ... I meant that ..."

"Nishinoya !!" Hinata called him, already positioned in the field, "Hurry up!"

Number 4 jumped at the chance. "See you soon on the pitch then, show Shiratorizawa what you can do!" he encouraged her, running away to the second line.

You waved a hello absently, smiling gratefully.

When was the last time someone had trusted you so much?

The joy of winning the last set was brief.

Shiratorizawa retook control of the game, taking home the third set. 

Even Nishinoya seemed to have gotten nervous, and apparently, it wasn't just the rivalry that arose between him and your stepbrother. Still, you also heard him muttering something through gritted teeth like "Damn Ushijima! You won't stop me from having a hug from (y / n)"

He must have taken it personally...

"Come on, Nishinoya!" you yelled from the bench as the ball passed into Shiratorizawa's pitch.

The game was tense.

You could feel the heart contort with every hit and dunk of the opposing team, and a sigh of relief came from the lips every time Nishinoya or Daichi retrieved a ball. You were on your nerves, and you weren't with them.

Keep calm, keep repeating yourself; your time will come.

When the referee whistled the end of the fourth set for Karasuno, your shoulders relaxed with a hand resting on your chest. "Thank goodness ..." you sighed in relief, almost wholly forgetting the dark thoughts that had clouded your team spirit.

You couldn't let self-centeredness make you like Ushijima.

You were different.

Also, some people believed in you despite everything, like Nishinoya.

The thought helped you better tolerate the idea of ​​not entering the field to prove your worth to your father.

By now, you were in peace when it happened.

At the beginning of the last set, the decisive and most important one, Tsukishima, injured his hand.

When you saw the blood dripping into the space between his fingers and into his palm, you felt your stomach turn.

"Utsui!" Ukai's voice roused you like from a nightmare, making you jump.

"Yup!" you replied, ready and decisive, trying to shake off the feeling of having wanted to play so much that it caused that incident in Tsukishima's hand.

While Kei wrapped his injured hand around a towel, you approached, "Hey Tsukishima..."

With his usual indifferent expression, he turned, but you recognized that light in his eyes, the disappointment of not participating in such a crucial moment.

Swallows, you clench your hand into a fist "You were incredible," you admitted, smiling triumphantly. "I'll keep expectations high."

He did not seem impressed, instead looked away, turning away from you. "Don't ruin everything," but there was no bitterness in his voice.

"Just saying 'good luck' would have worked out anyway, you know?" you teased him as he started to walk away. "Move to come back, I can't wait to slam the victory in your face" you mocked him to ease the tension, but you knew that leaving at such a moment was a big wound in his pride.

The only thing you could do to make him feel better was to win that game.

Finally, on the pitch, you started to feel your heart beating against your eardrums. It was your moment. Right there, at that exact moment.

Daichi clapped his hands, rallying the team, "Come on! Focus!"

As you approached the rest of your teammates, you could hear a strange buzz in the stands. Probably many were questioning the coach's choice to have a woman play, also as a central, against a giant like Ushijima.

"Ehhhh? A woman?" Satori, on the other side of the net, stared at the field in your direction, following you with his eyes, before turning to the rest of the team "they don't think we'll hold back for this, do they?" Ushijima studied you in silence, while you seemed to be trying to take stock of the situation with the rest of the team. "Of course not." His voice, grave and low, caught the rest of his team's attention before returning behind the line.

"(y / n) don't be intimidated by Ushijima!" Tanaka assured you, "we managed to keep up with him until now, and we will continue to do so!" You turned your head, hardly hearing Ryunosuke's words as your gaze fixed on your stepbrother's massive figure across the field.

"Uhm... (y / n)?"

"Don't worry about me," your voice sliced ​​through the air like a knife. "I've been preparing myself for this moment all my life."

Some of your teammates exchanged confused glances before nodding resolutely, thinking you were referring to the final, saying that it was the right spirit.

Before each taking their positions, Nishinoya reached out with a closed fist towards you. "What did I tell you?" he exclaimed satisfied, stiffening "let's show Shiratorizawa what we can do! I am right behind you (y / n). They won't beat us!"

You nodded, punching his fist in response.

No, you would not have lost for you. For Nishinoya's trust. For Tsukishima's hard work. For the team.

You soon found yourself face to face with Ushijima, right under the net.

He towered in front of you with an aura that you were sure would make anyone else tremble and flee. But not you. 

You positioned yourself in front of him without batting an eye and fixed your gaze with him.

The rest of the team must have realized that something was wrong, too, because many of their eyes were now fixed on you.

"How long, Wakatoshi ..." you greeted him, lapidary, narrowing your eyelids.

"(y / n)" The captain of the Shiratorizawa didn't flinch, while the rest of your companions winced.

"Hey! Don't take all these confidences ..." Nishinoya grumbled, referring to the fact that Ushijima had just called you by your first name.

"Uh? Do you know each other?" Satori asked, pointing at you with his index finger.

Wakatoshi nodded, serious, "Yes, she is my stepsister."

A strange silence filled the field.

"STEPSISTER?!?!?!?!?!" the scream rose suddenly on both sides of the field, almost forcing the referee to recall the teams.

"W-what? Why didn't you ever tell us, huh?!" inquired Hinata, shocked, looking first at your back and then at Wakatoshi's face.

You didn't turn around, unable to leave that war of gazes with your opponent. "It wasn't relevant."

"It wasn't ..." Sugawara repeated softly.

"... relevant?" Daichi finished, frowning.

"It didn't matter," you repeated softly to Wakatoshi, while an arrogant smile formed on your lips, "because you are now my opponent, and I am your block to break down. Get ready to see your dunks fail, big brother" you mocked the last word vehemently without batting an eyelid when Ushijima smiled, menacingly.

"All this arrogance ... it gets on my nerves."

"... Even your sister is a monster ..." Satori murmured, recognizing in you at that moment, the same authoritative decision and confidence of his captain.

Asahi almost took a step back, intimidated. "Yes ... now I'm starting to see some similarities."

Nishinoya's eyes flashed with admiration, "Show him (y / n)!"

When the whistle came, you were ready.

Shiratorizawa's line flew over the net, and Daichi was there, catching it "Sugawara!"

Koshi lifted the hide as you, the winger, and Tanaka approached the net simultaneously.

I'll hit her. I'm going to smack her and score.

But the ball passed right over your fingers, straight at Rynosuke. His dunk touched Satori's guess block and was intercepted by their Liber ready to be lifted for a dunk by Ushijima.

This is the moment I've been waiting for!

An adrenaline rush ran through your entire body as you ran towards the balloon, getting ready to jump.

I annoyed him, you thought quickly, and his self-centeredness will make him believe he will wipe me out. He will not aim to overtake us but break through the wall of pure power, right on me.

Like an open book to you, Wakatoshi did what you predicted.

He charged the shot and struck, right on your hands.

It hurt.

More than you imagined.

You felt your fingers bend backward, your palms burn, and your arms give way. You couldn't compete with him in brute strength, but as he trained every day to power up his dunk, you had been studying a way to thwart it.

The position of your hands did the trick.

The ball's power worked in your favor, its trajectory following the angle of your fingers, bouncing back towards Ushijima before falling, amidst the astonishment of the entire gym, in the middle of the opponent's field.

When your feet hit the ground, the gym exploded with screams.

You were so happy that you almost didn't realize how red and sore your hands were. You didn't care. 

When you turned to the rest of the team, you almost fell backward as they all ran in your direction to compliment or hug you.

Satori stared at you, his eyes still bulging. "Yes ... a monster..." he mumbled before falling silent on seeing Ushijima's expression "is-it was just a stroke of luck ..." he reassured him, but Wakatoshi didn't even listen to him.

Nishinoya was the last to walk away from you, gently grasping your wrists, before carefully studying your dark-faced hands.

When you noticed his expression, you tried to withdraw your hands from his grasp, sweet and firm, without succeeding. "Oh, don't worry, it will pass."

Yu remained with his eyes down on your wounds. "I know there is probably a reason and that this game is important to you ... you probably want to prove something to Ushijima, and that's okay, but ... don't get down like that," you blush, while Nishinoya lifted his face with a solemn and severe air, "I told you even before, right? I'm behind you, watching your back."

You swallow as Yu walked away, taking his place in the center of the field. You were so shocked by his resolve that you didn't notice his expression -all satisfied- as he settled into position, under Tanaka's grim gaze, who was muttering something between his teeth like 'and stop saying such cool things...'.

The followings points were a constant chase.

It did not matter who won the first point; the other team followed suit; neither of them decided to let go even for a moment.

It was clear that there was an open war between you and Ushijima. Wherever he crushed, you were there.

Your hands still hurt, and you knew that that kind of block was a gamble, especially now without the surprise effect, and the captain of the Shiratorizawa was now much more attentive to your moves.

But it doesn't matter, you thought, trying to block another one of his dunks with Sugawara and Tanaka, you just need to slow it down a bit.

The ball touched your fingers and slid past you, losing some of its speed.

"First touch!"

You didn't even turn around to check; you knew Nishinoya was there, ready to receive it.

It doesn't matter that I stop it completely..., you repeated to yourself with a smile and a light, confident soul,  because you are right behind me, aren't you Nishinoya?

"MINE!" Yu's voice came loudly behind you, and the ball didn't touch the floor.

When the action was over, you turned around, your forehead wet with sweat and your hair stuck to your cheeks despite having tried to keep it away from your face.

You were out of breath, but you didn't feel tired, although bridging the gap between you and the rest of the team took a lot of energy.

But when you met Nishinoya's proud gaze, nothing mattered anymore. Yu raised both hands in a high-five, "Nice save!"

"Nice reception."

However, the game had just entered its most intense phase, Ushijima began to get nervous, and the tension was accumulating point by point as well as fatigue.

At the end of the set, you were almost breathless. You wiped your face with the shirt's edge, resuming your position.

Generally, you didn't stay on the team very much because your physique had to endure the physical gap, consuming more energy. You always had to jump higher than you should have against a women's team, run faster to get the edge, and your stamina wasn't as infinite as Hinata's. You also began to feel the stress of having to replace Tsukishima and keep everyone's expectations high.

No, I can't give up.

You could feel the breath of Shiratorizawa on your neck, and when you looked around, after the last point of the opponents, you felt the floor fail under your feet.

No matter how well we played, it was as impossible to detach the Shiratorizawa.

You gritted your teeth, shaking your head, as Ushijima's face painted that self-righteous look you hated so much.

"No matter how hard you try, the result will always be the same," he stated in front of the net, observing from above your petite figure bent on his knees in fatigue, "We will win."

The grip of your fingers tightened on your knees as you barely restrained a curse.

It wasn't supposed to end like this, no, no!

"DON'T DARE TO LOOK DOWN!" Ukai's scream crossed the two fields like lightning.

You raised your head, observing him with wide eyes, and at that same moment, the gym doors opened, while Tsukishima ran on the edge again of the field under the astonished gaze of all of you.

You saw the coach give him the card with your number for the change, despite the bandaged hand, and stand on the bench waiting to enter the field.

You sighed in relief, thank goodness, he's okay then.

That probably would have been your last point and the last of the game if Shiratorizawa had scored, you couldn't lose, not now.

The serve was from Shiratorizawa, a float that Daichi managed to intercept, but the opponents were able to predict your attack, and it was once again the chance for Ushijima to score.

By the time your brain processed that information, the adrenaline was already circulating in your blood.

Your heart was beating against your ribs until it rumbled in your eardrums, you did not feel the fatigue in your legs as they sprinted towards the ball, predicting where the lifter would pass it Wakatoshi. "I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO MAKE THIS POINT!" you shouted, throwing yourself with all the strength you had to reinforce Kageyama and Asahi's double block.

Focused on the ball, you did not notice the shiny spot on the floor, and when the toe landed on it, it slipped.

"(Y / N)!" someone shouted from the bench, but you ignored him, miraculously catching yourself with the other leg and throwing yourself into the air before it was too late.

It doesn't matter how ... but I have to slow down that ball..., you thought, gritting your teeth, trying in every way to give yourself as much elevation as possible with just one foot.

The pain was sharp, and for a moment, your vision blurred until it was completely dark.

The only thing you could see was the little lights shining behind your eyelids, the intense stab of pain radiating from the center of your face to your neck's base, and something warm dripping down your chin.

You had managed to reach the ball, but despite having recovered from the fall, the elevation you had given yourself with only one leg was not enough. The ball had hit you in the face as you were approaching the net in midair without succeeding to raise your hands, still busy trying to regain your balance.

You heard someone shout your name behind you, and you didn't know where the ball was or what was going on on the pitch.

There was just that twinge of pain at the base of your nose, but maybe that was what kept you conscious and clear enough to make you scream, "THE BALL!" before you hit the ground.

The last thing you perceived was the sound of heartfelt footsteps, and finally, the referee's whistle marked the point.

When you found the courage to open your eyes, the rest of your companions were around you, first of all, Nishinoya "(Y / N)! Are you okay?"

You closed your eyelids, grabbing your nose with one hand, before lifting your head to stop the blood from continuing to come out.

"Did we... did we score?" you whispered between your teeth, barely holding back an expression of pain.

The rest of the team stared at you as if you were mad.

"Yes," was Kageyama, who answered, pointing to the scoreboard.

"Thank goodness ..." you sighed in relief, before meeting Nishinoya's stern gaze.

"You should worry about your condition!" number 4 scolded her, bending over to better observe the wound while muttering, "I told you not to reduce yourself like this" "I slipped ..." you murmured, looking away as if it were an excuse. Kiyoko ran to bring you a towel from the bench while Nishinoya continued to stare at you, worried, "We will win for you too."

You smiled, nodding, before turning around. "I count on it."

"You should go and show yourself in the infirmary ..." Coach Ukai began after giving the okay to Tsukishima to enter your seat.

"NO!" you snapped, pointing your feet, all those present looked at you with wide eyes. "It will stop bleeding soon! And then ..." you turned around to observe the rest of the team from over your shoulder, "and then I can't leave them right now" you turned around, following the coach with eyes shining with pain and emotion. "Please!"

He looked away, sighing in resignation. "As soon as the match is over, run to the nurse without making a fuss, am I clear?"

Your face lit up as you nodded.

Fortunately, the blood stopped coming out a few minutes later, while Kiyoko patiently helped you clean the one encrusted on the skin, you stared with bated breath the rest of the game.

They were the last points.

And then it came.

Karasuno was missing only one point to go home winners. Only one.

The entire team rose into the air to crush Kageyama's riser.

At that moment, the air vibrated.

You couldn't take your eyes off your teammates as Hinata finally hit the ball on the second line. You held your breath.

Shiratorizawa's Libero shot for the dunk, but he was too slow, the ball touched his forearm and took the wrong trajectory going out of bounds.

You jumped to your feet, heart pounding, as Shiratorizawa's number 4 dashed over the baseline to retrieve it.

But the ball was too far. It flew over the linesman and fell to the ground.

For a long, unending, second no one in the gym spoke.

Time had stopped until the referee whistled the point for Karasuno. The decisive one.

We won...

And the cry from the stands rose so high that your eardrums were shaking, while the Karasuno team remained motionless, still incredulous.

Asahi, Daichi and Sugawara, were the first to move with tentative steps, looking for each other. They were hugging each other, letting out a scream that seemed to have remained in their hearts too long as they cried like little boys.

And after them, everyone followed.

Completely forgetting the promise made to the coach, you threw yourself on the field along with the other reserves, completely ignoring the sore nose and red face as warm tears had started running down your cheeks.

You must have looked awful, sweaty, aching, and in a vale of tears, but you didn't care.

None of that mattered now, as you screamed into the arms of your companions, still incredulous.

And amid those black uniforms, your arms instinctively sought the only orange stain.

Nishinoya fell to the ground as you clung to his neck, sinking your face against his chest as your tears wiped from his shirt.

"We won! We won!" you repeated ad nauseam before looking up at Yu.

Had he always been this good-looking? With that cheeky smile painted on his lips, the sweaty hair and skin reflecting the gym lights, those big hazel eyes so bright, and that cute blush that spread over the tip of his nose and cheeks when you were near him?

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, laughing, completely ignoring the embarrassment of having you on top of him. "I didn't think you would keep your promise so soon," he admitted pausing to study your face.

Suddenly, you remembered the condition you were supposed to be in and again hid your face on his chest. "Don't look at me! I'm horrible right now!" you begged him, trying to get away, but Nishinoya's grip tightened, preventing it.

"You have never been more beautiful."

Your heart skipped a beat at those words.

You slowly looked up, and you could see in his big brown eyes that he wasn't lying, he couldn't, looking at you with so much admiration.

When you became aware of your actions again, your lips were already pressed against Nishinoya's.

His lips were soft and slightly salty from the sweat. There was a sweetish aftertaste that you would not have known how to identify, but that you liked to the point of pressing your mouth harder against his. Perhaps, you did it even a little out of desperation, hoping that that gesture would stimulate him to do anything.

Yu remained motionless, completely blown away. He was staring at you with wide eyes, peering at your face pressed against his trying to register what was happening.

Holding you close to him was the right stimulus to awaken him, finally bringing him back to reality.

His hands ran through your hair, trying to get you closer than you already were to him, and he closed his eyes, tasting the numbness of your lips against his.

It was a quick, hasty, clumsy kiss, but it was perfect that way.

"Damn ..." a voice above you suddenly made you remember where you were.

Tanaka towered above both of you as he stretched his knuckles, with the rest of the team behind him staring at you, embarrassed, amused, and even a little amazed.

"Um... we should line up... you know?" Sugawara interjected, uncertain, pointing to the back of the field. "As soon as you finished ..." he added with a more mischievous smile, winking at Nishinoya, who jumped up, red in the face, under the steely gaze of Tanaka.

"Why did you only get the girls?!" the shaved-haired boy cried in frustration as he dragged a still slowed Nishinoya with him, too busy throwing glances over his shoulder to focus on his friend's words.

You found yourself smiling dreamily, red in the face, as you followed your teammates along the bottom line, taking a seat next to Yu.

Number 4's hand clenched together with yours as he winked at you before bowing to the other team, "Always behind you, watching your back."

[hailing-stars]

@febuwhump day 22 burned

a blowtorch is a blowtorch

summary 

“I have to go into the office for a couple of hours,” she announced. She looked down at Morgan. “You know what that means, right, Morgan?”

“Mmhmm,” said Morgan. “That I’m the only one in the house left with common sense.”

“Exactly,” she told her. “So it’s your job to keep your daddy and Peter from doing stupid things.”

“I can try, mommy, but you know they aren’t very good at listening.”

OR

Peter and Tony try to recreate something they’ve seen on a baking show, and it turns into a disaster when Tony gets out the blowtorch. 

The cold wind raged against the lakehouse, and Peter pulled his throw blanket closer. It was patterned with Disney princesses and had pink fluff around the edges. He stared at Tony with envy.

He’d stolen the thicker, cozier throw blanket when he’d arrived down to the living room, along with the control of the remote, citing that it was his privilege as savior of the universe.

Tony switched on Netflix, clicked on a baking competition, and propped his feet up on the coffee table.

“Pepper banned us from watching this,” Peter told him. “And you’re supposed to keep your feet off the coffee table.”

“What are you? A snitch?” asked Tony.

“If it gets me my blanket back, then yes,” said Peter, crossing his arms. The living room was drafty, he was cold, and Tony was annoying.

“Guess I’ll just tell May how late you were out with MJ.”

Peter frowned. “That’s petty.”

“Snitches get snitched on,” said Tony. “I don’t make the rules.”

“You do actually, and they’re stupid ones.”

Tony pelted a throw pillow at him. It soared through the air and hit Peter directly on his head, messing up his already messy-from-sleep hair. Peter was about to retaliate by digging Morgan’s toy car out of the couch cushion and chunking it at him, but Pepper walked into the room, bringing with her the end to their petty fight.

She was dressed in her office attire, achieving the accomplishment of being the only person in the household to make it out of their pajamas that day. Morgan had followed Pepper into the living room, and frowned at Peter, probably for using her blanket.

“I have to go into the office for a couple of hours,” she announced. She looked down at Morgan. “You know what that means, right, Morgan?”

“Mmhmm,” said Morgan. “That I’m the only one in the house left with common sense.”

“Exactly,” she told her. “So it’s your job to keep your daddy and Peter from doing stupid things.”

“I can try, mommy, but you know they aren’t very good at listening.”

“Preaching to the choir, baby.”

“I resent that,” said Tony.

His eyes were glazed over while he watched the contestants use a blowtorch to put the finishing touches on some smore brownies, and Peter got a horrifying premonition about how the rest of the day was going to play out.

“Please remove your feet from the coffee table,” said Pepper. She kissed the top of Tony’s head, hugged Morgan goodbye, and left them, but not before Tony removed his War Machine patterned slippered feet from the coffee table.

“Told you so,” said Peter.

Tony threw another pillow, but that time, Peter managed to dodge it by ducking.

*

It happened just like it always happened. One minute Peter had been warning Tony about watching the forbidden baking show, and the next, just a few minutes after Pepper had left them, he was completely sucked in.

“We could make that,” said Peter, watching two contestants decorate a cake shaped like a tombstone. It was a halloween themed episode. Peter’s favorite.

“Of course we could,” said Tony. “And it’d be ten times better than that one.”

That was always how it started, too. By making these statements that would later be proven laughably false. Peter could see how this was going to end badly and with a messy kitchen, and probably a lecture from Pepper, but he couldn’t stop himself. Neither could Tony.

“You know what would be better than making the cake,” said Tony. “The smores brownies.”

“Yeah,” said Peter. “But we’d need a blow torch.”

“I have a blow torch.”

“You have one for, like, tech stuff. You need a food blow torch.”

“I’m pretty sure a blowtorch is a blowtorch, kid,” Tony told him.

Morgan popped out from under the couch, like the little spy she was. “I’m gonna tell mommy you’re trying to burn the house down.”

“Morgunna, light of my life,” said Tony. “Don’t you want some brownies?”

“Umm,” she said. “Can we put gummy worms on them?”

“We can put gummy worms on some of them, sure.”

“Yayyy!!” She pulled herself up off the ground. “Let’s go set the house on fire!”

*

Peter had been the one tasked with disappearing into the garage and locating the blow torch. Yeah, it was a bad idea, but Peter loved bad ideas almost as much as he loved sandwiches from Delmar’s.

He grabbed some safety goggles as well as the torch. Just in case. He had learned it was always better to treat the kitchen with as much caution as he treated the lab and the workshop, especially if Tony was the only adult around and the person operating the stove.

“Really, kid?” asked Tony, as Peter strapped the goggles around his eyes.

“First rule of workshop safety,” said Peter, before turning his attention to the drawers, pulling out spatulas, measuring cups, and any other essential baking tool.

“And you say my rules are stupid.”

“That was your rule.” Peter left out the part about Tony making that rule after Peter had almost accidentally poked his eyeball out with a screwdriver.

Tony gave Morgan a pack of gummy bears, and told her to keep lookout for Pepper. Peter didn’t see how that would matter. The kitchen would probably be so wrecked any warning Morgan could give them to her arrival wouldn’t be long enough to cover their crimes.

Their baking started without any trouble.

It was a mess, but whenever they were in the kitchen, that was unavoidable. Peter was just happy nothing horrific had happened, like that time Tony burnt his eyebrows off, or that time Peter slipped and fell on the whipped cream that had somehow gotten spread out all over the kitchen floor.

So, it was a miracle when Tony pulled the brownies out of the oven to cool, and nobody had been hurt.

Then it was time to get the marshmallows out, and Tony picked up the blow torch.

Peter was spreading out the marshmallows on the brownies when his hands felt hot. It took him a couple of seconds to register that Tony was setting his hands on fire. Tony, who switched on the blow torch without paying attention, and didn’t realize he’d had it pointed at Peter’s hands until he yelped, ran towards the sink, switched on the cold water and let it over his burnt hands.

“You burnt me,” said Peter.

Tony switched off the blowtorch. “You put your hands in the way!”

“My hands were there first!”

“Jesus, kid,” said Tony. He walked over and offered a hand on the shoulder for support.

“Dadddddyy,” said Morgan, coming into the kitchen. She stopped, and stared at the both of them huddled over the kitchen sink. “What are you guys doing?”

“Your dad tried to set me on fire.”

“Oh,” said Morgan, with a shrug. “What’s new?”

“Morgan,” said Tony. “Is there a reason you came in here?”

“Oh yeah! Mommy’s here.”

Pepper appeared as if on cue. Peter watched as her eyes moved from the brownie batter on the ceiling, the cocoa powder spread out over the counter and the floor, and finally, the lump of butter sitting on the floor, by her feet.

She released a long, weary sigh. “What is going on? Why is there a blowtorch in the kitchen?”

“Daddy tried to set Peter on fire,” said Morgan. “Should we tell Aunt May on him?”

“Next time I leave I’m hiring a babysitter.”

“That’s completely fair,” said Peter, still savoring the cold water hitting his crispy hands. After taking a blowtorch to his hands, adult supervision didn’t sound so bad.

*

Pepper ordered Tony to clean the kitchen up, sentenced the blowtorch to a lifetime imprisonment in the garage, and told Peter he’d better get some rest on the couch, giving him a cool pack to hold onto.

The living room was empty when he wandered into it, and Peter took his favorite spot on his favorite couch, reclaimed the remote, and mostly, reclaimed the thicker, cozier blanket.

He turned off the baking show, convinced that they were evil, and possessed people with impossible ideas just like pinterest.

He was halfway through some horror film when Tony joined him. This time he picked up the Disney blanket without complaint, and left the remote alone.

“Sorry about your hands, kid.”

“That’s okay,” said Peter. “That’s what I get for going into the kitchen with you.”

“I’m not that bad.”

Peter dropped the cold pack on his chest, and lifted his pitch red, already peeling hands up, putting them on display for Tony to see.

“Okay, I’m pretty bad.”

“No more baking shows,” said Peter.

“What about Kitchen Nightmares?”

“Only if Gordon Ramsay can come over and scream at you.”

“Wouldn’t mind that, actually.”

“It isn’t a baking show, anyway.”

It was as if a light switched on in Peter’s head. He turned off the horror flick, scrolled through Netflix, until he found a cooking competition to click on. It was different. Totally different.

“We could make that,” said Tony, watching the contestants on the show.

“Oh yeah, for sure,” said Peter, with complete confidence.

[mycroftinthemindpalace]

6, 20, or 44: choose whichever one inspires you :)

Prompt request from @daggery: I went with 20 - “D..did you just make that noise?” There’s a good chance I’ll come back to the other ones too. Thank you! 

“Coming through!” Mal yelled, loudly enough that if the two students up ahead did not get out of her way and were run over, it was their own fault. Fortunately for everyone, the two kids dove in opposite directions seconds before Mal barreled down the staircase. She had spent way too long with helping Jane practice her spells, and she was definitely going to miss lunch, and if she missed lunch, there was no way she could get through an hour and a half of science that afternoon. They were doing lab, and the smell turned her stomach when it was full. On empty, she’d probably pass out, and Mal would die before she’d let that happen.

Two more floors to go before she reached the bottom, then a quick left turn out the door, a brisk run across the courtyard, and lunch was hers. She was pretty sure they were serving pasta today, and Hades help everyone if there was no pesto left by the time she got there.

“AAHHHH-EEEEEEEE!” Mal froze with half a staircase to go. Mal was used to people shrieking, but not in Auradon. If it were Jane or Melody, she’d have cared, but not stopped. If it were Audrey, she might have turned back just to laugh, but that girlish squeal had not come from very far away.

In fact, it had come from her dorm room, which meant it was Evie, which meant Mal was probably going to miss lunch because the piercing scream had not even ended before Mal was turning on her heel, darting back up the stairs (bumping into one of the two students who were not quick enough this time to avoid her), and breaking down her dorm room door.

She panted, out of breath in the doorway. Her eyes scanned the room for some signs of trouble. The window was closed, there was no blood on the ground, no shattered glass in sight.

As a matter of fact, there was no Evie in sight either.

The only thing out of place in her dorm room was the tall, brown-haired boy in a leather vest, standing on her bed, pressing himself against the wall, his eyes darting wildly around the floor.

“Jay?” She asked, closing the door behind her gently. Jay’s head shot up. Upon seeing her, his wild eyes stopped moving. Like a chameleon, his face changed rapidly from white to slightly green to dark, dark red. “D..did you just make that noise?”

“What noise?” His question would have been far more believable were it not asked two octaves above his usual pitch. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Uh, what noise?”

Mal set her backpack down. “The loud girlish squeal that just came from this room.”

Jay scowled. “I don’t recall any such noise being made.”

“Did you yell?”

“...yes. In a manly fashion.”

Mal smirked. “I’m pretty sure you shattered two downstairs windows with that note you hit.”

Jay’s shoulders relaxed as he slouched down the wall and plopped onto Mal’s bed, sitting cross-legged and cross-armed, and pouting like a three-year-old. “Did not,” he muttered.

“So what made you squeal?” Mal jumped up next to him and mimicked his posture. His lips twitched in a very obvious attempt to keep from smiling.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

Jay hesitated, his eyes flickering back to the floor. Mal followed his gaze, then reeled backward as he jumped to his feet and adopted his previous position at the head of her bed, wide-eyed. He raised a shaky finger and pointed. Mal turned and caught the tail end of a tail, bolting across the room and beneath her dresser.

“A mouse?”

“Get it out get it out get it OUT!” Jay yelled, his voice rising once more. Mal stuck a finger in her ear.

“Chill, dude.” She hopped off the bed, grabbed Evie’s yardstick off her design table, and swept it underneath the dresser. The mouse raced out and ran directly into Mal’s backpack, perfectly positioned at the dresser’s end. Mal zipped it quickly, shot a wary glance at her friend, bouncing from foot to foot and wringing his hands in front of him. “Be right back.” And with that, she was out the door.

Jay immediately collapsed on the bed, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. He released a breath he had not realized he was holding in, and closed his eyes. The hellion was gone, but now he would have to deal with Mal. Mal’s mocking, Mal’s laughter, Mal’s incessant questioning as to why Jay, son of Jafar, had turned into a sniveling, trembling coward at the sight of a white rodent half the size of his hand.

He’d been nine, and Jafar had been angry. He’d brought back a lamp, thinking it might please his father and make up for the otherwise pathetic haul he’d gotten that day, but Jafar had taken the lamp as a personal insult. It was an ordinary lamp, one that might sit on a bedside table and plug into the wall if the Isle had any electricity to light it, not the kind from Jafar’s story. Of course, Jay didn’t know the difference, not then. When he’d proudly presented it to his father, Jafar had sneered. He’d called him stupid, and useless, and he’d broken the lamp over his head and kicked him out.

“Come back with something of worth or don’t come back at all,” his father had said, right before he locked the door.

Something of worth. What the hell did that even mean? To Jay, a pair of shoes that still had soles, and a sketchbook for Mal were things of worth, but to Jafar they were trash. He knew because Jafar had told him so. He’d been working for his father for four years at that point, and he still didn’t know what would earn him a place at the dinner table and what would be thrown back at him. There was no point in trying to figure it out either; what Jafar deemed worthy changed on any given day. And that day, Jay determined, nothing would please his father. Might as well find himself a dry place to sleep and try again in the morning.

There was a storm that night, and Jay was cold. The alley would be filled with goblins and rascals also looking for shelter, and Jay knew better than to sleep when they were around. The wharf was out too; he’d stolen a medallion off Harry Hook last week, and he doubted that the pirate had forgotten.

That left the woods. Jay crept through the muddy undergrowth until he found a shrub big enough for him to slip in. It wasn’t cozy, but there weren’t any thorns and the bush had kept the grass mostly dry. There was even something soft there for him to rest his head on. His head hurt from where the lamp had hit it, and it didn’t take him long to fall asleep.

He slept well, better than he usually did on the nights Jafar kicked him out. He dreamt he was in a castle, not a dark one like Mal’s, but one that was brightly lit and stocked with food he’d only seen on TV. He licked his lips, again and again.

And then woke to find that it was him who was licking his lips, but a fat, white mouse.

Jay screamed. He screamed and knocked the mouse off his face, and then flung one from his shoulder and pulled one out of his hair. He scrambled out of the bush, away from the woods, and back to Jafar’s shop. He ran in, even though his father had not yet granted him permission, and tore of his clothes as he went. Only later, when he went to retrieve them, did he find another mouse huddled in his sweatshirt pocket.

Jay shivered at the memory. He could still feel them, pulling at his hair, pawing at his clothes, licking his mouth. He ran his hands up and down his arms, trying to pull himself together before Mal returned.

She didn’t say a word when she came in, just shrugged her backpack off and pulled an apple out of her coat pocket. She held it out to him, and he accepted, taking a bite that was way too large for his mouth, but if he kept chewing, he didn’t have to talk. She’d brought one for herself as well, and pulled out her sketchbook as she ate. She balanced it on her knee, keeping it tilted at just the right angle so Jay could not see what she was drawing. Probably him, standing on her bed, screaming in terror. He internally groaned.

“Mal,” he started as soon as he’d finished the fruit. “About the mouse. It’s...”

“The spawn of the devil,” Mal said without looking up. “I would have killed it, but I figured there was, like, a 60% chance that it was related to one of Cinderella’s mice, and I never would have heard the end of it if I’d murdered Jacques second cousin or whatever.”

Jay blinked. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

She snapped the sketchbook closed and stuffed it back in her backpack. Hopping off the bed, she held out a hand to him. “Walk me to chemistry?”

He smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

They were halfway there when Mal asked him if he’d ever considered going out for choir, noting that, if his tourney dreams didn’t pan out, he’d make a great soprano.