#though to be fair apparently my brain wanted to write the bad guy a bit too to set up so that's why this is so long

[legaciestold]

somewhere in the castle complex

well, didn't this just get interesting!

a man who was not just a man stands, shoes staining with the oozing blood which pools upon the floor they rest in. a waste, perhaps. the blood which seeps into stone rather than provides lifeforce yet what had been displaying upon the monitors before him proves much more attention-getting than the measly life of a man who truly believed himself worthy of his gift. perhaps he should have allowed him to become infected. no not with the perfection that was omega but perhaps the alpha strain. it'd have served the nuisance right for his actions. playing both sides. there had been a certain tactical advantage that the old vampire could appreciate. maybe there was some conscious there too. that, he appreciated less.

the doctor had played with fire and gotten burned. he'd aided the girl, both of them, if they were being transparent in this ever-growing situation while also attempting to solidify his own survival in the aftermath of how the players would shift the game. but the good doctor had failed to anticipate the vampire's understanding of the players. the insight that life force could grant him. he understood-- planned for-- the doctor's actions. he allowed them to transpire. a bit of fun to color the hours it would take for his plans to fully mature. moving parts took time to place after all. there was no stopping what had begun.

oh, the players believed they held some semblance of hope for such.

let them.

let them believe they held some form of control when their little lives were all in his hands.

the world was to die soon, and be reborn. a new world order, a new food chain would be unleashed. no more shadows. no more. and he would be at the top of it for when it was done even the eldest elders would bow to him. him and his beautiful virus laden army. the doctor had served a purpose in this. he set a game into motion. and now, now the vampire could sit back and watch as it played out. they would die too. the players on the board. most of them at least. not the girl. no. his plans for her were too great and he thought perhaps it would make his victory sweeter to see how her path played out.

let her have her hope.

let her run around this maze of corridors and think perhaps there was an end in sight. he would take her back when the time was right. he would watch hope fade and give birth to something dark within her. something new that the world had yet to see. something that would grant him power. something that would be part of his new world. and what a sight it'd be, to watch his creation form. to feel as it took hold of her with every passing hour, changing her. bringing her to him. how satisfying it would be to see the last of her fight and resistance leave her. maybe he'd let it play out until the final moments, the man who'd finally seemed to find her alive until then. maybe he'd make him her first victim.

a sacrifice to the new world.

to the goddess who would surely reward him. perhaps this hadn't been how it began when the girl's name passed to him. she had been a means to an end. but her fight. her spark. her ability to resistant when others would have been crushed with the weight of what was done to them, had shifted something in his mind. he wanted to defeat it and mold it and reshape it into his greatest creation. a creation that was his. that would bring forth what he wanted. what he needed for his new world. and no one would stop his new world now that all the pieces were in play. oh, he could sit back and have his fun. watch the tragedy unfold.

'will you watch it with me?'

he questions the bloody corpse at his feet, the man's death grip upon his pant leg shaken off with little fanfare. a few minutes later the body would be seated across the desk, dead gaze directed toward screens like a morbid audience to a game show. the feeds were not everywhere in the complex and the old stonework often caused interference to the signals but he did not need it to know where certain players were. it certainly was fun to watch when they did cross paths with the feeds though.

a phone rings, words emitting as he listens. good, good. he holds no doubt that the small group of bsaa transports that broke off from the main forces and were seen leaving the city and heading in their direction would hold the other players in this game. let the fun begin. let the games begin. they had time and he had his current players to toy with in the hours it'd take them to arrive. and it wasn't as if he didn't have a few presents in store for the thief's daughter and girl's brother.

meanwhile, elsewhere in the castle complex

warmth pulsing, radiating. she can feel it, sense it, know it. his hold is real. living. breathing as her blue-gray hues bore into his. her eyes burn with salty tears, breath labored, mind confused, warring as reality continues to crash into her. leon. leon was there. leon was real. leon was holding her arms. had she hurt him? she attacked him! fuck. he's okay. he tells her he's okay. that's what matters. he's real. this is real and he's okay. she takes a breath in, deeply, attempts to center herself. to regain some form of barings as his hand moves to her neck and rests there. is he searching for a pulse? does he think she's already? no. no. he's looking at her. he's seeing her. she knows it with every fiber of her being because she knows him even if she forgot for a bit. let herself believe what she'd wanted to instead of seeing the truth. 'and we're going to get out of here.' he speaks it with such conviction, his eyes still watching her as if she's all that exists in that moment. maybe she was, he was for her. now, right now, in this moment. a thread back to herself. back to reality.

stop crying. stop fucking crying. get it together. get it together. you need to get it fucking together.

'claire--' he speaks her name and finally, finally she's seeing him with semi-clear eyes that aren't halfway lost in her raging thoughts. she's her, claire, almost-- she's getting there. she's in a castle (she thinks). she's infected (she knows). leon was there. mara was somewhere. bad things were going to happen if they didn't stop them. leon was there. leon was there with her. they were together now, in this. there was an outbreak. there were vampires. they were together. she had to get him out of this. she wanted to get herself out of this too. but she understood that want and how things could play out were two different things. or, could be. she'd choose to believe together they could. but she'd accept if together wasn't the endgame in this. leon was there, with her, she could feel his warmth.

"leon." she repeats, once. clearly. mostly clearly. as if she's finally accepting the reality of the moment. she's claire. she's here. they both are. move forward.

the tears stop because she commands them too. takes another breath in and out to steady herself, gaze never leaving his. it questions, it wonders, it somehow figures that this was how the universe would play this out. it always circled back to them having to figure a way out of a shit situation didn't it? "what are you doing here?" she repeats, clearly, trying to figure out what him being there means. was chris there too? how long...

"did mara contact---" she begins, mind thinking. mara had said she'd try. she doesn't wait for an answer. it doesn't really matter. not in the moment, but something does. she needs to know for her own peace of mind. (except she doubts very much it'll actually grant her peace.) "how long as it been since my mission failed? since they took me?" because claire doesn't know. she tried to keep track until she couldn't anymore. it'd been too hard. "i tried.. at first. it seemed like i could tell the days. the gash i gave the one doctor had scabbed over. so time had passed. at least a few days. i killed one.. they got mad about that.. really mad. i think they killed another for letting it happen. i didn't see the other one again and they were worse after-- but then too much time was passing. i couldn't remember everything after they-- but there had to be some time between infections.. even with the vampiric acceleration it had to take time, right?" she's becoming lost in it again, half speaking to him, half speaking to herself. trying to sort fever dreams from reality. trying to find a path to center herself.

she takes another breath, looking down at his arm, to the small tear she managed in his shirt with her attack, then back to his face as if finally, finally everything is fully clicking for her. as if with a second's passage everything's hitting her, pieces coming together. she recoils slightly. or at least tries to. shifting her weight backward though she can't quite fully separate herself from his hold at the current angle. (she doesn't want to, but she thinks she should. she's scared to hurt him.) still, she pulls back enough to drop the hand on her neck, to show more of her appearance, but she doesn't shake off his hold to her other arm.

"i'm infected, leon."

she makes this clear and in the dim light of the room if one really, really looked at her they could see. she's paler, the contrast making the dark veins spreading on her bare arms more visible. there's marks on her skin, injection sites on her arms where the dark veins also congregate in smaller jagged lines around them as if they refused to heal even with the vampiric blood she was forced to consume. there's other marks too, from where she'd fought people and restraints, the infections making it slow to heal but quick to begin to change other things. she's thinner than she's ever been, even with the strength she'd been able to display moments before when she'd attacked him. the virus weakening parts of her and strengthening other parts.

"i don't want to hurt you but i think it's going to make me want to. i think he's going to try to make me. i can't hurt you, i won't." she pauses, gaze and voice the embodiment of claire-- a claire with renewed clarity; the determination and conviction in her tone too. "i haven't, it's not fully taken hold yet. it takes time. it took longer the other times, they treated it at the end stages before it could fully take hold." the other times she'd been experimented on, hurt, used to further their tests. but he needs to know so he understands she knows herself, knows when it becomes too late. it might save him if it comes to it.

claire's more focused now. she's in the moment. she needs to share critical information because she doesn't know what awaits them but they can't go out there without him knowing what she knows.

"mara was working on a vaccine. they have one for all the strains but this one was the latest. i think they're planning something. to release it. the labs are downstairs, there might be more information there.. i got away, to here. i wasn't thinking about information. i--i wasn't myself, i wasn't clear like i am right now. i don't know if the vaccine for this one was ready. mara would know but i don't know where she is. if we can get it--" claire looks at leon, really looks at him. "--i'll fight this leon. i want to get out of this together. but if i can't and it comes to it. you need to save yourself. you can't keep sacrificing to protect me." she has to make this clear before anything else though she doesn't quite consider the admission her words also reveal. (it doesn't matter, it's not the time.)

When that email had appeared in Leon's inbox on July 2, he had only needed a quick glance at the subject line to ascertain the identity of the sender: ' remember when you tried to give me a half a sweater because the desert was cold? ' It could only be from Claire Redfield, and of course he remembers. That had been one of those moments he recalls feeling almost thorough, unabashed happiness, so close to a tangible sensation that he might have sworn he could reach out and touch it. They had been running high on adrenaline, flush with the excited hope that a few missions to take down Umbrella might end the nightmare, and Leon had glanced over at Claire and thought, Maybe once this is all over for good — ! Never, even in his most dour moods back then, would he have imagined that in short order, he would ransom his freedom and future in exchange for Claire and Sherry Birkin's. Not in a million fucking years.

Regardless, none of that had been running through his mind as he hovered over the message with uncharacteristic hesitancy. The memory that instead flashed in Leon's mind like a caution flare was the two of them standing outside four months earlier, him in a suit that he hated and her with her arm in a sling, as his fingers curled around the data chip in his palm while she looked at him with an anger he had never before received the brunt of. The subject line had been compelling, though ( she had probably known it would be, crafting it as an olive branch of sorts ), and won out as he opened it. Typed lines of text awaited him that only exacerbated his confusion, yet they didn't sound mad. Apprehension had built at the mention of telling Leon something that he wouldn't like, but her assurance that she understood and the manner in which she closed out the message quelled it before it could begin to spiral.

He had spent far too long readying his reply for how short it ended up, although it was sent before the day had ended.

Subject: Re: remember when you tried to give me a half a sweater because the desert was cold? Pizza in Georgetown it is, then. Just name the day. Sincerely (why don't we put that bold claim about the bikes to the test when we see each other?), Leon

Before the end of the month, after he answered a call from Ingrid Hunnigan, he would wonder whether Claire even found the chance to read it.

Receiving a call from Hunnigan? Usual. A request from Hunnigan to meet in-person? Not usual. Leon might have teased her about it were her voice not laden with an extra degree of severity that curbs any notion of humor. Something is more than wrong. By the time he arrives, his nerves are clawing at him from the inside, though the only outward suggestion of it is an agitated edge to his walk as he passes through the halls and a subtle, intermittent clenching of his fists. Nevertheless, everything she briefs him on is far worse than he could have conjectured — because it's something he's never seen before, because it's Mara, because it's Claire. This new agent answers Leon's queries ( posited with an unintentional hint of aggression he can't temper ) quickly and concisely; the guy's likely accustomed to explaining this shit regardless of the scenario. As they start to leave, Hunnigan's voice calls out behind him: ' Be careful, Leon. ' It gives him a slight twinge in his chest to hear and, glancing back over his shoulder, he catches her gaze as he nods.

The whole way there, Claire's screams from the video Hunnigan showed him reverberate through Leon's mind.

By the time he and his companion are separated and he's made his way to the castle facility where it's suspected that Mara and Claire are being held, the only distraction from the echoing sound that he's garnered is complete focus on whatever's in front of him at precisely each moment, and his grip on the gun in his hands. With each corner he rounds, he repeats to himself that it's one closer to finding them until it's akin to a mantra: I'm one step closer, I'm one step closer, I'm one step closer. Nonetheless, every room Leon clears and searches yields no results, even those that appear set-up specifically for the purposes he assumes Claire has been kept for. Where is she? Advancing down the hall, he's met with a few more armed obstacles; most are eliminated quickly, and he sends a slighter one who keeps grabbing for his firearm crashing through a nearby rickety, wooden door with a forceful kick to the chest. "Opening the door for me, what a gentleman." The few stragglers follow him into what looks like nothing more than a storage room before they're each taken out by a bullet to the head that sends them staggering back into the piles of crates littered across the floor.

Surely they're not keeping Mara or Claire here, though a brief once over for any possible clues isn't a bad idea. Although Leon hates the notion of wasting time, he also couldn't live with himself if he missed anything in a reckless haste that might help. Perhaps there are some charts or notes kept in the old cabinet in the corner —

Without a second to move in that direction, a figure suddenly launches at him from the shadows. Are you fucking kidding me? However, at the flash of dark hair and a familiar face, his eyes widen. "Claire?" Even as Leon says it, fingernails dig against his skin and raised fists slam into him. "Claire, it's me!" Instinctively, he reaches out to grip her wrists, forcing her away from him though he doesn't let go. That's when their eyes finally meet, and recognition dawns across her features. When his name stutters past her lips, a profound relief washes over him; she's still herself, she's still Claire. Leon's grasp on her loosens then, yet he still doesn't drop it.

' Did I hurt you? ' At the question, a breath catches oddly in his throat. Not this time. Not like she had in March, when the way she had looked at him hurt like a blade scraping bone. Since they had met, Claire's gaze catching his had always imbued him with a sort of hope, a quiet happiness that he can't expound upon with words. He hadn't been her weapon or her savior, just Leon. She had made him feel normal and important at the same time, even when he had felt the least normal or important he had ever been. Claire had always seen him. At least, until it had seemed as if she didn't. That she had believed Leon would withhold information from her for any reason except to protect her, that she had told him the suit he was wearing wasn't him as if he actually liked it and everything it stood for — ? His silence certainly hadn't helped; perhaps he had hurt her, too. But he couldn't tell her the truth then, just as he isn't about to speak any of this aloud now.

"It's okay, I'm fine." But she's not. "And we're gonna get out of here." The tears in her eyes shove everything else to the wayside ( the fact that he should be asking her whether they've realized yet that she's gone and if they're looking for her since she's clearly not supposed to be in a supply room, or trying to call Hunnigan to report that he's found her ); Leon can't focus on anything but her. "Claire — " Dropping his left hand's hold on her arm, he presses his palm against the side of her neck, his fingers brushing beneath her hair. "I can't imagine what you've been going through." He'll do whatever he has to so that they never fucking touch her again. "But whatever happens, we'll fight through this. Together."

[serena-darrin]

Ok, so I started into Battle Scars while I was waiting on some of my errands (I was taking some old clothes to the local consignment shop; and they took some time to go through what I had brought in so, I read my new acquisition!)

First, I've already snickered at it - in a good way. Some of the interplay, the puns, yeah, I was smiling.

But I'm already noticing things that - just -- I have questions?

I'm only about 50 pages in, but still, I'll keep any possible spoilers under the cut.

Oooof, the writing style is awkward. I can't pin down -exactly- what makes it a challenge, but there has already been one section where I had to go back and re-read a chunk because I literally could. not. understand. what had happened on the first read through.

Cere's Lightsaber. Apparently she has her own now? There's no explanation given, but I'm only 50 pages in, so that gets the grace of 'maybe it will be explained later.'

The defector. Fret. We just met her, and Cere wants to kill her. It seems. . . . very out of character for the Cere I know. Sure, Cere's often overtly cautious, sometimes even paranoid, but, that just sat really -wrong- with me.

Speaking of Fret. I have no complaints about her so far - but the author's attempt to lampshade how quickly she's joined up with the Mantis crew falls very, very flat. (I'll skip over the happy coincidence of her being there, because The Force can be blamed for most coincidences, lol!)

I do like that it's acknowledged that the Empire doesn't parade around announcing that they're the bad guys. Even though it's a short bit from Fret, (and honestly,I don't think it needed to be any longer) it's nice to have the explanation of how someone could start working for the Empire and not realize, at first, what's going on.

Merrin and Fret. While I don't object to their relationship, Merrin turns into. . . what feels like an idiot swooning schoolgirl in about ten seconds flat and I really don't like it. So far, good concept, bad execution. That said, I'm really, really happy to see Merrin solidified as canonically. . . well, either Bi or Pansexual, either way, the Queer rep makes me very happy!

BeeDee Wun. Ugh. 'BeeDee' is fine. But "BeeDee Wun' just makes me want to cringe. I don't know -why- it bugs me so much, it's a fair phonetic attempt, but just, ugh, no, why? Luckily it's only come up once, maybe twice? More thoughts coming tonight/tomorrow,depending on work and how quickly I read through this thing! So far, my verdict: it's not amazing, but I'm enjoying it despite it's flaws. It's currently in the 'turn your brain off and have fun', category of Star Wars novels, which is where a lot of Star Wars media lives for me, so, we shall see!

[bottomdeanbigbang]

Coming Soon!

Title: Interesting Revelations

Author: redamber79

Artist: lamiasageart

Pairings: Dean/Cas, mentioned Charlie/Gilda, mentioned Sam/Eileen

Rated: Explicit

Length: 21456

Tags: minor injury, mention of past child abuse, anal sex, misunderstandings, mild drug use, idiots in love, mutual pining, first time, love confessions, college AU

Warnings: N/A

Summary:

"It's Dean's third year of college and he's having to adjust to a new roommate when his friend Ash transfers to MIT. The new guy, Castiel, is studying American History and Religious Studies, and Dean is certain the guy must be straight as an arrow. Too bad, 'cause he's kinda cute. But Dean grew up with more lectures about fire and brimstone than anyone wanted to hear thanks to his dad, so he doesn't mention to Castiel that he's bi. Not like it matters, Castiel is heartbroken over the death of Anna, his high school sweetheart. So Dean is determined to just be a good friend.

But...

What if Dean is mistaken, about so very many things?

It takes a fistfight with an interloper to clear the air between them, but then there's no stopping their feelings for each other."

Excerpt under the cut...

"Dean and Castiel mostly ignored each other the first month or so they were rooming together. Then, one day, Castiel came home muttering and tossed his Religious Studies text onto the coffee table before dropping onto the couch next to Dean. Dean glanced at the clock and frowned, continuing to type. He had an English paper due in a few days and needed to wrap it up.

""Don't you have class?"" he asked curiously, tilting his head at his roommate. Castiel was running his fingers through his already wild hair, and his eyes were stormy. From this close, Dean could see their colour clearly, a brilliant, breathtaking blue that rivalled the fall sky outside their apartment window. Get a grip, Winchester. No writing poetry about the straight guy's eyes!

""I dropped it. That… That assbutt Adler is the worst Prof I've ever had, and first year I had Roman for Business 101!"" Dean blinked. That had to be the first time he'd heard Castiel swear, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. Assbutt? He shook his head a little and focused on the topic at hand.

""Don't you need that one to minor? Adler can't be that bad…"" Dean let his comment trail off as Castiel raised an eyebrow at him and gave him a withering look. Dean squirmed a little under that stare.

""I'm reporting him to the Dean. Yes, he’s that bad. He's not teaching Religious Studies, he's proselytising from his pulpit, and that damn textbook is one he wrote! I am not wasting my time. I'm just pissed I can't get my money back from the bookstore for this piece of inarticulate, brain-washed drivel. He's the worst sort of Bible-is-fact, In God We Trust Republican dickwad that I hated back home! I moved here to escape that shit, not smear it around.""

""Says the guy named after an angel…"" Dean teased a little, earning him an eye roll. Castiel dug into his backpack and hauled out a small bag of gummies, the label unmistakably identifying them as pot, then he looked at Dean warily.

""You're not gonna rat me out, right?"" he asked, and Dean stared in disbelief as his nerdy, innocent, apparently not-so-religious roommate popped an edible into his mouth. ""You want one?""

Dean closed his mouth, blinked, and then shook his head. ""Not today, got auto in a couple hours, need to be clear-headed. And you know who I rented with before, he recommended you. You think anyone Ash hung out with and rented with for two years would have a problem with edibles?""

Castiel snorted a laugh, his nose crinkling up adorably, and Dean looked away. Not being a religious whack-job and partaking in a bit of recreational pot were all well and good. Still. Not everyone was cool with a bisexual roommate.

""Fair 'nough. Wish I could get some money back for this damn book, though I'd really rather burn it than put it back into circulation."""

[eluxcastar]

Why did it take me so long to respond you may be asking

Well you see I looked at it, read it, and then fell asleep and by the time I woke up I was so busy I didn't think about it until now 😭

House of Wolves is literally THE Harbinger piece ever I don't think anything will ever tickle my brain like seeing them all decide that trying to rip each other apart is the best option which is EXACTLY what they'd all do because they're all such like conflicting personalities. They all secretly hate each other and got shoved in one big get along shirt (and this side note was what prompted me to make Brighella just as volatile because she would kill several of the Harbingers given the choice starting with Dottore and specifically him because they're such different people that they couldn't get along if a million years passed)

Anyway this is about loverboy and apparently J Michael Tatum which RUU ARE YOU SURE THAT YOU DON'T JUST HAVE A THING FOR THE GLASSES WITH THECHAIN BECAUSE I MUST DIRECT YOU TO PANTALONE'S GLASSES so fair though because glasses make everyone hotter

I haven't heard the other voices except the Russian one 😭 which iirc that was a fanmade one (unless they made an official one? Not to my knowledge) THEY COOKED like Pierro's Russian voice 🤌 AND PANTALONE OMG but I went to listen to the Japanese voice just so I could complain about it and tbh I'm inclined to agree. That voice doesn't suit that twinky man too deep

I AGREE ON THE TEMPER because he had to simmer for a while and now he's been microwaved to perfection 🙏 he was younger once and naïver and had a bad temper all of which tbh are probably why he got loverboy's father killed but with time he's become a better guy when it comes to hiding his emotions and regulating them

YES exactly kinda he's like loverboy's strict mom or a teacher like eat your vegetables so you grow big and strong twinky boy I want you to collect lots of DEBT and break lots of fingers for me in the future ☝️ loverboy is getting there anyway—exposure is making him desensitized—but he needs encouragement, a push in the morally bankrupt direction that might benefit him but will also really benefit Pantalone and at a time when their relationship is almost entirely professional that's his greatest interest

I don't believe it was someone of importance, a coworker who loverboy got a little too comfortable and a little bit stupid around and said a word too many which in a line of work where being a grimy snake is beneficial is not a good idea 👍

I have apparently taught you another expression I hope you enjoy my vulgar way of speaking 🙏 BUT YEAH LIKE. I KINDA WONDER WHY HIS FATHER EVEN STAYED 💀💀 and tbh I feel like it makes sense loverboy does too. He flip between loving and hating him as all half orphaned sons do because he's angry, he feels he may always be angry at him, but he also loved him. It's a contradiction that just exists because sometimes he thinks of all the things he did with him and sometimes he thinks about how much it hurt to not see his father for long stretches of time. That's also so real because like I got this exact feeling with Brighella I was like if she was canon I would want her to step on me this is like the third time simping for my own characters but in my defence everyone else simps for Neru too so that one isn't just me

he'd whimper so cute though and so PATHETIC like that real wet moppish cry-adjacent whimper

The revisions 🙏 I refuse to accept anything but Liyue Pantalone mihoyo can take that over my dead body I am reading some respectfully because it FITS I might throw it into the lore I'm currently writing

I also wanna add I feel like when loverboy hesitates to the point Pantalone has to step in he'd probably get a bit pissed because does this man have no survival instinct??? And that helps lead to Pantalone microwaving him, take that vision for a test, fix loverboy's earlier mistake, and set him back on the right path. At that point, he's a subordinate, so if he dies, then all Pantalone loses is another Celestia-approved wet mop and there's plenty of those to go around.

An interest, maybe, but not as intense as when loverboy comes back. Their first meeting is strained by hierarchy and loverboy is as bright-eyed and busy-tailed as a fatuu can reasonably get in his position.

I also agree with THAT YES it is the development of taking in everything those three years gave our dear loverboy—good and bad—and trying to use it somehow while he tries to carry on with life once he leaves. Three years of being surrounded by the craziest people he could ever know that sticks with him and most especially the interactions he has with his boss because they were the strangest.

They're what he dwells on until he inevitably goes crawling back to the Fatui now equipped with a spine to demands Pantalone take him back and fulfill his offer no matter how much time has passed

Another side note while checking the masterlist of loverboy tomfoolery I noticed there were TWO versions of one of them ⁉️ other person cooked I loved it I experienced loverboy

Ok lets go SImply reblogging your oneshot for my req isn't enough i need to analyze and annotate the entire thing like a literature professor and tell you Everything. (✿◡‿◡)

pantalone might be ooc

He's not!!!!!! by which i think this is fairly a Really Good portrayal of the guy considering the 5 sentences we know about him. He's strict!!! frankly a little scary!! And also chill and positive about loverboy!! But it felt Just Right!!!! ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

descriptions of blood

description so good i might as well have killed that man myself

...pretend that his lore has a spot where this fits perfectly

I think i can make it fit!! would you be cool with making minor changes if so?

"You're very good at what you do."

Imagining the same voice as sebastian michaelis saying this with the sexiest buttersmooth voice is eviscerating me. Very self-indulgent but praise kinks will always slay so hard.

...on the verge of stabbing him a moment ago. 

This,, and the small thing i wrote about loverboy launching them both out the window to escape an onslaught of assassins in my other req. get you a ship where one of them has completely normal knee-jerk reactions to kill the other <3

...as he crushes their hand beneath his shoe without mercy

Fatui Harbingers - House of Wolves - KIERU 0:15

...Instead, Pantalone looks unfazed by it all, stopping as he reaches the other side of you, free of most of the blood. He greets you with a knowing smile as he usually does.

hey ririto this is so ominous and eerie for some reason not known to me. Just the backdrop of grey and snow and probably a gruesome corpse right next to loverboy and Pantalone has a silent smile through everything. Delicious sentence 10/10.

"I knew making you a banker was a good idea,"

THIS IS SO. The confidence and quite calm assurance that pantalone says this with is SO. You'd never be sure whether to lean into it and let out a sigh of relief,, o r back up further becuase it sounds so good but all in the wrong ways.

...thumb brushing across your bottom lip slicked with blood.

fellas is it professional to feed double edged words of honey to your young inexperienced subordinate while kneeling in front of his battered and bruised self who killed someone for you,, and run a gloved thumb across his blood soaked lip. ( ͡• ͜ʖ ͡• )

"Who knew you had so many other talents,"

you are infusing these dialouges with crack cocaine giggling kicking my feet while being slightly concerned because Sir. What do you mean by that.

"Ah ah," he says, a harshness seeping into even just that sound. "Stay."  You stay put,

thank you for making loverboy so Ouppy.

"Lord Harbinger," you try to say

yes,, this could be a minor thing to adjust: i think we could actually fit this oneshot somewhere AFTER he gets his vision,, and BEFORE Pantalone becomes the Harbinger Regrator. Can be a valid reason for Pantalone to see that reader failed to kill the assassin from their shitty negotiation meeting,, and wanting to newly test him again after he had his vision + ambitions awakened to see if he can get past the fear of killing NOW. (Even then,, maybe due to inexperience/unfamiliarity of using visions, reader didn't think to raise his advantage of supernatural powers against another visionless man in this scenario.)

I'd think his first kill was one of the factors that caused him to leave after his 3year duty, not sticking around for Pantalone's promotion to Regrator.

"You are much like your father."

Top 10 things Not to say to someone with daddy issues-

...they're as wet behind the ears as you are.

Dear diary, Today i learned a new speech of expression

...Pantalone's hand that rests on your chin moves... "Now, try again. Dear banker, whatever do you mean?" 

this whole paragraph. What on earth do you mean 'ooc pantalone'. This is the MOST pantalone thing you could've written. Strict and intimidating about improving reader's meek attitude. a Push in the right direction.

"Is this a test?" you manage, words muffled by the way he squishes your face like putty beneath his fingers.

(thank you for making loverboy so Ouppy) x2

...and you know who, regardless of how 'anonymous' that source may have been in his words.

I MAY BE STUPID. （；´д｀）ゞ I CANT TELL. who you are hinting towards 😭😭

"Hold this," he adds, an unnervingly tender instruction for the way he was just behaving. 

There he is. its reminding me of: the same pantalone that washed reader with a clock in my very first req to you.

...looking probably about as pathetic as you think you do.

POV: You're Pantalone looking down at Loverboy.

I forgot how much of a bug-eyed wet dog loverboy is before his time-skip "character development" so to say. Thanks i love him.

"next time someone approaches you from behind, don't wait to stab them. Don't reach for your wet knife with your wet hands, either. Both of those things will get you killed."

I think pantalone is entirely having too much fun with observing Loverboy try climbing the ropes to how REAL fatuus run business.

"Come now. You want to go home and back to Liyue, don't you? I'm tired of this cold." 

Σ(っ °Д °;)っ back to liyue??? Loverboy is Liyuean??? pantalone stays in liyue??? I ALWAYS THOUGHT arlecchino called pantalone a bitch in Signora's funeral for "never leaving the comfort of his homeland?" Whuh-?

ALL IN ALL,, CLOSING THOGUHTS,, GOOD FOOD RIRITO DINNER HAS BEEN SERVED, ATE, AND LICKED CLEAN 10/10 ILY

I GOTT THIS JUST BEFORE I WENT TO SLEEP AND ONLY JUST GOT THE TIME TO ANSWER IT BUT I KNEWWW YOU WOULD GET THE HOUSE OF WOLVES REFERENCE

That is true actually and I realised after I posted it that like, wtf is in character for him?? 😭 he's said like two things and while I have memorised those things they're not a lot to go off but I'm glad you enjoy him (ﾉ´▽｀)ﾉ♪

Also if you can make it fit, feel free ☆(≧∀≦*)ﾉ I sorta only had a vague idea of where it might go, but at that point in time, loverboy works abroad in the Northland Bank. I'll also throw in that he travelled there for that job and unfortunately does not come from Liyue 😔 (unless he's supposed to?? I got the impression he was from Snezhnaya) it was more a "I bet you'd love to be back at a desk job rn" or something to that effect, loverboy is going back to the bank once things are settled where he belongs but Pantalone isn't going with him (hence why they're in Snezhnaya when this happenscause I also interpret at as him not liking to leave Liyue)

I'm so glad the J Michael Tatum love never stops but also you're so right praise kinks absolutely do. I also noticed that them trying to kill each other is like, a repeated theme so far 😭⁉️ LIKE WHEN PANTALONE WENT TO FIND HIM LAST ONESHOT HE WAS GONNA KILL THAT FUCKER

Confident possibly mildly degrading Pantalone is literally my favourite thing, like I chew on him. I chew on him being unnervingly calm because what would he have in the eyes of a wet mop boy besides an unwavering poker face. Get yourself a man who uses the blood of your enemies like your lipstick and knows he made good choices stationing you at his shady probably money laundering black hole of debt he calls a bank

Yk I agree actually I was trying to figure the timeline out in my head and realised it would've made more sense to happen before he was a Harbinger so I agree with this revision that actually makes it fit the lore and if I ever decide to make it a longer multichapter fic I'll definitely fix that 💀 t'was a victim of laziness

YES YES THIS Pantalone basically shaping him up so he doesn't literally die and being strict with it get so him. He'll prompt him to say it again but won't let it slide because that behaviour isn't going to be beneficial, especially not with someone who may be working under him long-term

I went back to read the part about the anonymous source line came from, and I think I figured out what happened here, so allow me to explain  (;ﾟдﾟ)   Ok so, it has a bit to do with the weird way I wrote this because when I said I wrote this on the train that was half a lie. I wrote some of it on the train and the rest at the library where I also edited what I already had because the spelling mistakes were atrocious. I did write down who it was but cut it when I decided it cluttered the story a bit which retrospectively was also a mistake because I didn't think about the fact it would seem like I was hinting at something at the time (ﾟ▽ﾟ*) the shorter, boring answer is that there's no one Ririto did a big silly and cut context in the chaotic editing this suffered

LMAO NOT THE CLOCK AGAIN

I love him the wet mop boy. I was like I want him to be at least a lil pathetic rn because his concerns are completely different. He's thinking about how to not die, and how much he misses his mom and his much fatui dick his dad must've been riding before death to think this career path was worth it (slash JOKING but he is still wondering why his father would have done this job willingly) that and I think men who whimper are cute thanks for coming to my Ted talk

HE IS ENJOYING IT and I love it sm

Hehe I am glad to know you haven't gone hungry today (^o^) and such high ratings for the banker and loverboy

[scribblingfangirl]

WITH LOVE, THE GHOSTS | Julie and the Phantoms - Part One

not my gif!

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Author’s Note: Gah… I'm such a procrastinating butterfly. I should be writing my Billy Russo series which I'm so excited about, but I just want to be able to read it already instead of having to write first + I'm currently writing each and every chapter instead of the next one (struggles of a fanfiction writer - am I right?). So, what do I do instead? I flew from one of my obsessions to another and got inspired by this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial​ prompt. 

Anyways... This fic will be a little to late for some of you guys, but still: Merry Christmas everyone! And if you do not celebrate Christmas I still hope you have a wonderful day and a rest of the year filled with love and happiness. You did it, you fought through it. I’m sure you had your own pair of himbo ghosts taking care of you.

word count: ~ 1k

summary (and basically background info): Y/N is Julie's & Flynn's friend who doesn’t know about the ghosts (let’s just say she believes that they’re holograms). The boys become attached to Y/N due to her kindness and positivity and do everything in their (ghostly) powers to keep her days sunny and bright, especially in winter.  Or: Two times Y/N is oblivious to the boys 'paranormal' activities and the one time she notices it

prompt: Comfort in the Cold by @flashfictionfridayofficial​

warnings: english is not my first language, therefore, typos

| Part Two | Part Three |

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#1: Luke

Slowly and quietly you made your way down the stairs of the Molina household, leaving Julie's and Flynn's sleeping forms behind. Even though you had just watched multiple Christmas movies and probably eaten double your weight in popcorn, your stomach was still asking for more. As Julie knew about your habits of needing a midnight snack and since Ray repeatedly told you to make yourself at home you weren't feeling bad about stealing some small bits and pieces out of their fridge or cupboards.

Which is why you were straining your ears to hear any sounds that might indicate that you had woken up either Carlos or Ray, but you were only met with silence. Releasing the breath you were holding you hastily hopped down the last few steps down to the living room, grabbed the stair railing and used the momentum of your movement to swiftly swing yourself in the direction of the kitchen, freezing at the sight that greeted you.

A quick glance at the clock told you it was 2 a.m. and the continuous silence indicated that nobody except you was awake and around. Yet, as you hesitantly took a view steps towards the kitchen counter, pulling your blanket like a shield tighter around your body, there was a perfectly fine peanut-butter/jelly sandwich waiting for you, a smiley made out of Nutella painted onto it. Your favourite midnight snack.

A small note peaked out from under the plate and it took you some time to decipher the chicken scratch. Can't have our favourite groupie going to bed hungry! 

Smiling and shaking your head, thinking that either Julie or Flynn must have sneaked out of the room sometime earlier to make you this sandwich you happily bit into it. 

If you'd known that there was a brown-haired ghost with hazel eyes sitting opposite to you and watching you with a smile, the sandwich would have probably gotten stuck in your throat.

#2: Alex 

Doing multiple Christmas movie marathons would be fun they said. No need to worry they said. Only Christmas cheer and joy they said. Well… long story short, even fun movies can make you bawl like a baby! 

A few days after the midnight snack incident, which you completely forgot about, you were once again sitting on Julie's bed. With her and Flynn to your left and right, you had been watching different movies on her computer. Currently, however, you were only trying. Tears were blurring your vision and your sniffles were the only sounds reaching your ear. 

Pressing the plushy's soul that Flynn had won you at a fair out of its body and sobbing into it, you felt Julie shift beside you and lay her head in your lap and mumbling something while Flynn was searching for a handkerchief.

"Whose idea was it again to watch this movie?" you tried to ask, but your voice came out all thick and full of emotion, so you weren't sure if they understood or heard you at all.

What you didn't know was that the boys were watching the movie, and now mostly you, with big eyes.

"Remember the day when Julie was crying in the garage and then Flynn came in crying too? Remember how I said that two girls crying are worse than one girl crying? This… this is way worse!" Luke pointed exaggeratedly at every single one of you and moved quickly out of Flynn's way when she left the room to get a box of tissues. 

"Dude… they're not actually crying crying. It's just a really sad movie," Alex said and sighed quietly when he heard Reggie whisper, "Do you think that's what Willie meant when he said Caleb floods the place during movie night?"

"That's... no, okay." Shaking his head Alex moved towards the bed and sat carefully at Flynn's place to not alert you of the shift beside you. Then he gently took a paw of the plushy that you weren't currently pressing into an embrace and lifted it to wipe away your tears and free your sight. 

You sniffled, too confused and full of emotion to realize what just happened and that it couldn't possibly have been Julie or Flynn, and whispered a small, "Thank you". 

Alex smiled, proud of his action.

#3: Reggie

You didn't even bother to take off your shoes or wipe away the residual snow still sticking to your hair as you flopped yourself down onto your bed, groaning into your pillow. Everything was already grey, wet or at least soggy anyway. To say your day had been bad was an understatement.

It's the most wonderful time of the year With the kids jingle belling And everyone telling you be of good cheer It's the most wonderful time of the year

Confused you lifted your head and starred at your computer who apparently decided to become sentient and cheer you up.

It's the hap-happiest season of all With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings When friends come to call It's the hap-happiest season of all

The next thing that happened would forever be burned into your brain. Your favourite pen suddenly lifted itself up into the air and started to scribble down onto a nearby paper. Slowly and unsure you stood up and inched closer to your desk, but as soon as you were able to sneak a peak onto the paper the pen stopped and fell down.

Shaking your head you rubbed your eyes and turned back to your bed. "This is the weirdest lucid dream I ever had." The moment you flopped back down onto your bed you heard the familiar scratching of pen on paper again. Turning your head there it was again - the floating pen. "What?"

However, once again, as soon as you reached the desk the pen fell down, lifeless. “Alright... alright. I understand! Don’t worry, I won’t sneak a peak.”

"I am dreaming... right?" You weren't. Pinching yourself hurt, trying to breathe through a closed nose didn't work and your pointer finger would not move through the palm of your hand.

Shakily, yet weirdly motivated by the happy Christmas music still playing in the background, you picked up the note laying beside the now still pen. "Merry Christmas Y/N! Lots of love from Reggie, Alex and… Who?" 

"It told you, Luke… I should just have signed for us all."

"Shut it Reg, I know my handwriting sucks."

[nerdzzone]

Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

One of the challenges of sharing custody is sharing holidays which is something that Whitney Taylor found herself struggling with in the December of 2019. The prospect of spending Christmas without her son was dismaying, but the complications that come with the alternative might be even harder to face.

Chris Evans x OFC

Note: Thank you to everyone who has read, liked or commented on this story! I appreciate the support. 

This was the entirety of my original plot, it was just supposed to be a one shot when I started writing it, but it took on a life of it’s own. There’s quite a bit more to come now so I hope no one is too disappointed by the way this ends! I’ve started working on the sequel and have it all mapped out, but I probably won’t post it until it’s mostly finished like I did with this one. So, keep your eyes peeled and please let me know your thoughts!

Part Two

—-

Part Three

26. 12. 19

Waking up, it took a few moments for the memories of the night before to come back to me. When they did, I was filled with relief that I was alone and Chris was no where to be seen. My head throbbed, partially from the alcohol I'd consumed and partially because of the regrets that were filling my mind.

How could we be so stupid? So reckless? How could we risk everything that we'd built for Grayson just for a few moments of relief? How would I be able to push my feelings for Chris aside again after sharing such intimacy with him?

It broke my heart to make the decision to be friends the first time we found ourselves in this situation, how could I be foolish enough to put myself through that again?

I turned my head and groaned into the pillow, a much more distressed, melancholy groan than the ones leaving my lips the night before. I felt like an idiot and I was dreading facing Chris.

After taking another moment to chastise myself for my bad choices, I checked my phone to see the time and was shocked. It was already almost nine thirty and I hadn't heard a peep from the rest of the house. Unfortunately, that meant I didn't have time to mope around in bed, puzzling out what to do.

So, I took just enough time to decide that I needed to make a quick exit before getting up to get myself ready to leave.

 -

  When I got to the kitchen, it was surprisingly quiet. None of the men or children were anywhere to be seen as Lisa, Shanna and Carly tidied up the dishes from the breakfast that I'd missed. Apparently, there was another snow storm forecast to start by the early afternoon and everyone had headed out into the snow as soon as they'd finished eating to start shovelling so that we could all leave before it hit.

I was relieved by their quick action because even if I had to shovel the whole driveway by myself and then drive home in a blizzard, I was not sticking around for another night.

Lisa had tried to convince me to let her cook me breakfast, but my stomach was in too many knots to even think about food. I politely declined and settled for a banana and a cup of coffee, chatting with the women as I ate. It distracted me for a while as I tried to shut off some of the noise in my brain, but once I was finished, I knew I had to face the music and head outside.

By the time I got out there, Chris, Scott and their brother-in-law were already halfway down the driveway which was an impressive feat considering how long it was. I waved to them as I put my bag in my car before heading towards where the children were playing in the front yard.

"Mama!" Grayson cheered as I approached them. "Look! We're building a snowman!"

I looked at the sloppy pile of snow they were assembling and smiled.

"Wow, I can see that! Great job, guys!"

He grinned as he ran over to me and threw his arms around my legs. It was a feeling that never got old and I leaned down to squeeze him closer, trying to ignore the wave of guilt that washed over me. He was the most important thing in our situation and we'd lost sight of that.

"Can you help us?"

"Of course," I nodded. "But I need to go talk to your daddy real quick, okay? Then I'll be right back."

"Okay!"

With that, Grayson bolted back over to his cousins to continue their little project. They were so good with him, including him in their games and activities despite his young age and I was happy that he had such good role models to play with. Leaving them under Dodger's watchful eye, I took a deep breath and headed down the driveway to Chris.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Scott shouted over, the first to notice me coming their way. "Thanks for getting up so early to help us shovel the driveway."

I laughed at his sarcasm and stuck out my tongue, but when he shot me a knowing wink, I felt my cheeks burn. Of course Chris would tell him. I should have expected it, they were as close as brothers could be and Chris was always open with his family.

But it just made me feel worse about the conversation I was about to have as I went over to Chris. Luckily, he was on the opposite side of the driveway to the other two. At least that would give us a modicum of privacy.

"Hey, good morning," he grinned. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did," I returned his smile, though mine was much more forced. "Thanks for letting me sleep in."

"Grayson wanted to wake you up at breakfast," he admitted, looking over at our son as he spoke. "He was worried that you'd be hungry when you woke up and there would be no more food left."

I couldn’t help, but laugh at the thought of his concern.

"He's too sweet, but I appreciate you stopping him," I admitted. "I guess I was tired out after last night."

"Last night," Chris smirked. "Last night was..."

He trailed off as he tried to think of a word to describe it, but my smile disappeared entirely as I could tell from the look on his face that we weren't reflecting on our little incident in the same way. So, I beat him to the punch.

"Last night was a mistake."

My words hung between us for a moment and I knew, from the way that his jaw dropped slightly as if I'd just slapped him across the face, that he wasn't happy with what I'd said.

"Oh, don't give me that crap!" He protested once my words had sunk in, keeping his voice low enough that no one would be able to overhear. "You're saying that it meant nothing to you?"

I really wished we weren't outside with so many watchful eyes around, but this conversation needed to be had and at least this way I'd have an excuse to keep things brief.

"I'm saying that it shouldn't have happened," I clarified, my voice wavering slightly as I questioned my own confidence in my words. "We've worked hard to keep things as stable as possible for Grayson and that's what we need to stay focused on."

"So, you just want to pretend that it never happened?"

My heart felt like it was in a vice. I didn't want to pretend it never happened. I wanted to be with Chris, I wanted us to give it a shot, but I knew that it wouldn't work. I was nothing compared to the women that Chris usually dated and when it all fell apart, Grayson would be the one stuck in the middle. It wasn't fair to him.

But that knowledge didn't make it any less painful when I nodded my head.

"I think that's for the best."

Chris scoffed, looking down at the snow as if he couldn't even stand to look at me. I wasn't sure if I wanted to run away or cry and throw myself into his arms so I settled for simply standing there quietly, waiting for him to say something.

It felt like an eternity, but after a minute or two of total silence, he finally spoke.

"Just let me make sure that I'm getting this right," he started, looking back up at me with such an intensity that it made my eyes swim with tears. “You really have no feelings for me at all? Because if you feel even a little bit like I do then you couldn’t possibly think you’re making any sense right now.”

I swallowed hard, trying to come to terms with the situation that I found myself in. A situation where Chris could be standing in front of me, telling me that he had feelings for me after all these years that we’d been determined to be just friends. It would have felt like a cruel joke if there wasn’t so much hurt in his eyes, so much fear that I was about to reject him. Fear that proved to be entirely justified when I finally got my emotions under control enough to answer him.

"It doesn't matter," I told him softly. "It's not about what I feel or what you feel. We have someone more important to consider."

“That's bullshit!"

I flinched at the harshness of his words and his raised voice as Scott shouted over a reminder about language as the kids weren't very far away. I could feel the tears still filling my eyes, but I knew I had to stick to my guns.

"It's not bullshit," I insisted. "It's the right thing to do."

"But you said yourself, he's starting to notice that things are different," Chris pointed out, his voice thankfully much softer than it had been moments ago . "Why not take the chance to give him a normal family if that's what we both want anyway?"

"Because it will hurt him more if it doesn't work out."

"Hurt him?" Chris questioned, his scowl deepening. "Or hurt you?"

Both of us. 

The truth was that I was worried that Chris would hurt me just as much as I worried that our decision would hurt Grayson, but I could handle the risk to myself if it was my choice. I couldn't handle our son being collateral damage.

I could feel Chris' gaze locked intently on me, but I couldn't lift my eyes to meet his. I didn't want to talk about it anymore. I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold onto my argument when the decision I was making wasn't even what I truly wanted. I needed this conversation to end before I let my guard down and made anymore stupid choices.

"We can't talk about this here, Chris."

"Well, when will we talk about it then?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I need to think."

Chris shook his head as a sigh fell from his lips. He looked defeated.

"Alright."

I took that as an end to the conversation and turned to walk away, but I'd only made it a few steps when Chris called out to me again.

"I care about you, Whitney," he told me as I looked back over my shoulder. "This wasn't nothing to me. I wouldn't have done it if I didn't want to make this work."

That only made me feel worse as I had done it without such noble intentions and with doubt still plaguing my mind. I felt cowardly, but I couldn't bring myself to answer him as I looked away and continued on my way back towards our son.

 -

  I stayed outside, playing with the kids in the snow, until the driveway was clear. Once my car was free, I scooped Grayson up and said my goodbyes.

"Be good for your dad, okay?"

"Okay, Mama!" He smiled, pressing a big, sloppy kiss on my cheek. "I love you!"

"I love you too, buddy. I'll see you in a few days."

I put him down and waved as he ran back to follow his cousins who were heading inside. 

Turning back to my car, I  wasn’t entirely surprised to see Chris leaning against the hood. However, I was surprised to see that the scowl that had been firmly on his face since we talked had eased somewhat and I was even more surprised when he pulled me into a hug as soon as I was close enough.

"Drive safe," he warned me. "The roads still look pretty bad."

"I will," I nodded, easing myself out of his grip. "And I'm sorry, Chris. I really am."

"Don't sweat it." He shrugged, but the dejected look on his face did little to assure me that he accepted my apology.  "We'll talk soon though, right?"

I nodded and stepped back, moving to get into my car as Chris moved away from the hood.

He stayed there on the driveway, watching me as I turned the car around and waving as I drove off until he was out of sight.

I felt exhausted and heavy. There were tears brewing in my eyes as I turned onto the road, just as they had been when I drove these streets on Christmas Eve as I was taking Grayson to dad's house and thinking I would be spending the holidays alone. It was amazing to me how I managed to escape the sad, bleak Christmas that I had been anticipating at that point, and yet still somehow managed to come away feeling just as lonely.

And it was amazing to me that I ever let myself think that raising a child with Chris Evans wouldn't be emotionally draining as long as we weren't in a relationship. At this point, it seemed to just make things harder, but I knew that one day both of them would thank me for the sacrifice I was making right now.

I knew that it was the right decision for all three of us and one little slip up, one lapse in judgment and will power, wouldn't derail all the hard work that Chris and I had put in to co-parenting our son.

Or, at least, I hoped with all my heart that it wouldn't.

[enigmawrappedinhypocrisy]

*Request* Okay. Thanks! Could the reader be in to wrestling and her and barley are best friends? And something happened and they find out they’re falling for each other? And Ian is always teasing the reader? And a kiss at the end? Sorry if it’s a bit confusing.. again thanks!

 Okay I’m not sure how to do this… and I’m not into wrestling… And i’m really bad at this getting things done thing… sooo… I’m sorry, I know this has been in my asks for 100 years. But excuses… And i’m tired of this being in my drafts sooo… However, Hopefully it's decent enough. 

Fandom: Onward

Pairings: Barley x Reader (mention of grandchildren once but nothing that indicates gender... I think...) 

Warnings: Bad writing, Quick Mention of drunk idiots harassing reader, I don’t know a thing about Wrestling, Fluff, very bouncy thoughts... a tiny little bit of almost angst. 

❀✦ Master List✦❀

You met Barley at a wrestling match when a few drunk idiots decided to hassle you. As they tend to do… 

You ran into the first, seemingly safe person you saw. You looked at him with puppy eyes and were grateful he understood your silent plea. 

Barley smiled warmly and put his arm around you. He pretended to be your boyfriend until the guys lost interest in you and left. He made some jokes to lighten the mood and struck up a casual conversation with you, as if you really did know each other. You found yourself amazed and feeling better, it seemed this elf boy radiated security and gentleness.  

Then, with a simple thank you, you’d parted ways; only to run into each other again at the local diner after the match. It was there you had sat and talked well into the early hours of the morning. 

You learned he was interested in many things you were, and you just felt… content around him. By the time you had to part, numbers were exchanged, and he’d texted you before noon that day. 

You began hanging out shortly after that. You were nearly always at each other’s house, and quickly became close with his family. His mother adored you and his brother felt comfortable enough to joke around with you. 

All in all you and Barley were quite close.

But not as close as your family's seemed to think you were… or maybe hope would be more appropriate…  

*

The weekend had finally arrived and you made your way to Barley’s house, as planned, after work.

There was a big wrestling event in the evening and you and Barley had plans to hang out and watch it together. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to spend a lot of time at the Lightfoot house so no one batted an eye when you showed up a little early. 

Ms. Lightfoot welcomed you and let you know that Barley had called saying he'd be a little late, and she was going out with friends. As she was leaving she turned to wink at you telling you, with a knowing look, to have fun. 

You thanked her as you felt your cheeks flush with warmth and made your way to the familiar living room. You didn't mind waiting for Barley, in fact, you'd be willing to wait all night if it meant spending time with him. Not that you would tell him that...

Lost in your thoughts about how dumb and sappy that sounded even in your mind, and the implications therein, you hadn't noticed Barley's brother come in.

You had spent a fair amount of time with both brothers since you’d first met Barley. So by this time Ian was pretty comfortable around you, sometimes even coming to you for help or advice. Especially when it entailed something he might have been too embarrassed about to ask his mother or brother about.  

 Ian had decided to take a break from homework, and get a snack when he found you lost in thought on his couch. When he came back from the kitchen only to find you with the same dazed expression several minutes later he decided to tease you a little. 

"Barley late for date night?" Ian asks, his tone even, leaning against the wall an apple in hand. 

"Yea- wait no! Why would you say that?" You blink taken off guard by the sudden question. 

Ian raises an eyebrow in a ‘really?’ expression. 

“Shut up” you try and fail to keep the blush from your voice. "We're just… eh… hanging out!" You defend a little too enthusiastically. 

“Interesting that’s the part you chose to respond to…” Ian chuckles, before heading back upstairs. If you weren't ready to admit your feelings, who was he to do it for you… besides, this was  far more amusing.

*

It wasn't much longer until Barley arrived home, a little disheveled. The match wasn't due to start for another hour, maybe more depending on how things went, and yet it looked like the elf boy had rushed home. 

Why? 

The only thought that continued to creep into your mind was you… he rushed home to see you. The idea of It warmed your heart, and filled you with a longing. A longing for a potential life where Barley was coming home after work each day to see you. 

He'd find you cooking… reading… working on some project… and kiss you. 

You'd ask him about his day… and he yours. 

You'd share a pleasant dinner and end the night cuddled on the couch… 

You’d be happy… 

Ian's words run on loop in your mind and you don’t notice the way Barley’s face lights up upon seeing you. 

Did Barley think you were dating? That this was a date? 

Did he want it to be? 

Did you? 

You hadn't noticed you were staring until Barley brought attention to it. 

"What?" You jump. 

"I asked why you were looking at me like that?" he gives you his charming little half smile as he repeats, what you assume was, his earlier question. 

"Oh, um… nothing… no reason" you blush and desperately avoid looking at him. 

Barley watches you for a moment, clearly not believing your answer, but gives in with a shrug. 

"I'm just gonna go put my stuff down and get something to drink��� you want something?" He asks. 

"Okay, um… no thanks" you try to sound casual all the while you're incredibly aware of your quickening heartbeat. 

Barley nods before leaving you, calling to you from the kitchen. He asks about your day. You give a non answer in response and ask him about his. 

He goes on to tell you about some funny thing his boss said in response to an irate customer, and soon returns to the living room. He hands you your drink before flopping down next to you. 

You scold him as you nearly spill. Not really realizing he brought you something even though you told him you didn’t need him to… not only that, but it was definitely your favorite… why would he… how… 

"Sorry my love" he smirks, clearly not sorry. 

You roll your eyes giving him a little shove in response to the nickname. He often called you sweet things. Things you previously attributed to his personality or teasing but now they had you wondering.

When he called you those things, sweetheart, darling, dear… was he actually hinting at what he really felt? 

You look at him out of the corner of your eye and quickly squeak noticing he was watching you with an indescribable emotion.

"W-what?" You try to act casual. 

"What's wrong with you?" He asks, blunt and to the point. 

"What do you mean?" You try and play it off, as if your mind wasn’t playing that little game with the levers and ball… and see you can’t even remember what it’s called… and it’s your analogy… 

PINBALL! Your brain was playing pinball… the dinging buzzing things the ball hits against being the sudden and many thoughts… which makes you the ball? Or was the ball the thoughts… bouncing around… there goes the analogy again…  

"You're being all quiet and…” he indicates you vaguely,  “did my mom say something to you? She's been teasing me about grandchildren lately, she didn't say something like that too you did she?" 

Your eyes widen and you suspect Barley didn't mean to let that slip out by the blush now coloring his ears. 

"No… but um… what-what do you tell her when she asks about that kind of stuff?" Yeah super subtle… 

Barley scratches the back of his neck, “I tell her we haven't discussed that…" 

Wait…

"Why would we… Um Barley?" You push away your insecurities, fear that you’d read the situation wrong, and decide to just jump in with both feet. 

Or tip over the machine? Does it work now? The analogy? 

He 'hmms'. 

"Do you think we're dating?" You try to phrase it gently but cringe when you hear yourself. You don’t want to come across rude, like you’re making fun of him… but also don’t wanna let on how much you’re starting to suspect you want him to say yes… 

Barley looks away from you, practically purple at this point. 

"Uh… no of course not…" It sounded small, nervous but... hopeful? 

"Do… do you want to?" you manage to force out, slightly proud of your mostly even tone.

Do you?

You’re still not sure at this point yourself, you’d only just realized the way you feel about the elf boy that was your best friend. Did you want to risk that? What happens if this was just a little puppy attraction, lust thing… and whatever relationship you begin quickly sizzles out? 

Barley is looking at his hands as he nervously fiddles with the zipper of his vest. He bites his lip and tries to avoid your gaze. 

Oh… 

You soften, “It’s okay if you do… I mean… wanna… um…” Now you can’t find the words, which becomes more difficult when Barley looks up at you, hope shining in his eyes. 

“What are you saying?” he prompts, heart pounding in his chest. He hopes you can’t hear it. 

You shift, turning towards him slightly. “Well… if you wanted to maybe go on a date or something…” 

“Yes?” 

“I’d probably be okay with that… I mean… if you want to” you add the last part, now desperately hoping this wasn’t some awful joke. 

Barley smiles, reaching forward to brush a piece of hair from your face. “Do you wanna go on a date with me?” He asks softly, apparently having gained some confidence back. 

You nod, leaning into his touch before you realize you’re doing it. 

“Tomorrow night?” he suggests. 

Again, you nod, not trusting your voice. 

Barley smiles, his attention turning back to the tv. The match was starting soon, the announcers already talking about what they expect to happen. He leans back, his arm resting behind you on the top of the couch. Not an uncommon thing for the elf boy. What was uncommon, however, was you relaxing against his side and how right it felt.

Without a word, perhaps because he wasn’t sure he could trust his voice either, Barley brings his arm down around you, holding you against him. 

If you had the courage yourself to look up at him, you would have seen the flushing upon his cheeks. But either way this was comfortable and you weren’t in a hurry to end it any time soon. 

*

A few hours later Barley's mom returns home. Maaaybe a little drunk which results in her cooing loudly when she finds you and Barley asleep and cuddling on the couch. 

This, and her half stumbling up the stairs, manages to rouse you and Barley from your comfortable nap.

Barley yawns, and slowly gets to his feet. 

"Come on, I'll drive you home" he offers another yawn soon follows.

"Don't worry, I can drive myself" you stretch, not really pleased with the idea of making the trip home yourself.

"You're too tired- not safe" Barley half murmurs. 

"You're too tired" you retort. 

"You should stay here… on the couch… or I can take the couch" he stumbles over his words. 

You nod in agreement flopping back on the couch. When Barley doesn't leave you raise a brow in question. 

"I was just thinking…" he shuffles from one foot to the other.

You watch him with patient eyes, now a little more alert. You'd let him say what he needed, when he needed not wanting to rush him. 

"I mean… if I don't drive you home I can't kiss you goodbye…" 

His ears were a dark maroon by now and you can't keep the smile from your eyes. His sweetness, his bashfulness, just how God damn cute he was. And most of all… how much you wanted to kiss his pink tinted face. 

So you did. 

You stood, quicker than he could react, grabbed his face on either side, and brought his lips to yours. After a moment of shock Barley’s arms come around you, keeping you too him. 

You can't say for sure if the head rush you felt was from the kiss or standing too suddenly, but you chose to think it was the kiss as you give him several more little pecks before eventually breaking apart with a yawn. 

"Better?" You ask, your head falling forward to lean against his shoulder. 

Barley nods before pulling back, calling a good night to you, and hurrying to his room. 

You chuckle softly before flopping once again on the couch… there'd be time tomorrow to deal with all this… but for now… sleep was calling and the old couch was far too inviting… 

*And that’s all folks*

[salandition]

Its,,,,, so basic but Maybe Leon and Reader are training out near Circhester and get caught in a snowstorm? They find an old cabin amongst the trees and tHeReS OnLy OnE BED and they have to keep warm,,,, (Love your writing btw)

A/N: yes, the classic trope. I will gladly take a bite out of it :) Also this one kind of really dragged on, so it’s a bit long lol took me way too long to finish. if any of you recognize the title, ur a real one 

Chilly Down (Good Times, Bad Food)

Leon x Reader

--- --- ---

You feel like you should have expected something like this to happen. Despite what a great guy Leon is and how fun it is to hang out with him, he was sort of a magnet for trouble. He had an ability to draw in unfortunate events wherever he went it seemed. 

So you’re not completely surprised when you and Leon are hit with an unexpected snowstorm while training together outside of Circhester. Are you a bit miffed about it? Yes. But surprised? No, not really. 

“Training with the Champion is great and all,” you yell over the storm, one arm in front of your face to uselessly protect you from the snow, and your other hand is holding tightly onto Leon’s. Grabbing hold of him was almost more important than making it out of the storm- if you lost sight of Leon during this, you might never see him ever again. He’d find some way to end up on an undiscovered continent, you just know it. “But I think I’ll pass on your invitations after this!” You finally finish, continuing to trudge through the snow with him. 

“You know, usually I’d argue, but I think that’s fair,” Leon laughs, and then immediately shuts his mouth as a rush of cold air hits him and tries to travel down his throat. He hacks a few times- a few ice crystals probably hit his uvula or something- and then you feel a harsh tug on your hand. “Look!” 

Leon points toward a dim but very much real yellow glow in the distance. Immediately, the two of you head for it- desperate for any shelter you could be given. Part of you was doubtful, wondering if it was just some luminescent Pokémon or a random streetlight. Though even a streetlight would be better than nothing- that would mean you were back on the route’s path and could find your way back to Circhester if you were lucky. 

But it wasn’t a random streetlight. Thank whatever Gods that may exist- the light was coming from a big, sturdy wooden cabin, a sign being viciously blown by the wind read that it was even a hotel. What are the odds? 

“This is literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Leon yells as you both make a run for the cabin. 

“I believe it!” 

You almost fall with the amount of force that you and Leon enter the cabin with- both frantic to get out of the biting cold. You actually do fall, tumbling into a roll on the ground and snow scattering everywhere as Leon fumbles for the door and slams it shut before you bring too much of the storm inside. 

Heavily breathing, you don’t even notice the lady behind the counter before she coughs. 

Leon looks up with a beaming grin, laughing as he huffs and puffs, leaning against the door. “Hell of a storm, innit?” 

Not the smartest thing to say, but the lady gives out an amused snort anyway. 

“I’m assuming the two of you will be purchasing a room?” She tilts her head with a gleam in her eye. Something tells you that business isn’t going so well if she’s working in a hotel in the middle of nowhere and she’s still charging when you’re both obviously stranded- but hey, that’s life. You look up to Leon as you stay on the floor, hands on your chest as you continue to try and catch your breath. 

“Let me see,” you huff and wheeze, “those Champion benefits,” another huff, “big guy.” 

It’s not that funny but Leon laughs so hard that he starts to slide down the door, knees buckling beneath him, and you think that’s really funny so you start laughing too, rolling on the floor. The lady watches all the while, and if you notice a flying Rotom recording you while you and Leon lose your minds over nothing, you don’t say anything about it. 

Once Leon manages to shuffle over and pay the woman at the desk after your post-adrenaline delirium, she gladly shows you over to your room. You’re suddenly feeling exhausted after trudging through a snowstorm, so you don’t pay much attention to what she says as she leads you there- but it’s not like you need to. Leon does most of the talking as he keeps you steady with an arm around your shoulder. 

You don’t notice the look the woman gives you, nor do you notice the look Leon gives back. All you feel is the comforting rub of his hand on your arm, and it’s nice. 

“Enjoy your stay, you two,” is the only thing you pick up from her before the door is shut and you’re left alone in your newly-purchased hotel room.

There’s an important detail here, and that detail is the fact that there’s only one bed, and you’ve never shared a bed with Leon before. Sure, you’re friends, but you’ve never been the cuddling-type of friends. This detail is completely missed by both of you as luck would have it because as soon as you and Leon manage to remove your clothes, you’re out like a pair of lights the second your backs hit the mattress. 

No, the problem and important detail doesn’t really announce itself in your mind until morning comes. Well- afternoon, actually, if you managed to look at a clock. 

When you awake- at first, it’s not strange. It’s not strange until you recognize the hand around your waist, hair in your face, and legs entwined with yours- which is definitely not something that’s a usual occurrence for you. Recognizing all of these details, your eyes snap open, and you begin to take in the situation as it is. 

Leon and you both stripped down to your underwear, definitely cuddling, and definitely in the only bed available in the room as far as you can see. And from what you can tell with how the walls shake and the windows vibrate, the storm is still going strong. 

Right. 

“Leon,” your voice is hoarse from sleep as you smack your lips, your hand lifting up to shake Leon’s arm that’s wrapped tightly around your waist. “Leon, you daft idiot, wake up,” 

“Mmmgh,”

“I’ll… I’ll steal all your Pokémon, and run off to another country. Wake up, Leon.” The threat is creative, but lacking any real malice behind it as you continue to shake Leon’s body. A few more rough shakes and he finally blinks his eyes open. 

“Where… where am I?” He mumbles almost incoherently as he blinks a few more times, lifting himself up on his elbows as he takes in his surroundings. A bit of drool falls from the corner of his mouth. 

It’s kind of cute, but also kind of gross, and Leon is still kind of on top of you in nothing but his underwear. You begin to wonder if he’s ever going to notice- but finally, his expression seems to come to life as his mind wakes up and he looks up and down your body again. 

“...Right. Yeah, my bad.” Grunting, Leon finally rolls off you and to the other side of the bed. You want to laugh at the pinkness of his ears and cheeks if you weren’t vividly aware you probably looked exactly the same, so you bite your tongue for now. Apparently, the both of you have agreed to ignore your partial nudity for now as Leon holds his head in his hands, keeping his gaze off you as he asks, “why on Galar am I so tired?” 

“Maybe we were supposed to die,” you snicker, sitting up yourself and bringing up the covers as you do, trying to stay somewhat-modest. “And now our brains are realizing we’re actually alive and it doesn’t know what to do.” 

Despite himself, Leon giggles. “Yeah, maybe.” 

The window shakes from more pressure of the storm outside. It gets your attention for sure, and you realize that you should probably check your phone to see when this storm would even end. Very, very slowly, you shuffle out of bed, analyzing the floor and looking at how scattered your clothes are. It takes your tired mind a minute to find your bag, but when you do, it’s not good news. 

Of course there’s no service. 

“Ugh,” you groan again. “This sucks.” 

“Put on some clothes,” Leon says from the bed and you roll your eyes.

“They’re drenched, mate, and so are yours,”

Leon’s head snaps up from his hands at that. “Really?” You’ve got no reason to lie about that but he scatters toward his clothes anyway, feeling the damp and dirty texture of them with his own hands, as if that would change their outcome. You’re definitely not checking out his butt as he bends over to pick them up, because that would be silly and childish. 

Very nice view, though. 

Leon sighs. “Of course. Don’t suppose this hotel has a store of any sort?” 

“Good one,” you laugh. “Probably not, but I’ll check the bathroom for robes-“

“Oh, let me do it,”

“Why?”

“I’ve really got to pee, mate,” 

“Right on, then,” you point him toward the direction of the bathroom and Leon immediately makes himself sparse. You can only laugh as you watch him go, and while you wait, you gather all of your wet clothes and start to hang them all around the room so they might dry while you wait out the storm. 

“Good news,” Leon comes out of the bathroom and you look over your shoulder, seeing him hold up two white, fluffy robes. He tosses one your way and you catch it easily, wrapping yourself up quickly and Leon follows suit. “So, roomie,” Leon raises a brow at you, hands on his hips, “what do we do now?”

You wave your phone that’s in your hand. “We got no service, so we should probably check in with that lady who was at the desk if she knows anything about the weather reports.” Your eyes move to look at the bed. “And maybe you should talk her into changing us to a room with two beds.” For both of your sakes. 

“Right,” Leon nods. “Let’s go, then.”

More bad news, though. The lady didn’t know anything about the weather other than the fact that these storms usually lasted a day or two, so, in her own words, ‘if you’re lucky, you won’t be here much longer, but I can’t assure that. Also, you’re charged per night, per room.’ 

And all the rooms in this shotty little hotel only had one bed, so the idea of getting privacy at night was a lost cause. You weren’t the biggest fan of wasting your money or Leon’s on two rooms, anyway, especially since the owner seemed to be somewhat rude. So that’s nice. 

‘At least she had food’, Leon had told you positively, and you suppose he was right. She had a rather weak list of a menu, but ‘at least there was a menu’ so you wouldn’t have to eat whatever berries you had in your bag. The two of you seemed to dance around the fact that you were going to most likely be sleeping partly nude again tonight, except this time you’ll both be a lot more awake and conscious of it. You distracted yourself with the mediocre food that tasted mildly burnt or undercooked, no in-between, and playing with what Pokémon could fit in your small hotel room instead until both of your eyes were drooping and you couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. 

“So.” You stand on one side of the bed, Leon on the other. Both of you stare at each other with your hands on your hips. 

“So,” Leon nods. 

“Should we… make rules?” Looking down at the bed and up at Leon, you know that technically you guys could try to stay on your side of the bed and probably not touch each other all night. 

But you were keenly aware that this man is a cuddler and you had a subconscious habit to scoot over to the warmest thing while you slept, so it seemed like physical interaction was going to happen one way or the other.

“I think that’s a bit pretentious,” he scratches his chin and shrugs. His nonchalance is downplayed by the heat on his cheeks and the sweat on his temple. “It’s fine if we… Cuddle. Right?” 

You suppose so. “I guess,” you purse your lips. “Typically friends cuddle with clothes on, though. And these robes are too awkward to sleep in.” 

“I mean, we did it before.” 

That’s true, but again, both of you were a bit delirious. But you can’t really argue with that, and you’re getting tired of dancing, so you nod and sigh. With a burst of courage, you square your shoulders, narrowing your eyes. Leon looks at you strangely before he squawks, his hands flying to cover his face when you remove your robe, the material falling and pooling around your feet. 

“Some warning!” He chokes and coughs. You laugh through your embarrassment, quickly getting on the bed and under the covers. 

“Come on. We could be sitting here all night. Lose the robe,” you cheer him on and Leon glares at you through the spaces of his fingers. “Lose the robe! Lose the robe!” 

“Stop!” He laughs and you giggle along, but it slowly ebbs and abruptly comes to a halt when Leon does, in fact, lose the robe. It’s too much to ask for him to not notice how you stare, so of course he does- humming proudly as he snuggles under the covers. “Speechless?” Leon smiles. 

“Don’t push it, I saw you ogling me the first time,” 

He coughs when you smirk. 

“Fine. Come here and cuddle me if you’re so smart.”

“Fine, I will!”

“Do it.”

“I’m gonna.”

The two of you lay under the covers, Leon’s arms open and beckoning, and you- frozen, not moving an inch. It’s not until he gives you a cocky look and starts to wiggle forward that you finally bite your lip and shove down your ego, rolling over to his side. It should be awkward, and it is, but only because the two of you somehow manage to fit together perfectly and that’s a bit odd. Your head resting against his collarbone, his arms wrapped snugly around your body, your legs entwined in a comfortable and fitting manner. It all happens almost instantaneously as if you’d both done this for years, as if it was a habit.

“Not that bad, right?” Leon murmurs in your ear and hums when your fingers trail little patterns across the skin of his waist and back. You mostly just did it to ease your nerves, not realizing how intimate the action was, but you figure it’s fine if Leon seems to like it. His hands explore your hair and the nape of your neck, the feeling making you curl further against him with a sigh. 

“Not bad,” you whisper. “Still odd.”

He hums but doesn’t prod the conversation along any further.

Several odd minutes pass, your breathing slowing as your body relaxes against Leon’s. Right as you find yourself on that warm, lulling cusp of falling asleep, there’s a brushing feeling against the top of your head. Leon’s body shuffles and lowers on the mattress and you’re about to whine a complaint about him moving around so much- but you’re silenced by the feeling of lips against your forehead. 

The hand that was previously teasing the skin of your neck trailed up and lightly grazed your cheek as Leon’s lips moved across your forehead to your brow. The actions are relaxing, yes, but your body tenses regardless because friends don’t do this. 

“Leon,” your whisper is like a shout compared to the dark silence in the room. Leon freezes up instantly at the sound of it and when you open your eyes, his head is angled in a way with his lips still pressed against your temple so you can’t see his expression. “...What are you doing?” You lick your lips nervously.

“...I thought you were sleeping.” Is all he has to say. You can’t say anything in reply to that because it’s fairly obvious to the both of you that no, you weren’t sleeping. “Um.” The air that leaves his mouth is hot against your skin.

From where your head rests, snug against his chest, you can almost feel the thundering pace of his heart more than you hear it. You idly wonder if it’s possible for hearts to beat in sync with one another. 

“Leon,” you say again when he doesn’t offer any explanation. He sucks in a shaky breath, his arm propping up from under him as he finally comes into your field of view; his eyes downcast and refusing to meet yours as he scoots away from you and lays his head back on his pillow. His hand lowers from your cheek down to your waist, touching your skin and then jolting back and insecurely moving against his chest, instead. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, “that was a bit creepy.” 

You remember the feeling of his heartbeat, and you don’t think that’s creepy at all. 

You reach your hand forward, tenderly cupping Leon’s jaw as he had done to you. Finally, he looks at you- his golden irises shining like glowflies in the darkness. The moment held between you now is a stark contrast to the harsh snowstorm outside- if you strain your ear, you’d be able to hear the whistling of the wind and the creaking of the trees. 

For now, all you can hear is your heart in your ears and the voice in your head saying kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. 

You’re aware that friends don’t do this. They don’t look at each other like this and they don’t press their lips against each other so softly- meekly. Lovingly. Maybe if you’re experimenting, maybe if you’re a different type of friend. But you and Leon aren’t like that, you’ve never been like that. 

So if things are different now, that’s something that’s a treasured secret between you, him, and the snow. 

[scabopolis]

Ummm because my brain could never come up with something as genius as yours, I will ask—nay, BEG—for more LoVe Vampire AU from Day 1 AU week.

Title: do not engage (part two of this little ficlet) Rating: PG-13 (some swears…because girl is still stressed) Pairing: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars, Additional Tags: Secret identity, vaguely vampire hunter related things, filed under: relationship obstacles, sharing of bagels, vampire Logan is probably far too schmoopy, tried to write angst but whooops I think it's fluff? Word Count: 1,800

For you, dear, @ayy-ohh? Anything. This one really got me stuck because...like...world building? What is that? And would vampires eat bagels? And why DOES Logan have a cell in his basement? So many questions. Anyway! Here it is! *** That she can’t remember ever seeing Logan Echolls in the daylight should have been Veronica’s first clue.

It’s just, given the nocturnal demands of her profession and thus her morning grumpiness, it was easy to miss. Easy to be grateful for. Easy to be relieved that Logan wasn’t like her college boyfriend—the kind of guy who insisted they wake up at 6:00 AM to go running and felt a day spent inside with the shades drawn was a day wasted.

There were, of course, other clues she missed.

Weirdly cryptic statements and obfuscations. (Given she was also prone to said crypticism, she didn’t press for fear he’d do the same.) His reticence towards beach days. (It seemed logical! Who doesn’t hate dodging tourists?) The weird way he’d linger at doorways of unfamiliar houses. (Again, given her own antipathy to socializing, his hesitation was something she understood.)

In retrospect, given that not pressing Logan on his vague answers landed her here—in a weird cell gnawing at the ropes her ex-boyfriend tied tightly around her wrists—she supposes she should have tried harder. She hears Logan’s footsteps on the stairs into the basement but doesn’t stop her attempt to undo the knots.

“I hope you have a good dental plan,” Logan says. She rolls her eyes and continues to work at the strands with her teeth. “Is there even a vampire hunter’s union? Might be something worth looking into. Though, given the general mistrust the position requires, electing a president might prove tricky.”

“God, staking you would have at least gotten you to shut up.”

“But then there’s the crushing guilt.”

“I would have managed.”

Do not engage. In the 36-ish hours she’s been in this cell, that’s been her motto. The secret to coping with the fact that your boyfriend is a vampire and that you and your dad are vampire hunters is to remain detached and cold.

Except it hasn’t been easy. Because her wrists hurt, she smells bad, and oh yeah, apparently she’s not as out of love with the bloodthirsty monster wearing the hell out of a henley and holding a bag of takeout as she thought.

“I got bagels,” he says.

As soon as he says it, the scent of cinnamon raisin wafts from the bag. He doesn’t wait for her to stand; simply slips the paper bag containing her bagel through the bars and slides it to her. Much like he’s done for their previous shared meals, he sits on the ground a safe distance from her and settles into eating his own.

She tears the paper bag and sees that not only has Logan brought her a bagel, he’s also brought her some sort of sandwich and a chocolate chip cookie. God. What an asshole.

What is his endgame here? If he wanted to kill her, he would have done it by now. It’s only a matter of time until her dad begins to question whatever story Logan texted him from her phone. Her dad will show up and he will have questions. What will Logan say then?

“What will I say to who?” Logan asks.

Shit. Detachment is also easier when inside thoughts remain inside thoughts. “No one.”

“If you’re talking about your dad, he’s out of town for the rest of the week.���

She concentrates on the pattern of the cinnamon swirl laced throughout her breakfast. “What do you mean?”

“According to the text he sent you last night, he had to go to Vegas. Vampire gambling ring of some sort?”

“You’re lying.”

“Takes a liar to know a liar.”

Veronica rolls her eyes and takes a large bite of her bagel, surveying the interior of her holding cell. And yes, fine, she technically has a policy of not engaging with the pointy fanged one, but she has questions.

“What is the point of having a cell in your basement? Is it for weird sex stuff? Or weird vampire stuff?”

“Who says those two things are mutually exclusive?”

She rolls her eyes. “Spare me, please. I’m eating.”

“I’ll tell you but you won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“My friend, Mac?” He extends his legs out in front of him. “Once a month, this is her guest suite.”

Veronica frowns. “For weird sex stuff?”

He raises an eyebrow in amusement which, fair, she should probably stop using the phrase weird sex stuff.

Wait. Is he saying—?

“Logan,” she says carefully, “is Mac a werewolf?” He nods, and Veronica’s bagel drops to the floor. “Could you be more of a vampiric cliche? Honestly! Does a zombie do your taxes? Does a ghoul trim your hedges?”

“I trim my own hedges, thank you very much.”

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or it might be the remaining vestiges of adrenaline leaving her body, but Veronica laughs. Just a little bit. At best it’s a chuckle. Still, it’s enough to make Logan smile in that way he sometimes does—like he can’t believe his luck that he even gets to be in the same room as Veronica. It makes something feel heavy and uncomfortable in the pit of her stomach. Do not engage.

“You really didn’t know?” she asks.

Logan’s answer with a slow nod. “I didn’t know.”

“Then how—?”

“It wasn’t an ambush, Veronica.” He pinches off a small piece of his bagel. (Sourdough, she guesses. Probably with jalapeno cream cheese because the man added jalapenos to everything.) She watches as Logan rolls the bread between his fingers. “The date was real but one of Dick’s friends recognized you somehow.”

“You were the one who threw me into a tree.”

“Yeah, and as far as they know, you’re dead. As far as they know, I was so enraged a vampire hunter tricked me that I took you home to finish you off.”

“Which means if you let me go—”

“They’ll know I lied.” He shrugs. “Either they kill me or your dad does. This way you’re safe.”

“Logan—”

“Sorry,” he says. “You called dibs on the killing?”

“Poor little vamp with a death wish.” She doesn’t mean for it to sound so fond. What is wrong with her?

The corner of his mouth twitches with a fleeting smile. There’s a ticking clock on their time together and now they both know it.

“I’ve never seen a vampire eat as much food as you,” she says.

He sets his bagel aside. “Dine with a lot of vampires?”

“Enough to know you eating that bagel is like me eating a bag of sour gummies.”

“Meaning?”

“You might like the taste of a lightly toasted sesame bagel, but an hour later you need to puncture the carotid artery of a single mother to really satisfy yourself.”

“You know sesame seeds get caught in my teeth. And single mothers come with too much guilt.”

“Hedge fund managers?”

“Now you’re talking.”

Veronica has questions, of course she does. More questions than she can properly express—wonders how old he is, who turned him, who gets him blood and how, why he’s friends with Dick Casablancas, if Logan is safe with Dick as a friend—but she doesn’t ask any of those. Because he asks the most important question first.

“What are we going to do, Veronica?”

She stands up, brushes cinnamon raisin crumbs off of her pants. (She catches a whiff of her unshowered self and cringes. So much for their farewell existing as a perfectly preserved memory in the mind of her undead ex-boyfriend.) “There’s no we, Logan. There can’t be.”

He can’t let her go, he can’t keep her locked up, and she can’t stay.

Logan pushes himself up off the ground and comes to meet her at the bars to the cell. “Yeah.”

“First, you’re going to let me out of here.” She wraps her hands around the bars. Logan does just like she’d hoped and does the same, his pinkies barely grazing her knuckles. “And then I never want to see you ever again.”

“That’s what you want?”

God. What a fucking idiot. Of course that isn’t what she wants. What she wants is to go back two days. To return to that night when Logan made pancakes for dinner, and they got drunk on rum and cokes, and then he kissed down her spine as they lay in bed.

She nods anyway. Presses her head against the bars.

“Fine.” Veronica squeezes her eyes shut. “If you ever need anything?” She nods again and she feels the gentle touch of Logan’s lips to her forehead. How is he always so warm? It never made sense.

“I won’t.”

And then, much to her surprise, he walks away. Without letting her out.

She opens her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” he says, a portrait of portrait insouciance once more. “You didn’t expect me to let you go now did you? What if this show of emotion is a long con? I could wake up to find you standing over my body poised to pull back my black out shades.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Nighty night, Veronica.”

Logan doesn’t return to the basement and eventually she falls into a fitful sleep, waking up sometime before the sun rises. She definitely needs to pee and she’s so sick of the ‘toilet’ in her cell. Logan should still be awake. Maybe if she yells really—

Finishing that thought proves to be unnecessary because as soon as Veronica’s eyes adjust to the dim light, she notices the door to her cell is ajar. She’s barely thinking as she jumps from the bed and races up the stairs.

“Logan!” she calls out.

Her first stop is the kitchen, where she maneuvers a knife in between the strands of the ropes around her wrists and works to free herself. Her cell phone is waiting for her on the wireless charger Logan keeps in the kitchen. No messages from her dad, but she sends one to check in. She rubs at the tender skin on her wrists as she searches each room of Logan’s house.

As far as she can tell, there isn’t much missing. Some of his toiletries are gone (her toothbrush is still beside the sink) and she thinks maybe some of his clothes too. His motorcycle is still in the garage but the BMW is gone.

So. That’s it? He’s just gone? What about his house? There’s a housing crisis in southern California and this asshole thinks it’s acceptable to simply abandon a perfectly good home? He didn’t even leave a note.

It’s really the irresponsibility that—

Her call rings through to his voicemail. Rolls her eyes at the Dylan Thomas quote that greets her. That’s new.

“If you think I’m watering your plants for you while you’re gone, you are completely delusional.”

He responds while she’s in the shower. (What? She’s really supposed to put up with shitty water pressure at her place when he has a rain shower and heated bathroom tiles?)

Miss me already?

She responds with a garlic emoji.

[jackrrabbit]

practice makes perfect /// Mitsuri x f!Reader (18+)

Request: Hey! I read your Shinobu NSFW thing. I was wondering if you could write a Mitsuri NSFW thing but not as intense? Like Mitsuri and her female S/o are cuddling and things get a really steamy so they start kissing and fingering each other? Please and thank you!

A/N: REPOSTING because when I posted this a few hours ago it was glitching and not showing up in tags and stuff :( sorry to anyone who has already seen it!

I love Mitsuri and I get so few f/f reqs so ty for the request 💕 Y’all know idk how to write true vanilla so this is a little more spicy (Mitsuri and reader are not in an established relationship), but I made it soft just for you anon

Summary: When the most popular girl in school offers to help you practice kissing, it’s not like you’re going to say no.

Tags/warnings: inexperienced reader, femme preppy Mitsuri, she’s a little soft dom? like just a tiny bit, mild orgasm control, fluffy smut, crushes, modern high school AU, heteronormativity, reader thinks she’s straight lmao, all characters are adults

Okay, Mitsuri isn’t just the queen bee of your school. She’s also the prettiest girl you’ve ever met. It shouldn’t be possible for a person to be that beautiful, much less fair—what was god thinking when he gave her that pink and green hair that would look clownish on anyone but her? Those thick, dark eyelashes framing eyes you feel like you could drown in? Those long, perfect legs?

(Not that you stare at her legs or something. It’s just—your school uniform skirts are kind of short, and she always wears those striped thigh-highs, and she sits next to you in senior Biology and sometimes she stretches her legs out in the aisle between your desks and flexes them while she sighs during long lectures, and seriously, her legs are perfect.)

Mitsuri is the kind of girl who gets asked out by a different guy every other day. She has a fan club. Boys write Mr. _____ Kanroji in their notebooks, circle it with hearts, and fantasize about marrying her. She has more ex-boyfriends than you have Facebook friends. So you’re really sure why, somehow, you two have become…close?

If you have to, you can trace your friendship back to that Biology class. The teacher has a bad habit of cold-calling students for answers to questions, which makes him pretty unpopular. You’ve gotten used to it over the months, deciding that rebelling is a less productive method of dealing with it than just making sure to review the textbook chapters at least twice before every class, but apparently Mitsuri isn’t quite as familiar with the material.

When the teacher calls on her (a bit vindictively, you think, probably because she’s chewing pink bubblegum and drawing cherry blossoms in the composition book she’s supposed to be taking notes in) to ask her something about determining whether an organism’s life cycle exhibits zygotic, gametic, or sporic meiosis, she just gapes blankly back at him.

You feel sorry for her. It’s always painful to watch when someone can’t answer a question in class—you might be a fairly good student, but you still sympathize with how embarrassing it is to be put on the spot like that. The teacher refuses to move on, repeating her name and prodding her until her face is flushed bright pink and her lower lip is trembling. You’re not trying to pity her, but you can’t help it, and before you can think better of it you’re writing ‘compare diploid and haploid forms’ in the corner of your notebook and surreptitiously sliding it her way.

After the class, she pulls you aside in the hallway to thank you, eyes bright, telling you you’re so smart and kind and thoughtful and wondering how come she’s never talked to you before. “What a waste! We sat next to each other all semester, and I’m only getting to know you now.”

No wonder she’s popular. Her exuberance is infectious, like her good mood is seeping into your skin from her hand wrapped around yours. Mitsuri isn’t just pretty, she’s the kind of person who makes you feel good about herself just by being near her.

You’re about 100% sure that’s the last time the two of you will talk (unless she needs help with Bio homework and decides you’re the best candidate to get answers from). But it’s not. Mitsuri insists on treating you to boba after class—you try to deny her but she refuses to hear it and you can’t say no to her when she looks at you with those pretty jade-chip eyes. You get milk tea with black tapioca pearls swimming in caramelized fried sugar; her drink is jasmine rose fruit tea with tiny cubes of green apple floating at the top. “It looks like your hair,” you tell her, motioning toward the pink-and-green drink.

“Really?” Mitsuri’s cheeks turn red, which you notice is a frequent occurrence for her. “That’s why I got it. Isn’t it cute? I love how pretty all of the drinks are at this teahouse.”

The two of you split a little matcha cake. And then a vanilla taro cake. And then Mitsuri orders sweet potato fries and gyoza and fried chicken and shrimp tempura and wow, this girl can eat. “I kind of have a big appetite,” she tells you shyly some time around her fourth order of hanami dango. “Sorry, is it weird?”

“Not at all! It’s cute,” you blurt out, and then immediately cover your mouth. Cute? Where did that come from? That’s not the kind of thing you’re supposed to be saying to a girl you barely even know, or is it? Maybe you’re overthinking this. Mitsuri is so beautiful it’s hard to think straight around her.

You’re so busy staring down at your lap and blushing that you don’t notice she’s doing the same thing.

Mitsuri seems to take that teashop date hangout as permission to pursue a full-fledged friendship with you. Before you know it, she’s inviting herself over to your house after school, dragging you to cafés and picnics to study together on the weekends, and begging you to sit with her at lunch. Her other friends don’t seem thrilled at your being her favorite new playmate, but she doesn’t mind it so you try not to, either.

Like right now. It’s a weekend, and she’s decided that her house is going to be the setting for an overnight Bio study session slash sleepover in anticipation of the test you have coming up. You’re scouring the textbook for an answer at her desk while Mitsuri lies on her stomach on her bed with her feet kicked up behind her and crossed at the ankles. Graded quizzes are spread out in an arc around her on the cotton candy-colored duvet, and the sparkly gel pen she’s using to write flash cards is poking out of the corner of her mouth. With her fair skin barely covered by a tank top and shorts, loose hair flowing over her back, and dark brows furrowed in concentration, she looks like the centerfold of a teen magazine from the 90s.

I bet guys have wet dreams about her, you think. Then you shut down that line of thinking, shut it all the way down because you’re not supposed to be thinking these things about a female friend, no matter how pretty she is or how glossy her lips look even though she’s just wearing chapstick or how good she smells (like strawberries? honey? or whatever sweet she ate last, you’re not sure). But you can’t quite tamp down the feeling that you’ve stumbled on some unbelievable luck to get close to her.

You’re not the only one having trouble focusing on your studies. “I’m done with this!” Mitsuri exclaims, throwing down her pen so it makes a stray line on the quiz she was reviewing before it bounces off the bed. “I’m so tired of studying, aren’t you? If I learn another thing about cell division my brain is going to explode. Can’t we take a break?”

“Sure, if you want to get another 43%. Didn’t your dad say he’s going to stop paying your snack food fund if you fail one more exam?”

Her pink mouth drops open. “Hey! That’s not fair, I didn’t tell you that to use it against me. Be nice.”

But after a second, Mitsuri’s pout turns into a giggle. She hooks her foot around the stem of the office chair you’re sitting in and pulls it toward the bed along with you. “Come on! Let’s talk about love. Do you have a crush?”

You roll your eyes but relent, sliding off the chair and onto the big, fluffy bed next to Mitsuri. You can always get back to reviewing after you take a short break, right? She gathers up the quizzes and notecards and dumps them unceremoniously on the nightstand by her bed to make space for you, all too eager to stop thinking about Bio.

“I don’t have a crush,” you tell her.

“Really? There’s no one you think is cute? No one you want to get to know a little better?”

Well…if that’s what she means… You glance sideways at her. There’s definitely someone you think is cute who you want to get to know better. She doesn’t have to know it’s her—not that you have a crush on her; that would be ridiculous.

If she’s going to get that excited about your potential crush, how are you supposed to tell her you don’t have one? You’ll just have to pretend, for her sake. “I guess there’s someone. I wouldn’t call it love, but…”

Long black lashes flutter up at you as Mitsuri blinks. “Oh my gosh, who is it?”

“It’s a secret,” you say quickly.

“Aww, but I wanna know who you have a crush on!” She scooches closer to you and pokes you gently in the side. “Do I know him? Is he a senior? What does he look like? What do you like about him?”

“Um yeah, you know…him. He’s a senior but you’ll never—seriously never guess who it is, so don’t even try. He’s…really good-looking, I don’t know. He has nice hair…and, um, nice legs. And he…” you trail off, wondering what you can say about your secret ‘crush’ that won’t tip Mitsuri off that you’re talking about her.

“…I like him. He talks a lot but you can tell he cares about what you’re saying when he’s listening to you. He’s kind of dreamy and self-conscious about dumb things but it just makes me like him more.”

Was that too much? Mitsuri is looking into your eyes in pure rapture, holding onto every word you say. Are you being obvious? But—no way. She’s so loved by guys that she’d never even suspect that a girl could like her too.

Not that you like her. Not like that, at least.

After a moment when you feel your heart beating so deeply that you’re sure she can hear it too, she smiles sweetly and pinches your cheek. “You’re really pretty when you’re talking about your crush, (Y/N). You look like a maiden.”

You bite your lip, not sure whether to be embarrassed or flattered. If any other girl as beautiful as Mitsuri called you pretty, you’d think they were being insincere, but she’s not like that. Her genuine affection shines through in everything she does. If you’re pretty, she’s Helen of Troy.

“What do you mean, ‘a maiden’?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” Mitsuri says, tracing invisible hearts into her bedspread with a fingertip. “You just look…innocent somehow? Like this is your first love.”

You duck down, blushing.

“Wait, really?” She sits up and easily flips you over onto your back (sometimes you forget that a decade of cheerleading has made her at least a dozen times as strong as you are) so she can blink brightly at you. “This is your first love? Ooh…”

“Is that so weird?” you ask a little defensively. “I don’t get a lot of crushes.”

“No, it’s not weird! It’s cute,” Mitsuri says. “But aren’t you nervous? What if you fall in love with him and you guys start dating and you don’t know how to do anything?”

“Do what?”

“You know. Like, kissing and stuff. Aren’t you worried that you’ll have your first kiss with him and he’ll be like, ‘oh my gosh, you can’t even kiss, I don’t like you anymore’.”

“No one would say that,” you reply, but the scenario does strike a pang of anxiousness in your heart. You’ve always been too focused on school and friends and family to bother worrying about love, but the truth is you have worried about the fact that you’re soon going to be a high school graduate who has never so much as kissed another person on the lips.

“You have no idea,” Mitsuri sighs. “Boys are so mean. But I can’t believe you haven’t had your first kiss!”

“That’s rude,” you say, wrinkling your nose.

She flaps her hands in the air frantically. “No, no I didn’t mean it like that! Sorry! I just meant I can’t believe you’ve never had a boyfriend when you’re so pretty and nice. The boy who locks you down is going to feel super lucky that he gets to take all of your firsts.”

You sit up next to Mitsuri and lean back on her cushioned headboard. “I don’t care about that. Honestly, I’d rather have some practice before I get involved with anyone.”

A beat passes. Then— “Really? You want practice?”

You shrug. “I mean, I guess? But it’s not like I can just pick up some random guy and tell him to let me practice kissing.”

Mitsuri cocks her head to the side and long pink fringe falls away from her face. “You don’t need to do that. Just practice with me.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” What, is she going to give you tips on tongue technique or something?

“…Like this,” Mitsuri says softly—and then her delicate hand is stroking up the side of your jaw and carding into your hair, tilting your head to face hers and pulling you closer. She hesitates before she makes contact, looking in your eyes as if to confirm are you okay with this? But (maybe because you’re caught off guard, maybe because you think you do need the practice, or maybe because that angelic strawberry-honey smell is way too intoxicating up close) you don’t stop her, and she leans in and completes the kiss.

It’s soft. Smells sweet. Tastes sweeter.

Mitsuri’s lips are velvety and glossy-damp moving against yours. The scent you thought was honey is really honeysuckle—there’s a fresh floral quality to the taste as her lip balm is transferred from her mouth to yours.

The kiss only lasts a few seconds, but by the time she lifts back from you your lips are tingling. You cover your mouth with your hand like a damsel from a Victorian-era novel and stare wide-eyed at her.

“How was that? Your first kiss?”

“I—um, I liked it I think?”

Mitsuri smiles at you and it’s like a ray of sunlight falling down through a break in the clouds. “Yay! I’m glad.”

The two of you sit in silence for a second, and you wonder what you’re supposed to do now. Go back to studying? You’re not sure you’re capable of that when you feel like she’s…still kissing you. It hasn’t quite hit you yet that this is your first kiss—something special, something you’ll never forget. The feeling of Mitsuri kissing you is going to be written on your heart for the rest of your life.

What have I done? you think, but it’s not condemnatory. It’s a question, maybe neutral, maybe hopeful.

“Come on, come here,” Mitsuri says. “You need a little more practice.”

And then she’s kissing you again, all the while pulling you closer, closer, into her lap. She breaks the kiss just long enough to murmur to you to open your mouth. When you do, her tongue slips in, prodding gently between your lips and sliding up against yours. It’s a weird feeling—you can’t say with certainty that it feels good, but it doesn’t feel bad, either. It feels like something you could get used to.

This kiss is longer and deeper, and Mitsuri is sighing into the place where your lips meet. The kissing sounds are both embarrassing and thrilling. You can hardly believe that you’re actually doing this, kissing Mitsuri Kanroji in her bedroom and sitting in her lap with your thighs hovering over hers because you’re scared to let yourself press any deeper into her.

By the fourth kiss, you think you’re getting the hang of this. Your fingers are laced in Mitsuri’s hair, pulling her bangs out of the way so you can see her face clearly. Her eyes are hazy and intense, a warm glow suffusing her cheeks, and her lips are reddened. The feeling of not knowing whether you like having her tongue in your mouth or not is gone. You like it. You want more of it. You could do this all day.

…But apparently Mitsuri has something else in mind. She moves back and looks at you like she’s got a secret she’s dying to tell you. Her hands slide up your thighs, almost reaching the hem of the skirt you’re wearing—it’s knee-length, comfortable and practical for the weather—but with your legs spread over hers, the fabric is bunched up at the juncture of your hips and legs, exposing your thighs to view. Mitsuri’s fingernails (manicured, short blunt French tips, pale pink with stripes of gold near the nail bed) scratch painlessly into your skin. “You learn really fast, (Y/N).”

“Thanks…” you pant out.

“Can I do a little more? Just a little. ‘Cause, I mean, I don’t know if you’ve ever done this yourself—”

Oh. Oh? Mitsuri’s hand is creeping up under your skirt.

“—but it’s really good to have some experience with this, too, before you do anything with boys.”

She’s touching your pussy through your underwear. Those pretty manicured hands are stroking you through the fabric, fingertips sliding up between your lips with practiced precision. Oh god, can she feel how wet you are? You’ve felt that dewy heat growing at your core for a while, but you didn’t think she would touch you and feel it. “Mitsuri?”

“Are you already wet?” Two soft fingers pet your clit, moving over it side to side through your panties. “Did you get wet for me?”

“Mm—mm—Mitsuri…”

“Can I touch?” She pops her chin up and kisses you on the cheek, and then again on the other cheek, the side of your mouth, your forehead, all the while rubbing your pussy.

On the sixth teasing little kiss, you gasp and kiss her fully on the lips. “…okay?”

“Good…” Mitsuri smoothly pushes your ass up so she can hook fingers under the waistband of your panties and tug them down past your hips. You shift and let her do it—it feels like her touch is too hot, sending trails of warmth over every place where your skin meets. Her touch lingers even as you awkwardly straighten out of her lap for just as long as it takes to remove your panties and deposit them gracelessly on the floor.

Are you doing this right? Even with your shirt and skirt on, you feel more exposed than you’ve ever been in front of another person. You’ve never done anything remotely like this before—how weird is it that the first person to touch you is going to be a female friend? That you’re not doing this for the right reasons (and what are the ‘right reasons’? love? intimacy? desire?), but for practice?

Mitsuri settles you back onto her lap and slowly drags your shirt up over your bra. When the undergarment is exposed, she bites her bottom lip and sucks in a breath, and you feel eternally grateful that you, by some coincidence or trick of fate, decided to wear one of your nicer bras today. She cups the side of your breasts and runs her thumbs over the lacy wine-red fabric. “Beautiful…you’re so sexy, (Y/N). I can’t believe I get you all to myself.”

Your cheeks feel hot. Maybe desire is part of the equation after all.

Leaving your shirt bunched up over your tits, Mitsuri returns to your pussy, petting over your thighs and stroking up your mound. Her index finger dabs into the wetness leaking out of you and then circles around your clit.

Around your clit, not on it. If you didn’t know better, you’d think she’s deliberately not touching the place where you want— need to be touched. Her fingers are light and fluttery, not forceful in the least but making you crave more anyway. You try not to let your hips move, but before long you’re twitching on her fingers, trying to get her to do what you want. Your hands are braced uselessly on the headboard, but you hesitantly pick up your right hand to replace hers and touch your clit properly.

She isn’t having it. Her free hand catches yours before you can do anything. “Arms around my neck,” she tells you.

It’s frustrating to be unable to touch yourself when she just keeps building and building with these little flutters, but you trust her. Mitsuri’s a lot more experienced than you are. Slowly, you wrap your arms around her neck and wind your fingers into her loose hair.

Whatever she’s doing, though, it’s working. Even if you couldn’t feel how wet you are, you’d be able to hear it, the slick sucking sounds of your cunt dampened with your arousal. You’d be humiliated by the way it’s so obvious that you’re turned on if you were cable of thinking straight. Besides, Mitsuri doesn’t mind—at least not judging by the way she’s looking at you.

“Mitsuri…Mitsuri, can you…” You don’t know how to ask her, but you need more.

“Tell me what you want me to do.” Two fingers brush over your clit again and you almost flinch, the light contact sending a spark directly through you. “Tell me what you do when you do this by yourself.”

“I…um…it’s embarrassing…”

“It’s not embarrassing.” Mitsuri lays a short peck on your cheek. “Do you know how pretty you look? I could fall in love with you right now.”

It’s not serious. It’s just the kind of thing Mitsuri says without thinking, but your heart skips a beat anyway. “Touch—a little harder…”

“Where?”

“You know where!” you tell Mitsuri, with as much bite as you can muster.

Mitsuri smiles. “Here?” She pushes a finger into your pussy and you whimper. “Or…here?”

And she’s touching your clit, rubbing over it quickly and franticly, the first direct contact you’ve had since she started. The muscles in your back tense, legs stiffening, toes curling in your fluffy white socks. “Oh— oh, oh, oh— Mitsuri…”

“Does that feel good?”

After all her teasing, it feels more than good. It’s like you’re being filled up with something, some kind of heat that her fingers are bringing out in you, and it’s about to tip over and spill out. You rock your cunt against her fingers, trying to get her to go harder—but she’s already rubbing against you so quickly that you can’t think straight.

Two fingers slip deeper into your pussy, spreading you apart and pumping your slick cunt while her palm provides sloppy stimulation to your clit. You mewl and fall forward onto her, head thrown over her shoulder, so you can feel the vibration of her soft laughter in your chest. “Do you like it? I can tell…you know, your insides are holding me really tight….”

How does she say such dirty things with that pretty mouth? You’d tell her off if you thought you could speak without moaning. “Unff…mmm…”

“I’m going to make you cum, baby,” Mitsuri hums. “You’re going to cum on my fingers, okay?”

She’s right. You’re about to tip over that edge, overflow, get off with Mitsuri fucking you with two fingers twisting and hitting your g-spot and sliding over you so deliciously that you don’t even care that all of this is wrong. “I’m— I’m cumming—“

“Uh-uh.” Mitsuri’s hand stops, still touching but no longer moving, and the heat in your pussy plateaus and then dips.

You’re so frustrated you want to scream. “Mitsuri…!”

“Can you do something for me?” She resumes the teasing movements from before, edging over your clit but not finishing it. “Tell me who you really like.”

“What?”

“I know you like me.” Her free hand, around your waist, slides up and presses her thumb into the divot between two vertebrae in your spine. “When you were talking about your crush, I know it’s me. Tell me you like me.”

“I—I don’t—“

“No, you do. You like me. Say it. Say it, and I’ll let you cum. You want to cum, don’t you? You need it? I’m going to give you what you need, so tell me you like me…”

It’s not like she’s being cruel. Mitsuri’s tone is as sweet and kind and caring as ever. Her pace is agonizingly slow and she’s right, you need it. You’re lucky your chin is resting on her shoulder because you wouldn’t be able to stand it if she saw the look on your face as you choke out, “I like…I like you, Mitsuri! I like you!”

“I like you too, (Y/N),” Mitsuri gasps, and then her fingers are moving again, rubbing your clit, making you crazy, and it’s only a second but you want it so bad that you only need a second before you— you’re— you’re falling apart—

“Mitsuri!”

Oh god. Oh god. It feels good, it feels crazy. You can’t think. You can feel the muscles in your pussy squeezing down intermittently on her fingers. She holds you still as the shocks race up through you, letting you twitch and convulse in her arms.

“See now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Mitsuri sings in your ear.

It takes you a long moment to get the strength to sit up, flopping bonelessly backward on her thighs so you can look her in the eye. “I don’t know,” you sigh finally. “Wasn’t exactly easy.”

Her eyes close when she smiles. “Don’t worry about it. You just need a little more practice.”

[hanemiso]

Wish I Were Tohru

>>> a sohma yuki x reader <<<

genre: lil fluff, lil angst??

warnings: none

song: heather by conan gray

synopsis: you’ve been able to get close to the Sohma and become close friends with him. you have feelings for him, but you’re pretty sure he has feelings for Honda Tohru.

a/n: I love this boy and he needs love, I AM HERE TO SUPPLY LOVE 🥺❤️ honestly Yuki is my favorite from Fruits Basket, Haru being a close second and Kyo a close third!! I just don’t see enough Fruits Basket content on here so I thought maybe I’d make some, but this one is kinda shitty ngl. It was long but it just doesn’t feel like my best work. But, I’ve been working on this for a while, so I thought I’d post it anyway heh :)) I guess this means I officially write for Fruits Basket now!!!

It all started the 3rd of December, when your feelings for Yuki made themselves apparent. On that winter day, you were freezing because you weren’t wearing a warm enough coat and Yuki gave you his sweater while you two walked to school. Your cheeks warmed up quicker than the rest of your body as he smiled at you and wrapped his sweater around your shoulders. With a close-eyed smile, he warmly said that it looked better on you than it did on him; those words struck a cord in your heart, and from then on you accepted the fact that you had fallen for the boy who had become your closest friend.

Of course, you got shit for it from his fan club and they relayed all the rules of the fan club to you during lunch. But after that incident, some of the girls from the fan club began asking Yuki for his sweater, to which he shot them down nicely. That small action didn’t go unnoticed either, and made you feel like he only ever did that for you, and made you fall even harder for the Sohma.

It’s been months since that instance, and you haven’t said anything to him about your feelings because you didn’t want to look like another one of the girls from his fan club desperate for his attention and love. But, seeing as you two have grown closer and you’ve gained enough confidence to do something about your feelings, you decided yesterday that you would confess to him today.

You walk up to him in the hallway during passing period, slightly shaking from nerves, and get his attention by calling his name. He turns around and smiles at you, earning you a glare from the class president who was talking to him earlier.

“Oh, l/n-san, hello!” Yuki greets warmly. 

“Hey Sohma-kun! Can I...” you start, but trail off as you see his eyes drift away from yours and land on someone behind you. You glance behind you and see Honda Tohru, your friend, walking down the hall with Uotani and Hanajima. When you look back at Yuki, you can see his eyes follow her figure as she passes, gazing softly. Seeing that makes your heart drop, along with your confidence level.

When he looks back at you, you shake out of your thoughts and quickly say, “uh, sorry, I meant to tell you I’m busy after school so I won’t be walking home with you guys today.”

A look of confusion crosses his features briefly, but is replaced with a smile as he answers with, “Oh, alright. I’ll let Honda-san know.”

You thank him with the best fake smile you can muster before quickly walking down the hall to your next class. When you’re far enough away, your smile drops, as does your gaze. You definitely took notice of how Yuki’s eyes seemed to brighten as he watched Tohru walk by, brighter than the blue sky. It was a look you were sure Yuki never bestowed upon you, but you understand why. Obviously, Tohru is very pretty; definitely a sight for sore eyes. She’s so kind and thoughtful, among other things, Her personality draws people to her, and you can understand why. And because you can understand why Yuki would gaze at her like that, your confidence plummeted and your confession got caught in your throat. But you didn’t want Yuki, Kyo, and Tohru to know your mood was gloomy, which is why you chose to walk home alone today.

They shouldn’t see you in such a down mood stemmed from jealousy; it’s not fair to them and it would only make you as mature as his fangirls. Jealousy is not a flattering color, after all.

On your walk home, the moment replayed in your head. Your brain kept trying to pick apart his facial expression, hoping to find some solace in the evidence of a misunderstanding. Finding optimism in the hopes of a misunderstanding, you walk along the street with your head held high, deciding to try again tomorrow.

.

.

But, oh how unfortunate you’d be this week.

The next morning, there’s news of chilly weather for the rest of the week, right when it was starting to warm up a little. It doesn’t matter much to you, seeing as you grab a nice coat this time to keep you warm. You walk out the door and see Yuki and Kyo standing in front of your house, waiting for you to join them on the walk to school. Their attention turns to you as you approach them, and they greet you. As you greet them back, Kyo shifts his stance a little to reveal Tohru standing behind him with a smile on her face...and Yuki’s sweater pulled over her uniform. The same sweater he had given you to wear in December. The sweater you thought he had only given you to wear.

And yet again, your confidence plummets into the floor. All you can do to keep your mood seemingly high is smile and remain silent on your walk to school. Yuki and Tohru are caught in a conversation the entire way, which Kyo sometimes comments on, but Kyo notices how quiet you’ve gotten and how you won’t make eye contact with any of them. He ruffles your hair, causing you to look up at him in surprise because he doesn’t do that unless he’s trying to lift your spirits.

“Do you wanna...talk after school?” He asks, turning his head away from you.

You smile, knowing he’s trying to give you support. Kyo was always like that; he does care a lot, but he doesn’t always know how to show it.

“Yes, thanks Kyo-kun.”

.

.

“Alright, spit it out.” Kyo says, leaning against the wall.

You sigh, turning your gaze to the ground as you try to explain everything to him. It all sounds really stupid to you when you say it out loud, like it’s not a big deal...but it feels like one. It feels like he’s messing with your emotions, but Yuki’s not the kind to do that intentionally. Once you’re done spilling your guts to Kyo, he continues to stare at the tree in front of him as your hands begin playing with the ends on your skirt.

“It’s stupid, I know. And it’s not like I hate Tohru-chan, I could never. She’s such an angel, I can understand why you’re both so drawn to her. In fact, it wouldn’t be surprising if Yuki was in love with her. I just...I wish...”

I wish I were Tohru.

That’s what you wanted to say. Jealously really is an ugly shade.

“Uhm, never mind, Kyo-kun! It’s nothing, I promise. I shouldn’t be complaining like this; I shouldn’t burden you with this nonsense, especially when it’s about someone you dislike.” You add quickly, concealing your true feelings with a close-eyed smile.

Kyo looks at you with wide eyes, surprised at your change of attitude. Sure, he doesn’t really care about anything that has to do with Yuki, but when it also concerns you, a close friend, he cares a lot. The fact that you tried to invalidate your feelings pisses him off, but he tries putting that aside as he faces your retreating form.

“W-Wait, y/n-”

“Uhm, let’s go Kyo-kun! I’m sure you don’t want to be here any longer than you already have to.” You smile at him, taking steps towards the school gates.

That fake happiness; the facade you’re hiding behind to mask your hurt feelings, it’s definitely becoming more transparent to Kyo as all the words you uttered about the issue swirl in his mind. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s at a loss for words. He’s never cared about Yuki or what’s going on in his life, so how can he possibly give advice on an issue concerning him?

As you both walk in silence in the direction of your homes, Kyo replays your words over and over in his head, trying to think of something to say to encourage you in some way.

“L-Listen, don’t give up so easily y/n! Just tell him how you feel, I mean you’ve come this far! You know how much I hate that rat, but he’s not...a bad guy. And if I’m wrong and he breaks your heart, I’ll break his stupid face for you!”

You look up at Kyo in surprise, cause you know that must’ve taken a lot out of him to say something semi-nice about Yuki. He doesn’t dare make eye contact; his head faces away from you as his shoulders tense and he balls his fists. Something about how reluctant he is to admit it makes you laugh, and your laugh causes his eyes to widen as he looks at you.

“What? Are you laughing at me?!” He exclaims.

You shake your head with a soft smile on your face, a genuine smile.

“Nope, nothing of the sort. Thanks Kyo-kun, I won’t give up on my confession! Yuki and I planned a study session for tomorrow, so I’ll plan to confess to him then!”

“Good.”

.

.

After you changed out of your uniform at home, you set off for the Sohma residence. It’s not a long walk from your house to Yuki’s, so you slow your pace a bit to take in the scenery and steel your nerves.

After talking with Kyo yesterday, you hadn’t exactly figured out how you were going to tell him, or even when. Lucky for you, the study session you both had planned a week ago was an early one; close to right after school, maybe about an hour or two off?

After trekking up those myriad stone steps, you knock on the door of the Sohma residence. After a couple seconds, you hear Shigure’s voice on the other side of the door as he slides it open.

“Ah, y/n-chan! Hello!” Shigure greets with a smile.

“Hi Shigure-san, is Sohma-kun here?” You ask, smiling back at him.

“Oh, Yuki-kun? He’s been gone for about an hour or so with Tohru-chan. I’m not sure when he’ll be back, but would you like to wait for him here?”

Oh. He’s out with Tohru. Even though you guys had plans. It’s likely that he forgot, but it’s not like you guys made these plans a while ago; it’s been a week!

Your smile falters a bit, but remains on your face as you answer Shigure with, “Oh, I see. Thank you for offering, but I think I’m just going to head home then! Have a good day, Shigure-san!”

You bow to him before turning around and stopping in your tracks. At the top of the steps stands Kyo, staring at you with confusion written all over his face. You walk up to him and smile before trying to walk past him.

“Wait, y/n, what happened? I thought you and the rat were studying today.” Kyo asks, causing you to halt.

You bite your lip, swallowing your emotions, before turning back to Kyo with a pained smile and answering with, “He’s out with Tohru-chan right now. It’s fine, he probably just forgot. I’m just, uh, gonna head home now. I’ll see you tomorrow, Kyo-kun!”

Kyo stands there in disbelief as he watches you walk down the steps. He’s pissed now; after he admitted the rat wasn’t a bad guy, he does something like this. To his close friend, of all people! Don’t you mean more to the rat than anyone else?

Kyo grits his teeth as he runs to the house to ask Shigure where Yuki and Tohru are. Shigure gives him the vague answer of a certain shopping district across the city, and Kyo sets out to find Yuki to set him straight. The image of your sadness seeping into your smile is burned in Kyo’s mind, making him even more upset.

Kyo makes it to the shopping district about a half hour later, running from shop to shop. He asks store clerks if they’ve seen anyone matching the descriptions of Yuki and Tohru, but each one says they haven’t. Hours pass before Kyo approaches the last store and sees the silver-haired male standing outside with Tohru by his side, looking like they’re having a grand time. Kyo runs up to the two and grabs Yuki by the collar of his shirt, causing Yuki to stare at him in surprise and annoyance.

“You stupid rat! How thoughtless are you?!” Kyo starts, tightening his grip on his shirt.

“Let go of me, stupid cat.” Yuki deadpans.

“Does y/n mean nothing to you?! How dare you treat her like trash!”

“What are you talking about?!”

“You ditched your study session with her today to go out with Tohru! Do you enjoy hurting her or something?! Cause you seem to be doing that a lot lately! Do you not care about her?! If you don’t, then why don’t you just say it to her face instead of making her sad every day!”

Yuki’s eyes widen as realization hits; he totally forgot about the plans he made with you today. The guilt he feels outweighs the anger swirling in his chest every time Kyo accuses him of not caring about you. He pushes Kyo off of him and hands Tohru the bags in his hands, all except for one.

“I’m sorry, Honda-san! I have to go!” Yuki apologizes quickly before sprinting out of the shopping district.

Yuki scolds himself for being oblivious to your feelings as he runs down seemingly endless streets. Yuki always cared for you; you were the one close friend he had before Tohru came into his life. Lately he’s noticed that thoughts of you are all that consume his mind at night, and the way he feels different around you than around anyone else. But, our poor Yuki has never felt this way before; he doesn’t know why he feels like this or what to do about it.

But when he heard that he forgot about his plans he made with you, and how that hurt you, he felt like the lowest of the low. How could he skip out on plans with you? How could he hurt you?

The sun begins to set as more tears adorn your notes. You weren’t really sure why you were so upset; it’s okay that Yuki is happy with Tohru. It’s not even a big deal that he forgot about your plans...so why did it hurt most to think he forgot about you? All these doubts begin swarming your head, causing more tears to fall, as you hear knocks on the front door.

You quickly wipe the falling tears as you walk to the door, trying to compose yourself for whichever visitor stood at your door. Your eyes widen as you open the door to see a heavily panting Yuki standing in front of you. You quickly plaster a smile on your face as you attempt to greet him.

“Sohma-kun? Are you alright? What are you doing here?”

“l/n-san, I’m so sorry! I completely forgot about our plans today and went shopping with Honda-san. I never meant to make you sad, I just-”

“Yuki-kun, can we...talk? Somewhere else? Let’s, uhm, go for a walk real quick.”

You grab a pair of slip-ons by the door and head outside, leading Yuki to a nearby kid’s playground. You both sit on the swings and silence envelopes you two as you gather your thoughts. Yuki stares at you as you stare at the ground, waiting for you to scold him or do anything to let him know you were fine.

“Yuki-kun...I still remember the third of December; me in your sweater, you said it looked better on me than it did you. Only if you knew...how much I liked you. How much I still like you. I remember how every girl from your fan club asked you for your sweatshirt, and how I felt special when you turned them down. But, I’ve seen the way you look at Tohru-chan when she walks by. And I get it, Tohru-chan is very beautiful. What a sight for sore eyes, brighter than a blue sky. And I’ve been noticing lately how your gaze on her lingers, and how your face softens when you speak to her. You gave her your sweater to wear, too...not that it matters, I guess. Anyway, as my feelings for you continue to grow, I begin to see...and understand, how and why you like Tohru-chan so much. I mean, she’s an angel! She’s so kind, thoughtful, and caring...I understand why you’d want her. And why you wouldn’t want me. I mean, why would you ever kiss me? I’m not even half as pretty. You gave her your sweater; it’s just polyester. But, you like her better. And I’m able to accept that, as long as you’re happy, Yuki-kun! I just...sometimes...I wish I were Tohru-chan.”

Yuki stares at you in disbelief as you continue staring at your feet, a single tear falling from your eye. He really is oblivious. His brain can’t even begin to compute the misunderstanding going on here. After all, he has feelings for you too. So, just how did it end up so bad, he wonders. He finds it so hard to believe you reciprocate his feelings, and that while trying to find a way to confess to you, he was hurting you instead.

“I-I love you, Yuki-ku-” 

Yuki’s body moves as if on instinct, kneeling in front of you with his hands caressing the sides of your face. He smashes his lips against yours, only realizing what he’s doing once he feels you kiss him back. He pulls away almost as quickly as he placed his lips on yours, a blush creeping onto his face. You stare at him with wide eyes as he collects his composure and wipes a stray tear from your eye.

“l/n-san, I...I love you, too. What you saw between Honda-san and I is a big misunderstanding, and I’m sorry not seeing how I was hurting you. I’ve been spending more time with Honda-san this past week because she was helping me figure out a way to confess to you. Shigure suggested making you jealous like the love interests in his romance novels, and I honestly don’t know why I listened to him; I knew it was a terrible idea. But, that’s why Honda-san was wearing my sweater yesterday. When I thought that didn’t work, Honda-san suggested getting you a gift, which is why we went shopping today. I was so caught up in trying to make you happy that I forgot we made plans today. And instead of making you happy, I made you cry. Love isn’t really a feeling I’m fond of; I’ve never really experienced feelings this intense before. It took me a while to realize you were the reason my heartbeat quickened; why my stomach did flips, why warmth would spread in my chest. But when I found myself wanting to be with you every waking hour, I panicked. Truth be told, you’re the person I hold closest to my heart. I don’t let people in...from experience. There’s so much darkness that doesn’t reach the surface, so many things I can’t say just yet. But I will tell you in time, because you’re the person I trust most, and I’m learning slowly how to let people in. In the meantime, the one thing I can say with certainty, is that I love you...and I want to make you happy, if you’ll let me.”

Yuki takes your hands in his and smiles warmly at you. Worried that words will fail you, you nod with a grin on your face. The night air sends chills down your spine as you gaze happily at the boy in front of you. Yuki takes notice of the goosebumps rising on your skin and smirks a little, pulling his hands away from yours to grab the bag on the ground next to him.

He hands it to you while saying, “I have a feeling this’ll come in handy right about now.”

You take the bag from his hands and open it, revealing a familiar sweater. You press it against your chest, smiling at Yuki. You look down at his sweater and realize he's wearing the same one; he got you a matching sweater.

“You just looked so cute when you wore mine...” He smiles shyly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I love it, Yuki-kun! Thank you!” You exclaim, throwing it on.

It was just polyester, but it now meant more to you than you thought it ever could.

[engie-ivy]

"Sure, no problem," Remus had said when James asked if his new friend could crash on their couch for a bit. His insanely smart and insanely handsome friend, who has a tendency of walking around shirtless, and the actual audacity of also being insanely kind. Sure, no problem...

Wolfstar humour (I hope) and fluff

Now Remus is convinced that, would Sirius have had the decency of being an arrogant asshole as people as good-looking as him ought to be, he would’ve gotten over his infatuation pretty quick. But no. Of bloody course, besides being insanely smart and insanely handsome, Sirius has the audacity of being insanely kind as well. He has thanked Remus for letting him sleep on their couch about a hundred times, he asks Remus how his day was and how his studies are going, and if that wasn’t infuriating enough, he bloody makes breakfast for James and Remus every morning. When Remus overhears him joke around with James and finds out he’s actually funny as well, he has just about had it with Sirius and his stupid perfection.

Stupid perfection

“I’m going to tell Sirius he needs to find another place to crash,” James informs his roommate gravely.

Remus looks up, startled. “What? Why?”

“Come on, Remus. You don’t have to pretend. I know you don’t like him.”

“Don’t like him?” Remus repeats, genuinely confused.

“Yes,” James says. “It’s quite obvious. You’ve been acting snippy towards him from the moment you met him.”

Oh, Remus had indeed been quite pissed off the moment he met Sirius. He had woken up, staggered into the living room, wearing his old pyjama bottoms filled with holes and his most hideous jumper, hair pointing up in all directions, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he still had some drool on his chin, and there he was. Tall, fit, wearing a leather jacket, long dark hair tied up in a high pony tail, bright eyes and a charming smile. Remus died a little.

James had talked about his new friend quite a lot. A guy who studied computer science with him, a brilliant student, insanely smart, who could do unbelievable things with a computer. When James had asked Remus if his friend could crash on their couch for a bit, as the situation between him and his parents had apparently gotten very bad and he needed to leave their house as soon as possible, Remus had no problem with it. This, however, was not what he had imagined.

So yes, Remus had been pissed. Pissed that James hadn’t given him a heads up that the guy who would be sleeping in his living room for the upcoming weeks looked like the actual personification of his every fantasy.

When the guy, Sirius, had come up to Remus with a greeting smile, hand outstretched, looking handsome in a way real-life people have absolutely no business of looking, Remus had done the only thing he could think of. He turned around, walked back into his room and slammed the door behind him.

“You’re one of the most friendly persons I know. You chat with everyone,” James continues. “But to Sirius you barely say a word! And when he talks to you, you hardly say anything back. You retreat to your room all the time, you avoid being alone with him at all costs...”

Its true.

Remus’ brain just stops functioning when he’s around Sirius. It gets stuck in a loop of ‘arms, chest, muscles, hot, smile, eyes, pretty’, and his best way to prevent himself from making a fool of himself, is by avoiding Sirius as much as possible.

Now Remus is convinced that, would Sirius have had the decency of being an arrogant asshole as people as good-looking as him ought to be, he would’ve gotten over his infatuation pretty quick. But no. Of bloody course, besides being insanely smart and insanely handsome, Sirius has the audacity of being insanely kind as well. He has thanked Remus for letting him sleep on their couch about a hundred times, he asks Remus how his day was and how his studies are going, and if that wasn’t infuriating enough, he bloody makes breakfast for James and Remus every morning. When Remus overhears him joke around with James and finds out he’s actually funny as well, he has just about had it with Sirius and his stupid perfection.

But he supposes Sirius isn’t torturing him with his presence on purpose, and he doesn’t deserve to be kicked out by James.

“James,” Remus begins. “You really don’t have to-”

“No,” James holds up his hand. “This is your house too, and you were right when you said that me forcing you to live with Sirius isn’t fair.”

Remus frowns. “When did I say that?”

“Yesterday,” James replies. “You were trying to write a paper at the kitchen table, remember? And Sirius was doing his stretching exercises in the living room. You couldn’t focus and you were glaring at Sirius with your jaw clenched. Then you growled ‘Why are you doing this to me? This isn’t fair’, before storming off to your bedroom.”

Remus clearly remembers how he had quickly given up on his paper on the pros and cons of using nuclear energy to reduce carbon dioxide emission when Sirius, wearing tight gym pants and a loose T-shirt, started sprawling his body out on the floor in all kinds of positions right in front of him.

Remus pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, James, I didn’t mean...”

“You don’t have to apologise, Remus,” James says. “You’re not obligated to like Sirius. I admit, I was hoping you two would get along, but I guess he’s just not your kind of person, and that’s fine.” James sighs. “Maybe I should have known that you two living together would be a bad idea.”

Remus arches an eyebrow feeling a bit insulted. “How so?”

“Well, you’re... set in your ways,” James says. “You like to have things neat and organized, and Sirius, he’s all over the place. So I guess I can understand how his behaviour annoys you.”

“What behaviour has annoyed me?” Remus asks, having no clue what James is referring to.

“When he comes home from his daily run, for instance,” James says. “And he’s all flushed and sweaty, and he just takes off his soaked shirt in the middle of the living room. You always glare at him when he does that! Last time you even murmured ‘You’ve got to be kidding me. What did I do to deserve this?’, so it obviously rouses you.”

Remus’ cheeks heat up. Well, he guesses he can’t deny that being faced with a dishevelled Sirius taking his shirt of in front of him every day does... rouse him.

“Or how he forgets to take a towel out of the linen closet when he goes to take a shower all the time,” James continues. “And then he has to cross the room dripping wet, leaving water drops everywhere. I saw the frustration on your face last time.”

Yes, Remus had been frustrated. Very, very frustrated. Probably in a different way than James thinks, though.

“Or that time Sirius didn’t know what to wear, and he-”

“James!” Remus stops him. “Please. I don’t dislike Sirius. I really don’t.”

“But you-”

“I’m attracted to him, okay?”

“You... what?”

Remus sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “When you asked me if your computer science friend could stay with us for a bit, I was not prepared to have an are-you-even-real kind of handsome man to suddenly be living on my couch!”

“I...” James stammers. “I guess he’s a fit bloke?”

“Are you kidding me?” Remus just throws it all out there now. “If I had to describe my dream guy it would be him. No, it would be less than him, because my imagination isn’t good enough to come up with him!”

James blinks. “You really got it bad, don’t you?”

Remus groans, and let his head fall back against the couch. “James, how am I supposed to function with the hottest guy I’ve ever seen padding around my apartment half naked?”

“So, what you’re saying is,” James says, gathering his thoughts. “The reason why you barely say a word to him, run away to your room all the time, hardly eat anything when he makes us breakfast, is because you’re totally into him?”

“I’m a simple man and I was living a simple life,” Remus says. “Each morning I’d get out of bed, throw on a jumper, stagger into the kitchen and eat a bowl of stale cornflakes. And now, all of the sudden, there’s a gorgeous man in my kitchen baking me pancakes every morning, shirtless. How am I supposed to cope with that, James? How?”

James chuckles, and Remus groans again. “Why does he have to be shirtless all the bloody time?”

Now James bursts out laughing, and Remus glares at him. “My life is a joke to you.”

James wipes tears out of his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! So, do you want him to move out then?”

“No!” Remus says. “We’re keeping him.”

James gives him an evil grin. “Do you want me to ask him to wear a shirt at breakfast from now on?”

Remus throws a pillow at his head. “Don’t you dare!”

Remus is laying on his bed reading a book when there’s a soft knock on the door. He looks up to see Sirius standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets and a hesitant smile on his face.

“Hi.”

Remus wants to say hi back, but then Sirius runs a hand through his hair, and his brain malfunctions.

Eventually, Sirius just continues. “So I talked to James...”

Remus sits up. “What did he say?”

“Not much to be honest. He only said that you were okay with me staying, but I really wanted to check with you myself?” Sirius sits down on the edge of Remus’ bed.

“Yeah,” Remus says. “It’s fine, really.”

“Are you sure?” Sirius asks earnestly. “It’s your home, and I honestly won’t blame you if you want me out. I can be a bit much. I’ve been told plenty of times that I can be a bit much. I’d understand if you don’t want that around you. I’m honestly surprised James still wants me around.” Sirius lets out a little laugh, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“No,” Remus quickly says. “I mean, yes. I mean, I want you around.” Remus runs a hand over his face. “Look, Sirius, I know I’ve been acting like an arse to you, but I promise I don’t dislike you. I really don’t.”

Sirius looks at him for a moment with his bright eyes, then he nods. “Alright then. Okay.”

Remus sighs. “You must think I’m a horrible person.”

“I think you’re brilliant!” Sirius says, and Remus looks at him with surprise.

Sirius is staring at him intently. “James told me you work two jobs to pay for your studies, but still manage to find time to plant trees, clean up litter from the woods, or protest against the use of fossil fuels. And I overheard you discuss the government’s environmental policy with Lily, and you’re so passionate! I love hearing your enthusiasm when you’re standing up for what you believe in! The way you loose yourself in an argument, the way your eyes lit up when you’re talking... The same way they do when you’re reading a good book, curled up in a chair in one of those adorable jumpers-”

Sirius stops himself talking. Remus stares at him with wide eyes.

Sirius flushes bright red and scrambles off the bed. “I, eh, I should go.” He turns to leave the room.

“Sirius!” Remus calls before giving himself time to think. Sirius turns around in the doorway.

“Would... Would you maybe like to have dinner some time? Together?” Remus’ voice sounds shaky.

Sirius smiles again, and this one definitely reaches his eyes. “Yes, I’d really like that.”

As soon as Sirius has left his room, Remus lets himself fall back onto his bed. He’s in so much trouble. Sirius Black is going to be the death of him. But what a way to go.

[votederpycausemufins]

for the longest time my brain just did not want to write. but then two scenes came to mind and bam, chapter!

and as always

@petrichormeraki​

Wilbur showed up like he was arriving at a party. In a sense he was since Dream was taken down and he was going to see Tommy again. Dream may have revived him, but even that wasn’t going to convince Wil to help the tyrant. When he reached Philza and Techno, he was surprised to see no sign of Tommy. “So, where is he?”

“Tommy? He’s showing off his base to Tubbo.” Grian spoke up, making Wilbur notice him. His parrot wings were folded tightly so they couldn’t be seen, which was perfect for him. "Hey, you got something in your hair.”

Wilbur patted his head. “What, my hat?”

Grian shook his head and put a blue feather there. “It’s right there.”

“I can feel you put something there.” Wilbur pulled the feather out. “Don’t need you-” He stopped talking once he actually looked at the feather.

“Hey look, I’ve got one too.” Techno said pointing at the yellow feather placed behind his ear.

“No.” Wilbur sounded dumbfounded and looked back at Grian, who now had a red feather stuck in his own hair.

“Alright, let’s go see Tommy.” Grian spoke nonchalantly before Wilbur grabbed him.

“Oh no you don’t! You don’t just get to drop that bombshell on us and walk away!”

Grian laughed. “What, missed me?”

“Yes! Where the fuck were you?”

“Oh, here and there. How are you doing being alive again.”

“Less violent than I was before dying I suppose.”

“Good! But I’m still not letting you near Tommy.” When Wilbur tried to say something, Grian stopped him. “Nope, you can’t argue. I’m oldest now.”

“What the fuck to you mean, I’m a minute older than you bird boy.”

“Not anymore, I’m now in my thirties.”

“Wh- How?!”

Philza put a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder. “We can talk more when we meet back up with Tommy.”

“Yeah, we can visit his base hermit cribs style. I’ll grab my backup elytra and some rockets!” Grian ducked into a shop to use their ender chest. “Oh yeah, are you guys okay with rockets? Because Tommy told me Tubbo doesn’t like them. They won’t explode or anything, they’re just to help you with flying. Obviously dad and I won’t need them, but uh, you guys don’t have wings.”

“I’ll take them.” Wilbur said. Techno was less eager, but did also accept the elytra.

As Grian was about to take off with his family, Scar cleared his throat to get their attention. “Now Grian, while I am glad that you have found the family you lost, I am still very serious about that paperwork. I have different forms for if they’re planning to stay permanently or if they’re just going to visit often. I can send the paperwork to your mansion if you want though if you just want to come to town hall right now, we can do it there.”

“Scar, right now I want to talk with my family and figure out what we’re doing. We can’t really sign paperwork if we don’t know which paperwork to sign, right?”

Scar nodded in agreement. “Alright, I’ll send it to the mansion then. Also about the other people visiting.”

Grian flapped his wings to quickly get into the air. “Sorry Scar too far away can’t hear you byeeeee!”

On the ground, Phil sighed, though he was smiling. “I guess this means we better start flying. Let’s get up higher for an easier take off.”

Though it took an attempt or two, the avian lineage seemed to help Techno and Wilbur get the hang of using elytra extremely fast. Though in the air, Grian hadn’t flown too far and the others easily caught up with him. He guided them to the south west towards where Tommy’s base was. 

As it came into view, Grian couldn’t help but laugh as he heard a gasp from behind. They landed in front of the arch acting as a doorway on the ground floor to find Tommy leaning against it. “Took long enough dickheads.”

Grian was about to jokingly scold Tommy when Wilbur went to hug and or lovingly bully his younger brother. Tommy waved his arms in an attempt to get Wil to stop, but he kept running towards Tommy. Just before he could reach the blond, he was tackled to the ground from the side by Grian.

“Grian! I was joking! It was going to be fine!” Tommy complained, helping to pull the avian off Wilbur. “You don’t have to keep mothering me! Stress does that plenty!”

“It’s not my fault I wore the chicken mask that long.”

“That is entirely your fault! And wearing a mask that long doesn’t change anything.”

Tommy and Grian continued to playfully argue until Philza caught their attention. “Oh right, forgot we had meetings to get to. Hey Tommy, which floor do you think is best for talking about all this.”

Tommy put a hand on his chin. “Hmmm, how about the sixth floor? I mean, that one is based on the smp.”

“Sounds great!” Grian said before flying up there, leaving the others behind.

“Hey! No fair!” Tommy shouted up. “Some of us have to use rockets to fly! Ugh fine we’re taking the bubble stream.”

Entering the tower, the first floor was just completely made of cobble. It was his favorite block and all, so if he was going to mainly use the first floor, that was the design he wanted. There were also a number of chests placed around to the point that it had become a bit of a chest monster. Wilbur couldn’t help but be curious and opened one chest, eyes widening at the contents. “This is filled with diamond tools and armor! You’re just leaving it here?”

Tommy looked over to what Wil was referring to. “What? Oh, that’s from endbusting. It’s all cursed gear. You should have seen the time I caught Joe afk and gave him a set of binding diamond armor. I’m not sure how he didn’t notice right away, but the moment I mentioned I liked his armor, he jumped in the nearest lava pool.”

“Really? Other than the curses, this seems like it’s pretty good?”

“Not really. No one is really stealing from each other so everyone’s got great gear. Besides, part of the prank was giving Joe diamond gear. He apparently said he wasn’t going to use diamonds this world and burns them when he gets them.”

“He just burns diamonds?!”

“Yeah.” Tommy shrugged, then walked over to one of many bubble columns. “Here, this one goes to the sixth floor. You guys go first. I want to make sure you go in it and not the others. I’ll show off my shit hermitcribs style later.”

When they got off the bubble elevator, it was something that was recognized immediately. The floor was made of grass and one wall was missing and looking right at the now setting sun. In the middle of the room was a simple bench and a jukebox.

“Your bench.” Wilbur spoke up, making Tommy nod.

“Yeah. There’s also one in the shopping district. That’s for more public stuff. I’ll just be hanging on the bench and other hermits can show up to talk about shit. This one’s for more private stuff like this.”

“Or for letting me cuddle with you.” Grian poked his head up from the other side of the bench. 

Tommy’s face turned a shade of red. “We do not cuddle!”

“Then what do you call what we do when you’ve had a long day and need me to come over so you can use my wings as a blanket.”

“Hanging out. Cuddling makes it sound weird.” Tommy crossed his arms.

Grian just tackled Tommy and wrapped him in his wings. “You’re not allowed out until you admit it!”

“Never bird bitch!”

He rubbed the feathers against Tommy’s face. “Say iiit!” Tommy just plucked a feather out making Grian pull back. “Ow! You didn’t have to do that!”

“I thought you wanted us to talk as a family or some shit.”

Grian rolled his eyes, but did nod. “Yeah, you’re right.” And then he sat down on the ground across from the bench. The others found their own places to sit and just sat there in silence for a few moments before Wilbur started the conversation.

“So, you changed your name then huh? Everyone’s calling you Grian.”

Grian nodded. “Yeah, I started using it back when I was in the orphanage and legally changed it when I was eighteen. Though it took a while with the criminal record.”

“I’m sorry, your what?” Philza asked sternly, but Grian just shrugged.

“Yeah I sort of murdered some people. I probably could have found a way around it, but at the time, it was the best answer I had. And I didn’t really have a good support system. I mean, I had friends, but how are you supposed to tell them you have voices in your head telling you what to do when they’re already not the best people themselves.”

Philza rubbed his forehead. “How bad?”

“Well…”

“No, nevermind. I don’t want to know.”

“So, you’re a Watcher?” Techno spoke up in a monotone voice.

Grian used enough of his power to make a third eye appear for a second before making it disappear again. “Yeah, whatever took me from you guys happened again and dropped me off in a world that was like, so many years in the past. I actually got dropped there with a lot of people and the Watchers sort of played around with us. Nothing as bad as what Dream seemed to be doing, just puzzles and cryptic clues and portals everywhere to push us forward in time when they saw fit. Eventually they convinced me to join them.”

“Just like that?” Techno raised an eyebrow.

“Nah, I was a real pain in their side for loads of time before they finally asked me to join. I’m pretty sure it was because it was because that was the one way to get me to stop messing around.” Grian laughed at his own joke before looking sadly at the floor. “First thing I did was start looking for you guys. I assumed you would still be in the castle or somewhere nearby, but the place was abandoned. And it’s harder to find someone when you don’t know what world they’re in.”

Philza started to reach for Grian, but the younger avian’s wings started to puff up in agitation. “You know, I don’t know if I should be happy that I found you or upset. I could have never figured out where you guys were unless I got lucky peering into worlds. Only reason I found out was because Tommy came here. And he only came here because he ended up in a dangerous world with no family helping him. And you nearly took him back there.”

Tommy put a hand on one of Grian’s wings, making him puff up even more. “Hey, calm down Big G. You made sure they couldn’t do that. And if they do try, just knock some sense into them.”

Grian calmed down, though there was still tension in the room and no one spoke. The first thing that broke the silence was a yell from above them. “Tommy! How do you get down? I don’t have a water bucket on me!”

Tommy jumped up from where he was sitting. “Oh shit! I’ll be right there Tubbo!” And Tommy jumped out the window. Grian waited a moment before asking the others to look behind them, which they did just in time for all of them to see Tommy making a face at them all as he went up the bubble stream. A few moments later, Tubbo was going down a different bubble elevator and then Tommy glided in through the window. “Sorry, I keep the down one closed off so the bees don’t wander their way into it on a suicide mission. Tubbo couldn’t find it and obviously he’s not flying around.”

“Can you actually ask him to come up here? I want to say something that involves him.”

“Got it.” Tommy leaned out the window. “Hey Tubbo! Come back up here! Use the one with green glass!”

A moment later, Tubbo exited onto the floor. Tommy pushed Wilbur off the bench to make room for Tubbo to sit. “Hey! How are you so strong!”

Tommy gestured at the room around them. “I mean, I got help from some of the hermits for the interior, but the exterior was all me. I mined tons of shit looking for diamonds and I used it for here. I mean, I also got some help with the flag on top, but otherwise, all seventeen floors were built by me.”

“Seventeen floors?!”

“I know, they’re all as tall as this one so it’s small as fuck. Only big one is the top since I didn't waste an extra ceiling with the roof there.”

“You should do what Tango did last season and add a dragon or two.”

“Nah, might just start making a castle to pair up with it.”

“Tommy! What the fuck!” Tubbo said suddenly. “How did you get so good?!”

“It’s just sort of how we do stuff here on Hermitcraft.” Grian answered. “You were at Iskall’s tree right? That’s his base. He got us to help collect the leaves, but he’s been placing it all.” Tubbo just looked like his head was about to explode. “Anyway, I wanted Tommy to call you here because I didn’t get the chance to tell you. You’re the admin of the smp now.”

“I’m what?!”

“I figured after all I’ve heard about you from Tommy, you would be safe to turn into the admin. Obviously it can be moved to someone else, but you were the first choice.”

“I can’t be the admin! What if I end up like Dream?! I already wasn’t the best at being president! What if I screw up and they put me in pandora’s vault too!”

Tommy hugged Tubbo. “You were a great president, you just had to deal with bad people. And they’re not going to put you in some stupid fucking vault for a mistake.”

“And if they do, we call in Mumbo. Speaking of him, I should call him over.” Grian pulled out his communicator and hit the call button for Mumbo, putting it on speaker for the fun of it. When the redstoner answered, Grian spoke in a dramatic and joking tone into the microphone. “Mumbo. Babe. Light of my life. Father of our children.-”

Though Grian sounded like he was going to continue, a tired sounding Mumbo came through to stop him. “What do you need Grian?”

“We’re at Tommy’s base. Can you come over and meet everyone?”

“I was already planning on finding you. I’m of course on Grian watching duty after that stunt you pulled. I would have already shown up but the redstone blocks finally needed replacing.”

“Remember to bring scaffolding. You know water and redstone don’t mix.”

“I’m well aware. Bye Grian.” And Mumbo hung up.

Grian and Tommy explained more of everything on Hermitcraft and answered more questions while they all waited for Mumbo. Finally there was the distinct noise of scaffolding being placed and they saw a tower appear in front of the window and then keep going up. From below, they could hear Mumbo talking to someone else he had brought along. “You don’t need that much. Grian said they’re only on the sixth floor.”

“But I want to see Tubbee! Tubbee Tubbee Tubbee!”

“You can see Tubbee later. C’mon, let’s see Grian first.”

After the talking stopped, up the scaffolding came what looked to be a small child. Behind them was someone a bit taller, but obviously still young, and last was a man in a black suit and a mustache.

“Dad!” The smallest one ran over and jumped at Grian. Wilbur looked between Grian and the kid.

“Wait, so that wasn’t a joke. You actually have kids?”

“Well you have Fundy. I have these two. Meet Grumbot and Jrumbot.” 

Wilbur opened his mouth again with a sly smirk. “Is he any good?” and then added in a wink.

When he realized what was being implied, Mumbo’s face turned a bright red and he tried talking but it was all flustered stuttering. Grian has a similar though not as pronounced reaction to the question. Jrumbot looked between his dads confused while Grumbot looked at Wilbur. “My brother and I were merely built and are powered by redstone. We have no organic parts. Our dads are not together and thus have not had se-”

“GRUMBOT!”

[work-of-waking-up]

In Defense of the Psychopath

Alright, wanna venture into my crazy ass brain? I’m going to start by saying one thing that will set the tone for everything else that follows: Villanelle is not a psychopath in the way that we currently understand them. Why am I even bothering to write about a fictional character, you ask? Because representation is important. Media portrayal of various mental and behavioral health topics (including ones that people might not think need to be discussed) is important and this show has a big audience. I also just want to contribute to the conversations that are taking place because I am seeing A LOT of them and the reason for that I believe boils down to the fact that Jodie makes Villanelle so relatable and people want to know what that means and looks like for them. Even those who felt they could relate to Sandra’s Eve, or the relationship between the two, maybe questioned what that meant the further they went down the path with them. “It’s probably a bad thing I relate to a psychopath, right? But she can’t be a psychopath because she cries and she feels things! Psychopaths don’t cry, which means she isn’t realistic so therefore it’s okay that I relate to her! Right? Or are my assumptions about psychopaths and people with antisocial personality disorder wrong? I relate to Eve but look what she is underneath it all...so does that mean I relate to that part of her too?” Not only is villanelles character relatable, but people see the freedom inherent within her, the freedom that Eve sees, and they realize that, at least on some level, they want it too. The show has (unintentionally I think) created a massive dialogue which is super cool and you can tell everyone involved on the show is aware of that now, I mean they have a consulting psychiatrist so I think that speaks for itself. This is less of a commentary on the character herself and whether or not she is a genuine psychopath, and more so a commentary on the conversations she has inspired and why... For the record, this is literally just my opinion sprinkled with a few facts, nothing else.

So, the term psychopath gets thrown around in the show, more so in the beginning, MI6 explicitly labels Villanelle this way, even going so far as to use her in a presentation about psychopaths, although I think that was more so to gauge Eve’s response than anything else. The reality of Villanelle, which we come to learn, is that nobody has been able to get close enough to really know the truth. Anna and Konstantin both got close but we never hear either of them use that word (Konstantin says it once but he clearly doesn’t mean it, it was more of an attempted manipulation tactic). They make it clear that she has, and can, and WILL cause damage, but that’s as far as they go. Eve is getting close and she tells Villanelle when they first meet that she knows Villanelle is a psychopath but it’s obvious from Eve's behavior and things she says later on that she truly doesn’t believe Villanelle is what everyone says she is. It’s easier to label her as a psychopath because that alienates and isolates her and her behavior completely. She is an outlier with behavioral anomalies and therefore it isn’t necessary to look any closer. For MI6 and others (not talking about the shows creators) to label Villanelle as a psychopath is easy, it’s lazy, it’s reductive, it serves a single purpose... a means to an end. They (anyone other than Eve basically) simply do not care about Villanelle’s truth. But as an audience we are lucky enough to see more of her with each episode. The psychopath label begins to fade and Oksana is what’s left. We know based on what she has said that she is aware that people think she is a psychopath, a monster, a person built to kill. It’s not always easy to decide that who you are is different from who you’ve always been told you are, especially given her history. Villanelle hasn’t told us yet if she thinks (or knows) that she is a psychopath, but it’s clear towards the end of last season that she no longer wants to be the person that they (meaning the twelve, Dasha, Konstantin, etc.) created. We see moments where she clearly has no remorse and clearly enjoys what she does, but then we have little moments sprinkled in between where she very obviously struggles, even if its short lived. And those moments are important. We have the moment where she struggles with the choice to shoot Konstantin, saying he is a good person, she thinks. This comes shortly after a conversation she had where Irina tells Villanelle she thinks she is a good person because she is sad, so we know she is thinking about it, we know the awareness is there, and it becomes more and more there as times goes on. I like to think of it in terms of having moments that are pure Villanelle (ie the way she killed Inga in the Russian prison), and then we have moments that are Oksana, vulnerable and emotional. Villanelle is a creation and a mask whereas oksana is the truth. Those moments are starting to really mean something. I'm not even going to start with her trip to find her family, that’s its own thing, but it's a Really Big Thing.

So. Villanelle is not a psychopath in the way that we currently understand and perceive them. Yes, she displays psychopathic traits, and yes, she absolutely has antisocial personality disorder. I read an article where the psychiatric consultant for the show (makes it pretty obvious how hard they worked to make Villanelle as realistic as possible) said that the Villanelle in Luke Jenning’s books scored a 32 on Hare’s psychiatric checklist, but I like to think (and I think a lot of people would agree) that number is a bit high, at least for Jodie’s Villanelle, maybe not even hitting 30 at all (close though, let’s be real lol). The max score is 40 which would be a fully blown primary psychopath. For reference, Ted Bundy scored 39. This checklist is flawed though, mostly created and based off the prison population. Which is why it isn’t used as a proper diagnostic tool. 32 is apparently extraordinarily high for a female (think Aileen Wuornos), which brings me to my next point which is that because it’s hard to measure a lot of the classic traits objectively, there is not a ton of solid data surrounding psychopathy, and even less of it is on female psychopaths. Like most things in life, psychopathy exists on a spectrum, there are levels and layers. It’s not black and white, there’s no definitive test (psychopathy isn’t even in the DSM-5 because as I said earlier it’s extremely hard to measure objectively) and it's important to distinguish between someone who exhibits psychopathic traits and someone who is actually an identifiable psychopath. Chances are high that someone you know displays at least one characteristic shared with psychopaths and this doesn’t make them one.

I think what’s important about this is that mental disorders (mental illness/personality disorders/etc.) of any kind are much more nuanced than a lot of people tend to think they are. That they exist less in black and white and more in shades of grey. Jodie Comer is absolutely remarkable for showcasing that through portraying the different layers of Villanelle. Her performance is a literal gift. We cannot keep thinking and acting like we know everything about how a person thinks, feels, and behaves based strictly and entirely on one label. The thing that has stuck out to me the most, the reason I decided to even write this bullshit babble, is that one of the most searched topics about the show is whether or not it’s realistic that Villanelle cries, and honestly how sad is that? That makes me sad for V. Is it more realistic for her to develop connections and cognitive empathy if she was made into a psychopath vs if she was born that way? Is there a legitimate difference between the two? And how do we even decide which one is applicable for someone? It’s important to add that antisocial personality disorder is not the same thing as psychopathy or sociopathy. You can have aspd and not be a psychopath. Research has shown that about only a third of those diagnosed with aspd would meet criteria to be considered a psychopath. Society is not doing a great job at getting people to understand this. But to be fair, understanding personality disorders specifically has been somewhat problematic, a lot of diagnostic confusion and overlap between disorders. A LOT of work needs to be done. But as far as portrayals go, society has strictly chosen to go the route of giving us psychopathic characters and having them be inherently violent, incapable of remorse, feelings, or change. Poverty of all emotions. Subhuman. They are made out to be so abnormal and unrelatable to the point where the character of Villanelle has sparked so much debate and fascination simply because she exists in a way that actually IS relatable...and layered and beautiful and thrilling. We thought she would be the bad guy and yet we root for her at every turn, we cry for her, we want good things for her! We see her darkness and without question or hesitation we forgive it. She makes us question what we’ve previously been shown. Questioning whether or not it’s realistic that she acts the way she does is less important than questioning our own personal assumptions and beliefs and where those come from. I think that’s awesome. Villanelle is truly a gift. She is hands down one of the most well written fictional characters, which is saying a lot considering when you put something, or someone, in a box it doesn’t leave tons of room for expansion. and I honestly don’t even really need to say this, but.. Jodie Comer.

[eryiss]

Summary: Forced to be sociable by his so called friends, Laxus finds himself attending a five week cooking class. An insulting and stupid idea, and one he resents them for doing. He would have thrown it in their faces, if it weren’t for the smug prick teaching the class, with his handsome face, delectable body, and annoyingly enticing way of keeping Laxus on his toes. [Fraxus One Shot]

Notes: Hi. I wrote this on my phone while sitting on the beach, so who knows how it’ll turn out. But it’s got them both being cocky, both being flirty, and both being in love, so what else could you want. Hope you all enjoy it.

Links: FFN, Ao3

Set To Boil

Or: 4 Times Freed taught Laxus a recipe, & 1 time Laxus returned the favour

Week One - Pizza

"Laxus, you need to get out more."

"Laxus, there's no reason for you not to give it a try."

"Laxus, you're an antisocial brat and you need to get out more."

Fuck them all. Fuck Evergreen for her haughty sense of self belief. Fuck Bickslow for having no tact and being and coming up with good points. Fuck Makarov in particular, for being a rude old coot who threatened to change the damn lock. And when Laxus found out which of the interfering bastards had been the one to come up with this stupid idea, then fuck them too.

It was ridiculous. Yes, perhaps Laxus had become somewhat insular as of late. Maybe his friends had been putting in more effort than him as of late, but it was important. He was newly hired in his sports journalism career, and he needed to focus on his writing.

What he did not need was a five week cooking course!

Why the hell did cooking courses even exist anymore? If you wanted to learn to cook, there was this brilliant new invention called a computer. They had hundreds of step by step recipes, none of which required Laxus to trudge through a damn rec-centre at eight at night!

Seriously, fuck them all.

He was late, too. The bus had missed his stop, and as such he was now ten damn minutes late. He was half-tempted to leave the rec-centre before he found his classroom - Ever, Bicks and Makarov wouldn't find out if he didn't use the damn voucher, after all - but then he would have to spend the next five weeks thinking of ways to pass the time every Thursday night. He really needed to move out of Makarov's damn apartment; the old bastard apparently had nothing better to do than to keep tabs on him. Bastard.

He was in front of the classroom door before he knew it, and he faulted. Dammit, why had he agreed to do this? Why couldn't the bus have gotten him there on time? Why was he nervous about this?

No; he was a grown man dammit. Fuck his nerves,

With false confidence, he walked into the classroom. Eight benches, all with sinks, ovens, cooktops, an array of cutlery and equipment, and a basket of ingredients filled the space. Five people stood behind some of the benches, and Laxus somewhat guilty slinked towards the nearest bench, at the back of the classroom.

"Mr Dreyar, I presume," A voice, deliciously smooth with underlying authority, made Laxus pause.

He looked up to see a man standing at the front of the room, behind a larger and more professional looking cooking worktop, and Laxus paused. If you were to encapsulate all of Laxus' ideal qualities in a man, his new teacher was apparently as close a person could come. Tall, obviously with some muscle, tight and sharp facial features, a little pale, and with long hair. He wore a button up shirt that hugged his form, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off a near-indecent amount of his forearms. He was quirking his eyebrow towards Laxus, and he felt ensnared by the expression.

Dammit, of course. Almost every other cooking class in the country would inevitable be taught by a homely housewife or a tedious Ramsay wannabe, but not his. He gets a stud with veiny forearms, high cheekbones, and narrowed eyes that made Laxus shiver.

He couldn't justify it, but Laxus was inclined to blame his grandfather for that.

"There's a bench up here, if you'd like to take it," The teacher said, motioning towards one of the cooking stations at the front of the room. Laxus cringed; even in school, he'd been one of the kids who sat at the back. That wasn't a habit he was ready to lose.

"I'd rather stay here, if it's all the same to you," Laxus mumbled, annoyed at himself for not speaking clearly. There was something about teachers that just… what did you call someone who intimidated you but also kind of excited you at the same time?

God, this was going to be awful.

"And I prefer it if my students arrived to my lessons on time," The teacher smirked a little, and Laxus almost stuttered in search of a reply. "And, as tends to happen with a student who shows up late on the first day, you'll likely act out further. As such, I want you close by so I can keep you on the straight and narrow," He tapped his finger on the surface twice. "This counter, please."

Though only a few steps, the walk to the counter at the front of the room was humiliating, it served to make the asshole teacher appear less hot, if nothing else. Because Laxus definitely did not like a man who knew how to be firm with him.

This was going to be hell, wasn't it?

At his assigned counter, Laxus felt a little lost. Nestled in the ingredients was a recipie - they were making pizza, apparently - and Laxus slightly found himself floundering. The cooking lessons weren't just to make him more sociable; he had no idea how to cook.

The teacher, who was looking at him from behind his work surface, sighed and approached Laxus. In his hand, he held a chopping board with what appeared to be a large mound of dough. He placed it before Laxus, who drowned down at it.

"Normally I would have taught you how to make dough yourself, but my plan's require the full hour," The teacher said, as if that was an explanation. "Rather than you lagging behind and not getting the whole experience, you should start from the same point everyone else is at. So put yourself to work and start to kneed this. It'll require a few more minutes to get to the right consistency."

Laxus looked down at the dough, grinding his teeth. Kneeding was rubbing it, right? And occasionally you punch it? That didn't sound right.

"Like this," The teacher said, pulling the chopping board towards him. He started to kneed the dough - it wasn't what Laxus thought it was - and the attraction came back with a sudden force. God dammit, why did his sleeves have to hug his biceps like that? That just wasn't fair.

The dough was pushed towards him again, and Laxus rolled up his sleeves and started to emulate what the teacher had done. The teacher didn't leave, and Laxus squirmed a little under, and found himself speaking to fill the silence.

"I ain't gonna learn, y'know," His mouth said before his brain could intercept. "Don't give a shit about cooking."

That a'boy Laxus. Turn up late, fail at a basic thing, and insult the guy's career. Real classy.

"You will." The teacher said, as if it were undeniable.

"I will?" Laxus scoffed.

"You will," The teacher repeated, smirking, "Once you realise what a good home cooked meal taste like, you'll be desperate to learn what else you can do."

"You seem awfully confident about that…" He drifted off; he didn't even know the damn guys name,

"Freed," The teacher supplied. "And I am confident. You'll love cooking by the end of it. I'm sure."

"You talk a big game," Laxus chuckled a little. He almost forgot he was kneeding the dough, but Freed looked down at his hands and grinned a little, which got Laxus to pause. Just because he was kneeding dough it didn't mean he cared; it was basically a workout. That was all, and Freed needed to know that. "If you're that sure, then I'm gonna insist you eat everything I make, no matter how shitty it turns out to be."

"So long as you don't sabotage yourself on purpose, I can agree to that."

Well, Laxus had slightly wanted to make Freed eat combinations of food that tasted like crap, but this could work. Laxus really was that bad of a cook, Freed might not be able to know the difference.

"Deal," Laxus nodded, offering Freed a hand to shake. The chef did so immediately, with a firm squeeze and… oh damn, those veins!

——

Week Two - Curry

Laxus had been right. Even putting in the effort and following the recipie as best he could, he was still a shitty cook. Unless, of course, a curry was meant to be accompanied by a waft of dark, burning smoke when you opened up the oven. Laxus coughed a little as he removed the dish from the oven, placing it on the counter top while shutting the oven door with his foot,

Freed was storming over immediately, flapping at the smoke with a dish towel and immediately turnoff the extractor fan on to suck up the smoke before it reached the detector. He had previously been working with a pink haired bastard, who was snickering at Laxus' failure. Asshole.

"What on earth did you do to it?" Freed demanded, more confused than angry.

"I followed her recipe," Laxus retorted indignantly. "Can't blame me."

"Everyone else has the same recipe and they've managed fine," Freed muttered under his breath. "Explain to me what happened."

Laxus bit down the instinct to tell Freed to choke on something, patronising ass that he was. He had made a deal with Freed the week prior that he would do what he could to make the most of the lessons, and he would enjoy knowing how to make a few meals, so admitting his mistakes was something that he would have to do. Even if it was to a smug, ego-centred teacher who Laxus could definitely take in a fight without breaking a sweat,

Maybe he should suggest some boxing lessons. Laxus had given up pro fighting the year before, but kept it up for fun. If Freed was acting like Laxus was stupid for not knowing the basics of cooking, Laxus would act like Freed was stupid when he didn't understand how to box.

Fantasising about punching Freed in the stomach - which was no doubt toned and sexy as hell - made talking through the process easier. Freed wore a slight frown, apparently not seeing anything wrong with what he had done. Laxus was about to boast that he was right, and that it was Freed's instructions that had gotten the burned pile of mush that filled the room with smoke, but Freed's expression turned to one of understanding when he looked at the oven,

"These work on Celsius, you set it as though you were using Fahrenheit," Freed explained. "You essentially nuked it."

Fuck. God-fucking-dammit!

He could have dealt with it if he was unable to do some cooking thing he'd never had to use before. But this? Misreading a piece of paper and setting the wrong temperature on the damn oven, how the hell had he managed to do that? It was humiliating! He was a grown ass adult, a retired sportsman who was forging a career to be respected. But an oven had made him look like an idiot who couldn't do anything for himself. Fucking brilliant.

With clenched fists, he rested against the workbench and leant on it with closed eyes. This was why he didn't do shit like this; he needed to keep in his lane and do what he was good at. Not cook, not have this weird hate-boner for his teacher. None of this.

"How soon after the class do you need to leave?" Freed asked, cutting through Laxus' spiralling thoughts. He frowned, but answered.

"Don't have any plans after."

"If we start again, we can have you finished ten minutes after class. That way it won't be an act of futility," Freed said, and rolled his damn sleeves up again. Thankfully he was moving around the counter, turning the oven down and fiddling with appliances fast enough to stop Laxus' eyes from lingering. "I can teach you how to spice things to your own tastes, as well. Normally that's next week, but I can advance you for your troubles."

"Advance me?" Laxus frowned. "Kinda need to be good at the basics first."

"You are, everything you said was correct. You made a small mistake that I should have noticed," Freed shrugged, walking to the counter he taught from and taking a box of ingredients to place on Laxus' desk. "I thought you'd learn better left to your own devices, and while I expect that was true, I shouldn't have left you alone. That was my mistake and as such, I'll amend it. We'll make a curry suited towards your tastes."

This was an olive branch, Laxus was sure of it. Freed had apparently noticed Laxus' shift of mood, and took the blame for Laxus' mistake. He was thankful of it, but it was still embarrassing.

Thankfully, a way of saving face had presented itself.

"I don't know if I can believe ya," He said with a small, somewhat forced smirk. "I mean, you don't have a record for keeping promises, do ya?"

"Don't I?"

"You told me you'd eat some of everything I made," Laxus shrugged, looking towards his pot of 'curry' that lay stagnant in the pot. It was grey, somehow. Food shouldn't be grey. "That was a lie."

Freed sighed, but didn't back down. He pulled a dessert spoon from one of the drawers, carefully scooped up some of the ruined mush and brought it towards his lips; damn they were pretty. He openly winced at the smell, swallowing preemptively as it got closer to his mouth. He glanced towards Laxus for a split second, who was watching him with crossed arms expectantly, and let out a resigned sigh. He opened his mouth, took in the spoon, then ate.

First he gagged, then he coughed, then he struggled to swallow. Even though Laxus had worked hard, and a small part of him thought Freed was exaggerating, he laughed at the reaction. Freed was fighting to keep the burned, disgusting food down. Once completely swallowed, he turned to Laxus with a wince.

"Delicious," He lied, trying to hide how thoroughly unhappy he was.

"If that's the case, there's plenty more," Laxus smirked, and Freed actually winced. That, of course, spurred Laxus on further. This was more fun than cooking. "Eat up, I don't mind."

Freed seemed to think for a moment, before standing up straight, rolling his back, and doing something Laxus never would have expected. He pulled out a plate and a ladle, scooped a portion large enough to fill two fully grown adults would struggle to finish no matter what the taste, and placed it on the countertop as if it was something to be proud of.

"A deal," Freed proposed. "I want to teach you one on one for the rest of the session. No distractions, no changing the subject, simply me telling you how to cook. Essentially, until you've cooked something successfully, I want your full attention."

Laxus nearly scoffed, Freed already had that. Instead, he said: "What's my 'delicious' curry got to do with that."

"If you make an attempt to distract me, to get out of lessons in some way, or continue with the mindset that this course is not suited to you, then for the rest of your time learning under me, you'll stay after class and clean everyone's dishes until I'm satisfied with the result."

Laxus winced a little. "And if I don't do any of that."

"I'll eat all of this," He motioned to the plate of ruined food. "And you may watch me do it."

Thinking for a moment, Laxus grinned. "Your funeral," He then glances at the food and winced. "Possibly literally."

Freed waved off the comment, stood beside Laxus with his new range of ingredients, and began explaining the basics of how to get a flavour you desired from your ingredients. On instinct Laxus wanted to taunt the man, suggesting the best way to get a flavour was with a take-out menu, but he managed to stop himself before the words slipped out. Mainly it was to avoid four weeks of dish washing, but also because he hasn't seen Freed like this. He was passionate when he spoke about cooking, and Laxus didn't want to ruin that.

And when Freed's arm slid against Laxus' as they moved, somehow at the same moment Freed looked at him with a genuine smile, Laxus felt shivers roll over him. This was… there were worse ways to spend a Thursday evening.

——

Week Three - Chicken Soup

"Y'know, if you're gonna make such a big deal about-" Laxus cut himself off. Holy shit.

He had been ready to blast into Freed about puntuality. Laxus had gotten to the class on time, only to see that Freed was not there. Eight minutes into the lesson, the door had opened, and Laxus was fully intending to lambast Freed about how much of a big deal it was when Laxus was late, and yet Freed was just as bad. He only stopped when he saw the state Freed was in. Because dammit, the man was drenched to the bone.

What the hell had happened to him? Sure it was raining, but Laxus knew he had a car, and surely the walk from the parking lot to the building hadn't been that bad. He looked like he'd gotten into a fight with a lake and lost.

"Everyone to your work stations please," Freed instructed, removing his coat as he walked to the front of the class. "I apologise for being late, but it shouldn't be too much of an imposition if we all focus."

Laxus was focusing. Focusing on the fact Freed's white shirt was clinging to his chest, showing off strong pecs and the taunting glimpse of a six-pack. It was a temp tight sight, and far too indecent for a classroom setting.

He shook his thoughts away. He needed to focus, because last week's lesson had proved a lot of things. One: Freed was willing to eat a whole plate full of disgusting food to prove a point, which wasn't relevant but Laxus still thought funny to think about him gagging and going green. Two: Freed was actually a damn good teacher, he just apparently hadn't know what Laxus needed from him until the latter half of the class. Three: Laxus actually could cook, if taught well. Because the second curry he'd made was indescribable, and it had tasted just as good when Laxus had cooked it two nights prior.

So, the lessons were actually working, and Laxus decided he was going to fully allow himself to be a student. Groping the teacher with his eyes wasn't going to help that, so Laxus remained quiet and let Freed explain the lesson.

To learn how to flavour things correct, they would all be making a series of different soups throughout the hour. Five basic recipes has been placed on their workspaces, and an entire array of spices, ingredients and flavourings had been scattered through the room. The point of the exercise was to follow the recipes, but also put other ingredients into their soups while doing it so that they can experiment with flavours. It was pretty smart, and Laxus felt like he had an advantage given Freed's impromptu lesson with spices the week before.

Once Freed stopped talking, they began cooking, and Laxus felt oddly confident in himself.

About ten minutes into the exercise, Freed made his way to Laxus' workstation. Wordlessly, he picked up a plastic ladle and scooped out a small amount of the soup Laxus had cooking. Laxus watched with only a small amount of anticipation as Freed brought the soup to his lips and swallowed it, and didn't focus on the flipping of his stomach as Freed smiled at him.

"It's very good," he praised, and Laxus did not preen at the words.

"Thanks," He muttered instead. "Any advice?"

Freed smiled a little at the request, placing the ladle in the small sink. "I'd use sea salt from now on, it'll bring out the flavour of the chicken more. But your instincts have served you well, it works very well together."

"Oh, thanks," Laxus mumbled awkwardly, and Freed didn't help by leaning over the table to look at Laxus' recipe, bring their faces far too close. Thank god the heat of the room has fixed the slight transparency of Freed's shirt, because knowing about the body below the clothes was tempting enough with him this close. If he could see the man's body, he might explode.

"You've put everything you've added onto this, haven't you?" Freed asked, tapping the recipe that had Laxus notes covering it. Laxus nodded weakly. "Then, if you can recreate it as it is now,I then it's time to experiment. Pick something at random to add and see what it tastes like. If it's bad, remake what you've already done."

"Anything huh?" Laxus quirked a brow. "You know you have to eat it, right? You wanna give me this much freedom after last week?"

"So long as you choose your ingredients thinking it will taste good, I'll uphold my agreement," Freed shrugged. "Though I must admit, I'd prefer not to spend the night with stomach cramps and a bucket beside my bed again, if avoidable."

Laxus barked out a laugh. "Kinda thought I'd killed ya when you didn't show up on time. What happened?"

"My car's broken down," Freed explained, looking over the herbs Laxus had added. "It took longer to get here than I expected."

"You walked in this?" Laxus glanced towards the heavy rainfall beating down on the windows.

"Indeed," Freed nodded. "Not my smartest decision."

Laxus winced a little at a roll of thunder exploded outside, apparently trying to make sure Freed knew just how stupid his decision had been. Freed didn't seem too bothered by it, though, and instead walked towards the old woman who worked behind Laxus, tasting her version of tomato soup and giving her advice on how to give it an extra kick.

The rest of the lesson continued on like that. Freed would work his way around the room, helping where he could. Laxus experimented on his soup, finding parmasean to be the missing ingredient.

Freed actually licked his damn lips after trying that. Did he know what he was doing to Laxus?

Once the lesson was over, the storm still lighting up the sky, Laxus walked to the door of the rec-centre. Freed was lingering there, wrapped up in a large red coat and clearly not looking forward to his walk home. Laxus understood that; the rain was so hard it probably would hurt to be under it.

"I'll drive ya home," Laxus said, his tone not leaving room to argue.

"What?" Freed asked. "No, that's not-"

"Didn't give you a choice, did I?" Laxus crossed his arms.

"You intend to kidnap me?" Freed joked.

"Yeah," Laxus nodded. "If you walk out in that, you're gonna get sick for no reason other than your own stubbornness. If that happens, the. Eat I can do for you is give you the recipe for this," he patted the container of chicken soup he held, "but I kinda think driving you might make more sense."

Freed considerd before speaking. "I insist on paying for gas, at least."

"Course you will, I ain't a cheap date."

The words came before Laxus could stop himself, and a flush of worry spread through him. Freed simply laughed, murmured a teasing "I expect not," and walked towards the door. He held it open for Laxus to walk through, and with a small grin, Laxus did so, with Freed by his side.

When the rain hit them, Laxus didn't care, and it certainly didn't diminish the silly smile that he hoped Freed couldn't see.

——

Week Four - Meringues

"What are you looking at, Laxus?"

Freed seemed amused as he spoke, and he walked towards Laxus' working area. Laxus had been trying to catch his teacher's eye for around a minute, with probably a stupid little grin on his face. He couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed about being caught out.

The drive home with Freed has been a long one - thirty minutes in the car; how long would it have been if he'd walked! - and they'd talked throughout. Laxus had learned that, until recently, Freed had been a professional chef for the TV show 'Sabertooth Chefs', a cooking competition watched by millions. He was off camera, making the meals that the celebrity judges claimed they had cooked to use as an example for their contestants. Apparently he quit because of a lack of passion.

That, and apparently Rufus Lore - the judge he cooked for - was obnoxious and could barely bake a loaf of bread if left on his own.

Laxus spoke about his own life. How he'd felt obligated to quit his pro-boxing career after a nasty head wound that resulted in his scar. How he was now a freelance writer who did sports analysis for some of the sports magazines and websites. Freed had seemed impressed, and claimed he'd watch out for his work.

They were closer now, and as such Laxus felt comfortable joking with him.

"I've got a question," he said when Freed was close. "You said you'd taste everything I cook, right? Well, for food, tasting something means you're experiencing it, right?"

"I suppose," Freed agreed, though seemed to know he was walking into a trap.

"Well, with meringues, you showed us that trick, right," Laxus smirked. "Where if you've made it correctly, you can turn the bowl over and the mixture won't fall out."

"Yes," Freed was wary now.

"Well, you also said for the best experience," he put emphasis on the word, "then you tip it up over your head. If you've done it right, it stays in the bowl. If you ain't, it covers ya."

"I did say that," Freed muttered.

"Well, if you're gonna experience everything I make, surely you should do it." He smirked; and pushed the bowel of mixture towards him.

Freed looked down, resignedly.

Then he perked up and reached into his pocket, pulling out a coin. He flipped it with flair and caught it, covering it before either of them could see the result.

"Heads or tails?" He requested, and Laxus chuckled.

"Heads."

Freed removed his hand, and Laxus let out a cry of triumph. He nudged the bowel towards Freed, grinning wide and ridiculous as Freed openly sighed. Laxus crossed his arms to hurry the man up, and it seemed to work.

With quick, resigned movements, Freed lifted the bowel. The thick white mixture jiggled slightly, and Freed turned it upside down above his head before he could stop himself.

And… it stayed in place.

For a moment, Freed seemed to be wincing in anticipation, before a look of triumph flooded onto his face. He turned the bowel back over and placed it on the counter.

"Kinda anticlimactic," Laxus said, picking up a spoon.

"But it means you did it correctly," Freed smiled. "You can take solace in that."

"Guess so," Laxus nodded. "Or I could do this."

With neither showmanship nor hesitation, Laxus used the spoon so scoop a dollop of the mixture up and flicked it towards Freed's face. For a moment, all Freed could do was blink, and Laxus burst into stifled laughter.

It had splattered over his lips, nose, and left cheek. Equal parts ridiculous and oddly attractive.

"Mister Dreyar," Freed spoke calmly, but he was trying to hide a smile. "I will be seeing you after class."

He turned away. Laxus snickered.

Although it was tempting to be a dick for the rest of the lesson, Laxus behaved himself. This was the only lesson that they did on desserts, and Laxus wanted to learn. That, and he felt Freed wasn't going to take his little prank lying down, so he probably shouldn't piss him off further.

When everyone else was gone, and Laxus was left alone with Freed, there was a moment of quiet. He motioned for Laxus to approach the desk. Laxus did so.

He was hit in the face by a spurt of ketchup.

It continued, splattering across his face. He gasped, and Freed apparently aimed for his mouth at the moment. It was a stupid moment, not helped by the noise the bottle was making, and eventually the spray died out.

Neither man spoke for a moment.

They both started laughing at the same time, and Freed handed Laxus a napkin to clean himself with.

"You're an asshole, you know that right?" Laxus said with mirth in his voice. "You still got the balls to want a ride from me again?"

"Is the offer still available?" Freed chuckled.

"Sure, just as long as you don't mind me getting some glue and those decorative feather things from a store on the way back," Laxus smirked. "There's a smug asshole who needs to be tarred and fathered."

"Perhaps I'll get the bus," Freed grinned, then frowned a little. Perhaps without thinking, he reached up and stroked Laxus' cheek to rid it of a remaking fleck of sauce.

They both halted, frozen for a moment, and Laxus' mind was set alight. In that moment he knew one thing for sure; he couldn't let Freed go.

——

Week Five - Solyanka

"That will be all for our time together," Freed said, standing at the front of the class. "I hope you all enjoyed your time together, and that you've all learned something. At the risk of promoting myself, I have other courses available that last longer and offer more flexibility with what you'll cook, if you want to further your culinary pursuits. If not, then it was a pleasure working with you all, and I wish you well in your endeavours."

It was weird seeing Freed using his teaching voice; the things he said weren't Freed-like. It was kind of funny.

Laxus hung back when the rest of the class funnelled out. Some of them spoke to Freed before leaving, orbits just left, but Laxus decided to hang back and wait. As he did, he pulled out a small plastic tub from a bag he'd brought with him, waiting for Freed to take note. Once everyone was gone, Freed saw him still standing at the end of his cooking surface.

"Laxus," He said, and he seemed pleased Laxus was still there. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, just wasn't ready to leave yet," Laxus passed it off as a joke, but the stopped himself. "I, Erm, well, there's this recipe my family's been making for years. Generations, actually. Just wanted to know what you think."

"You want me to critique a family recipe?" Freed frowned.

No. No he didn't. He wanted to share something with Freed that was important to Freed. It was ridiculous to think, but this old Russian dish was something he had loved for his life, and he wanted Freed to love it too. It seemed stupid now he was thinking about it, but they only really had food in common right now, and Laxus felt like it was his turn to add something to the conversation.

"It's called Solyanka," Laxus said instead of answering the question. "It's a soup. For sausages, olives, cabbage. A lot of things, really."

Laxus didn't say anything else, and picked out a pot from the cupboards to place on the stove. He emptied the contents of the container into the pot and stated to bear it up.

"It tastes better when it's not been reheated but-"

"It smells beautiful," Freed said, cutting through Laxus' backtracking. "And I'm sure it will taste just as good."

"Thanks," Laxus mumbled a little.

As they waited for the soup to heat, there was a comfortable quiet between them both. Freed seemed engrossed in the cooking - the growing scent, the occasional stirring - and it gave Laxus the chance to watch him. He had known Freed was hot from the moment he'd seen him, but he was also fucking beautiful. His hair was pulled out and flowing over his shoulders, and his expression was calm and relaxed.

Laxus was glad he had done this, suddenly. He would have regretted it. This couldn't be the end of his relationship with Freed; it just couldn't.

He went to speak, but Freed went first.

"I think it's time to take it off the heat," He said gently, as if wanting to avoid offending Laxus by telling him how to cook his meal. Laxus quickly removed the pot from the heat.

With now familiar movements, Laxus pulled out two bowls and poured them both a portion. Laxus sat on one of the stools, waiting a little nervously as he saw Freed spoon some of the soup up and take it into his mouth.

"Wow," Freed whispered. "It's incredible."

Pride bloomed inside Laxus, and he didn't tamper it down. This piece of Laxus had pleased Freed. It had made Freed smile such a brilliant smile that it was like a shot to the heart. He was speechless, and Freed spoke again.

"You're incredible, Laxus," he said with equal sincerity.

"What?" Laxus frowned slightly.

"You're incredible, Laxus," Freed repeated, smiling now. "You've made these five weeks remarkably fun for me, and I'm sad to see you go."

"I'm sad to be going," Laxus mumbled, unused to speaking honestly about these kinds of things. "These have been… the best part of my week."

"Mine too," Freed admitted, and the words sent lighting throughout him.

There had been a small part of Laxus that had thought it had been in his head. He felt like he and Freed had been steadily growing closer and closer, in a way that couldn't exactly be called platonic. It felt like this was the moment where a choice had to be made. Laxus could either hide from his feelings, as he had often done in his life, or he could take the dive. Just like he'd done when he had quit his job. Just like he'd done when he'd come to the class in the first place. Just like he should have been doing all his life.

Freed was going to speak, but the urge to act overtook Laxus and he moved before it could dwindle. He launched himself toward, took Freed by the back of the neck, and kissed him.

It wasn't perfect, but the imperfection made it better.

The feeling of the desk jutting into his hip might have been a bother, but it was nothing compared the the brilliance of soft lips moving against his own.

The lingering spice on Freed's tongue could have been a distraction, but it only added to the searing sensation flying through him.

The scent of Laxus' Solyanka might have drawn focus, but instead it nudged with Freed's cologne and created a beautiful feeling of mingled familiarity and uniqueness.

This was the type of kiss that was unforgettable.

Freed's hand was grazing the back of Laxus' neck, scratching at the usually untouched skin in a way Laxus was tempted to put at. He smiled a dopey smile, leaning further into the kiss.

When they pulled apart, breathless and smiling, they couldn't look away from each other.

"Don't know how this works with a chef," Laxus began in a whisper. "Don't wanna offend your sense of pride, but d'you maybe wanna get a bite to eat some place?"

For a stagnant second, that felt like an eternity to Laxus, Freed didn't say anything.

"I'd love that," Freed nodded a little, though his head still rested against Laxus'. "So long as you don't mind me critiquing everything?"

The joke was trumped by the honesty in his voice. Freed really wanted it!

"I can deal with that."

They shared a quiet, private smile. One that promised excitement, passion, and if Laxus allowed himself to be optimistic, perhaps a future as well.

[jiminrings]

the volleyball shorts

pairing: jungkook x y/n

wordcount: 5k

glimpse: coach koo’s just dying to know what his present is, you’re panicking because you can’t think of a present, and jimin and the gang tolerate jungkook a little bit better because it’s his special day :D // contains smut + gif isn’t mine!!

notes: happy birthday jungkook!!! i baked brownies irl for you u should come over sometime!!!

if you’ve read most valuable, the piece that started it all, then you knOw what i’m alluding to with jungkook and his relationship with y/n’s volleyball shorts!!

you swear,,

you could even really SWEAR on the brand-new refrigerator that you need to knock twice on to see what it contained that you split the price with jimin

and forcibly with also jungkook because he stays over so much at yours and jimin’s place that he’s basically a roommate now

and alsO forcibly with taehyung and yoongi because apparently your apartment is now everyone’s gathering place and they raid and inhale ur fridge atleast 72 times per day that the electricity bill’s gone up

that yesterday, it was just a month away from jungkook’s birthday!! you swear!!

and two hours ago, it was two weeks away!!

AND NOW

you can’t really digest the truth

that it’s just f i v e days away now

and you have zero thoughts to how you’re gonna throw jungkook his birthday bash :D

the guys probably figured that out too lol because they have an idea to how you’d be all over the place for even something miniscule

like one time you and jimin bought two rugs you couldn’t decide upon then you just agreed that you’d fit it underneath the coffee table and whichever looks ugly, you’ll return it later

but then the two rugs ended up being too pretty that you couldn’t decide nOW

and jupiter barked out of the blue and it was a eureka moment because :D aHA jimin what if we just let jupiter pick out the rug?? then that way it’s fair???

but then jupiter ended up lying on bOTH the rugs and now you were distraught

jimin was reassuring you like eH it’s okay let’s just go about our days and not spend y’know :D all our time trying to figure out what to pick :D

and then you obviously refused and you stayed up the whole night picking a goddamn rug and jimin was so close to toppling over in fear when he went to grab water at three in the morning

anyways

that’s why they’re here!!! even before you could call and gather them up when jungkook had to leave by himself to settle some things because he’s the coach,,

even before you could text tae and yoongi to take the elevator, they’re already knocking at your door

“...”

“......”

everyone’s just looking at each other in this makeshift circle you’re all in around the coffee table

even jupiter’s stopped barking and he’s been barking for the past five minutes at the new cactus succulent that jimin bought!!!

they’re waiting

waiting for that —

“I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO DO FOR JUNGKOOK I’M SUCH A BAD GIRLFRIEND A-AND-“

aha

meltdown

“not to stir the pot, but jungkook always zones out at practice and even during games then gIGGLES to himself!! and when i ask him why, he says that he’s just thinking about what you’re getting him for his birthday!!”

jimin shudders at that too because whew

like he knew that koo sometimes talks to inanimate objects but man his superior (albeit younger) is out here imagining his birthday present in the middle of a neck-and-neck game

he’s conversing with himself like he’s talking to you and that just makes him speechless

“kook buddy i haven’t played volleyball competitively in like two years but i sUGGEST you focus or else i will spike you haha jk but no really ahaha :))”

“not to stir the pot too, but jungkook asked me to play happy birthday. on the snare. happy birthday. ON THE SNARE.”

this time, it’s taehyung’s turn to shudder

because he got a new head that’s louder and more tear-resistant and he wanted to try it out ok

and what better way to try that than when it’s in one of your practice games??

he has his drumsticks already lifted but then out of nowhere jungkook pOps out with a cheeky grin on his face and tae almost pokes him in the eye

“how many syllables are your name, tae?”

“... are you really asking me this?”

“yeah!! how many?”

“... three, jungkook. what, do you need ME to count yOUR syllables for you??”

oh my god that is such a stupid question

but it’s coming from jungkook so lmao tae isn’t all that surprised

“what’s three plus twenty?”

“i get that you’re an athlete but don’t you kNOW how to count???”

“hyung what’s three plus twenty??”

“... twenty-three....”

tae’s so close to narrowing his eyes because if this is another one of jungkook’s lame pranks then he’s gonna whack him in the head for this

but then all of a sudden jungkook jUMPS and squeals before clapping his hands

“twenty-three days before my birthday!! quick quick play happy birthday for me nOW :D”

that’s so... chilling

“now not to stir the pot even further, but y/n,,, baby,,, why didn’t you brainstorm earlier??”

yoongi goes straight-in for the kill and it’s his version of “i told you so” but that does not make it better whatsoever

that’s the thing you don’t know either!!!!

and it’s totally your fault and you shouldn’t have been complacent because now you’re paying the repercussions of cramming AND panic-sweating!!!

it’s okay!

you got this! :D

“how about some more black shirts??” tae pitches in and it’s a resounding no from you and the assistant coach

“jungkook has enough of those,, even jimin and i can take a dozen from his stash and it won’t even make a dent!!”

jimin’s racking his brain and he hasn’t thought about something this hard but ok fine anything for you

“new chunky shoes?? but uGH he already has too many of those-“ that makes him groan even harder because buying another pair for kook means him tripping over them

not to mention that the shoe rack is now taken over by jungkook atleast 50%

and once again jimin reiterates <3 this is the y/n and jimin apartment and nOT the y/n and jimin and this dude that dOESN’T pay rent apartment

yoongi’s in deep thought as everyone around him throws ideas around

okay dOn’t tell anyone but yoongi’s now getting into bullet-journaling :D

tae just gave him a dotted notebook one day because he accidentally bought a dozen instead of one from amazon so lol here hyung u like writing right???

by writing, yoongi meant scribbling haphazardly and waking up the next day and trying to decipher his own handwriting

but then he came over to your apartment and you bought pastel highlighters because they were on sale and nOT because you needed them and you wanted to try them out!!! but jungkook was sick that time and you needed to make soup :((

“yeah ok leave it to me,, i’ll swatch it for you or something.,.,.”

one thing led to another and :D AHA

yoongi blackmailed everyone to not say a single word to anyone that he now loves bullet-journaling and he had to whack tae one time when he kept teasing him

also he now has a bujo account on instagram and it’s nearing 5k followers omg and he will d-word when someone irl finds out that it’s him

“boxers.”

yoongi says seriously and it makes everyone shut up because he sounded sO sure

he just has this certain authorative aura around him that you wavered because oH right yes boxers,,, will buy,,,, thank you

lol but you snapped out of it

“jungkook already has too many boxers!! he likes basketball shorts more nowadays and-“

“what? who said the boxers were for jungkook??” yoongi scrunches his nose at your ridiculous reply

your eyes are squinted so hard as you try to decipher the flow of thoughts of everyone in this circle

“oh. i want boxers. want them for christmas!! take note, y/n.”

oh

okay

cool

good news: you now know what you’re gonna give to yoongi on christmas

bad news: you dON’T know what to give to your boyfriend on his birthday five days from now

there’s something somewhere in the middle of all the banter that you’ve tuned out though

something that just makes your eyes bulge and hit whoever’s lap is beside you repeatedly (first of all it’s jimin’s for the record and second oW THAT HURTS) with a grin on your face before you hurriedly stand up and they equally as hurriedly do after

“i know what to get!!”

jungkook’s stArting to get antsy if he’s being honest

it’s not because he’s in his own apartment with you after so long he’s stayed over at yours

he really doesn’t mind that bit, no

jimin, tae, and yoongi were all staying over at your apartment instead as they make the last bit of preparations for jungkook’s birthday the next day!!

they all insisted that you rest because you’ve been so frantic the last couple of days and tbh even taehyung hyped of tWO cups of coffee can’t keep up

no — jungkook’s so antsy because he doesn’t know what you have in store for him :((

for the last five days you haven’t touched him nor did you let him touch you :((

a heated makeover that’s cut too short is as far as it could only go and he’s just so????

like is that a part of your birthday surprise or nOT

he has a love-hate relationship with surprises now because first of all,,,

he kNOWS that there’s gonna be a surprise and that excites him

but the worst of it all is that he knows there’s a surprise but he doesn’t know what it is

that’s like uhm

standing fifty feet away and being forced to pick between a lifetime supply of sugar and salt that’s placed into jars but u don’t know which is which

that is such an odd example to compare it to but that’s only what jungkook could process this now oKAY

you still let jungkook cuddle you so he guesses he could still touch you

he could rest his hand on your tummy!!!

but riGht when he’s about to sneak in a lil squeeze at your boob over your shirt then that’s when you slap his hand away and he frowns

just some hOURS left and it’s finally his birthday!!! he’ll just nuzzle to your neck and all would be fine :)

the lil party’s gonna be thrown in jungkook’s apartment anyways because as you’ve all come to known:

his apartment’s bigger than the one you and jimin share and that irks him because!!!

“yOU have the bigger and better aprtment why are you still cramping at ours???”

“i like staying with you guys!!!”

“nO you like staying with y/n and i come in handy when you need to steal someone’s pasta from!! i bought you tupperware and wrote your name on it but you still eat from mINE!!”

now everyone has their designated roles

jimin’s in charge of making the lasagna and he takes great pride in arranging the layers neatly and not half-assing the amount of cheese

taehyung had the great idea of wAIT what if they don’t like lasagna?? (jimin was offended by that omg who wouldn’t like my lasagna are u kiddinG)

so what he did was bring over this foldable table :D lay cups of ramen neatly :D decorate jungkook’s kettle because he realized that it looks like dOlphin when you tilt it sideways :D

and it’s now tae’s ramen station and so far the party-goers are LOVING it and it’s a close tie between him n jimin

yoongi’s in charge of food that the other two didn’t bother to think about basically

you locked jungkook in his own room lmao and had to bribe him with a kiss or two to stay there and not leave until you tell him to

you’re in charge of the decoration and not to toot ur own horn or anything but you did a pretty damn good job :D

there’s foil balloons you had to blow up and decorate meticulously

lol jimin accidentally bought the wrong ones so now it’s JUNGK00K instead of JUNGKOOK

you even learned how to fold paper cranes so u could fold the quantity of them to jungkook’s age for yoongi to stick them up to the ceiling

you EVEN bought blackout curtains and a lil disco light!!! that’s how well-put you were despite cram-planning!!

it was time to let out jungkook because the guests were starting to come in

and oh my gOD jungkook does clean up well..,.. wow

he’s dressed himself in just a white button-up but with the sleeves folded and some buttons left alone

thEn it’s the same black jeans but with a fancy belt he only pulls out whenever he goes to prissy parties!!!

and oh god

oh my

it’s his slicked hair that’s showing his forehead and tHAT’S when it sinks in you that oh.,.,. right.,.. jungkook’s growing his hair out and he’s been in a cap this past week and OH

it only hits you that oh.,.. jesus christ.,.,. jungkook has a mULLET

it’s a mullet-type of situation and it’s part-straight and part-wavy and wOW

you want nothing more but to pounce on him and it makes you audibly gUlp

jungkook’s as surprised as you were of him because w-wait a second

ok you’re wearing your favorite white shirt with the print on it that you wear at home!! he isn’t surprised

but are you wearing vOLLEYBALL SHORTS.,.,..

like as in the same volleyball shorts... that he..... adores..... a-and fantasizes over

oh my god everybody shut up

is that-

is that hIS OLD VARSITY JACKET????

the one with Jeon embroidered in the back and the one he wore to death that it still has his scent on it even if you washed it clean???

.... oh

that uH that makes jungkook put a hand over his chest

god im coming up

the party was an absolute bLAST!!

you and jungkook would stray from each other time to time because you’re each whisked away to talk but you’d always find each other after

you cAn’t contain yourselves at the sight of one another

kook keeps putting his arm around your waist and you keep squeezing his forearm

over-all it was such a great party 20/10

the girls chipped in to buy their coach jungkook (u put the idea in their head and they were amazed because they didn’t think of it) a smartwatch and he was so :D upon receiving it because wOah!!! omg he’s now a smartwatch owner sUck that kim namjoon

kim wears these fancy analog watches still and that makes jungkook roll his eyes because yEa that may be a rolex but my team did obliterate yours lmaOoo what about that huh

jimin’s gift was very heartwarming no matter how much he denies it to be

first he bought jungkook matching slippers with him because he’s so irked to see jungkook in chunky sneakers aLL the time

then uhm

an official key to the apartment and a written letter that when the two of your drive back,,, you could all do a handprint at the picture frame with the four of you and that’s jupiter’s paw included

you’re not gonna lie that dID make you tear up a little bit because wow :((( jimin used to be hesitant of jungkook at first but nOw he’s officially welcoming jungkook in with no anger whatsoever

kook also did cry a lil bit and they hugged it out

taehyung hand-knitted a blanket for jungkook with lil dolphins on them

he missed some stitches but he did his best oKAY and koo was so excited because wow omg this is so good!!!

yoongi bought jungkook a guitar because yeah.,.,. u dO get into my nerves sometimes but i care for you and i guess you’re my little brother now :)) i don’t make the rules

and as for your gift

... well

everyone’s already left and it’s just the two of you now finally

jungkook’s sat at the edge of the bed patiently because you’re fishing for the paper bag you’ve hidden and he’s sO on edge alright

he’s closed his eyes and you didn’t even tell him to so he’s THAT obedient

“you can open them now,” you’re sat on jungkook’s lap and it’s quite the tease for you to be perched near to his knees instead of his crotch but oK he won’t complain yet

it’s a box??

oh

... oH

“that’s for me??”

jungkook awes immediately when he opens to box and sees shiny silver gleam right up at him

it’s the matching thick necklace and bracelet he’s been eyeing for quite some time now yet refUses to buy

and here it is!!!! right in his hands!!!

“yes and they dOn’t allow refunds so please just wear them and don’t make yourself guilty!!”

you’re taking it from his hands and he’s smiling giddily when you clasp the cool jewelry around his neck and on his wrist

cute

and now it’s time for —

“i’m sleepy. are you sleepy yet?”

you do your part in messing with jungkook as you stifle a yawn, pretending to arrange things around the room before settling near him at the edge of the bed

he almost gives himself whiplash to look at you because you can NOT be serious

“no you’re not. you aren’t sleepy. your eyes tear up when you wanna go to bed.”

it’s endearing for you that he knows thay but you just continue to deadpan for the time-being

“i do? well i think i’m tearing up now.”

jungkook scoffs and crosses his arms across his chest because nO your eyes are dry!!!! look at them!!!! not a single tear!!!!

he’s looking at you so pointedly that it makes you chuckle, finally sitting down on his lap properly like he wanted you to that it makes him grunt

jungkook hasn’t had any decent action for a week now and even the slightest contact of you sitting on him, still-clothed, already makes him cRUMBLE

the thought that you’re in your volleyball shorts doesn’t help at all

it’s nice seeing him so flustered and willed right now,, his pupils already blOwn out and you haven’t even done anything

jungkook’s beautiful and that isn’t up to debate but even more-so up close that you could hear his labored yet trembling breathing

“you wanna kiss me?”

that dOES it for him and he almost leaps at the question but that’s when you pull back to which he audibly whines

:D

you come back again but it’s you who initiates it and jungkook practically melts at the taste of your mouth, already getting handsy as he squeezes at your thighs

he’s the one who’s gaining the upper hand and that was nOT the plan so that’s why you pull away right when he’s getting drunk on you

he’s chasing after your lips and you practically tut at him condescendingly that makes him huff again

“say please.”

aHA

jungkook’s eyes widen at that and he scoffs in disbelief because oh my god so tHIS is what you’re doing

now this is what he makes you say

and you never got him to say please because whenever you urge him to he just laUGHS upfront and it makes you pout

no jungkook’s not gonna do —

his giggling’s cut short when you let your mouth wander to his neck and right on to his sweet spot, immediately sucking on it harshly to paint your mark on

there’s slow kisses on his jugular nexy and you won’t do the same as what you did to him the first time and it’s frUstrating

add on to that with how you remind him you’re still on his lap with you grinding on him tOO pain-achingly slow

ok jungkook might say please after all

you’re coming back up to his jaw again and kissing everywhere but his lips that it’s starting to make him cave

“pl-“ he stops himself because oh gOd is he yielding but that’s when you snap too smoothly right on him, the intimate yet clothed feeling of you enough to make him moan in distress

“please?”

it’s instant relief when you’re back to kissing jungkook again and he might just bURST at this point and you’ve only been kissing him

tasting your lips is his first priority and breathing’s his second that it makes you chuckle with how needy he is, having to push him off because you know he’s getting light-headed

jungkook’s regaining his breath and he still wants mORE unsurprisingly

you’re taking off his shirt and stripping off his pants that leaves him with his boxers but on the other hand, you’re sTILL fully-clothed sans the varsity jacket

he’s about to do something with that which explains his grabby hands trYing to take off your shirt

but his hands not only get slapped away again, you’re pINNING them down back to the bed

“y/n i swear-“

he’s growing restless because he needs you right here and right now but you’re just tOO stubborn and bossy which is definitely a switch of roles

you grind on him a little too roughly than you intended to but the feeling’s more than welcome because you feel so fULL already and it makes jungkook unintentionally thrust into you

your shorts are feeling more than damp and his boxers are being a little tOo tight now

that’s when you lift yourself up from his crotch and let go of his hands, your face dangerously near his as his pupils shake

jungkook’s clearly looking at your centre and he whines when you still (purposely) won’t get what he’s trying to say

he’s always clearly had a vision of eating you out in your volleyball shorts that’s for sUre

but he didn’t imagine it like this and you know what he’s not complaining his hips try to buck up but to no avail, your finger hooked underneath his chin to make him look at you again

jungkook looks sO fucked out and he knows that far

he cries like a lost puppy with how you press your thumb to his bottom lips, your other hand making soothing circles on his chest

“you want a taste?” you ask ever so gently and that makes kook nod more than eagerly, about to pull you by your thighs and his mouth’s wAtering just by thinking about it

it’s the tut you give him again that makes him succumb, throat strained as he trains his pleading eyes on you for permission

“p-please?” jungkook’s too impatient to wait for an answer as he roughly grabs you to position your clothed core right above his face, immediately pressing his nose to inhale the scent of you with his lips ghosting your already-soaked folds — something so obscene about it that it almost makes your knees buckle, “that’s a g-good boy.”

he’s rELISHING on the slip of your tongue and he wastes no times in taking off your shorts, diving in with an eager tongue that takes you off-guard

now this is the real deal

jungkook takes mUCH pleasure in giving you yours and the unhinged and dirty moans you’re giving him are egging him on further

you taste so sweet and it’s enough to make him dizzy with how you’re opened up to him and for him only

he has a death grip on your thighs because you keep twitching and on the other hand he’s cravinG for you to take everything he’s giving you

he slips his hand to thumb at your clit in desperate circles and god the countdown to when you’re gonna reach your peak becomes alarmingly too near

jungkook doesn’t stop when you’re tugging at his hair roughly or when you’re yelling out his name like a mantra

jungkook doesn’t stop either when his face from the nose down is starting to get messy with the taste of you

doesn’t stop either when he’s starting to see your eyes become glassy and your lip trembling

absolutely doesn’t stop when you snap suddenly and gush over him because in fact, he still continues with much more fervor

jungkook was messy and kept lapping up at what you were giving him that’s enough to drive you into anoTher orgasm with how sensitive you are

holy fuck

jungkook’s laughing against your neck as you’re draped over him, making flowers bloom on your neck with his tongue as he makes you catch your breath

“there’s still another gift i haven’t showed you.”

okay nOW you’re nervous

kook stops pressing kisses and your words obviously make him perk, trying to hide his fascination and excitement but that’s poorly-done with how he’s trying to hide it

“you have mORE?? think y’already gave me heaven if i’m being honest”

he wouldn’t be opposed because honestly speaking his stamina as of the moment would last him aLL night and he’s on a high just from eating you out!!

oh my god you can’t possibly fall in love more with jungkook

you’re tracing the sweat that’s going down on the necklace and it makes you go lightheaded with how perfect he looks

the imprint of his bracelet’s marked snug on your left thigh with how hard he was gripping you earlier

he’s patiently waiting and waiting on you, drumming his fingers on your thighs in anticipation

here goes nothing!!!!

you take off your shirt and aHH jungkook visibly moans at the sight of a bare you

he’s right you are the present

but nO that’s not what you’re trying to get at

jungkook has his wandering hands taken down for the nth time this week but something about this feels a bit more special and reserved

he’s a little lost when you get off from him and instead sit beside him against the pillows, still kneeling on the bed so you could be higher than how he’s sat right now

he is mORE than lost when you smile at him gently and take his hand to —

oh

oh my god

oH MY GOD

it’s a tattoo

it’s a tiny and dainty tattoo on your rib in black ink

JJK

“jjk? that’s-“

holy fucking sHIT

everybody shut up!!!

everybody pLEASE be quiet jungkook needs a moment rn

it’s his initials

in his handwriting

on your skin.

oh my god

you’ve always adored jungkook’s tattoos i mean it’s nOt a surprise for anyone

they peak from time to time but sometimes they get covered with his coach jackets and his hoodies

and it’s at home where you can see them all

there’s a little inkling in the back of your head that oOH you’ve always wanted one like what he has

what was holding you back was that maybe it would affect your career or whatever

you and jimin read the guidelines for a whole hour and it wasn’t illegal for players to have tattoos!!!

as long as it doesn’t go against the rules and it won’t hinder your play

tattoos on the wrist or in between the fingers or in the forearm were a little risky because it’s always in direct contact with how you play

jimin was all thumbs-up on your idea because he himself has a couple of tattoos and was all wOah that’s so sweet!!!

taehyung was very warm with your idea and he swears that he’ll get one soon just give him some tIME to conceptualize what would his first one be

yoongi agreed and he alsO has tattoos himself and he was the most realistic (?) out of the four of you going “well you and jungkook better not break up lol”

he thought of it more and honestly?? he doesn’t see you and jungkook breaking up because there’s just sOMETHING alright??? something so unbreakable

jimin and taehyung and yoongi made a bet when you were getting your tat cleaned up that lmao what year would jungkook propose in

it’s your first tattoo and like you didn’t want to dive in head first and have a whole sLEEVE tattooed on the first occassion ya know

so why not the one you love?

and like it’s hidden by a shirt and obviously not a LOT of people would know about it and —

oh wow

uhhhh

jungkook’s.... crying?

he loves you sO much you have no idea

you’re tasting the salt from his tears when he kisses you so tenderly but it’s okay you don’t mind

he’s the one pinning you down this time and well he used to swear that he’s nEver the one for giggly sex

but oh god look at him now

mAYBE THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU’RE HAPPY AND ON CLOUD NINE!!!

he has your hands flat against the mattress before he holds them :D

this is jungkook’s best birthday eVER 

“wanna spend all my birthdays with you.”

you instantly giggle to his neck and that tickled him a little bit okay

“you wanna marry me??”

you’re feeling everything at once and you have never grinned sO hard and laughed

jungkook rolls his eyes but that’s only because he might burst if he keeps looking at you

“well i don’t have the ring yet dummy but yEs i do want to marry you!!”

mrs. jeon!!!

wow that sounds hEAVENLY

you raise your head to whisper to his ear, leaning down for you instead so you wouldn’t strain yourself, “say please.”

“i hATE you,” jungkook cackles and it should be illegal to how warm and content he feels!! 

“you love me!!” there’s a lil sing-song voice and of cOURSE he does!!

he’s so whipped for you and he might go to the ends of the earth just because you insist

“solid facts.”

“my god—“ jungkook stills, laughing at you who’s underneath him before he breaks out into a grin

a little tiny ᵏᶦˢˢ on your nose

“what was life before you?”