#this boy just wants to be invited to everything

[wandaslovey]

𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓉 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝓈 𝓈𝑜 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹?

➺ pastors!wife!wanda x fem!reader

wc ~ 3.8k

a/n: part 2 of my “when two wrongs make a right” series. it’s based around their first time meeting. fair warning my lovey’s - this part of the series may seem a little slow in the beginning. i really wanted to build a little background for both the reader and wanda. let me know what sort of things you’d like to see from these two cuties and i’ll try and incorporate them in the coming parts :)

*not proofread*

cw: mentions of an unspecified religion, religious homophobia as well as a bit of internalized homophobia, light undertones of infidelity/cheating, specified age gap (r=20, w=32), smoking cigarettes, reader being a bit of a stalker, wanda being a massive, shameless flirt and bold with a capital B.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ୨♡୧ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

it had been over a month since you moved with your parents to a small town in georgia. they said it was on account of a “fresh start” but you had a gut feeling it was really just because your mother wanted to officially separate your father from mrs. stacey—your old neighbor. your dad never came clean about his affair, but it didn’t matter because your mom wasn’t stupid. mrs. stacey and your father weren’t exactly good at keeping things secretive. whatever. you didn’t care. as far as you were concerned, neither of your parents truly cared about much, including their marriage and including you. they were obsessed with their image, wanting to be the perfect cookie cutter, church-going family. it was all about pretenses. it didn’t matter what was going on behind the mirror because the perfectly angled reflection was all people saw of them.

you had planned for things to be different for yourself once you moved here. for one thing, you didn’t want to be a “church-going girl” anymore. after all, everything that was said only made you have more questions. on top of that, you were supposedly a sinner on account of not being attracted to boys. why would you wanna be some place where people wouldn’t accept you if they knew?

your plans turned to squash when the first sunday you tried to tell your parents, it ended up being an enormous deal—your mom sobbing crying that you were trying to “sever your relationship with god.” you tried to console her for a few minutes, but the more you pushed not to go to the church service, the more upset the both of your parents became. to keep the peace and to quit hearing your mother’s nonsense, you bit the bullet and decided to go.

the whole way to the chapel, you planned in your head exactly what you would say the next time this conversation came up. you were 20 years old. you weren’t going to let your parents dictate whether you wanted to participate in religion or not.

as the three of you arrived to the church, you filed in with the rest of the congregation. you kept your head down, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself. it wasn’t until the pastor began his sermon and invited his wife onto the stand that the fake conversation going on with your parents in your head came to an abrupt stop.

holy sh— you thought to yourself.

you see her for the first time. mrs. maximoff. wanda. you’d learned her name once she’d announced it over the pulpit. she radiated an air of confidence and a surety in herself. you tried to commit every detail of her to memory. her southern accent, the way she spoke, her laugh, her hair, her eyes, her lips, her pretty figure, her well-manicured hands that you could see even from your spot down in the congregation..

from then on, you were infatuated with the pastors wife. there was something about her. something that went beyond her stunning outward appearance. you couldn’t put your finger on what it was, but you didn’t mind observing her for however long was necessary to figure it out. you had a penchant for observation after all.

•

five weeks had gone by, this sunday being the sixth time you get to obsess over wanda in person. your thoughts about the pastors wife had you feeling a little nervous, your tummy filling with butterflies as you think about her. technically, it was wrong to think of another woman this way—right? that’s what you’ve been told your whole life. and on top of that, she was married.

oh to hell with it. it’s not like anything would come of it.

as you stand in the mirror, fussing with your sunday dress, you can’t help but look over yourself once, twice, three times before you finally turn away from your own reflection. the longer you looked, the more flaws seemed to appear, so instead, you take a cigarette out of its hiding place—under the floorboards at the end of your bed—and begin your typical “smoking secretly out the window” ritual.

you needed something to help calm your nerves before you headed to church. especially because today they were doing something called a “linger longer” after the service. it was meant for people to take the opportunity to socialize and eat some finger food after being “spiritually fed.” you didn’t know what that meant, but all you cared about was getting more time to observe the beautiful mrs. maximoff. you very quickly noticed she was quite popular within the church community. she talked with everyone. she was always so spritely and positive—you wondered if it was as genuine as it seemed. not that you would know any time soon. you always left before she could make the rounds to talk to you.

you quickly put your cigarette out in the ash tray and stow it back in its hiding place before looking yourself over one more time and then heading to the church service.

•

wanda noticed you the very first sunday you sat in the pews. she never missed a new couple or family coming in to join their congregation. it was her duty as the pastors wife to get to know everyone. she didn’t mind it either. like a true extrovert, she thrived off of interacting with other people—so to say she was a tad disappointed when she noticed you duck out right after the service before she could introduce herself to you—was an understatement. she met your parents of course who seemed nice enough, but she wanted to meet the pretty girl whom she caught staring at her quite a few times.

every sunday from then on was much the same, she’d catch you staring at her off and on throughout the service. each time she couldn’t help but smirk to herself, wondering what you were thinking in that head of yours. she was instantly intrigued by your behavior and even more so intrigued by the draw she seemed to have to you. without meaning to, she started trying to draw a picture in her head of what type of woman you might be. you seemed reserved yet polite, sweet yet stubborn and bold yet sometimes bashful, especially when she caught you looking at her. you were deliciously difficult for her to figure out and that’s why this sunday, she had made up her mind she was going to pin you down at the linger longer.

•

today was the first time you listened to a sermon and wished it stretched on a little longer. mrs. maximoff was speaking, preaching about the importance of charity. you didn’t disagree with her of course, but it wasn’t so much what she was saying, it was how she said it. you quickly became partial with how she spoke. it was like her tone indicated that everything she said was factual and not up for debate. you admired that quality in her—her ability to speak so profoundly.

she wrapped up her speech and then took her place to sing in the choir for the closing song. your eyes remained on her the whole time. while you couldn’t exactly pick out her individual voice from the bunch, you were sure her singing was the best.

as people filed out of the chapel and out onto the vast lawn that surrounded the church building, you take a moment to admire your surroundings. georgia really was beautiful—very humid, but still beautiful. the lawn was littered with white folding chairs and circular tables with some pink, orange and yellow wildflowers as the center pieces. the colors contrasted beautifully against the long, overgrown green grass and the brilliant blue sky above.

you quickly made your way over to the long rectangle table with food. if there was one thing you learned from being an observant person, it’s that you looked less awkward not socializing if you had a small plate of food in your hand. it wasn’t that you were necessarily anti-social or hated interacting with others, you just didn’t like talking with people who were typically on their moral high-horses.

you exchange pleasantries with a small family who, like you, made a beeline for the food table. you don’t pay much attention to what you put on your flimsy paper plate; some sort of meat kabob, fresh fruit and boiled peanuts. you’d never had boiled peanuts before, but apparently it was one of the food staples of georgia.

turning away from the table, you scan the small groups of people and notice how a lot of them don’t even bother to take a seat at the tables. most people choose to stand in the more open part of the field and chat. you didn’t have to look through the herds of people for long before your eyes land on wanda. she had her head thrown back, laughing at something one of the ladies from the choir had said. her laughter carried through the light breeze that was currently blowing. the sound instantly became one of your favorites to hear.

god, what was wrong with you? you had never become so quickly obsessed with someone before. not even close. the closest thing you could think of was that massive crush you had on sally miller in the 9th grade. still.. that didn’t compare to this.

you begin walking through the cluster of tables, your eyes glancing from her to looking at where you’re walking and then back to her again.

the next 30 minutes was much the same. you briefly sat down at a table, but once more people came to sit with you, you quickly offered your seat up to the last member of a larger family so nobody had to be separated.

no matter where you sat, stood, or walked, your eyes never strayed far from wanda. that was until a kind, middle aged woman came over to talk with you. she was kind enough, asking questions about you and your parents. she seemed genuinely interested in your life, and for that you were happy to talk with her. you learned she had been married for 10 years and her and her husband had been trying for a baby for awhile now, but had run into so many complications. you sympathized with her, understanding that it must be very difficult for something you want so badly to be so painstaking to achieve.

it wasn’t until you exchanged farewells and she moved onto the next person to talk to, that you noticed wanda no longer stood where she was before. in fact, she wasn’t anywhere in the several crowds of people you skimmed through. did she leave? you squint your eyes, focusing in on any short blonde hair you could see in front of you from the place you stood.

“hi there.” you hear drawled out from behind you.

oh my god.

you slowly turn, your eyes falling on none other than mrs. maximoff. you quickly compose the brief surprise that passed over your face.

“mrs. maximoff.” you swallow and tuck some hair behind your ear, offering her a polite smile to mask the squinty expression you had before. had she realized you were looking for her? you hope not..

“oh please, calling me mrs. maximoff makes me feel so old! call me wanda.” she outstretches her arm to shake your hand which you take only after a moments hesitance.

“wanda,” you repeat, your smile growing as you feel her gently squeeze your hand before letting go.

“this is usually the part where you tell me your name, honey.” she smiles amusedly, already thoroughly enjoying this interaction.

“i’m… (y/n), (y/n) (y/l/n).”

“lovely to finally meet you, miss (y/n).” she appraises you, looking you up and down in your cute floral patterned dress. your stomach flutters as you notice her eyes lingering on your figure.

“i met your parents a few weeks ago, but i never got the chance to say hi to you. anyway, i’m real glad we’re finally getting to talk now.” her eyes subtly scan over your features, taking in your pretty eyes, cute nose and full pouty lips. she even noticed the light spackle of freckles across your cheeks and bridge of your nose. she wondered if those freckles were there year round or just for the summer.

“yeah, i um.. i’m not usually one for socializing.” you admit, clasping your hands together in front of you. one of your fingers fiddle with the ring on your left thumb, twisting it around.

“so, (y/n), i have a confession to make.” she blurts, the implication behind her pronouncement making your more on alert. she runs her hand through her perfectly kempt hair before resting it on her hip, trying to appear more casual—though this conversation was rapidly feeling less so.

“oh?” you ask curiously.

“well, it’s just that i’ve noticed you looking at me a fair amount on sunday’s—when i’m at the microphone, singing in the choir, sitting in the pews…but then you never come and talk to me. am i so frightenin’?”

your eyes widen in surprise. you knew you weren’t exactly subtle with your spared “glances,” but was it that obvious?

“what? no, no, no, it’s not that. not that at all. it’s just—well i..” the way she asks has you stumbling over your words. you never meant to offend her. it wasn’t that she was frightening, you just had no idea what to say to her.

she makes an attempt to mask her amusement but can’t help it with your stuttered response. a smile eventually breaks across her face and she chuckles lightly at your trying to explain, finding it endearing.

“oh, i’m just messing with you, sweet thing. no need to get all tongue tied.” her smile was amused and her eyes twinkle with playfulness as she reaches out to touch your shoulder. the action was meant to be placating, but it did nothing more than make you feel more flustered.

“tell me more about yourself.” she says it more as a command than a question, changing the subject and sparing you further embarrassment. you’re grateful for the change in tone regardless of its abruptness.

you shrug, unsure where to begin exactly, but you quickly found yourself wanting to tell this woman everything about you. “well, what would you like to know?”

“what does a cute thing like you get up to?what’re some of your hobbies?” her what appeared to be shameless flirting, surprised you. you mentally kick yourself, thinking she couldn’t possibly be flirting. it was probably just a southern thing they did here…

it was against “god’s plan” to have same sex relations of any kind. that included flirting, didn’t it? and she was married to the pastor for christ’s sake.

although.. at church you did notice that the two of them never seemed to be near to each other at all.. no. you were reading into things. this was just her being polite.

“umm, well, i guess i like to read? mostly fantasy. i’m kind of a closet nerd. i like doing things that are creative, so i’ve been teaching myself to paint and i also make string bracelets or anklets sometimes.. you know, it terms of creative things, um..” you trail off, your hand rubbing the back of your head as you draw a blank. why couldn’t you remember your own hobbies? you weren’t normally so easily flustered or stuttering over your words, but wanda’s confidence and boldness brought out a bashfulness in you that you didn’t even know existed.

she listens intently to your response, nodding encouragingly and she remains silent in your pause to find your words. she wanted to know you better and she could be as patient as was necessary.

“i also like to write.. poetry mostly. i don’t often sit down to do it, but i always enjoy when i do. um, i also love going on walks, listening to music… oh! i love rollercoasters. rollercoasters are probably one of my favorites things.” the longer you talked about what you enjoyed, the looser, less nervous you felt. wanda could see your soft shyness dissipating the more you shared. you light up in a way when you speak, your passion for your interests shining through with your facial expressions and hand movements.

“oh my—rollercoasters? you’re just a little adrenaline junkie, aren’t you?” she teases with a warm smile, her nose scrunching in the most adorable way.

“i wouldn’t go that far, but i do enjoy a good thrill,” you keep your tone light-hearted, mirroring her tone and her smile. her gentle teasing and close attention to you was beginning to make you feel light headed with giddiness.

“what about you, wanda? what do you like to do?” you take a step closer to her, your arm reaching across your chest to grab the other as you continue to feel at ease in her presence.

“anything, really. i like to change things up, keep life interesting. if there’s something new i want to partake in, i seldom hold back from trying it out.” her eyes shine with something you can’t quite put your finger on. you couldn’t help but feel there might be a double meaning to her words, but you could also just be reading into things again. hard to know for sure as you notice her eyes flick up and down your body for the second time since this conversation started.

the two of you continue talking for what only felt like minutes. you barely notice the other people around beginning to clean up food, tables and chairs. it wasn’t until most things had been cleared away that you realize just how long you’ve been standing here talking—nearly a half hour.

“well, i guess i should be letting you get back to the rest of your day,” she sighs, her shoulder raising and lowering with the action. you frown slightly, not wanting your time with her to come to an end. wanda notices of course because just like you were with her, she was paying an awful lot of attention to you.

“yeah.. yeah i guess so.” you nod in agreement, but feel anything but a desire to part from her in this moment.

“hey,” her hand reaches up and gently squeezes your shoulder, her hand lingering there. you feel your heart begin to beat faster, a warmth spreading in your chest.

“can you sing?” she asks randomly. you clear your throat, the sudden question taking you off guard.

“umm.. i’m sorry?” you ask stupidly.

“sing - can you sing?” she reiterates.

“well.. yeah a little, but w-“ she cuts you off.

“perfect! it’s settled then. you’ll join our choir!” her voice is cheery sounding, but the suggestion she made to join didn’t leave much room for discussion.

“i will?” you look at her in slight disbelief, though a smile was also tugging at the corner of your lips.

“mhmm, i don’t see why not. you want to spend more time with me, don’t you?” her boldness was astonishing. you couldn’t decide if you found it endearing, intimidating or sexy.. possibly a combo of the three. she had to be flirting. you finally decided.

“if i say yes, then..?” you trail off, neither confirming nor denying her claim.

“if you say yes then you’ll be nothin’ but honest, and you wanna be honest with me, don’t you (y/n)?” she raises her brows inquisitively, the hand that was still lingering at your upper arm squeezing again.

“that’s very bold of you to assume.” you challenge, your normal wit finally coming out to play. you couldn’t help it. her insistence on being so unabashed and teasing was rubbing off on you.

“well i have eyes, don’t i? believe it or not, i put ‘em to good use.” she drops her hand from your arm and crosses her arms over her chest.

“i noticed.” you purse your lips, your eyes dancing with playfulness as you hint at the fact you’ve caught her looking you up and down a couple times.

she smiles wide at your matching her energy, but she couldn’t help but want the upper hand back, no matter how much she was enjoying this new side of yourself.

“i won’t apologize for gawking at a pretty, young thing like you.” she smiles triumphantly when she notices your dignified posture slump slightly, the most delicate blush coloring your cheeks.

“you don’t have to apologize,” you say quietly, your words surprising you as you say them aloud instead of just in your mind. you look down and off to the side, wanting to hide the heat spreading across your cheeks.

“well we should both get goin’, but choir practice is every tuesday and thursday at 7pm. i wanna see you there, (y/n).” she reaches up presses her palm against your cheek so you’re looking at her again. she locks eyes with you with an edge of what appears to be sternness.

you nod slowly, captivating in her stare. she smiles, pleased and then drops her hand from your face.

“great, i’ll see you then, sweetheart.” she taps your nose affectionately, before turning on her heel and walking away. you watch her figure retreat to the parking lot, your head spinning a bit as your interaction played through your head.

•

as you arrive home late that afternoon, you can’t fight the smile that kept spreading across your face or the butterflies that never seemed to stop fluttering around in your stomach.

when you lay in bed at night to go to sleep, your conversation with wanda kept going through your head. you wondered what it all meant. she had to be flirting—but it was that very fact that had you confused. didn’t she herself subscribe to the belief that being gay was a sin? did she feel it was as wrong as the people in the church say it is? what would her husband think? what would he do if he found out about your conversation today?

the more you thought about it, the more unsettled you felt. before you could truly start to spiral though, you remember wanda’s smile and her contagious laughter. you think to yourself how good it felt to be with her, how warm you felt inside and how at ease she made you feel after a short while.

how could something something so bad, feel so good?

[txrully]

hii! I was wondering if i could request request a professional/upcoming volleyball player reader w blue lock boys?

thank you! do this whenever you free💕

ahhh tysm for your request anon!

actually my first time getting a request 🥹🩷

BLLK BOYS WITH A VOLLEYBALL PLAYER!

chars.: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, itoshi rin, hiori yo, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, alexis ness x gn!reader

( although reader is specified as fem in reo, shidou, and kaiser's parts.)

isagi yoichi

this man is obsessed with how you spike. like, borderline analysis mode every time you land a killer shot.

tries so hard to cheer you on during your games, but he’s also yelling tips from the sidelines like he’s your coach.

“nice spike, y/n!! BUT WATCH YOUR BACK LEFT—"

you once invited him to play volleyball, and he absolutely faceplanted while diving for the ball. his soccer instincts don’t always translate well.

lowkey jealous of how you dominate the court but 100% supportive—he’s your number-one fan, and he makes sure you know it.

bachira meguru

oh, he’s playing volleyball with you whether you like it or not.

turns every warmup into an opportunity to spike balls at you for fun.

“c’mon, y/n! block this one! oh, wait—oops, too fast?” giggles maniacally

definitely tries to incorporate soccer dribbling into volleyball. ( spoiler: it doesn’t work, but he thinks it’s hilarious )

somehow, he convinces you to play beach volleyball with him, and he dives into the sand just to make dramatic saves.

chigiri hyoma

he thinks volleyball is artistic—the way you move across the court? beautiful.

he’s not one for loud cheering, but his quiet, supportive claps when you win a point mean everything.

if you challenge him to play volleyball, he absolutely crushes it. His speed makes him terrifying at the net.

you might tease him for being too graceful, and he’ll shoot back with, “at least I don’t trip over my own feet, y/n.”

secretly memorizes your favorite post-game snacks and brings them to every match.

nagi seishiro

volleyball? too much effort. but watching you? sure, he can do that.

if you manage to drag him onto the court, he still dominates because his height makes him impossible to block. he doesn’t even try that hard, which makes it even more annoying.

“huh? i didn’t even jump that high…”

lowkey flexes how good he is when he wants to impress you though.

your games are one of the few things he’ll willingly stay awake for—he’s surprisingly proud when you win, even if he doesn’t say much.

mikage reo

treats your volleyball career like a business venture—he’s always hyping you up to sponsors and teams.

“did you know y/n scored 15 points last game? absolute MVP material.”

if you’re stressed about a big game, he’ll find a way to rent out a fancy gym for you to practice in.

when you win a match, he spoils you—dinner, gifts, whatever you want. you deserve it.

totally brags about you to the blue lock boys, claiming, “she could beat all of you on the court, no question.”

itoshi rin

at first, he doesn’t get why you’re so into volleyball—it’s not soccer, so why bother?

then he watches you play. big mistake. now he’s hooked. he won’t admit it, but he’s insanely proud when you dominate on the court.

refuses to join any friendly volleyball matches because he’s hyper-competitive and will lose it if he makes a mistake.

“volleyball isn’t even my sport, so why would I care if I mess up?”

( spoiler: he cares. a lot. )

secretly watches your games to pick apart your technique, then casually suggests improvements.

“you could be faster on your back-row defense.”

if someone mocks you during a game, rin’s death glare activates, and you have to hold him back from starting a fight.

hiori yo

he’s your calm and quiet supporter who loves the strategy of volleyball.

offers to help you study your opponents before big games and creates detailed notes about their playing styles.

if you’re feeling down after a tough match, hiori has the perfect playlist to cheer you up—it’s borderline magical.

you two bond over the mental aspect of sports, discussing how to stay focused under pressure.

lowkey amazing at volleyball when you play casually together. his precision makes him an insane setter, and he always puts the ball exactly where you need it.

your games are one of the few things he actively looks forward to, and he’s not shy about letting you know how proud he is of you.

shidou ryusei

this menace turns your volleyball practices into pure chaos. he spikes every ball like he’s trying to break the sound barrier.

“c’mon, y/n, don’t be scared! It’s just a little power spike!”

he has zero chill when watching your games.

he’s yelling from the stands, making the wildest comments, and hyping you up louder than anyone else.

“THAT’S MY GIRL! DESTROY THEM!!”

shidou’s energy is unmatched, and while it’s chaotic, it’s also incredibly motivating.

if anyone talks smack about your playing, they better run because shidou takes it personally.

itoshi sae

in the beginning, he acts indifferent—volleyball isn’t soccer, so why should he care?

but once he sees your precision and skill, his interest is piqued. he starts showing up to your games, claiming he’s “just passing by.”

he’s annoyingly good at volleyball when you play together. his smug smirk when he blocks your spikes is enough to make you want to scream.

“was that your best, y/n? try harder.”

despite his teasing, sae respects your dedication and often gives you genuine advice on handling pressure during big matches.

after a win, he’ll give you a subtle nod and say, “good job.”

( that’s basically a love confession coming from him. )

michael kaiser

volleyball? amateur sport. but you? an exception. he’s intrigued by how passionate you are about it.

always finds a way to make everything a competition—“i bet i’d be better at volleyball than you in a week.”

ends up eating his words when you destroy him during a friendly match. he’s so salty about it but tries to play it cool.

“i let you win. don’t get cocky, liebe.”

he calls you his “queen of the court” and insists on showing up to your games in the flashiest outfits, drawing attention everywhere.

secretly loves seeing you in your element and is constantly impressed, though he’ll only admit it in private.

alexis ness

the most polite and supportive fanboy you could ask for. he’s always clapping and smiling during your games.

if you’re nervous before a match, ness is the one calming you down with his soothing words and quiet confidence in you.

he’s surprisingly good at volleyball basics and helps you practice when you need a setter. his gentle encouragement makes training with him a joy.

“you’ve got this, y/n. i believe in you more than anyone.”

keeps a journal of your games where he writes down highlights and his favorite moments—it’s his way of showing how much he cares.

gets a little flustered when you thank him for his support but brushes it off with a shy smile.

© 𝘁𝘅𝗿𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 :: 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰

𝘥𝘰 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴.

[fushiguruuzzzz]

xiv  ⊹ ࣪ ˖  Love and (Internal) War 

Series mlist 

Tags — possibly offensive humour, Megumi’s self hatred peeking through, oblivious idiot yn 

Words — 1.2k 

The soft knock echoed throughout your otherwise lifeless room, a reminder that the boy on your mind was more than just text bubbles on a screen. You let out a low sound of acknowledgment, sliding off of your plush bed. The floor felt cold beneath you, the wood pressing firmly against the soles of your feet. 

You opened the door, the hinges creaking ever so quietly in the midst of the nights peace. It was late, very much so, but you were sure many of your neighbours were awake. That’s what students did, cramming everything into one short span of hours, usually at the most inconvenient times of night. By now, though, Megumi was usually asleep. It was something you often teased him for, referred to him as an old man. Truth be told, he just loved sleeping. There wasn’t much more to say. So why was he standing in your hallway looking like a lost dog? 

“Hey,” you said, shuffling to the side as an indirect invitation for him to come in. He took it, though hesitantly, as if he hadn’t been the one to show up here in the first place. “What’s up? Are you okay?” you asked. 

You gently pressed the door closed behind you, lingering in front of it, trying to gauge his mood. Your first instinct was to assume something had happened, something bad. Showing up at your dorm at 2 in the morning was a bold move for any average, semi-social person, let alone for Megumi. He shook his head, as if to shoot down any conclusions you’d jumped to. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. He shoved his hands into the pocket of the hoodie he’d haphazardly thrown on as he left his room, a snoring Yuji in the background. He spoke again, a mumble so quiet you’d think it hurt him to say. “…and I wanted to see you.” 

At this, the tension in your shoulders faded, the harsh lines taking up your face smoothing out. Instead it was replaced by a grin, and the hidden bashfulness that came with the way your heart sped up at his confession. 

“What was that?” you smirked, tilting your head in feigned confusion. 

“Don’t be an asshole,” he deadpanned. You let out a laugh, probably too high in volume for the hour. 

“Yeah, sorry. I missed you too.” 

Your shoulder gently brushed against his as you passed him, and the small touch sent too many sparks flying over his skin. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like that he so desperately tried to avoid that longing, that feeling he only felt upon seeing your face, but somehow always found himself here. Well, not exactly here, but with you. No matter the place, he always found himself chasing you like you were all he needed. Like you were home. Maybe you were. 

You plopped down on the bed, the covers rustling beneath you. You gave a discreet nod to the place beside you, noticing the way he stood near the door, barely moving. Did he have to be so mysterious all of the time? So guarded? 

He sat by your side, looking ahead. Anyone could very easily tell something was bothering him, anyone that knew him well enough, at least. He was more tense than he usually was, his walls seeming higher than ever. Though with added height came the crushing weight on the body of them, leaving cracks and holes for hints of vulnerability to seep from. 

“Megumi,” you whispered, a careful hand finding its home on his shoulder. “Is something wrong?” 

He was silent for a moment, avoiding your eyes as he contemplated whether he would be honest or not. His fingers twitched in his pockets, itching to move. They didn’t. 

“How was your date?” he asked, though a bitter feeling resided in his mouth once he spoke. Was that too forward? Too obvious? Were you about to kick him out and push him away? In his mind, those four simple words were as close to any sort of confession he was ready to give. In the few months since the two of you were reunited, he’d felt his walls be slowly chipped away, no matter how hard he fought it. With you, he just couldn’t. It was inevitable, and he was beginning to feel like that same stupid boy he was all those years ago. Stupid stupid boy, falling for you. In his mind, you were the sun and he was simple one of billions of stars yearning for your light. He could never amount to who he wanted to be, to be what you deserved. Wait.. falling for you? Had he just admitted that to himself? 

You paused. Was that what was wrong? Your date? You didn’t understand why such a thing would bother him, let alone enough for him to lose sleep and show up at your dorm in the earliest hours of the morning. “It was nice… he’s nice. Why? Do you not like him?” 

He stole a quick glance at you, softly shaking his head. “I’m not exactly fond of him, no.” 

“Oh?” you said, tilting your head softly to the side. “I didn’t know.” 

“I didn’t expect you to,” he said, shrugging. “Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about him.” He let out a soft sigh, mindlessly grabbing a book off of your nightstand. He was all too aware of your hand on his shoulder, how close you were sitting to him, and it felt wrong. He shouldn’t be feeling this way. He didn’t deserve it. 

“Mm,” he said, examining the cover. He felt an odd need to make conversation, which made him sure he was losing it. When was he ever one to speak when not necessary? Who even was he? You took notice of this, knowing that he must’ve just been distracting himself from whatever deeper level of the situation was nagging at him. “You have good taste in books,” he said. 

For some reason, the compliment sounded much better coming from him than it did from Noritoshi. You summed it up to the fact that Megumi was more familiar, which wasn’t completely a lie, but… you knew better than that. 

You spent the next couple of hours talking about everything and nothing in between comfortable silences and shared looks. Whether it was literature, your classes, your friends, hell, you even talked about politics, it was all so comfortable with him. Things felt as if they were meant to be that way. And then, before you knew it, the two of you were slumped against eachother, halfway lying down as you slept in each others arms. He’d mindlessly held you in his sleep, something that came to him subconsciously, as if embracing you was muscle memory. You hadn’t protested, even as you stirred and occasionally gained some of your consciousness. It was just one night, wasn’t it? At least he was sleeping at all. You were just comforting him, that was all. 

Neither of you would voice it, but it was the best you’d slept in a long time. 

Taglist !¡ —

@1l-ynn @meowymeowbreow @missunrise @kiss-my-asscheeks @starrysho @good-mourning0 @gumims @beaniesayshi @mrowwww @luvvmae @megumislovedoll @azharyy @starsryi @tibibibi123 @idkidk32 @dazaisfavgf @tlissablr @vi0let-writes @walllflowerrrsss @sh0ot1ngst4r @blubearxy @tvnamayo @san-it-is-i-guess @harryzcherry

sighhh I love them lwk been distracted from bttoh tho been nurturing the farmhand yuji fic a lil too much… nb gonna read ts are they cries anyway ermmmm can you guys not kill me or yourselves after the coming chapters release pretty please… with a cherry on top…

[moonlightwonu]

부승관 // Boo Seungkwan Fic Recsᡣ𐭩

널 외롭게 두지 않을게 처음의 마음을 널 위해 지킬게~

Main Recs Masterlist

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!

Please like and reblog the fics to show the creators love and support~

“Starlight Eyes” by @whipped-for-kpop-fics

Fem!reader || idol au, fluff, angst, Seungkwan-centric || W.C: 14k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･The past months together were supposed to be his way of forming a connection with you that would allow you to see him in a romantic manner like you had started to with Seungcheol last year. But it seemed it had just made Seungkwan's feelings burn brighter and his crush turn into something more.

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“Briefly Orange” by @wondernus

Summer au, friends to lovers, magical realism, slowburn, angst, romance, slice of life || W.C: 32k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Fragmentary source of healing and like an oasis away from the city, for his group of friends, Boo Seungkwan’s family farm is a regular vacation destination away from the city. Yet Seungkwan wishes for anything but a future filled with mountains of oranges, his dream of living in the city still ineffaceable in his head. When he receives a request from a friend he fell out of touch with asking if they could stay on his farm for the summer, Seungkwan finally finds himself in an opportunistic place in which his dream can finally become a reality. Why? Because you’re cursed to have everything you love disappear. Sweltering heat and an eventful summer, magic touches lives in ways that we can never imagine. But in this transition between seasons, we find ourselves asking: when loss is as transient as the lives we live, what does it mean to love with every fiber of our being?

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“The Beach House” by @bluehoodiewoozi

Fem!reader || one bed trope, enemies to lovers, comedy, angst, romance, slowburn || W.C: 9.8k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Maybe Vernon made a mistake by inviting both you and Seungkwan to the beach house, or maybe he was smarter than the two of you combined.

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“Once Upon A Summer” by @the-boy-meets-evil

Fem!reader || 90s au, summer love, fluff, angst || W.C: 8.6k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Every summer kind of goes the same. The population of your usually sleepy beach town doubles and you bust your ass to make enough money to last through the slow season. But a new face blows into town like a whirlwind and he’s determined to catch your eye. Only one problem: he’s here for vacation and you’re married to this town. 

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“It Isn’t You” by @simpxxstan

Fem!reader || single mom au, fluff, angst || W.C: 8.3k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･you're ready to begin a completely new life in seoul, away from your ex-husband and your baggage of regrets. but fate has different plans for you when you meet seungkwan again, and this time, you don't want to let go.

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“When I Grow Up” by @wooahaes

Gn!reader || childhood friends to lovers, fluff, minor angst || W.C: 12.3k

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“Strawberry Jazz; Love On The Train To Tokyo” by @idyllic-ghost

Neighbour au, strangers to lovers, fluff, romance || W.C: 9.4k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･In an attempt to let go of your past, you travel to a new city and pretend to be a new person. On the train to Tokyo, you meet a handsome stranger but miss the opportunity to get his name and number before you part ways. Lucky for you, your fates seem to be intertwined as you meet again just a few hours later.

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“1-800-CUPID” by @drunk-on-dk

Fem!reader || friends to lovers, slice of life, fluff, romance, smut || W.C: 7k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Nothing could have ever prepared you to reunite with Boo Seungkwan over a desperate, wine-induced call to 1-800-CUPID late one night. Seungkwan was always known for being a jack-of-all-trades and meddler during your time spent as his friend at university, so hearing his cherubic voice over the love advice hotline wasn’t so shocking. Fortunately for you, Seungkwan’s sprite attitude is exactly what you need in your post-grad, loveless life. However, what will you do when he begins to surpass what the hotline has to offer and meddles with your heart instead?

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“Like A Domino” by @sluttywoozi

Fem!reader || bartender au, pining, fluff, suggestive || Parts: 2 || Total W.C: ~12.9k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Seungkwan falls for you a bit more with every date you have. And by you, he means you and someone else. He’s just the bartender.

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“Guilty Pleasures” by @hannieween

[Series] || Fem!reader || childhood crush to lovers, fluff, smut || Parts: 2 || Total W.C: 24.5k (as of now) || Status: Ongoing

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Planning a wedding is not easy. It is one of the most difficult feats you had ever chosen to do. That and seeing Boo Seungkwan again. Seungkwan, the golden boy, the teacher's favourite. The person you had a stupid undying crush on.

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“As It Was” by @ssinboo

Fem!reader || fwb , smut || W.C: 5.4k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･There’s nothing that nourishes the ego more than envious looks from old classmates. At a ten-year class reunion, Seungkwan is looking forward to enact his long-term revenge plan. When it all comes crashing down, you're helping him pick himself up the only way you know how. or You and Seungkwan are occasional friends with benefits

⤷“We're No Good Alone” (Part 2 of As it Was)

Fem!reader || smut, angst || W.C: 5.9k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Seungkwan finds himself in a month long slump and you're recruited by his manager to help him get back on his feet. He finds your presence a lot more comforting than he'd be willing to admit. or You visit Seungkwan in Seoul and spent the weekend like you don't hate each other.

⤷“It's Always Been Us” (Part 3 of As it Was)

Fem!reader || romance, smut, fluff || W.C: 16.5k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･After your unplanned confession, you avoid Seungkwan until an unexpected issue brings you to contact him. When you finally get in touch, secrets are revealed.

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“Office Hours” by @seungkw1

Afab!reader || College au, smut, fluff || W.C: ~6.2k

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“Plan B” by @diamonddaze01

Fem!reader || Frenemies to lovers || W.C: 9k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･it's just a stupid pact. what could possibly go wrong?

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“Caught On Camera” by @rubyreduji

Fem!reader || camstar au, roommates au, smut || W.C: 7.9k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･being a cam girl is great, that is is until you have to consider your roommate

Please let me know if the links have any problems~

[ye4gerism]

𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊, 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍!- 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

word count 4.8k

content warning a little bit of spiciness, false positive pregnancy mention, black reader friendly

author’s note hi. i suffered through writer’s block these past three months but BOOM mouthwashing and fanart of this fine ass man popped up on my fyp. i’ve watched two playthroughs of this game, so i hope i captured the right image of curly. oh and he’s australian here. and my requests are open!

synopsis on a study abroad trip, you meet another (handsome) study abroad student who talks his way into your heart and ends up being a key part of your life

Winter in London was not up to your standards.

You were here on a study abroad trip for your master's program. You did the whole overseas thing during one quarter during your time as an undergrad - it was a little visit to South Africa which you thoroughly enjoyed. But “travel some more,” everyone said.

After a lot of thinking, you gave in and decided to travel to the U.K. as you wanted something that felt familiar. You were wrong in so many ways - the roads followed unnecessary loops, plugs were shaped unusually, and...oh, every drink there was some sort of 'diet' or 'zero sugar' crap.

But over time, this place began to feel like a routine. It wasn't home but you were okay. You liked the opportunity to grow in your program and you liked your classmates. Everything was balanced - school, eat, chat, sleep.

Except for one particular day after your classes, a few of your classmates insisted you go to a pub with them. Something about 'getting you more exposed to the London culture'. After much pestering, you indulged.

So you found yourself at this pub but not as excited as the people who invited you. Over time, they were engulfed in their own conversations and inside jokes and you were off to the side, whiskey in front of you, own your own. It's weird to drink when the people who are supposed to have your back don't.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Oh boy, were you about to have your first unwanted encounter in London?

You look over your shoulder and see this strikingly tall man, his head full of bright hair. His shy smile

is highlighted by his stubble. Your eyes soften for a moment and the tension in your shoulders fades.

But then it returns. "I'm enjoying myself. Thank you. I'm with my...my classmates." Your tone is sharp. You gesture to your classmates, who are still in their own world.

"You're American? Are you sure these people know you?" He asks. You pause, trying to find a witty answer of your own. Part of you wanted to point out his thick accent as it wasn't as posh as the Londoners. Maybe Australian. You think for a while but you're still stuck.

"Curly." He extends his hand to you. You shake it.

"Your name is Curly?" you ask curtly. "And I'm supposed to feel bad about my situation?"

He chuckles at your response, his face settling into a smirk. "My name is Grant. Everyone just calls me Curly."  He swirls his glass, eyeing the empty barstool next to you. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

You look him over noticing his muscular build once more. "I don't mind." He swings his leg over the seat and rests his forearms on the counter. Curly takes you in for a moment. You take this time to take note of his eyes - a shade of deep blue. He's sort of cute, you think.

"So, why exactly is an American girl like you here in London?" And it all goes away. You find yourself a little annoyed with his question as it's yet another variation of the same question you've heard since you arrived here.

"You ask that like I'm not supposed to be here. It's not like the United Kingdom is some sort of war zone," you respond. He raises his right hand in defense. "I'm studying abroad for a quarter. I'm a grad student," you finally answer. "You don't sound like you're from here either. What's your deal?"

"Well, I'm here for school too." He downs the rest of his drink. "Masters too actually. I'm trying to go to space."

"Still doesn't explain the accent," you cut in.

"Well, my father's Aussie and my mother's from here. They separated years ago and I spent most of my life in Australia with my Pa and spent time with my mother when I wasn't in school. She moved to the States after the divorce. I decided I'd pursue my college education in America and have been there since."

"So you're here studying abroad as well," you state. He nods and then gestures to someone behind him. "That's Jimmy. I like to think we've been attached to the hip for the longest time."

This Jimmy he speaks of is on the opposite side of the bar, socializing. "I'm really happy we got to take this trip together. He made my breaks great. I was really bummed that the person I considered my best friend lived on the other side of the world but the great thing about adulthood is the lack of limitation."

You laugh at his comment and he gives you a confused look. "As an adult, I feel that there are so many limitations. Especially as we get older."

"Well, it's up to you if you let those limitations run your life. You have free will, you know, and...and you typically only live once." He places a hand on your arm and it slowly runs down to your elbow. Your eyes are locked now.

"My name is Y/N."

"I like that."

You like the weight of his hand and you like his eyes and you like his hair. He seems like a cute guy and he has such a cute name - Grant Curly. What a cute face.

"Hey Curly." The moment is broken by an unfamiliar voice but a familiar face. The Jimmy guy. "It's getting late and we have shit to do. You think you can stop flirting and leave now." He pauses and looks at you. "No offense."

You're taken aback and not sure of what to say but you respect him for keeping his friend in check...but maybe not with that tone. You look behind you and see that your classmates have left you. So much for adults.

"You're right. I lost track of time," Curly admits sheepishly. He looks at you first, then at Jimmy. "This is Y/N."

"Great. Nice to meet you, Y/N." You wait for a handshake or something. "Let's go now." Jimmy starts to walk away from where you're both sitting.

"Sorry about him. He's nice! I promise!" Curly rubs his neck nervously. "How are you getting home? Going back with your friends?"

"They left. I'll have to call a cab or something," you say. He looks over at Jimmy, who's exiting the pub, and then back at you. "I'll take you back home. What's your address?"

"It's okay. Your friend...he doesn't seem receptive. And besides, I can take care of myself," You answer. You start to rummage through your purse and pull out your wallet to pay for your drink. Curly gently holds your wrist. Your breath hitches at the electrifying feeling. "Let me pay for your drink and take you home," he starts, "I know you're definitely capable of taking care of yourself but it'd kill me if I left you alone."

You look away from him for a moment and think. This was your opportunity to get his number. "Okay...I'll pay for the drink and you can take me home," you offer. He shakes his head and gestures to the bartender. "Please put this lady's drink on my tab," he says. Curly pulls out his wallet, then his card, and slides it over to the bartender. You lightly slap his arm in protest. "Why would you do that?"

He just smirks at you before taking back his card and receipt. "Let's go." He offers his hand to you to help you off the barstool but you playfully swat it away before plopping off.

Curly leads you outside to the parking lot and clicks the unlock button on his keys. His friend is leaning against the car and you take note of the fact that he was rushing Curly when he didn't even own a car himself.

"What is she doing here?" He asks. "Jimmy, we're dropping her off. You think you could move to the back so the pretty lady can sit up front?" His friend asks.

Jimmy gets off of the car and mumbles something illegible under his breath. You feel bad so you say something, “He can sit-"

Curly cuts you off, "No, no, you sit down." He opens the passenger seat for you and you slide inside.

Something you noticed about the two friends was how opposite they were; Jimmy was clearly someone who didn't like too much change and you assumed that Curly lacked any anxiety. They seem to balance each other out...maybe?

As you conversed with Curly about your respective lives, you couldn't help but notice Jimmy's eyes piercing your image through the rear view mirror.

“Hi love." You feel so much relief when Curly's lips meet yours. You can't help but melt against him. It felt so good to have him in your home.

The two of you had decided to go long-distance months after you met in London. Curly was based in Colorado; his mother lived there, it was where he attended school and he loved it so much because of the snow. It seemed like whenever you called, he was on some sort of mountain or on his way there. While you were living in California, where there wasn't much of that, Curly claimed it reminded him so much of home - so he didn’t mind you living there.

After your first meeting, you regularly hung out and spoke over the phone. Sometimes you both were lucky to be alone; he'd take you out to lunch or take you to tourist sights in London. Sometimes you'd spend time in his flat and Jimmy would be there. The latter wouldn't say much but you always felt like he never really wanted you around. When he did speak to you, your conversations would start somewhat simple and then he'd say something to kill the mood.

One night as your school's study abroad program came to an end, Curly showed up at your flat without any notice. The Curly you saw that night wasn't the one you were getting to know all this time - he was much more bashful than ever. Not the type of bashful when Jimmy tries to embarrass him but bashful in the sense that he was well into his twenties, almost 30, and was struggling to find the words to confess to you. Luckily for him, he didn't need to completely contextualize as you felt the same way.

"How is work, baby?" You ask him. He came to California as it was his turn to take the flight to see you.

"Same old, same old." He started working for some space freighter company months before he met you; you only heard about it once you got back to the States. You weren't too sure about the whole thing but he was making money and getting practice for the career he really wanted.

You pull away from his chest and take his image in. "I missed you so so much." Curly pulls you closer to him so that he can kiss you again. This time it's a bit longer. He pulls away looks behind himself to find your couch and leads you to it without bumping into anything.

He sits first and invites you to crawl onto his lap. Once you're settled, he grabs your thighs and you take hold of his shoulders, kissing him again. His hands roam from your thighs to your back before finding themselves under your shirt. At the feel of your bra, he asks, "Oh, what's this?"

You feel your cheeks heating up at his playfulness. "Why don't you take my shirt off and find out?"

Taking this as permission, Curly unclasps your bra and moves his hands to your shirt; you raise your arm as he pulls the bottom of your shirt off. Once it's been discarded, your bra slightly falls off your chest and Curly does you the honor of taking it off of you.

He lets the back of his hand run lightly against your nipple and you can't help but mewl a bit. "Missed me?" He asks. You nod. "Every single day."

"I think about you a lot. At work, at home, when I'm outside. It's hard knowing that I have such a pretty darling on the other side of the country." He brings one of your breasts to his lips and wraps his lips around your nipple, where his tongue dances around. He pulls his lips away with a 'pop'. "Grant," you let out breathlessly.

"I think about doing you at my desk, on my bed, everywhere." He lowers you down on the couch and adjusts himself so that he's on top of your lower half. "I think I'll take you on this couch and maybe if you're up to it, on your island counter next, and then after-"

He's cut off by a vibration in his pocket. "Just a moment, it's probably work," he says, pulling out his phone. You notice a slight annoyance on his face when he reads the Caller ID.

"Jimmy, hi." Speak of the devil. At the sound of his name, you shuffle to sit up on the couch. Curly puts a hand out to stop you but you swat it away.

"No, Jimmy, I didn't eat your pickles. Have you tried looking around the fridge?"

You reach next to him to pull your shirt and bra out of the crevice of the couch.

"You found them- no, I landed here hours ago."

You clasp your bra and put your shirt back on.

"I'm sorry that - Jimmy!" You jump at the volume of Curly's voice. He sees this, places a hand on your knee and mouths an apology. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't call you. I just got here. I'm with my girlfriend- huh? Ok. I'll talk to you later. Bye Jimbo." He then hangs up. Curly sits back on his knees. He brushes his hair back with his hand and releases a sigh before placing both hands on his knees and looking at you. "Sorry. Just Jimmy."

"I don't like him." You give him a pointed look. You cross your arms, obviously disappointed that his idiot friend ruined your time with your man. You're aching for him but at the same time, you don't even want to fuck Curly anymore.

"I think he's a nice bloke," Curly says under his breath. You raise your eyebrows, practically asking him to speak up. "It's like you guys are the brother and sister that hate each other for fun. You'll both come around eventually."

Your face twists in disgust and you fake gag, which makes Curly laugh. "What brother is deeply in love with their sibling, you in this case?" you question, "He clearly wants me out of the way."

"No, he doesn't. He loves you!" You can see Curly's face melt into confusion. "Maybe not love you...but he likes you around?"

You scoff. "See, you don't even know yourself." You wiggle your legs from under Curly and get up off the couch. He reaches for your hand. "You don't know want to...?" He cocks his head toward the couch.

You purse your lips and shake your head no.

"So gorgeous!"

"How many karats?"

"The proposal! What was it like?"

One year and a few months after your meeting, Curly decided to propose. He took you to Australia to meet his paternal side. In truth, you were scared of those big-ass Australian spiders and whatever the hell else happened to live there but your love for Curly was stronger. The night before your flight back home, he planned a candlelight dinner for the both of you in his father's home and proposed to you - your answer obviously being 'yes!'.

Today you were at your wedding shower with all your friends - Jimmy too!

"How do you feel about getting married after just a year of knowing each other? I mean, Grant can't possibly know everything about you in a year!"

Curly's mother was a piece of work. You had met her a handful of times during your trips to Colorado and yet you couldn't seem to just get along. You were polite but she always had something to say. There was some attachment to her son but he was her only one so you let it slide.

"Well...you do know we're getting older. I fell in love with him and have been since I met him. I feel that Curly-"

"Grant. His name is Grant," she interrupts.

You take a deep breath and smile a forced one. "Grant. I feel that he and I can be mature adults and grow and learn about our marriage and what makes it work." Part of you wants to mention why her marriage didn't work out but one of had to be the bigger woman.

Mrs. Former Curly hums trying to find some witty response. "Is the Bride-to-be avoiding me?" You let out a sigh of relief and you never thought you'd do it to this particular voice.

"Jimmy! Nice to see you, hun!" Curly's mom moves past you to hug Jimmy and kiss him on the cheek. For once, Curly's friend looks cleaned up compared to the other times you've seen him.

When Curly's mom pulls away, he looks over at you. "I wanted to pull Y/N aside. Haven't gotten to properly congratulate her on the engagement. I can catch up with you before I head home," Jimmy tells her.

After the engagement, Curly decided to move in with you. It was a decision you were confused by; you were easily willing to pack up your bags and move to Colorado with him. You knew he loved the snow and his mom would probably lose his shit if he was so far but he insisted on moving in with you.

At first, he wouldn't tell you the truth, something about high housing prices and about wanting to explore more. Eventually, he told you he wanted to get away from Jimmy. He opened up to his friend about the idea of getting engaged - showed him the ring and everything. It turned into an argument about you being the right choice and Jimmy low-key insulting you. After he told you the truth, you let Curly move in before the wedding.

Over time, Jimmy apologized to Curly and even extended an apology to you and the two got closer again. Although they weren't best buddies, it didn't sit right with you how quickly Curly took Jimmy back as a friend. Maybe Mrs. Former Curly was on to something.

"How have you been, Jimmy? Has living alone served you well?" You ask. He makes a funny face at you. Were you making a dig at him?

"It's fine. I actually got a new roommate. He's pretty chill. Keeps to himself." Jimmy avoids eye contact for a second. "How's living with Curly? I know he's ecstatic but are you?"

Living with Curly was great, especially when Jimmy was briefly out of your lives; uninterrupted cuddles, uninterrupted dinner, uninterrupted sex. You were living the life!

Instead, you answer, "Living with Curly is great. He's lovely. He's the best roommate and fiancé I could ever ask for."

Jimmy's trying to keep a light demeanor but he truly couldn't. "You know, I hope you're really right about that. Hopefully, he doesn't drop you like a sack of potatoes...although, I hope he does. I really really hope he does. You don't deserve any of this."

Your face drops and for once he's left you silent. Jimmy smirks when he realizes he's really hurt you. "Congratulations again, princess," he says before walking off.

You feel your body buzzing and you just want to cry but everyone - your family, friends, Curly - are all gawking over you and you don't want to set any alarms off. You want to find Curly but you know at the sight of him, you'd burst into tears.

You eventually find the strength to walk out of the party - passing by with polite 'excuse me's and 'just a moment's. You take a moment to feel the breeze. It picks up and your breath struggles but once it slows down, an entire weight is off your shoulders.

You decide to sit in the car. A tired heavy sigh escaped you. You noticed your fiancé left his winter jacket in the car and used it as a blanket.

For a moment, you wanted to cry but you had all this makeup and didn't want others to realize that you were upset. But besides that, you didn’t have the urge. Why couldn’t you cry?

You chalked it up to space. You needed to be away from Curly's petty mom. You needed to be away from Jimmy and his weird attachment to your fiancé. You both needed space for this whole thing to work out.

A shadow hovers over the window and you turn your head to see Curly, who lifts his finger to knock on the window. You open the passenger seat door and before allowing him to speak, you start first.

"Sit."

He doesn't argue and walks around the car to sit in the driver's seat. "Babe, what's going-"

"I can't do this, Grant." You can see his eyes and panicking and his mouth trying to find the right words. He grabs your hands and lets out an incoherent version of "but I love you" and other things you couldn't catch on.

You shush him and it takes him a while to quiet. You place a hand on his cheek. "I don't want to say my vows in front of people who are wishing on our downfall. You know what Jimmy said to me tonight?"

His eyes go from saddened to worry and then a building. "I knew it. I shouldn't have - what did he say to you?!"

You place a finger on his lip, quieting him again. "Grant, baby, please. We'll deal with him later. I want to go to the courthouse and marry you. I want to say the vows I wrote for you there. And then after, I want to eat a burger or something...something greasy and salty as hell, and then after that I..." You move your finger from his lips down to his chest and then even lower.

"You want to...?" He's playing coy.

You move his finger away from his pants and slap his chest, which makes him release an "oof". "I want Jimmy and your mom to suck it and let us have our moment," you say. You watch his face as he starts to think (he has this cute thinking face that you can't help but melt for).

"Ok. Deal." Curly kisses the corner of your lip. "Can you come inside now? Everyone's worried." You kiss his cheek now and chuckle an 'ok'.

Back at the party, everything felt fine. You had your friends and family to cheer you on and your amazing fiancé who loved you more than life. It was toward the end of the night you felt a shift.

You were catching up with another friend when you observed Curly walking Jimmy outside. After a few moments, it was just Curly that returned.

"They want you to do what for how long?"

"It's just a year, baby." He was still with this Pony Express bullshit. "It's nothing we haven't done before. Think of the other times as practice.”

He was doing space deliveries in a span of a few days or even hours to the International Space Station....when he could be working up there.

A part of you felt bad for complaining but the money with good. With your income combined, you were able to buy your first home. You had the most spacious dining room and connected kitchen. It helped with family gatherings, dinners with friends, and hard conversations like these.

"Why can't you get like...I don't know...a real job at like NASA?"

He slams his hand on the table. "It is a real job like NASA!"

You're startled - you can't think of one time he has ever raised his voice at you. Your utensils clutter against the plate and you get up, pushing the chair back with your legs. “Y/N, babe, sorry-” he tries.

You ignore him and leave the dining room, your shared bedroom being your target. Curly’s pleadings and footsteps can be heard behind you.

You reach your bedroom and Curly places a hand on your shoulder. It stops you from walking away from him again. He counters you and now both hands are holding your shoulders. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I know I never yell at you.” His right hand moves from your shoulder to your cheek. “I’m really really sorry. I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations out on you.”

You blink and your face scrunches up trying to stop yourself from crying, which you fail. Curly brings you in and holds you.

“Grant, I can’t do it. I can’t do a year,” you sob, “And with all the negative tests…I can’t do it. I need you here with me.”

The both of you were trying for a baby but haven’t been lucky. Just a lot of no’s and one false positive - that was the one that hurt the most. The excitement was immediately gone when your doctor told you there wasn’t anything to begin with.

So it was back to Square one and other options.

But this year's mission had thrown a wrench in your plans.

Curly leads you over to the bed and has you sit down. He kneels in front of you and takes your hand. “Listen, it’s some quick cash. A lot of money. When I get back, I’ll quit. I’ll find something else. And we can focus on ourselves and our family. I’ll make it happen. It’s a promise.”

There’s so much hope in his eyes. He sticks out his pinky finger, indicating that he is serious in his own lighthearted way. You hug him instead.

"So who's the lucky girl?"

Curly looks up and sees Swansea, who's pointing at the gold ring on his left hand.

"Oh!" He turns red at the thought of you. "My wife is back home. I didn't realize how hard it would be - being this far from her. We actually dated long distance for the longest time but yet, I can't shake the unusual feeling in me."

“Your wife…” The older man thinks for a moment. “Oh! The one that pulled you to the side to give you an earful!” He lets out this belly laugh and it goes on for quite a long time. Curly takes a deep sigh, letting his shoulders drop. Swansea slaps his left shoulder, perking him up again. “Yeah, I miss that too.”

Curly was about a month into this delivery trip. He stopped counting the days because it made him miss you more. He just wanted to blink and be home so that he could hold you in his arms and apologize a hundred times over.

You both got into an argument when you found out that Jimmy once again found a way to be in Curly’s space.

One night, Curly got back-to-back calls that he kept ignoring. “Just pick up please so we can sleep,” you tiredly snapped. He chuckled at your annoyance and kissed your forehead before complying.

You didn’t find out until you saw Curly off at work before the start of the mission.

“Are you kidding me? Don’t tell me he was the one calling!” You exclaimed. Curly looks back at his crew who are feet away saying bye to their own families or prepping the ship. “Can you please-”

“No! No, no, no, no,” you hold a finger in front of his face. “Why is he there? I tell you all the time - I don’t like him and I don’t like the influence he had, or I guess has in this case, on you-”

“He needed a job! He needed some help. Things aren’t good on his end. He’s a damn good pilot. He just…he just needs the right push.” His blue eyes hold so much sympathy. You loved your husband’s compassion for others but when it came to Jimmy - after all the times he made it clear you weren’t welcomed - you just wished Curly had a little bit of backbone.

There’s still so much anger and disappointment in you but you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.

“I hope it all works out and that your boy succeeds. Good luck, Captain.”

You raise both hands in defeat and start to walk away from Curly. This is your last image of him before you fully turn around. He says your name once but doesn’t follow you.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 18

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16 || PART 17

Steve doesn’t see much of Eddie for the next few weeks. Presumably there are still Dungeons and Dragons sessions and band practices, but Steve and Chrissy are no longer invited. Jeff flits back and forth between their two groups like a child of divorce, and Steve? He just misses Eddie.

Eddie, who even once Steve slinks back to his usual seat in the cafeteria for lunch, no longer gives his table top rants. He doesn’t say anything at all, not where Steve might overhear him. But he still has Chrissy, and Robin, and Jeff, and that’s enough.

In his free time, he writes aimless letters destined to never be read.

Steve’s moving on—getting over it is a process, or so he tells Chrissy. He never shows her the letters, can’t bear to see the pity on her face. He doesn’t talk about it with Robin again either–just hides his notebook away and gets on with his life.

Eddie’s just a boy, and it’s just a crush. Steve can move on, he always does. He tells Eddie as much in a letter he’ll never read.

Everything changes when he opens his locker and something drops out. It’s a bright yellow envelope, sloppy sunflowers drawn on the sides with black pen, and there, dead center, is his name written in a handwriting he’d recognize anywhere, is his name. Not Secret Admirer, not even Harrington, just Steve.

He shoves it into his backpack before Robin can close her own locker and notice.

It stays hidden there for the rest of the day as Steve’s heartbeat rabbits away in his chest, and his palms itch with sweat. He doesn’t open it that night either, too afraid of what he might find in it. It’s like that one story Robin had told him, where the guy goes crazy after burying someone under the floorboards or something? It’s calling to him, no matter how hard he plugs his ears.

Steve doesn’t get much sleep that night.

He still hasn’t opened it by school the next day. Might not ever have opened it if he hadn’t glanced toward Eddie during lunch and caught his eye. Eddie’s staring, gaze intense even with all the distance between them. But then, the weirdest thing happens—Eddie smiles just a little, and finger waves at him, like they’re friends.

Steve just stares, gobsmacked until Eddie’s entire face starts to turn a splotchy red and he looks down at his lunch table as if embarrassed.

“What was that?” Chrissy asks, looking behind her at whatever had caught Steve’s eye.

“I have to go,” Steve blurts, rushing out of the cafeteria before she can ask anymore questions.

His and Chrissy’s usual abandoned classroom has a teacher in it, so he ends up in his and Robin’s bathroom stall, this time alone. Still, he sits on the ground, leaving enough room for the ghost of Robin to have a seat, too.

He opens his backpack, zeroing in on the envelope instantly—as if he’d ever, for a second forgotten about it—and finally pulls it out.

He traces the sunflowers on the paper, memorizing the grooves Eddie’s pen had made before finally turning it over and sliding his fingers beneath the seal to tear it open.

The paper’s thicker than he’s used to getting from Eddie, and it’s that same, bright yellow that doesn’t fit Eddie’s aesthetic at all. But it fits Steve’s, and that’s the thought that finally gets him to bring the letter closer to his face and begin to read. 

   Steve,

   I wanted to start this out by saying that I’m sorry—it’s a phrase I’m becoming alarmingly used to saying in recent weeks. To Jeff, to Gareth, and now to you. No matter how surprised I was, I had no right to say all that shit to you. And for that, I’m sorry, okay? Really, truly sorry.

   As Chrissy and Jeff pointed out once you’d left, I was a dick, and there’s no excuse for that. And as my uncle told me when he was doing his disappointed parent shtick, I might have been projecting, just a tad.

   Eddie Munson might be gay—who knew?

   So, I’ll hope you accept my sincerest apologies for how I’ve handled this whole thing, Steve. I can’t imagine how it must have felt. Well, I can now, a bit. And it’s scary, right? But, I think it’s my turn to be brave. If I haven’t already ruined any chance I might have had, maybe we can go on a date?

   I’ll pick you up this Friday at your house, say around seven? If you don’t answer the door, I’ll understand. That’ll be my answer.

   But I really, really, really hope you do.

   Yours, always, hopefully,

   Eddie

Steve stares down at it, flummoxed. He reads it again, and again, and again. When the words on the page don’t change, he slips it delicately into the envelope, and goes to his next class, mind swirling away with the clouds.

“Can I drive you home?” Steve asks Jeff before he can climb into Chrissy’s car.

“Uh, sure?” Jeff replies just as Chrissy cuts in with a near-frantic, “are you okay?”

Steve smiles tightly at her and says, “I’ll call you tonight, okay? I just need to talk to Jeff.”

She bites her lip, looking even more worried than before, but all she says is, “I’ll hold you to that.”

Jeff and Chrissy trade an indecipherable look and then Jeff dutifully follows Steve to his car and climbs in. Before he starts the engine, he pulls the envelope out of his pocket and hands it to Jeff.

“What’s this?” Jeff asks.

“Read it,” Steve replies, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot so he doesn’t have to see whatever expression crosses Jeff’s face as he reads.

It’s silent for a few minutes aside from The Clash filtering quietly tinnily from the radio, but then Jeff says, “so, he finally did it.”

Steve’s fingers clench on the steering wheel at the vague answer to the question he hasn’t yet asked. “Is it some sort of joke?” Steve grits out, still unable to look at Jeff’s face.

“No, man,” Jeff replies, doing that same shoulder clasp thing he’d done last time he’d been in Steve’s car while he was upset. “He’s just been working through some stuff.”

“So he’s…” he finally shifts his gaze toward Jeff, hoping to convey his question without having to say it aloud.

“Seems so,” Jeff replies.

And Steve shudders, all those same feelings he’d been working so hard to suppress bubbling back to the surface, the most dangerous of all being hope.

“Are you going to go?” Jeff asks, voice even enough not to show his opinion on the decision one way or another.

Steve swallows, throat dry. “I don’t know.”

They don’t talk for the rest of the drive, and when he calls Chrissy later that night, she asks the same thing.

“Are you going to go?” she asks breathlessly, like she’s hanging on his every word.

Steve sighs. “He said he might be gay, Chris. What if we go out and he’s wrong?”

Left unmentioned is the niggling voice in the back of his head still insisting that the whole thing is some sort of cruel prank to get back at him. He’d lied, and strung him along, and gotten him hurt. No matter how many times Eddie apologizes, Steve knows he’s not really the one that should be.

“What if he’s right?” she asks.

Steve knows, deep down in his bones, that he’s going to go, just at the chance that Chrissy’s right, that Eddie’s right, that Jeff’s right. Steve desperately wants to be wrong. 

***

Steve doesn’t show any outward appearance of having received the letter. Eddie watches, obsessively trying to catch even the barest hint of what he thinks of the note– if, when he knocks on the Harrington’s front door, he’ll open it.

He keeps looking, and looking, and finally, blessedly, when Eddie looks, Steve’s looking back. Their eyes lock, and such a wave of relief courses through Eddie that he, like a fucking idiot, waves at him. Steve stares, mouth open, and does absolutely nothing back.

Eddie looks down at the table, whole body aflame with mortification, hair dangling messily into Doug’s mashed potatoes.

“Dude,” Doug says, shoving Eddie’s shoulder, forcing him away from his precious lunch.

“You good?” Jeff asks, leaning across the table to poke at Eddie’s bowed head like it’s potentially diseased roadkill he found on the side of the street.

“He hates me!” Eddie whines, turning his head just enough to glance towards Steve’s table, spitting a chunk of hair out of his mouth.

Steve’s not there at all anymore.

“Harrington?” Gareth questions around the bite of apple lodged in his throat. “Aren’t you trying to steal his girlfriend?”

“Of course no—not anymore!” Eddie stutters, turning his head the other direction to glare at Gareth instead.

For his part, Gareth just looks down at him, supremely unimpressed. “Uh huh,” he replies, keeping his voice quiet even when very obviously fed up. “Is this more secret bullshit you’re refusing to tell me?”

“It’s not my secret!” Eddie hisses, finally removing his head from the table so he can crouch on it instead, leaning over Gareth like a gargoyle. “And I promised!”

“Bet you told Wayne,” Gareth mutters.

“Oh my god, I told Wayne!” Eddie cries, dropping off the bench entirely to crawl under the table where he belongs. It’s not like there’s anyone in the room right now that he wants to impress—he already scared Harrington off.

“Dude,” is all Jeff says, peering under the table to look down at him judgmentally. “Chrissy is going to kill you.”

Eddie clutches his hair hard enough that it hurts. “It’s Wayne! He doesn’t count,” Eddie whines, “does he?”

Jeff snorts, kicking his foot out until the toe of his sneaker connects softly with Eddie’s kneecap. “He doesn’t count,” he starts, continuing before Eddie’s even slumped with relief, “to you.”

When Eddie slinks out from beneath the table, Steve’s spot is still empty, and Chrissy’s sitting there, glaring across the cafeteria at Eddie like she can just sense that he didn’t keep his vow of secrecy.

God, girls are scary.

He avoids looking in her direction the rest of lunch, picking at his own potatoes and mushy peas just for something to do.

Steve’s not going to open the door—he knows that. But, even still, he wakes up early on Friday morning to sneak into Mrs. Johnson’s yard to carefully cut a few of her sunflowers, ducking low enough that the bushes in front of her windows will obscure him.

When he’s done, he’s got five perfect sunflowers, tied together with the brown shoelace he’d stolen from a pair of Wayne’s old boots.

He leaves them in the kitchen, awkwardly propped into a bowl full of water since the Munson’s aren’t the kind of family to own a vase, or even a tall enough glass, apparently.

By the time Wayne gets home from the graveyard shift, Eddie’s elbow-deep in a trash bag in the back of his van. Wayne peers through the propped-open doors, eyebrows already raised as Eddie freezes, hand in the metaphorical cookie jar.

“What’re ya doing, boy?” Wayne asks.

Eddie stares, brain full of ants and TV static as he fumbles for an answer. What comes out of his mouth is “I asked Steve out!”

Wayne’s lips quirk up, and he’s smirking at Eddie as if to say, see? told ya, the smug bastard. But all he says is, “is that so?” drawling and easy like he’s not acting all-knowing and superior.

Eddie groans and takes his hand out of the garbage bag to run it through his hair and pull. “Or I left him a note?” he says, gut churning as Wayne’s face drops to his more customary frown. “Oh my god, he’s not going to show!”

“Then why’re you cleaning your van out?”

Eddie puffs up, glaring back at Wayne now. “Well I’m going to show up, Wayne!” he replies, voice shrill. “I’m a man of my word.”

Wayne snorts when Eddie calls himself a man, just like he always does, but his lips are quirked up again, looking almost proud as he replies, “good man,” with only a slightly mocking intonation. “Want some help?”

They get all the trash out in a matter of minutes. When it becomes clear that the vacuum cleaner can’t reach no matter how close they park the van, Wayne comes back out with the broom from the kitchen and they sweep as much debris as they can from inside before Eddie steals the comforter from his own bed and lays it across the back carpet, masking the weird stains.

Wayne finishes it off with a spritz of his own rarely-used cologne, covering up any remaining funky smells. Even so, Eddie elects to leave the windows rolled down to air it out for as long as possible.

When Wayne notices his commandeered shoelace around the sunflowers, he doesn’t say a thing.

Then, he’s forced to go to school, wiling away the hours until he’s standing in front of the Harrington’s front door, boots shined for the first time in his life, sunflowers clutched in shaking hands, van parked neatly behind him, hair brushed into submission. He’d even used his fancy conditioner, thoughts of that half-remembered first letter waxing poetic about his hair fueling his action. 

All for a boy who won’t answer the door.

But, Eddie’s a man of his word, so he knocks.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

He waits such a long time that he jumps when the door opens, breath catching as he looks at Steve Harrington, face-to-face for the first time since that disastrous day in his living room. His mostly-healed eye aches with remembered pain, his ribs cold with the absence of Steve’s hands.

He’s missed looking at him.

Steve’s in light-wash jeans, hair perfectly coiffed, wearing a green sweater that makes the gold in his eyes pop, even in the dim light from the Harrington’s porch light. He looks good, put together enough for a first date, casual enough to just be his everyday clothes.

Eddie’s heartbeat flickers with something that feels alarmingly like hope.

“Uh, hey,” Eddie says, finally breaking the awkward silence.

He smiles, trying to be charming, but he’s never done this before, doesn’t know how to contort his face. He holds out the sunflowers, arm awkwardly extending, hoping desperately that his offering will be accepted.

Steve stares down at them, hand still clutching the door like he’s one second away from slamming it closed in Eddie’s face. Eddie holds his breath, heartbeat ratcheting up from the oxygen deprivation.

Steve reaches out, his fingers brushing Eddie’s as he tries to take the flowers from him. Eddie’s fingers stay clenched around the stems for a second too long, hand following the flowers trajectory toward Steve’s own chest until Eddie forces his hand open and lets it drop uncomfortably back to his side.

Steve stares down at them, leaning down to take a sniff. Eddie winces—they don’t smell like much, just dirt and nebulous green things. But Steve smiles, just a tiny, little thing that hits Eddie’s body like electroshock therapy.

“Thank you.” Steve says quietly, not looking away from the sunflowers as he asks, “come inside while I put them in some water?”

Steve swings the door open wider, and Eddie slides past him and into the Harrington’s house. As Steve wanders further inside, Eddie stands in the entrance—foyer?—feeling remarkably out of place. Even from here, he can see enough negative space to house twenty-odd people, a vaulted ceiling, and is that a chandelier? Eddie doesn’t step a toe off the mat beneath his feet, afraid his very presence will stain the perfect white interior.

He shouldn’t be here. Places like this aren’t for the Munson’s of the world. They’re for royalty, kings and queens, and all the upper crust that spits down on the rest of them. But when Steve comes back, sans sunflowers, he’s smiling just a little, tromping his own shoes over the white carpet like he doesn’t give a shit.

Maybe he doesn’t belong here either. Maybe it’s possible to carve out a space for him in the Munson’s shitty trailer, however small.

“Alright, Munson,” he says, still smiling just this side of awkward. “What’re we doing?”

As Eddie holds Steve Harrington’s own front door open for him to step through, Eddie’s mind’s buzzing with maybes.

***

Eddie’s van smells like mothballs and cologne, and the radio’s quietly playing the sort of generic pop music Steve usually mumbles along to on his way to school. But, Eddie’s fingers are twitching against the wheel, and he hasn’t said a word since they’d climbed in, so Steve sits on his own hands and keeps his mouth shut.

The longer the silence drags on, the more Steve regrets ever opening the door at all. Eddie pulls into Hawkins’ drive-in, and buys their tickets and two bags of popcorn. Steve’s hand clenches in his lap, Eddie’s words to Chrissy all that time ago running through his head—we can go to the drive-in and hold hands the whole time.

“I hope this is okay?” Eddie says, finally breaking the silence as he spins the dial to the correct channel to catch the movie. “I wasn’t sure if you liked horror, but this is all that’s playing this weekend, and I’ve been wanting to watch it so—”

“It’s fine,” Steve replies, and it is.

He’s never been much for horror beyond putting it on for dates so he has a built-in excuse to reach out. But, he’s not squeamish, and maybe those same thoughts are running through Eddie’s head: an excuse to reach out and touch.

But, as the title card flashes SLEEPAWAY CAMP in big, boxy font, all Eddie does is reach into his popcorn bag and stuff a handful into his mouth. Steve follows suit, the buttery kernels turning to ash on his tongue.

He watches with little enthusiasm as the stupid teenagers on screen fool around and get torn apart. Eddie makes little comments throughout the movie, but there’s nothing Steve can grasp onto.

What does one say to, “whoa, blood fountain,” or “god, that kid’s a douche,” or, “they should’ve killed him sooner.”

Steve still tries, humming and nodding along and verbalizing his own agreements. Eddie never responds, just keeps stuffing his mouth with popcorn until the bag’s empty. Steve stares down at his own mostly-full bag and wonders if the separate bags were just to make sure they didn’t accidentally brush hands. 

He hands his own popcorn over, and Eddie grabs it twitchily, muttering a “thanks, dude,” without really looking at Steve at all.

Steve just wants to go home, crawl into his own bed, and forget this whole thing ever happened.

But he just sits there, silent as the movie plays on. He doesn’t understand the end, but he missed so much of the beginning and middle that he barely questions it.

When it’s over, Eddie turns the dial back to that same, nondescript station that doesn’t fit him at all, fingers clenching hard enough on the wheel that Steve can hear it creak under the strain. Steve turns away, to look out the window, throat clogged up with feelings he doesn’t want to think about.

The longer this date drags on, the more excruciatingly clear it becomes that whatever is driving Eddie to this, it’s not him returning Steve’s feelings. This isn’t how dates go when you’re excited about them, there’s nothing clicking into place–it doesn’t even seem like Eddie’s trying.

He feels small, and sad, and every minute that passes with Eddie saying absolutely nothing at all only makes Steve feel more like a charity case that Eddie’s taken pity on. 

He never should have listened to Chrissy and Jeff’s encouragement. They’d both been so hopeful that he’d caved, but they’re not the ones stuck in the devastatingly uncomfortable moment. It’s just him and Eddie, living with the fact that Steve’s got a crush on a boy that can never like him back.

There’s no coming back from this, no matter how nice Eddie tries to be about it. Because he is nice, no matter how he’s been acting the past few weeks.

Steve’s the problem—always has been, always will be.

So, he stews in the silence, watching the same familiar buildings pass him by like it’s the last time he’ll ever see them. And maybe it will be, if Eddie decides to be not so nice. This was all so catastrophically, unbelievably stupid from that very first letter all the way to this moment, stuck in a van with a boy that won’t even look at him. 

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t realize they’re going the wrong way until Eddie’s pulling into a familiar clearing in the quarry. His headlights illuminate the skid marks Steve’s car had made in the dirt when he’d screeched to a halt to stop Jason Carver from rearranging his face.

Eddie slides into park much more levelly and cuts the engine. The quiet is absolute, made worse by the darkness surrounding them. Steve can hear the crinkle of Eddie shifting on his seat, the sound of his throat as he gulps like he’s about to go off to war.

 “I thought—” Eddie starts before petering off as his voice breaks. Steve listens to him take a few shuddering breaths before starting again. “I thought we could star gaze?”

Steve sighs, slumping back into his seat, so unbelievably tired. “Eddie—”

“Unless you don’t want to!” Eddie rushes out. “I just thought…”

Steve would kill to know what he’s thinking, but whatever it is, Eddie doesn’t pick up his trailing sentence, just leaves it hanging in the silence between them. Steve sighs again, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, desperate to keep an even keel.

“Look, Eddie” Steve starts, turning toward Eddie. He can see the silhouette of his frame hunched over in the driver’s seat, but his face is a black void for Steve to project upon. It makes him brave. “You don’t have to do this. You, like, tried it out, right? And it didn’t work out.”

“Steve—”

“It’s fine, Eddie,” Steve cuts in, exhausted. “You can just drop me off at home, and we can go our separate ways.”

Eddie makes a sound like a strangled cat, and then his silhouette lunges across the distance between their seats. Steve jerks back, head banging painfully into the window as Eddie’s mouth mashes against his, more teeth than lips.

Shoutout, once again, to my beta reader and friend @queenie-ofthe-void for this one!!! I struggled for weeks on the date, and then they said, "what if you just make it as awkward as possible," and then I wrote this entire date in a day. Truly a muse for me <3<3<3

[msschemmenti]

girl next door 🏠 - 6

The light filtering in through the bay window was a natural alarm clock and as the delicious soreness thrummed through her body Y/n slowly came to wakefulness. Skin. Smooth skin. Tan skin. Pale skin. More importantly, naked skin. Sleepy eyes worked up the tangled limbs and settled on the blonde and raven hair mixing against the ends of her couch. One minute you’re reading a cheesy romance novel and watching Murder, She Wrote— and the next you're pinned to the back of the couch writhing in pleasure at the hands of your neighbors. And boy was she glad things had worked out the way they did. 

Y/n slowly peeled herself from the couch, quietly sliding out of the jumble of arms she’d been trapped in, and headed for the kitchen. Each step was fairly light, but a constant reminder of the steady rhythm Emily’s fingers had set the night before. She really had started her evening as any normal Thursday. Now that she was a little more settled into her school schedule, she was able to set a routine. Tuesdays and Thursdays were chock-full of lectures and when she left campus she often opted for a little reading or tv. And that is what she’d been doing when her doorbell rang and her lovely neighbors were perched on her porch. They did the casual small talk for a bit but after a while, it seemed JJ had lost her patience as she nudged Emily impatiently. The older woman sent her a pointed look but gave in to her prodding easily. 

“Someone's an eager beaver,” Y/n smirked as she propped her arm across the back of the couch. 

“She’s never been the most patient. We just wanted to clear something up that Garcia mentioned on girls night. You probably don’t even remember, you know so much was said at JJ’s heavy hand.” 

“Is this in regards to the openness of your relationship?” Y/n supplied with a laugh. Both women nodded with sheepish smiles and that only piqued Y/n’s curiosity more. She’d basically been forcing herself to forget those words for the past week and having it brought up now was not something she expected. 

“Yeah, Pen gets a little loose-lipped when she drinks. But we didn’t wanna leave you with the wrong idea about us.” Emily continued. 

“Oh, of course.” Y/n nodded.

JJ, having had enough of Emily’s introduction, took over. “Despite what Pen said we don’t really have an open relationship in the traditional sense. You know the both of us individually dating other people thing– definitely not our speed. But we have been known to invite women into the bedroom.” 

Y/n nodded in understanding and tried to quell the desire that was beginning to purr between her legs. Maybe Grayson was right and this was her chance at a rather good time. With that taken care of and Y/n’s favorable physical cues, everything seemed to shift a bit between the women. 

“Well, how do you normally find your honey? Is it like a dating app thing? I don’t know if you know this but that is very popular amongst straight couples in the south. It’s always a beautiful woman and then get to the second picture and it’s her ugly husband, just standing there holding a big ole fish.” 

Both Emily and JJ laughed heartily and slid closer to the younger woman on the couch. JJ was the one to reply, “No, no. We lean more toward in-person.” 

“Yeah, like we’ll go to a bar and if we’re looking for company to approach whoever catches our interest,” Emily adds. 

“Oh, you do the ‘my partner and i saw you from across the room’ bit. Makes sense that that’d work for you.” 

“And what does that mean?” Emily asked teasingly, eyebrows raising in amusement. 

Y/n’s cheeks heat a bit under the blonde’s gaze, “Well you know. I just think it takes a certain amount of confidence and charisma to pull that off.” Y/n explained looking between both Emily and JJ before continuing. “And I think I’ve made it very clear how attractive you both are. There’s no way that doesn’t work in your favor.”

JJ seeming to have had enough of being subtle grinned, “And Is it working now?”

And boy was it. 

After they’d played her body like a fiddle, she’d been far too spun to tap into any of her manners. Her head was pillowed against JJ’s abs and her eyes were closed before she knew it. She’d fallen asleep on this couch dozens of times now, but this was the easiest sleep had ever found her. Thoroughly fucked and wedged between two beautiful women. What more could she ask for?

“Good morning,” Y/n spoke softly gazing over the back of the couch, watching as the older women came to.  She’d draped a robe over her shoulders and was nursing a cup of coffee in the kitchen when she heard the women start waking. JJ was the first to crack an eye open with a pleased smile and a hum on her lips. Emily was less graceful, grumbling and rolling out her neck. 

“God, I’m getting too old for post-coital couch sleeping,” Emily mumbled.

“Sorry, that’s my fault. Want some breakfast before you hit the walk of shame?” Y/n grimaced behind her mug.

JJ chuckled as she pulled her shirt over her head, “Is there something to feel shameful about?” 

“I don’t think, but if that couch could talk I’m sure it’d have a few things to say.” Y/n shrugged extending her mug of coffee toward the women. “Come on, if you don’t want any food you can bum a cup of coffee off me.” 

-

A little later into the day after Emily and JJ headed home, Y/n finally decided to wash her neighbors' lingering touches off her skin and try to have a productive day. After her shower, she pulled some of her music history classes’ reflections out and settled into her desk to grade. She twirled a red pen around her thumb and index finger as she leafed through the pages and fought her way through most of the pages. She’d just made it through her fourth reflection when her phone lit up with a call, from Grayson of course. 

“You’ve been fucked and I’m extremely jealous right now!” Grayson exclaimed as soon as she answered the call. 

“There is absolutely no way you should know that. I haven’t even spoken yet.” Y/n whined, rolling her eyes. 

“You of all people should know, I’m essentially a sex detector. The sex isn’t up for question, what is up for question is who you were fucked by? I don’t recall hearing about any dates this week.” 

“No dates, Susan was enough to put me off DC dating for a while. I took your advice and was completely open to what appeared on my doorstep.” Y/n shrugged teasingly. The squeal that followed was one she was very familiar with. 

“Fuck yes! Details now. There is no way you had a porno-style threesome with your super hot FBI Agent neighbors, loose on a Thursday evening. This is big for you. You never have fun anymore.” Grayson rambled. 

Y/n scoffed in offense, “Hey! I have fun. And just for that, I think I might withhold details of my best sex-capade as a punishment.” 

“Best?! They’re the best sex you’ve had?” Grayson gawed giddily. 

“Trust me when I say– I forgot my body could feel like that.” 

-

JJ and Emily fell apart breathlessly and gazed up at the ceiling of their hotel room. It’d been two weeks since they’d finally given in to their desires and thoroughly enjoyed their neighbor physically. And since then, that seemed to be all they could think about. It was like the night with her was branded in their brains. And as much as they’d already known this– they really couldn’t stop at one time. It wasn’t like they hadn’t tried others. They’d gotten the itch almost instantly after they left Y/n’s home and in an effort to stick to their one-time rule, they’d found themselves in one of their preferred dimly lit bars. There were dozens of women to choose from and they’d even decided on a perky blonde who’d been fishing for their eye for a while. But there was something so irritating watching and listening to the woman come to a rather noisy release. And both women left fairly unsatisfied with the sweet release of their neighbor on their minds.

“We’re fucked.” JJ groaned as she turned her face into Emily’s neck. 

“No shit.” Emily hummed lightly. She let her hands run through JJ’s mussed hair and replayed the last hour of their time together. It really hadn’t been more than a passing thought in her mind, but something about watching JJ’s muscle contract against her stomach brought the taunt out her lips. Come on Jen, you can do better than that. Y/n rode me better than that, don’t you remember? And it really hadn’t taken much after that. 

“One time you said, one time…” Emily poked. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Maybe one more time, won’t hurt.” JJ shrugged. “Or two more times.” 

Emily groaned, “Oh listen to yourself. You’re already adding more hypothetical times.” 

“I’m just thinking about equity. I’ve been thinking about shoving my head between her legs since we left. And I know if I get to do it, you’ll wanna do it. And then if we’re being fair– it’d really be my turn to have her grinding across my stomach. That’s not even touching on stra-” JJ listed, working herself right back up. Before she could continue on, Emily’s hand crawled back between her legs knowingly.  “Maybe two more times won’t hurt, hm?” JJ reasoned brokenly, hips meeting Emily’s hand as she chased another orgasm. 

- 

 “Well Howdy Agents,” Y/n smiled as she eyed the two women on her doorstep. She’d been deep in one of her guilty pleasure romance novels waiting for dinner to finish baking when the doorbell rang. After their rather scandalous escapade, she wasn’t too sure how to engage with the older women. 

“Hi,” JJ smiled, eyes already sweeping over the younger woman’s form. “You busy?” 

“Not at all, just waiting on dinner. Come on in.” Y/n shrugged ushering both women in and toward the kitchen. “I’m assuming y’all have just returned from catching some crazed maniac?” 

“Yep, Texas is very hot right now. Not pleasant at all.” Emily grumbled, leaning on her propped elbows to get comfortable. She watched as JJ leaned against the counter next to the younger woman, with hungry eyes.  

“Oh yeah, Texas isn’t particularly high on my list of places to visit. But at least they’re down a serial killer– for now.” Y/n called over her shoulder as she pulled the dish out of the oven. “Are y’all hungry? I’ve got enough to feed an army here.” 

Making sure the hot dish was safely out of reach, JJ slid right against Y/n’s back and settled her hands on her waist suggestively. “Could we add you to the menu tonight?” 

Y/n hummed softly leaning into JJ’s hold easily before turning to meet both women’s desire-blown eyes. “Absolutely.” 

And so began a rather delicious pattern that neither woman wanted to break.

[robinsegghead]

Danny's Daycare Part 18

Masterlist

“What the fuck was that?” Jason hissed the second Danny was out of earshot, looking around the table at everyone who’d questioned Danny after his obvious flashback. A few minutes after dessert had arrived Danny excused himself to find the bathroom which Alfred offered to show him too and Jason took the opportunity to thoroughly reprimand his family.

Duke nodded in agreement. “You guys need to chill out. I know we all want answers but cornering and interrogating him isn’t going to get the answers.”

“That was a flashback, right?” Tim looked to Jason for answers which made him feel like shit cause, yeah it was a flashback but why did Tim seem convinced Jason would know much more than they did? He’d never seen Danny like that before.

Bruce had the decency to look abashed. “He’s clearly hiding something, Jaylad-”

“So are we!” Jason hissed venomously. Dick startled at Jason’s tone but he didn’t care. “We all have secrets that’s all this fucking family is! Just because someone else has secrets does not mean you get to know them all! Besides, he doesn’t know ours so he’s not likely to tell us anything of value!”

“Scared.” Cass said, shutting everyone up to look at her. She frowned. “Don’t bring up parents.”

Jason nodded. “Yes- thank you Cass. As a family of people with crazy and traumatic relationships with our parents- do you think we could have a bit more- I don’t know- TACT?” When his family nodded, sheepishly, he sighed. “Let’s hope you didn’t scare off the only friends Demon Brat has outside of Jon.”

A few minutes of uncomfortable silence and glaring later Danny returned and retook his seat.

“I’ve gotta say, your house puts the mansions I’m used to shame.” He chuckled, taking a sip of water. “Like, I cannot wait to rub in the Mansons faces that their house is practically rundown in comparison.”

Bruce smiled back, one of those fake smiles that no one but his family seemed to be able to see through. Jason was pretty sure Danny had seen through it from the start. “You know the Mansons?”

“Yeah, their daughter is one of my closest friends. They hate me.” He tacked the last part on with a mischievous grin that earned a laugh out of Steph and Jason. 

Things weren’t so bad from there. Danny told some story about his best friend’s parents and how they hated him and did their damn best to break him and their daughter up when they’d dated only for her to end up dating their other best friend who her parents hate just as much as him. It was nice and Jason noticed Danny untensing as the story went on and nobody tried to interrogate him again.

Good.

Dick jumped in and started telling his own story- something about Wally probably- while Jason zoned out. Last night he’d gone to the cave to tell B everything Phantom had told him about the GIW, ectoplasm, and the Anti-Ecto-Acts, and, like Jason’d predicted, he was pissed. Most of the family were off doing their own things, on their own cases, out of town, etc. so he, Damian, Bruce, and Babs had spent the night researching.

When Jason finally admitted what Phantom had said about Danny (omitting any information Danny had given Red Hood in confidence), Damian had immediately suggested inviting him and his kids over for dinner to see what they could learn. Jason had protested but Bruce liked the idea, and once Bruce was set on something, nothing would stop him.

So Jason had agreed to come over as well, also omitting the part where he- as Jason- was acquainted with Danny and the boys. Thinking back on their three interactions so far Jason wasn’t sure ‘acquainted’ was a strong enough word for them. He didn’t think they were best friends or anything, but you don’t just call someone sweetheart and flirt as suggestively as Danny had and then call them an acquaintance.

Hopefully.

God, Jason, snap the fuck out of it. He’s GOT a boyfriend.

Then why was he flirting with you?

An uproarious laugh took him by surprise and brought him back to the scene in front of him. Danny was cracking up at something Tim had said, a smug look on Tim’s face confirmed Jason’s guess, and everyone else at the table was laughing along. Jason smiled, watching as Danny wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and admiring how pretty his laugh was and how good he looked in a cardigan and how -

Stop.

Nope. Stop it.

Straightening up, Jason tried to reintegrate into the conversation. 

“I’m glad I’m not the only person who's friends with some crazy theorist who thinks he’s got all the answers!” Danny finally managed to curb his laughter. 

Tim nodded with a smile. “Bernard once told me he thought Lex Luthor was secretly Batman because ‘the butts match’.”

Danny snorted. “Wes works at the Daily Planet and he’s convinced the guy who always writes about Superman- Clark… something- is Superman! Worse- he’s pretty sure Superboy isn’t his son, but his clone!”

The forced laughter around the table was, hopefully, only obvious to the family. Danny didn’t seem to realize the sharp look Bruce gave Cass, then Jason, then Danny, trying to analyze the situation and figure out if he needed to do some kind of damage control. He came to the same conclusion all of them had already come to though and that was- Danny really thought Wes was wrong.

They were saved from the awkward interaction when Santi ran into the room shouting.

“Danny Danny! You have to come see Damian’s cow! And he has a turkey! You’ve gotta come see ‘em! You ever seen a cow in real life before, Danny?” 

Being dragged out of his seat and shooting an apologetic look towards the table, Danny followed Santi out of the room. “You know I’m from the middle of nowhere Illinois, right? I’ve seen cows before…”

Once again out of earshot, Bruce started talking. “I want everything you can find on this Wes who works at the Daily Planet.” Tim nodded, already typing something on his phone. “Jason why don’t you go with them, keep an eye on Danny and the boys.”

“And you’ll be..?” Jason asked accusatorially.

Raising his hands in surrender, Bruce sighed. “We’ll be around, I don’t want to… overwhelm him again.”

“You mean send him into a flashback about his traumatic childhood?” Jason scoffed.

“You never mentioned he had a traumatic childhood.” Bruce pointed out.

Shrugging, Jason stood to escape the conversation. “There’s a lot about Danny I haven’t told you, but I think we can all agree the way he reacted to being asked about his parents and hometown wasn’t the reaction of someone with fond memories.”

He could hear his family trying to excuse themselves from what had happened as he left. At least they hadn’t ALL bombarded him. Duke had been pretty quiet at dinner, Cass obviously hadn’t said much, happier to observe and analyze, and Tim had mostly talked to him about Kon and Bernard.

Danny had seemed rather interested in Tim and his boyfriends which threw him for a loop. Jason would never claim to be a detective. He wasn’t like Bruce and Tim, hell he wasn’t even as good as Damian, Dick, or Steph when it came to detective shit, but he wasn’t a complete idiot! Except Danny’s interest in Tim’s relationship really had confused him. He’d asked how Tim’s boyfriends were, what they did, how they’d all met, how they got together, and while Jason had put together that Danny and Tim somehow already knew each other, he couldn’t figure out what Danny’s fascination with Tim’s boyfriends was.

Catching up to Danny and Santiago didn’t take long. He found them outside, still on their way to the barn where he assumed Miguel and Damian were, and jogged up beside them.

“Hey guys, checkin’ out the barn?”

Santi smiled. “I’m showin’ Danny Batcow!”

“Batcow?” Danny asked, furrowing his brow in a way that made Jason want to hold his face and smooth away his confusion-

“Batcow!” Santi agreed, hurrying inside the barn with Danny in tow.

Damian and Miguel seemed to be deep in conversation, both crouched down and petting Alfred. Santi led Danny and Jason past the boys and towards the cow. Jason hadn’t ever really seen Batcow. He’d heard the story of how they’d gotten her and ended up keeping her and it was often brought up when Damian asked for a new pet or animal of some kind as a way for Bruce to say ‘you already have a cow, what more could you want?’ but he was never actually around the manor this much.

It was an odd feeling.

To know that his family had large parts of their lives he never witnessed because he was rarely around them as civilians. He heard bits and pieces, Dick taught acrobatics, Cass taught ballet, Damian had a cow, Duke got a job, Steph and Tim were going to GU, but he didn’t know the details. Why would he? Why would he care?

 What age group did Dick teach? Had Cass ever taken her ballerinas to a competition? Did they win? How many animals did Damian really have? Why did Duke get a job at the daycare specifically? What classes was Steph taking? What was Tim’s major? 

Why did he care? He’d never cared before.

But looking at Batcow was like looking at a picture of his entire family that he’d been cropped out of. It left a bad taste in his mouth, to realize he was barely part of the family he’d been part of longer than almost anyone. Isn’t that what he’d wanted? To work alone? To distance himself from the bats and be his own person, neither hero nor villain? 

And yet… He’d been spending a bit more time at the manor recently. He’d been less angry and when the anger receded he saw it for what it really was; hurt, loneliness, insecurity. He didn’t like to think too much about it. He was the Red Hood, feared crime lord, murderer, monster- he was the monster in the closet parents warned their kids about. Who cared if he had no one to go home to? Why did it matter if he had to stitch up his own wounds? He was fine with lonely birthdays and even lonelier death days and he didn’t need them to check in on him he was fine-

“Jason?” A cold hand brushed against his jerking him right out of his downward spiral.

“Huh?” He asked, plastering on an unconcerned face.

Squinting, Danny grabbed his wrist. “Come on, Damian says you’ve never met Batcow.” He didn’t let go of Jason’s wrist until they stood right in front of the cows stall. Immediately, Jason missed the cool feeling of Danny’s hand against his skin. “It really does look like the Batman symbol.” Danny confirmed.

“Tt. I didn’t name her Batcow for nothing.” Damian cut in.

Miguel was eyeing Jason in a manner he thought was subtle. It was not. It made his skin itch. Why did Miguel hate him so much again? Something about flirting with his dad?

Leaning closer to Danny until their shoulders were touching, Jason hoped Miguel would stop staring at him like he’d killed his dad- well. He had. But Miguel didn’t know that- actually wait- did they know Hood had killed their dad? Danny told them, right? Was that why Miguel seemed to like him so much?

“You’re doing it again.” Danny muttered only loud enough for him to hear.

Snapping out of it, Jason looked over to see everyone else had left. “Where-”

“Damian mentioned his dog Titus and I convinced the boys to go play with him. You okay?”

Jason nodded. “Uh, yeah, sorry. I- I don’t usually spend this much time around the manor. Brought up some feelings I wasn’t… prepared for.”

Danny nodded in understanding. “I know what that’s like.”

“Yeah?”

Biting his bottom lip, Danny seemed to debate his next words carefully. “A lot of people contacted me after the attack. Some people I… don’t want to talk to anymore.”

Jason let the silence hang over them for a moment. “Your parents?” Danny shook his head, watching Batcow instead of looking at him. “Good.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I know what it’s like to be… reminded of things you don’t want to think about or… of who you used to be.” 

Swallowing, Jason decided to take the plunge. “When I… died…” Danny tensed. “Things changed. I changed. And I can’t stand being reminded of that. That I was… a better person- a better son- before. Sometimes I… I wonder what it’d be like if I’d stayed the optimistic kid I’d been but… death…” He trailed off, feeling himself getting choked up.

“It changes you.” Danny nodded solemnly. “And no one understands. Even the people who don’t care that you’re different, the people who love you, they don't get it.” He whispered.

Jason nodded.

They stood there, looking at Batcow, shoulders pressed against each other but not daring to move closer, silent, for minutes. Jason tried not to think about how Danny having died meant he could probably understand what Jason had gone through- he couldn’t burden Danny with his fucked up feelings on the matter anymore.

But Danny didn’t seem to share those feelings.

Thank god.

“I understand.” He breathed, finally looking away from the cow they’d been staring at for way too long. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but… But I understand. I know what it’s like for everyone to look at you differently, like you’re broken, or volatile, or a time bomb waiting to go off, and I know what it’s like for them to want the person who died back and I know that you’re still that same optimistic kid deep down but it’s also impossible to be him anymore and I know that because I’m the same.”

Jason let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding (he had no idea when it started but he’d been able to hold his breath for a really long time recently and sometimes he wondered if he even needed to breathe) and met Danny’s eyes.

“You’re the same person as before but you’re also not and no one understands because that doesn’t make any sense but it does, Jason.” It was at the moment Danny said his name that he realized how close they were. “And it’s fine if you have complicated feelings about your childhood home or your family or anything else because it IS complicated. You don’t have to apologize to me for spacing out or needing space or not knowing what’s wrong because I do that all too.”

Fuck.

He couldn’t breathe. (He wasn’t sure he needed to) When was the last time someone had said something so… tender to him? When was the last time someone had looked him in the eyes for this long? His family usually looked away when they sensed his feelings getting too big, when they saw a hint of green, when they couldn’t take looking at the scarred remnants of the child they’d loved anymore.

Danny kept staring.

Danny held his gaze.

“I… sorry-” Jason’s voice stopped working. He looked down, unable to stare directly into the sun any longer, his eyes burning. 

Cool hands hesitantly grabbed his and squeezed. “You have nothing to apologize for, Jason.”

“This is dumb.” Jason scoffed, pulling one hand away to swipe the tears off his face before Danny could see them. “It happened so long ago.”

Danny shrugged. “I died nine years ago and it still bothers me.”

Jason’s head whips up so fast he almost headbutts Danny. “That’s- that’s so-”

“Young?” Danny guesses with a sad smile. “Yeah, but it is what it is. Besides, sounds like you were pretty young too.”

“Fifteen.” Jason admits.

“Fourteen.” Danny adds. “But it doesn’t matter if you were fifteen, twenty five, fifty five, that shit stays with you. Whether it was for a few seconds, minutes, or much longer, death holds on. It changes you and no one can understand it if they haven’t been through it too. They just can’t.”

The situation felt ridiculous. Jason and Danny, who’d only met a few times (in his civvies anyways), holding hands in his adoptive dads barn, staring at his little brother's cow, crying about their teenage deaths. It was too much. Jason let out a pitiful laugh. “This is the dumbest place to have this conversation.”

Danny smirked. “Well I think it’s fine, but if you want to continue this conversation sometime over, say, dinner, I’d be more than happy to do that.” Jason stared- was that? Was he asking Jason on a- “I mean, I do think you mentioned getting dinner before and I’d certainly like the chance to get to know you better.”

“Are you-”

“Asking you on a date? Yes.” 

Oh. Holy fuck. Either Danny and Phantom were in some kind of open relationship or he’d read the situation very wrong. Either way he didn’t care. “Yes. I’d like that.”

“Yessss!” Someone hissed from the other side of the barn.

Peaking over Danny’s shoulder, Jason spotted Santi crouched behind a stack of hay. Danny also turned around, letting go of Jason’s hands (he tried not to think about how disappointed that made him), and put his hands on his hips (also tried not to think about that or how good his hips would feel in his hands-). “Santi?” Danny said with the patience of a saint.

“Uh… noooo?” Santiago responded.

Danny sighed loudly. “Santi, I thought you were going to play with Damian’s dog?”

The boy, realizing he’d been caught, stepped out shyly. “I was but I- uh, I wanted to see Batcow again?”

“Nice try, kid.” Danny deadpanned. “Come on, let’s go find your brother. I don’t want to leave you alone and I think I’ve been a terrible guest.”

Jason tilted his head. “How so?”

With a smirk, Danny crossed his arms. “Well it was rude to leave mid-interrogation. I’m sure there are many more questions your family would like answered before I leave, wouldn’t you agree?” Then he walked away with Santi, and Jason had only one thought.

Fuck.

He’s in love with that twink.

~~~~~~~

By the time Danny and Jason had made it back inside the house, Danny had calmed down and prepared himself for more insensitive questions. He wasn’t exactly angry about the questioning, he kind of found it hilarious, but he wasn’t sure how to explain the whole ‘dead ghost king who’d been vivisected by his parents’ thing so he just didn’t explain anything.

He and Jason came back to what seemed to be a mario kart tournament that Tim, Dick, Steph, and Duke were all competing in. Cass watched from the sidelines, she’d apparently been banned from playing in the tournaments because she always won. They offered Danny a slot but he was happier to watch than to play.

At that point they’d been there for a couple of hours and he was starting to get tired. Life had been crazy recently and even though you’d think getting some actual sleep recently would mean he wasn’t tired all of the time, it had the opposite effect. Like his body had realized how it was supposed to feel after getting a full night’s rest and had started a revolt in protest of the last two months of power naps.

Santi, Miguel, and Damian had gone to Damian’s room to hang out (although Danny couldn’t shake the feeling that Damian was keeping the boys occupied so that the rest of his family could get Danny alone for questioning) after it had gotten too dark to continue playing with Titus outside.

When the tournament finally wrapped up it was almost nine and Danny decided that was long enough for their first time coming over. He sent a text to Miguel to finish up and meet him in the Foyer in the next ten minutes so they could head home.

“Aww, come on Danny, just one match!” Steph whined.

He chuckled. “I don’t need to be demolished in mario kart tonight, thank you very much.” He was actually fairly certain he’d give most of them a run for their money, but he didn’t want to issue a challenge and get caught up in the game. “Next time.” He said without thinking.

“Ha! You owe me fifty bucks!” Dick shouted at Tim.

Tim grumbled, reaching for his pocket. “Come on man, couldn’t have hated my ridiculous family like a normal person?”

“What just happened?” Danny asked, looking between Jason and Cass. Jason shrugged, Cass gave them a knowing smile, and Danny remained in the dark. “All right, well. It was nice to meet you, Steph, Cass, and nice to re-meet everyone else. Duke- no work next week, seriously- take the week off.” He waved to everyone, following Jason to the foyer.

The boys were already there when he arrived and Damian said something about how they were already on their way downstairs when Miguel received his message. Before they could say their goodbyes, a pair of footsteps was rushing towards them. Tim turned the corner, almost slamming into Danny before stopping himself.

“Where’s the fire, Timbers?” Jason raised an eyebrow.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Kon just told me he was on his way with Ma’s pie.”

“I will accept that excuse for the small small price of one piece of pie.” Jason grinned.

“No way! Ma’s pie is like liquid gold- no way I’m giving you any of it!” Tim retorted just as the door opened.

A man, probably about Danny’s age, wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses (it was night?) walked in holding what appeared to be a pie. “Hey guys- I brought-” He cut himself off, immediately freezing and dropping the pie. Tim and Jason shouted as the so-called liquid gold crashed into the ground, pie pan shattering and red liquid seeping onto the floor. Must have been cherry. 

That wasn’t what startled Danny. What startled Danny was the way that Kon stared at him, like he was seeing more than what Danny showed on the surface. Like he was peering past the barriers and barbed wire disguised as jokes and seeing something he shouldn’t.

“Sorry!” Kon squeaked, ripping his eyes away from Danny and kneeling to pick up the ruined pie. Danny heard the quiet ‘what the fuck is wrong with his heart’ whispered under Kon’s breath and immediately felt his pulse quicken. Kon froze again and Danny decided to try something. Something he didn’t do often but his body did on its own whenever it felt like it.

Or rather- whenever his body didn’t feel like it. He stopped his heart.

“Oh my god are you okay!?” Kon shot up, grabbing Danny’s shoulders and looking him over.

Pulling away, slightly startled by Kon’s intensity, Danny’s theory was confirmed. Kon had super hearing. He must have been startled by Danny’s slow heartbeat and panicked. Then he realized Danny was fine and tried to cover it up. Danny stopping his heartbeat would scare anyone with super hearing- it had scared him a few times until he’d gotten used to the on and off heartbeat.

“Kon?” Tim asked, placing a firm hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “You okay?”

The man nodded slowly, hearing Danny’s heartbeat return. “Uh- yeah, I’m- I’m good. Sorry, I- I’ll clean this all up, just… gonna use the bathroom first.” And then he was gone, faster than Danny thought was completely human but, well, he’d kind of already confirmed Kon was a meta.

The foyer was completely silent at that point, confusion laced through the room and Danny decided the best course of action was to shrug it off. “Well that was strange- Tim, your boyfriend is odd, but seems nice. Sorry about your pie guys.”

“Uh- I’m just- I’m going to check on him. Nice seeing you again, Danny!” Tim rushed off, leaving the destroyed pie behind.

“That was weird as fuck.” Miguel muttered.

“Language.” Danny said. Really, he didn’t care if the boys swore, but maybe not in the fucking Wayne’s manor? “We’ve got to get going, but thank you for inviting us over, Damian, it was nice to see you again.” Turning to Jason he smirked and spoke so no one else could hear him. “I’ll text you, doll.”

His smirk grew wider as Jason’s face grew pink and felt victory settle in his bones. Despite some of the weirdness, it was a really nice night. At least he’d gotten a date with Jason out of all the interrogating.

~~~~~~

“Kon what the fuck was that?” Tim demanded, barging into his bedroom where Kon had chosen to hide out until Danny left.

Kon turned to face Tim slowly. “He- god Tim he’s covered in scars he-” The man ran a hand through his hair and met Tim’s eyes. “He had an autopsy scar like Jason.”

Tim had noticed Danny’s scars before. He had one on his hand the looked like the beginning of a Lichtenberg scar which didn’t make any sense because those were supposed to fade after a few days, he had another on the back of his neck which he seemed to try and hide with hoodies and collared shirts, his fingers on his right hand had varying degrees of scarring like a ring around each one, but he’d obviously never seen more than that.

An autopsy scar was… well it was another clue, somehow. He didn’t know how Danny dying and having an autopsy and coming back to life like Jason had connected to anything else but it had to be why Danny and Phantom- King of Ghosts- had some kind of connection. Was- Was Phantom the ‘friend’ who’d asked Danny to come to Gotham in the first place?

“That’s not all- I mean, that’s why I dropped the pie but- Tim his heart stopped.”

“What?!” Tim hissed, jerking out of his thoughts. “What do you mean-”

“His heartbeat was really slow, it was concerning but then it just- it just STOPPED. Altogether. And then it started again after I’d already freaked out on him.”

What the fuck did that mean? “I have to talk to B- what the fuck, Danny?”

Prev. Next

[magicaldestinyharmony]

In Life and In Death

male!knight x female!count's daughter!reader part 3

CW: mentions of death, whipping, drugs, human trafficking, gambling, human hunting and murder.

WC: around 2k words

A/N: I have finally finished potion number 3 in this series!

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Your eyes flutter open. Once you glimpse the sight of your all-too-familiar ceiling, you deadpan. What do I have to do to stop this? You sigh and cover your eyes from the onslaught of the sunlight. 

You're so sick and tired of it at this point. Waking up, working and spending so much effort to survive, only to fail and end up dead in the end.

You groan and turn on your side once you remember the date. You're starting to hate this number. No matter what you do, you pick up the calendar to see it there, in its black, bold glory.

Aida should be coming in anytime soon. You sigh when you hear the well-timed knock on your door.

“My lady?” Aida opens the door carefully, scared of waking you up. “Are you up? It's time for breakfast.”

A puff of air escapes you again. “I'm up, Aida.” you invite the maid inside your room.

“Oh, good. Let's get you ready for breakfast.”

“Do I have to, Aida? Can't I just have it in bed?” you plead.

Aida’s brows furrow in confusion, “ Well, I guess you could miss. However, may I ask, is there a particular reason?”

“I'm just tired,” of life, of death. Of everything really.

Aida nods in understanding and leaves to fetch your breakfast.

Aida pins the last decoration in your hair and steps back, “Ta-da! What do you think, my lady?”

You glance at yourself in the mirror, uninterested. You've been through this so many times that the glamour of dressing up has lost its allure.

You hesitantly walk down the stairs, reluctant to see your father. If you didn't already hate him, you downright loathe him now.

Everything plays exactly as you recall. Yet when your eyes meet Lucca's, you're hit with an idea.

Why didn't you think of this before? Instead of taking care of Lucca now and letting him die later. Why not make him indebted to you? Thwart your father's plans so Lucca can keep his life and you can keep yours.

With this new drive fueling you, you approach him, “Hello. Are you alright?”

Lucca watches you in silence. You reach out to him, “Are you alr-”

Lucca smacks your hand away. The sound echoes throughout the entrance hall and you cringe in pain.

The noise turns the count's attention towards you. He smirks at the scene in front of him. You pale under his scrutiny and cold gaze. 

“Well, well, well, I see that you dared to injure a Balcom, boy.” The man takes sick pleasure in watching both children cower before him.

“For injuring my precious daughter's hand, you will receive 15 whips.” a creepy grin creeps onto your father's face.

Little tremors shake your body. Lucca did nothing wrong. He doesn't deserve this. “W-wait! It-it wasn't his fault!”

“I see,” your father nods in consideration. “You have a compassionate heart, daughter of mine.”

Your father pats you, “But,” his voice turns cold, “Compassion gets you nowhere in life. Do you still want to stop his punishment?”

Your father's pats turn into an iron grip on your head. He tilts his head, prompting your response, “N-no. Wh-when wronged, we sh-should give back tenfold what we received. I-its's the Balcom way, right?” the automated response rolls off your tongue while you shake in fear.

Your father smiles, “Good job.” he gives you one final pat and turns to a maid, “Take him to the dungeons and make sure to give him his punishment.”

With that, your father departs, leaving deadly silence in his wake.

◇◇◇

Who knew that standing in front of an office could be so nerve-wracking? After taking another deep breath, you hesitantly knock on your father's office.

The door cracks open to reveal your father’s loyal aide, “My lady? What do you need?”

“Can I see father?” you mutter out.

“Let me ask the count,” the aide turns around, leaving you in front of the door.

He returns shortly and ushers you in. “So, what do you want?” your father asks without looking up.

Gathering your courage, you say, “I want that boy.”

Only then does your father look up, “That boy?”

“Yes. The boy you brought in this morning.”

Your father scratches his chin in thought, “And what will you give me in return?”

You gulp. You expected him to say that. Your father is known for not giving without taking. “I'll give you information about House Devoy. Pivotal information.”

“Oho, and is this information credible?”

You nod. “Very well. When will I receive this information?”

“I will have it ready in two days,” you confirm.

“Alright,” your father's gaze turns into a glare. “But if your information turns out to be wrong, you won't escape punishment.”

“Understood.” you bow and leave.

Once the door to your room closes behind you, you collapse in relief. Let's hope that the information you remember from your past lives is enough to save your neck.

You bring double the amount of bandages and ointment on your nightly trip to the dungeons. With the extra abuse Lucca went through today, courtesy of yours truly, you certainly needed more.

After bribing the guard and gaining access to Lucca's cell, you get to work on treating his wounds.

As soon as Lucca feels the cold, stinging sensation of the ointment, he opens his eyes. You make eye contact. He glares at you. You shake your head, ignoring him and continue working.

Once Lucca's last wound has been patched up, you leave the bread you got him and stand up to leave.

You feel his gaze on you the whole time, trying to size you up. “Why do you care?” you barely hear him whisper.

“You got hurt because of me. Of course, I care.” you firmly say.

Lucca scoffs but makes no further comments. You shrug, used to his apathy. This time you were able to leave without any incidents.

◇◇◇

The next morning, you hand a list of everything you remember about Count Devoy to your father. You pray that the information is good enough to keep you and Lucca alive.

You were informed by your father's aide that processing and proving the intel you gave will take some time. Three days to be precise. But you weren't allowed to have Lucca till after. Bastard. You were sure your father took pleasure in tormenting his kids.

Whatever. It was nothing new. It was well-known that your father was a repulsive man. At least to people with a strong sense of justice.

Your father sickened you. He doesn't hesitate to dabble in the illegal. Unlicensed auction houses, drug selling and human trafficking are just some of the things that your father does.

The problem is that he enjoys doing these things. His hobbies are no less disgusting. He enjoys gambling, the company of many women and hunting.

Not your typical animal hunting. He hunts slaves. Buys them then releases them into a forest on the territory to be hunted.

Yet, somehow, his reputation is still intact. Your father spends lots of money to keep his activities under the rug. In fact, he's so well regarded that if someone speaks up, they'll be immediately ignored and silenced. Voluntarily or forcefully.

You shake your head in loathing. Dwelling further on this will only cause a bad mood.

Instead, you opt to go for a walk in the hope that the wind blowing through your hair will calm your turbulent thoughts.

At dinner, you were surprised to find yourself seated to the right of your father. You can practically feel the hatred rolling off your half-siblings.

According to noble etiquette, during a meal, the household's head sits at the head of the table. Dubbed as the seat of honour.

The next most important person is seated to the right of the seat of honour. Then the third most important to their left, then the fourth on the right and so on.

In a highly competitive family like yours, getting the seat on the right of the head’s seat essentially means the favour of the count. Not a position you necessarily want.

The meal proceeds in suffocating silence. The only sounds are the clinking of plates and spoons echoing in the room.

At the end of the meal, your father makes a comment that you wish he never uttered, “I'm very pleased with you.”

As soon as he leaves, your half-siblings look at you with obvious murderous intent. Bastard. You were convinced that your father thrives on the discord between his children.

As the fifth daughter, your chance at succession is practically non-existent. Sitting at the right of the seat of honour and getting a compliment from the head suggests that you're participating in the fight for succession.

So all in all, your father raised the risk of your death. Not a good thing.

◇◇◇

You were incredibly relieved when your father finally handed Lucca over to you. You hope that avoiding your father from now on will reduce the attention on yourself.

While Aida and the family doctor gave Lucca a checkup, you gave orders to other maids to set up the room beside yours for him.

You make sure the room is immaculate. The last thing you need is Lucca feeling compelled to kill you over an improper room. With instructions in place, you meet up with Aida in front of the infirmary. 

“How is he?” you ask, once you reach her.

“The doctor said he's severely malnourished and suffering from multitudes of wounds.” Your maid dutifully replies.

You grimace, “Is it serious?”

“Some of them are,” Aida says, sullen.

You frown, “Let me see him.”

Aida nods and opens the door to let you in.

You blink your eyes against the sunlight streaming in through the window across the room. Shielding your eyes, you notice that the whole room is made from walnut. The desk and chair to your right are cluttered with paper and books. The left side of the room houses a table and a modest library. The table has what you assume to be a mix of herbal plants and medicine concoctions on it. A small table and seats are tucked at the back of the room. Overall, it has a warm vibe to it.

You turn to the bed sitting in the corner beside the window. Lucca sits on it, white sheets tucked around him, staring out the open window, the white sheer curtains fluttering around him. The wind flows through the window, taking his silver strands for a ride. He looks dwarfed in the bedding, his arms look scrawny and pale against the white of the sheet. His body is littered with bandages. 

Your heart lurches at the sight. While nothing justifies him killing you over and over again, you realize that he was just a kid. Is a kid. He lost his family overnight, endured abuse from the Count and fought demons as the Divine Warrior. It was no wonder how the kid ended up the way he did.

“Are you done staring?” Lucca speaks without turning around.

You answer his question with a question, “How are you feeling?”

Lucca shrugs and you sigh, exasperated at his non-answer.

Pulling up a stool beside the bed, you stare at his small frame again. A child should never have to undergo such hardship.

Another breeze streams through the open glass panes, ruffling your hair and blocking your vision for a moment. Moving your strands away, you notice that Lucca has finally faced you. You grin, loving the feeling of the air in your hair and the fact that he’s finally looking at you.

It feels somehow freeing to feel the flutter of the wind caressing you. You hold Lucca’s gaze, smiling, hoping that he shares (or at least) feels your joy.

When he doesn’t say anything, you turn to face the lush green visible through the window. Lucca doesn’t turn away, keeping his eyes on you. The silence feels liberating. Now, at this moment, you aren’t a murderer and his victim. You are just two children enjoying the wind. So you don’t say anything, content to watch the birds drift from branch to branch while Lucca watches you.

[callme-holly]

Can you do tim shepard x shy clingy reader? They always want to be around tim but is too shy to have conversation with any of his men. Always climbing into his lap or leaning into his body to whisper in his ear. Always wants to hold hands and wanting to be helpful.

𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 [𝐭𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - will change the pics and edit tmr !!

It was late, much later than Tim had promised. The sun had long since set, the sky a deep shade of purple which faded into an almost inky blue; a spattering of stars were already starting to glitter and twinkle, interrupting the plainess of the dark canvas. 

The air was crisp but warm; a slight breeze stirred up as night fell, and you let out a soft, gentle sigh, moving away from the window, pacing the length of the cramped bedroom. 

9pm: that was what the clock on the bedside table read. Tim had promised him and the boys would be done by 8; yet they’re still all sat in the living room, laughing loudly and discussing everything but business. 

Tim had told you to head to bed when everyone arrived, knowing all too well how sheepish you became when they were around. It wasn’t that you didn’t like them, they seemed fine enough, and they’d never done anything to you which proved otherwise, however, every single one of them was rough around the edges, and you knew from stories alone just how dangerous they were. 

That’s why you tended to stay away and keep your distance, only speaking when spoken to and sticking close to Tim’s side, where you were safe and protected. 

Still, you wanted nothing more than to be with him right now, and no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't fall asleep without him holding you. So, even though you knew it was foolish, you slipped out of the room and padded your way to the living room, the voices and laughter only growing in volume the closer you got. 

The soft glow of the lamp in the corner filled the room, bathing the walls in a warm, golden light that cast long shadows across the floor, and as your eyes adjusted to the new lighting, you saw that all 6 boys were seated around the room, lounging casually as if they owned the place. 

Tim is sat in his usually chair, feet kicked up onto the coffee table, cigarette between his lips, the smoke spiralling up into the air before dissipating into the darkness of the shadows. He’s watching attentively as the others all chat idly, their words entirely irrelevant and not at all important. They are so caught up in their conversation, they barely notice your presence,  and it isn't until you come up behind your boyfriend, hands resting lightly on his shoulders that he turns to face you, expression morphing into one of mild guilt. 

“Hey, baby,” he mumbles, quick to stub out his cigarette, patting his lap softly, inviting you to come sit. You don't have to be told twice. As soon as your settled against him, his arms wind around your torso, hands tracing up and down your back in a way that's both grounding and relaxing.

He leans forward, planting a soft kiss on your temple and whispers lowly into your ear, “Didn't think they'd stay this long.” His voice is low and gruff, but his tone is sweet as honey, and you melt into his touch like an animal desperate for attention. You know he's only like this for you; he wouldn't dare show this side to anyone else. 

“It’s fine,” you whisper, dropping your head so that your face is tucked in the crook of his neck. “I don’t mind. As long as they don’t stay too late.” 

Tim huffs a laugh, a low, gruff sound, the arm around your waist tightening ever so slightly. “I’ll get rid of them soon, promise.” His lips brush the top of your head, and by now, he isn't even paying attention to the conversation at hand, his sole focus on you and you alone. 

His fingers run gently through your hair, soothing the nerves that always spring up whenever you're around company. His touches are warm, reassuring, comforting, and you find yourself leaning in closer, basking in his warmth. There’s something about being this close to him, the scent of his cologne, his presence… you don’t know exactly what it is, but you know that you absolutely adore being surrounded by him.

You don’t want to move, because moving means letting go of him, and somehow, you don't think you can do that. Not when you're this comfortable and content in his arms.

Besides, nobody seems to notice the pair of you, and if they did, nobody speaks a word.  They simply sit there, chatting quietly amongst themselves, the occasional outburst of laughter filling the quiet from time to time. The atmosphere feels calm, easy, and peaceful; a moment to rest. But even as you try to drift off into a peaceful sleep, you can’t help but wish they’d hurry up and finish whatever they’ve been talking about, so you and Tim could finally go to bed and get some sleep. Together. No intrustions, no interruptions. Just Tim and you, the weight of his body pressing down on yours, enveloping you in warmth, lulling you into sleep as his hands trail up and down your sides, fingers dancing across your skin, tracing little, intricate patterns. You close your eyes, your breathing becoming slow and even with each passing second, Tim’s chest rising and falling in time with your own, steady and strong.

[leaderpinhead]

Malleus - Mundane Affairs

As the heir to Briar Valley, Malleus admittedly expected a certain level of respect. Sometimes it came in the form of silent (and in Sebek’s case, loud) admiration. In many cases, the respect was tinged with fearful awe. No matter what end of the spectrum they lie, many, if not all, would agree it was below his station to participate in most mundane activities. 

Still, he found himself more amused than offended following the Ramshackle prefect through the Mystery Shop. Her angry little huffs sounded like a small kitten’s sneezes. “I swear, Sam rearranges his shop every week just to mess with me.” 

Malleus’s already small grin widened. They turned up one aisle, startling an Ignihyde student they encountered. Yuu ignored him, focused entirely on her goal, but Malleus offered a polite nod. The boy sputtered when he returned the nod and quickly fled. Malleus absently noted his fear before dismissing him entirely. “I am sure Sam takes immense pleasure singling you out amongst the student body.” 

“Oh, hush.” Malleus chuckled in response to the prefect’s unapologetic disgruntlement. He followed her to the other side of the store. “There’s only one thing I come here to get every week, and without fail, it’s not in the same place twice.” 

Malleus’s eyes flitted across the wall of candy they passed. His eyes lingered on the green dragon candy for a second longer than the others. “Do stores not usually change the location of their inventory?” 

“In my experience, no,” Yuu huffed. She paused and glared at a small bin of items in the back of the store. Malleus leaned over to examine the items. They were an odd group with seemingly no relation except the bright yellow stickers declaring them as Clearance! “It all stays in relatively the same location except seasonal stuff.” 

Malleus hummed. “Is that why the display at the front of the store reflects current holidays?” 

“Yep.” Yuu turned and walked the length of the store’s back wall. Her kitten sneezes started again. “That’s the stuff Sam wants to sell quick.” 

“Interesting,” Malleus muttered. They encountered another student, this one wearing Savanaclaw’s yellow-orange vest. The beastman’s round ears perked, and Malleus grinned in obvious amusement when the boy released an involuntary hiss. “I have seen an inordinate number of students wearing the headband with large round ears lately. Is that in response to a human holiday?” 

“I actually have no idea what that’s about,” the prefect answered. She sidled past the agitated boy and continued on her quest. The boy tried to buck up at Malleus, but he wasn’t able to maintain eye contact long enough for Malleus to feel intimidated. The boy shuffled off with his slender tail tucked around his ankles. “I think it’s something to do with an anniversary? Ace just made fun of me when I asked.” 

“I will apply further research on the topic later,” Malleus assured. He was curious now that he understood the significance of the odd attire. It certainly wasn’t an anniversary celebrated in Briar Valley. “For now, I will point you in the direction of your desired item.” 

Yuu stopped mid-step, twisting on her heel to face him. “Have you known where it was the entire time?” Malleus’s chuckle made her cheeks balloon. “Hornton!” 

“I have been told it builds character to dedicate a certain amount of work towards a desired goal,” Malleus teased. In truth, he had wanted to spend a bit more time with the prefect after she had caught him strolling across the campus alone and invited him on her shopping trip. It was rude not to make the most of an invitation. “Admittedly, I also assumed you would eventually strike upon the right path and find your desired outcome.” 

“Stop being so elusive and show me where the stupid tuna is.” 

Malleus chuckled and led Yuu back to the front of the store where a display of tuna cans sat beside a small mound of anthropomorphic mouse dolls. He patiently waited for her to debate herself on buying the special edition cans, as they were not the usual brand she bought Grim. Once she had a small stack in her arms, he carefully placed one of the mouse ear headbands on her head, smirking at her disgruntled glare when he refused to take it off her head. He slipped Sam a few extra coins for the headband when they checked out. 

Heir or not, participating in mundane, everyday affairs had its perks. Especially when he was rewarded with a small bag of green dragon candy the next time he ran into the prefect. He saw no issue with accepting a similar invitation from her a few weeks later. 

[shaniacsboogara]

poking at my dear evan hansen hyperfixation with a stick. STAY BACK!!! I ALREADY VANQUISHED YOU!!! WHY ARE YOU CREEPING BACK INTO MY MIND!!!

[legionofpotatoes]

man post-andor star wars feels so embarrassing

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

Feeling like suchhhhh a freak today

[obessivedork]

Tbh I’m only keeping Sebastian installed so that Lelianna recognizes Hawke in MOTA and it’s very funny to imagine Hawke justifying why he’s around to their friends. “Look, yeah this dude SUCKS so bad he’s the antithesis to most of us including & especially Anders and Merrill and ME and even the most pro-Chantry/anti-mage of you can’t stand him but he’s paying well and I’d rather keep my friends close and enemies closer, so get off my dick (gender neutral) about it I promise he won’t learn about wicked grace night!”

[princessmyriad]

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