#was absolutely howling over the way he just put on a new shirt each time and his ‘break times’

[driftingvoid-155]

Am I gonna get kicked out of the fnaf fandom if I say I liked Willys Wonderland more than the fnaf movie

[zachsreaderinserts]

sleepy boys inc x gn!teen! reader headcannons

trying something new! i like bbs and all, but i wanted to write for other youtubers! lemme know if yall wanna see more content like this lol.

this takes place in a minecraft au!!! also, mentions of bad parenting/abusive parents

wc: 2,319

okay the sleepy boys

chaos incarnated, all of them. you can’t deny it

so, when tommy invites a friend from a local village, at first, everyone else is skeptical. since when has tommy made a friend who didn’t hate him within 20 minutes from all the screaming and insults he spewed?

unlike his friends, phil is more excited than anything. though he isn’t tommy’s dad, he feels like it sometimes, so he really wants to meet this new person who has caught the youngest’s attention

techno is very much not on board. he has a hard time trusting people at first glance and having been friends with tommy for the longest, he knows that tommy readily jumps the gun and attempts to befriend literally anything just because he can

and wilbur? indifferent for the most part. yes, he feels the need to make sure tommy is protected and cared for, but he also recognizes that this situation is out of his hands. the best he can do is hope that their friend isn’t an absolute asshole

so, it’s saturday. all three men are sitting on the couch in phil’s cottage, talking amongst themselves as they wait for tommy to come back. techno makes a joke about murdering them, which leads to phil scolding him about his violent tendencies

“you haven’t even met them yet, techno, what the fuck.”

wilbur is simply adding fuel to the fire, making little remarks here and there and watching the whole thing escalate to phil lecturing the piglin hybrid.

because of this, not one of them had noticed that tommy returned, with his newest friend. they both stopped at the sight of phil in dad mode, tommy considering just turning around and taking his friend as far away as physically possible

too late, since techno’s sixth sense made him whip around and stare at the newcomer. this made phil stop lecturing and wilbur quit giggling long enough for tommy to introduce his friend

after saying their name, the friend lifted their hand shyly, face burning from slight embarrassment. their other hand was latched onto tommy’s, feeling intimidated.

can you blame them? the fucking blood god looks like they wanna skewer them and cook them over a campfire.

tommy took notice of their shyness and cleared his throat, “we were planning on going to the carnival in their village if you three assholes feel like tagging along.”

like there was any way they were gonna let tommy and his friend go out without chaperones.

tommy turned back to his friend, “give me a second, i’m gonna go grab my sword just in case.” and proceeded to run up the stairs and towards the guest bedroom in phil’s house that he claimed.

the millisecond he was out of earshot, techno grabbed his friend by the front of the shirt.

“what are your intentions with tommy?”

the friend blinked once, twice, then bit back a smile. “you’re asking that as if i’m about to date that motherfucker.”

this time, it was wilbur who bit back a grin of his own. who would’ve expected the originally shy kid to have replied like that????

techno’s brain short circuited and his grip on their shirt loosened slightly. did.... did this kid just brush off his question???

“can you put me down? you’re gonna stretch my shirt.”

techno’s brain blinked back into focus and he gripped the kid’s shirt harder, shoving them against the nearest wall. “i asked a question, kid.”

“you know, tommy told me something like this would happen. i’m glad i came prepared.” and then, tommy’s friend sucked in a deep breath. techno leaned back, expecting the worst...

“MWISTER TECHNWOBWADE, PWEASE PUT MWE DOWN BEFWORE I SCWEAM”

oh god, this was far worse than anything he thought of.

he dropped the teen out of disgust more than anything, reeling backwards. if there was one thing that haunted his dreams, it was uwu-speak.

phil started howling of laughter, clutching his stomach and hunching over. originally he was going to stop techno from threatening a literal child but this outcome was so much better than anything he was anticipating

wilbur was no better, already tearing up from how hard he was snickering. he started choking on his own spit at one point, smacking his arm against the couch.

tommy was so fucking confused when he came back down the stairs, seeing the mayhem that was, for once, not caused by him. he glanced at his friend, who had the world’s biggest shiteating grin.

yeah, they were gonna fit in just fine.

and they did! phil took them under his wing (both physically and metaphorically) and allowed them to come visit his home whenever they wished. and whenever they did, phil was the first to ask how they’ve been and what they were up to

to phil’s surprise, the kid was overall calm in their choice of activities. things like playing soccer or drawing or figuring out how to learn instruments in their free time. it seemed like they were desperate to get their hands on anything and everything just to learn

he found it funny, though, when their chaotic side shone through. they easily were on tommy’s level when they got into that headspace and it was so hilarious to him.

his favorite memory of the kid was when they walked into the house and marched right up to where techno was reading idly in the corner. planting their hands on their hips, they spoke.

“if you were to fuck a clone of yourself, would it be masturbation or would you be considered gay?”

phil, who was washing the dishes six feet away from them, just about crumbled into a ball on the floor from how hard he was laughing and sobbing.

of all questions, that was the one that came out.

but he had no idea that the chaos was a coping mechanism. he just thought they were naturally like that in their free time.

he soon found out the truth when they came home with tommy, who was cursing up a fit, visibly angry. his friend was slumped over, as if trying to hide themselves from the world

when phil asked what had happened, tommy exploded.

“their fucking dad took all their money from their savings! said he needed it more than them and when they asked for it back, he called them a fucking disappointment! that fucking bitch--”

phil can count very few times when he felt true anger and he can confirm that when tommy had told him what had gone down, he saw red.

but he knew better than to outwardly show it. judging by how hunched over and defeated the kid was, what they needed was a stable support system

so he walked over and shut tommy up with a hand on his shoulder, “why don’t we take the rest of the night to build up that game room you wanted in the basement. i’m sure if we knock it out before techno and wil are supposed to be back, we can all play something like monopoly.”

seeing where phil was headed, tommy nodded and brushed away his anger. he knew that what his friend needed was a serious cheering up. tommy ran towards his guest bedroom, claiming that he was going to find his blocks.

phil crouched in front of the teen, tilting their head up to look him in the eyes. “you’re not a disappointment. you’re an amazing person with a chaotic joke machine going 120 kilos over the speed limit in your head and you are talented. your dad doesn’t know shit about what you’re capable of doing.”

oh boy, the kid’s crying. those are tears, full on tears.

that night was one of the best nights of their life, however. they enjoyed the entire three hour long game of monopoly where they watched the light leave everyone’s eyes. it was funny when wilbur lunged across the table when he landed on a railroad, out for phil’s blood.

speaking of wilbur, he enjoyed every minute in the kid’s presence. they often asked creative and random questions and went along with the abstract jokes he made, the two of them laughing heartily the entire time.

when the kid first mentioned wanting to learn how to play the guitar, he practically burst through the wall of the room next door, breathing heavily and exaggeratedly.

“did someone say guitar”

yeah, he’s feral. that’s canon.

they proceeded to spend the entire day in phil’s garden, each of them equipped with a guitar. despite their outwardly smooth brain and stupid demeanor, the teen was a fast learner and could play the most basic chords by the time the sun was setting.

wilbur’s favorite moment was the first night they met, when they went to the carnival. there was the game where you shoot the water and fill up the balloons and the kid was going head to head against techno and tommy.

it was when techno won that the teen turned to techno with murder in their eyes and spoke in a deadpan tone of voice,

“you’re lucky you won this time, you gentrified mayo monkey.”

wilbur’s jaw dropped, as did techno and phil’s. tommy was already in hysterics, smacking his hand against the counter that held the guns.

needless to say, wilbur found his favorite, not-quite sibling in a heartbeat.

techno was the last to come around with the child. can you blame him? every time he tried to threaten them or had beaten them at something, they would respond in a cryptic threat--

“i’m going to pee your pants if you don’t let me win”

or just brushed him off. without a second thought.

“anyways, i was murdering a chicken the other day, and the fucker had the audacity to ribbit at me.”

to say he was confused was an understatement. he was terrified of the fact that a literal child held so much power and disinterest in things like their own life. so for the first few months, he avoided them.

but he had seen past that when it was around midnight on a weekday. tommy was hanging out with tubbo and ranboo in their village miles away from the area. wilbur was out drinking with schlatt, niki, and fundy, and phil was already asleep.

techno wasn’t too far behind, sitting in front of the fireplace and staring out of the window that showed the front yard. it was only then when he saw the flash of a familiar face and looked closer as the teen walked up to the house quietly. their head was down and they carried a small bag with them.

techno opened the front door with a long creak as they reached the porch steps. it was only when they jumped and looked up in surprise that techno had noticed a deep bruise on their left cheek in the moonlight.

despite the fact that he kept away from them, techno was very protective and territorial of tommy, phil, and wilbur. and since they were attached to the teen, he became protective of them as well.

so all the voices in his head went quiet for a second. before exploding into a mixture of screams and threats, all leading back to protecting the child in front of him.

without thinking, he reached forward and cupped their face for a better view of the bruise. at the warm and soft touch, tears slipped down the kid’s cheeks and they sniffed pathetically.

the voices quickly took a 180, all screaming to take care of them. make them feel better. so, techno led the kid inside and let them spend the night in his room, with them falling asleep on the bed and him falling asleep on the rocking chair in his room.

phil did not hesitate to officially declare himself as the teen’s official father, saying that their biological father was a “little bitch”

now somewhat living with the teen, techno found an appreciation for their quieter moments, when they were reading or simply daydreaming. it was cute, in his eyes. but he also grew to enjoy when they were absolutely feral, especially toward tommy.

his favorite moment with them was when they had gifted tommy a music disc for his birthday. it was sweet and sentimental and tommy just about burst into tears when he saw it.

all of the sappiness quickly vanished when tommy put it into a jukebox.

“FUCK THIS PUSSY, BOY, FUCK. FUCK IT RIGHT, BOY--”

tommy had let out the most terrified scream and it practically engrained itself into techno’s brain. it was the first time he ever laughed at something the teen had done and the teen felt proud of themselves.

and finally, tommy. he was already happy to call himself a friend of the teen’s. they were like peas in a pod, working together.

tommy came to them when his insecurity felt heavy and they came to him whenever their dad’s words got to them. they had a nice system of dependency on one another and neither of them would trade it for the world.

tommy’s favorite moment of being friends with them was during their first birthday living in phil’s house. it was a birthday befitting their personality, with brightly color streamers hung and confetti all over the floor. he knew that they enjoyed it severely and once the cake was cut, the kid turned to phil.

“phil, where’s the big tiddy strippers i requested?”

tommy was GONE

he all but choked on his slice of cake and walked away, shaking his head while trying to stifle his giggles. but when he heard phil’s scream of “WHAT”, he just lost it.

all in all, his friend had made a fine part of the sleepy boys. they were a happy face in an otherwise somewhat bleak and dangerous world. and all four men appreciated it.

[call-me-aesthetic]

If Twisted Wonderland was an American Public School

WARNING: There are some slight sensitive topics that are featured in here! Reader discretion is advised!

Part 2 can be found here

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

- That one preppy girl who takes all honors and AP classes 😑

- Wants everyone to know that he’s becoming a doctor one day for his strict parents or he’ll dishonor the family

- Reminds the teacher about homework, knowing well that he’ll get slander for it

- Complains about how he got a 90 on his test or a B on his report card, a try hard much?

- Wears a cardigan with thicc but cute glasses since he’s one of those people with can’t see shit on the board so he has to move to the front of the class

Ace Trappola:

- The SoundCloud rapper, that’s it

- “Wanna listen to my mixtape? It’s pretty fire, my guy.” 😩🔥

- You will not miss him BLASTING out some song on his Bluetooth speaker, that shit be echoing through the hallways

- Tells you to stop what you’re doing only for him to either sing horribly or do a backflip, thinking that he’s so cool

- Wears a Supreme jacket with AirPods and waves on his head

Deuce Spade:

- Assuming that he’s still a delinquent, he’s that kid with the most fucked up school record

- Not much of a bully but will still talk shit to your face without caring, might even throw stuff at you during a lesson and you would be the one getting in trouble instead of him 🗿

- If he ever gets mad, it would be overdramatic like kicking the desks, punching the lockers, or walking out of the classroom unannounced and everyone would look at each other wondering wtf happened

- Covers the entire desks with drawings of skulls and those “s” if you know what I mean

- Wears Champion hoodies, wants you to know that he’s broke and rich at the same time

Trey Clover:

- The guy that’s not really popular but everyone knows him since he’s in all their classes

- Most people might have a crush on him because he’s REALLY nice 😳👉👈

- Gives off “older brother” vibes based on the way he looks and acts, like offering you a ride home if you beg ask nicely

- Secretly bakes creme brulee but doesn’t want to mess with the flow so he sticks to the status quo

- Wears the school’s hoodie just because he thinks it looks good on him, and the fact that he doesn’t know what else to wear

Cater Diamond:

- Hot Cheetos girl 🥵

- Has a whole buffet of food in his backpack and will not hesitate to eat them during a lesson, no sharing either sorry

- Excuses himself to the bathroom or full on skips class just to film a Tiktok

- Has about 100 followers on Instagram Magicam and brags about how he’s famous

- Wears a Thrasher hoodie with large hoop earrings and his hair in a bun

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

- The kid who flunked their freshman year that also sort of vibes with new classmates

- Always gets mistaken as a teacher by people since he looks and sounds old

- Knows the lessons but still fails them anyways, didn’t really give a damn either 🙄

- Captain of every sports club you can think of, never actually plays but has a lot of knowledge on them

- Wears the school’s letterman from years ago since it used to be his brother’s and that he’s too lazy to buy a new one

Ruggie Bucchi:

- That one kid who NEVER has money for the book fair or any other school event

- Always has to ask his classmates for some cash

- If he somehow does, then he’s one of those kids who buys Diary of the Wimpy Kid or the World Record books

- If he’s feeling cheap, he’ll buy the “cool stuff” like the chocolate scented calculator or fruit snacks 😭

- Wears oversized hoodies and basketball shorts that are clearly hand-me-downs

Jack Howl:

- That one athletic kid who’s both scary good and competitive when it comes to school games like football or soccer

- Literally the best player on his team and without him, they’re trash as hell 💀

- Tries his absolute best to support his teammates without yelling at them for how dumb they are

- “KICK THE FUCKING BALL! DO YOUR LEGS EVEN WORK?!”

- Wears the school’s jersey just to show off his “school spirit”

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

- The kid who sell snacks for “charity” but everyone knows he’s keeping the money to himself

- If you don’t have cash or try to negotiate with him, the only thing he’ll do is raise the price up

- “What do you mean you don’t have ten bucks? I can see it in your pocket.”

- Just bring nothing with you, he’ll doing anything to steal your stuff 🤭

- Wears a collar shirt with a tie and khakis that have pockets to keep his glasses and money in

Jade Leech:

- The kid who puts on a goody two shoes facade but is actually a stoner

- Only does “safe” drugs like vape but occasionally smokes weed, mostly in the bathroom or behind the school 🌬

- Can play it off and hide the scent when he’s high, teachers never suspect anything from him

- No one really cares to stop him unless he gets caught or something idk

- Wears clothing that either makes him look like a businessman or a junky, there’s nothing in between

Floyd Leech:

- The kid that’s plays basketball or volleyball just because he’s hella tall, and is actually good at the sports but doesn’t put much effort into them

- Always stays behind after gym, even though the teacher tries to make him leave for his next class 😬

- “I swear after this one shot, I’ll go to class.” *He never made that shot*

- Will jump you no matter who or where you are, and will get angry if you step on his new shoes

- Wears the jersey of any famous team with the latest pair of Jordan sneakers

Scarabia

Kalim Al Asim:

- VSCO girl at best, don’t lie to me now 🤡

- The only words he knows are “And I oop– sksksk.” and “Save the turtles.”

- Walks during a track meet while everyone else is running and sweating hard, the teacher doesn’t care either

- Doesn’t really do anything in gym but talks to his classmates and stands near the water fountain to refill his Hydro flask

- Wears tie dye shirts with cute scrunchies

Jamil Viper:

- That one quiet kid who everybody thinks is a serial killer but he’s actually not, I swear

- He just wants school to be over and spend the rest of his summer relaxing 😔

- Although he shouldn’t abuse his “power,” he‘ll move his hands in his pockets or backpack to make it look like he’s about to pull a weapon out.

- “Chill, I’m just grabbing a pencil.” *Everyone in the class started crying*

- Wears dark colored hoodies that intimidates people but are actually comfy

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

- The baddie popular girl 😌💅✨

- Arrives to school late with a Starbucks in hand from his local Target

- Fixes himself every 5 seconds like reapplying his lipgloss or spraying Bath and Body Works cherry blossom perfume

- Uses acrylic nails and long hair extensions as weapons during a cat fight

- Wears a crop top with ripped jeans and those clout sunglasses

Rook Hunt:

- That creepy guy in the hallways who tries to get your attention, even if you don’t know him

- Scares people when he says, “Ayo, where my hug at?” 🥶💯

- Uses at least 10 cans of Axe body spray a week after gym class, which stinks up the locker rooms

- Waves at you if he passes your class, even walking into the room just to say hi

- Wears literally anything but always include a hat

Epel Felmier:

- The artist girl who just wants to be alone 🧑‍🎨

- Purposely draws in front of you but pretends like you’re not looking

- If you complement him, he’ll just brush it off and proceeds to diss himself

- “Thanks but I’m not THAT good at drawing, teehee.” *Insert Radio Rebel face*

- Wears a hoodie or a cardigan with big pockets to put his art supplies in

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

- I don’t even need to tell you who he is, y’all already know ahaha 🥴

- Sneaks a whole PlayStation in his backpack so he can play with it during lunch

- Is on his phone 24/7 even in class to the point where teachers don’t care anymore

- Tries to get people into anime but only to little success

- Wears a shirt of any anime character or that damn ahegao hoodie, girl bye

Ortho Shroud:

- The nerdy kid who’s known for destroying others at many games

- Plays classics like D&D, Yugioh, Pokémon, the whole shabang

- Daily Beyblade battles during recess with everyone surrounding him, the menacing aura radiates off of him

- Will steal your things if you lose to him but gives it back a week later cuz he’s sweet 🥰

- Wears light up Sketchers shoes and those Minecraft shirts you find at Old Navy

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

- The theatre kid who also goes to band practice, change my mind 👁👄👁

- Takes his role seriously when it comes to school plays and concerts, even if he gets casted as a damn tree or doesn’t go solo

- Remembers the songs and their lyrics to any musical you name, a really good singer at that too

- Plays almost every instrument, you definitely know this since you can hear him down the hallways during a test

- Wears a white button up shirt, black pants with fancy dress shoes, and top it all off with a fricking Rolex watch

Lilia Vanrouge:

- The weird guy who pranks people and vandalizes school property in every way possible

- If you ever get a textbook with a message that tells you to go to a certain page only for you to found a picture of a dick, yeah that was him 😒

- When using a Chromebook, he’ll leave a tab open on YouTube so when the next person uses it, pray that your ears will still work by tomorrow

- During lunch, he is a literal DEMON that mixes milk with chicken nuggets together and having the audacity to eat it too

- Wears an oversized raincoat or a windbreaker but idk wtf kind of things he has hiding underneath

Silver:

- That guy in class who consumes Monster energy drinks and falls asleep 99% of the time but somehow manages to pass the class 🤷

- Whenever he’s awake, he’ll talk to the teachers since he’s basically friends with them for some reason

- Writes his name out of boredom on any desk you sit on but in different places, sometimes around the corners or the sides

- Has a sixth sense because he’ll wake up if you try to draw on his face and if you did get something on him, it’s on sight

- Wears those colorful hoodies that zips all the way up to cover his face with a matching backpack, it’s pretty cool ngl

Sebek Zigvolt:

- That kid who literally knows everything about historical wars and will show it off during class

- Also has knowledge on weaponry, which has people questioning him but he’s just very dedicated on serving his country and people

- Knows how to fight and defend himself from a bitch since he spent his summer at a military boot camp, put respect on my man’s name 😤

- Honestly a great partner for a group project, actually does the given work but not the whole thing for you

- Wears anything that has camo pattern and chunky combat boots

I only made this because me and my friends were talking about our school memories so yeah. This is based from my experience so they might not be exactly accurate. Might even be a part two if you want.

[tavvattales]

hi!! i really love your writing 😊😊 can i request albedo and xiao sharing a bed with their s/o for the first time? like would they be nervous or shy 🤔(purely sfw by the way!!)

“Hiii! Oh gosh, thanks so much 🥰 you absolutely can! Thank you so much for your patience. I hope you enjoy what I wrote for you 😊😊

The Xiao one was shorter than I wanted it to be, but I’m still happy with how it came out

---------------------------------------------------

GENSHIN IMPACT Character x gn reader fluff stories~♡♡

Scenario: Sharing a bed for the first time

Characters: Albedo and Xiao(seperate)

Pairings: Albedo x gn reader, Xiao x gn reader

Warnings: Mentions of undressing, but still SFW, I promise. NGL THO I was sooooo tempted to make this NSFW 🥵 You'll see what I meannnn

SFW----> Want some fluff? Then you came to the right place just click down below ;)

Albedo:

● The two of you have been dating for a few months now. He still finds himself learning new things to love about you each time you're together. He loves when you come to visit him while he's working up in Dragonspine. Those are your special moments when he teaches you new things about Alchemy.

● But what you find most precious is the way he speaks to you, so gentle. The way his eyes get lost in yours. The slight blush that dusts his cheeks when the two of you shyly break away. And most of all, the way he kisses you. .

Chilled winds tore through Albedo's lab with a howl as you quickly grabbed at the papers that threatened to blow away, jumping up to get them. You and Albedo worked quickly to store important items and paperwork away as the snowstorm picked up, "I guess we both didn't expect a blizzard, huh?" You call out to him, your hair whipping you across your face as you clung your coat tighter around your body, your teeth chattering. You shiver, your muscles tense, the sheer cold was starting to set in.

"You must be freezing. Quickly, get close to the fire," He instructed, leading you by the hand and guiding you to the cot next to the firepit. Even the fire struggled to keep up with the violent winds, the flames growing smaller, weaker, "Wait here for a moment." He said, quickly returning with a few blankets and more firewood.

Albedo threw the firewood onto the small flame, prodding and poking at it to get the blaze going again as you huddle under the blankets he handed you. You were still shivering, the temperatures turning dangerously low, "I-it's r-really cold. . ." You manage to say. Albedo put a hand to his chin, his eyes filled with worry as he pondered for a moment.

"I. . . may have an idea, but I'm not sure how you would feel about it, " He said softly, glancing down at you as he finally got the fire up and going again.

"H-honestly, I-I would be f-fine with anything a-at this point," You responded, teeth still chattering, curious as to what his idea could possibly be.

Albedo nodded, a soft pink washing over his face. He started to take off his jacket, tossing it to the side, leaving him with the blue shirt underneath that perfectly sculpted his upper body. You find your gaze lingering, wondering what could possibly be underneath when you notice him pull his shirt up over his head. His blue shirt didn't do what was underneath justice. The gentle flames of the fire cast a shadow over that perfect v-line that adorned his torso, his abs tensing up at the cold that hit him. He was perfect.

Eyes growing wide and your face now flushed at what you were witnessing you heard him softly speak, "I can feel you staring, " he said calmly, yet he was just as embarrassed.

"S-sorry!" You quickly advert your gaze, hiding your face from embarrassment. Before you know it, Albedo slips behind you under the blankets, "A-ah!" You yelp in surprise, but you're quickly enveloped in his warmth. Under the blanket he finds the opening of your jacket and slips it off.

"So you won't succumb to sheer cold, I need to keep you warm with skin to skin contact. I promise it won't be anything more than that, " Albedo's warm voice tickled your ear as you nodded allowing him to undress you. You were both embarrassed, but everything was innocent enough. His arms were gently wrapped around your waist, his hands never lingering. He was keeping you safe, and most importantly warm.

The two of you lay down, cuddled close as you wait for the blizzard to pass. Despite the snowstorm, you were incredibly happy to be able to be this close to Albedo.

Albedo x gn reader END

----------------------------------------------------

Xiao:

● Affection and touch was still a subject Xiao struggled with, but he tried. As he got to know you, you taught him what it meant to be in love. This was a totally new concept to him. He's heard of love, but never experienced it himself until he met you. He craved your touch almost every second of everyday, but he had an odd way of asking for it. He wanted to hold your hand? He'd ask gruffly. A hug? He'd advert his gaze and open his arms. You found this absolutely adorable.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Xiao said with worry in his tone. His golden eyes glanced over you, your face flushed red and you felt warm. Your head was pounding and your whole body felt like lead. A faint feeling washed over you as your vision grew blurry.

“I don’t fe-” before you could finish your sentence you collapse. Xiao swiftly catches you in his arms before you hit the ground, hoisting you up with ease. You were burning up much to his surprise. His eyes flicker with worry as he rushes you back to your room.

You had over worked yourself again, carrying the burden of others. You were sure to get a scolding from Xiao when you woke from your feverish daze. Xiao gently lay you down on your bed, brushing your hair away from your face, “Foolish human,” He muttered under his breath. Xiao watched the rise and fall of your staggered breaths, not sure what to do next. He knew one thing, though, he didn’t want to leave your side.

Xiao softly grabbed a hold of your hand, his slender fingers interlacing with yours, squeezing your hand gently. You stirred awake and mumbled softly, “X-Xiao. . .?” You smile weakly at him, his gaze catching yours, “Thank you. . “ 

“For what?” He responded, still gently stroking the top of your hand with his thumb. You were surprised that a small, simple touch from him made your heart wild. 

“For catching me,” you say, voice soft, squeezing his hand back. You gaze at him longingly, “Will you lay with me? Just for a moment. . “ Xiao was taken aback by your sudden request, his own face growing warm.

He hid his embarrassment with his free hand, “If it will make you feel better. .” he said with a huff, sliding into bed next to you. You adjust yourself and lay your head on his chest, listening to the rhythm of his gentle heartbeat. Xiao finds himself playing with your hair and holding you closer as you drift back to sleep.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was enjoying every minute of this.

Xiao x gn reader END

Thanks so much for reading!! <3

[viking-raider]

A Raw Heart - *Sensitive! READ THE WARNINGS!*

Summary: You tell Henry about the worst tragedy in your life.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 1,863

Rating: Mature -  Serious Angst, Tragedy, Anguish, Grief, Loss, Death, Hurt/Comfort, Possible triggers

Inspiration: I’ve thought about this story for a long time, and it’s a bit personal.

Author’s Note: Read the Warnings!

You and Henry had been seeing each other for several months, having met at the auditions for Night Hunter. It was the first time Henry had been in your place, over for a nice night in, you left him in your living room long enough to get you both some wine. While you did that, Henry looked around, peeking at stuff, but not invading your privacy, checking out the books you had on your shelves and the photos you had on display around.

He noticed a small Russian doll-like thing on one of your shelves and picked it up, admiring it.

“Henry.” You called, standing on the other side of the room from him, stiff as a board. “Put it down.” You almost hissed at him. “Don't touch it.” You told him, trembling and your voice unsteady. “Please.” You added, your throat tight and tears threatening.

“I'm sorry.” Henry squeaked, putting it back where it was on the shelf. “I was just admiring it. It's really beautiful.” He babbled, nervously. “Where did you get it?” He asked, looking over at you and was caught off guard by the tears dripping down your face.

“It's my son.” You mumbled, struggling to gulp down your tears and emotions.

Henry blinked and his whole body jerked, shocked by your words. “What?” He pushed out, his own throat tight.

“Oh god.” You mewled, realizing what you had said. “Please, leave.” You whimpered, then rushed down the hall to your room, slamming the door behind you and barreling into your bathroom, to drop to your knees in front of the toilet bowl, wrenching violently into it.

Henry carefully opened your bedroom door, hearing your dry heaves, and followed the sound of it. “Hey.” He whispered, kneeling beside you and rubbing your back, his face showing his deep concern for you.

“I as-asked you t-to leave.” You wheezed, panting into the bowl, your heavy tears dripping into it.

“I know you did.” Henry sighed, still rubbing your back in a reassuring way. “But, I can't just leave you like this.” He said, getting up and finding a wash cloth hanging on the towel rack and ran it under the sink faucet. “I never meant to upset you.” He whispered, gently wiping the cool cloth over your temples, forehead and cheeks, even pressing it to the back of your neck for a moment.

“You didn't know.” You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut. “Only a few people know what that is.”

Henry gulped, a pit in his stomach and bit his lip for a moment. “You said...” He took a deep breath. “You said, it was your son.” He said, chewing his bottom lip to bits.

“I did.” You whimpered, sitting down and pressing your back to the side of the cold tub. “When I was twenty, I was dating a guy, but we broke it off. Two months later, I found out I was pregnant with his baby. I told him and he wanted nothing to do with me, or the baby. Shocker of the century.” You chuckled, but whined at how sore your throat was.

“What happened?” Henry frowned, resting back against the vanity, and drawing his knees up.

“Well, I had the usual three options.” You sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “Have the baby and give it up for adopting, keep him or the other option.” You said, glancing at him for a moment, to get the point across. “I wasn't going to the latter thing, wasn't something I could live with. So, over the next eight and a half months, I tossed back and forth between adoption or keeping him. I thought, just before labor happened, that I was going to put him up for adoption. I was twenty, still living at home and had a shit job. What life could I give him, a struggling mother and an absent father.”

You paused for a moment, lost in a memory.

“But, when I finally gave birth to him, and I saw him in all his bloody, messy and screaming glory, I was enamored by him. He was beautiful and perfect, but importantly, he was mine. My son. I made him.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “With a little help, I suppose. But, I made him, with my body, my blood and flesh, inside me for months. It was like, I already knew him and he already knew me.”

“Pals for the ages.”

You smiled and closed your eyes, tears dripping down your cheeks, as you recalled his little face, the warmth and weight of his teeny body in your arms, his smooth and downy skin against your chest. Hearing him coo at you, just before he latched onto your breast and fed, or how he squirmed as you bathed him. You would stay awake for hours, not caring how absolutely wrecked and exhausted you were from the day, to watch him sleep in the little cradle that attached you to the side of your bed. Remembering the first time he laughed, you blew a raspberry on his tummy as you changed his pamper and he became hysterical, filling your ears with that absolutely magical baby laugh, that no matter how horrible your day was going and how shitty you felt, you couldn't help but laugh along too; blowing more and more raspberries against his squirmy body and flailing arms and legs, his face bright with a face splitting grin.

“What happened?” Henry whispered, his voice weak and stomach clenching.

You choked suddenly as the horrible memory strangled you, like it had over the long years. “My boss made me work late one night, so I left him with my mother, she babysat him all the time, he was her first grand-baby and she was almost as wild about him as I was. I was a few hours into my shift, when my mom called, and I knew, instantly, something was wrong. She always called me before she put him to sleep, so I could talk to him and hear his little noises; and she had already done that.”

“Two hours before.”

“She had gone into check on him, and..” You froze, your breathing faltering and gripped the rug beneath you, tearing at it as your grief slammed into you. “He wasn't breathing and wouldn't respond. She called medical services, then called me, while they tried to save him.”

Henry's chin hit his chest, a tight bubble of grief in him. “I'm so sorry.” He whimpered, crushed for you, realizing what he had picked up was indeed your son, his urn. “I'm sorry.” He choked, moving over to you and hugging you against his body, letting you sob into his chest, soaking his shirt with your anguished tears, your heart splitting wails crushing him, like a factory of bricks.

“My boy.” You howled, clinging onto Henry, twisting your hands up in the back of his sweater. “My baby boy.”

“I know.” Henry choked and held you tight, tears dripping from his scruffy jaw and into your hair, rocking both of you. “I know, love. I know.”

“I miss him, Henry.” You sighed and sniffled, looking up at him. “I miss him, with every fiber of my soul and life.”

Henry smiled softly at you, brushing your hair out of your face. “I know you do, sweetheart. I know you do. But, he's still with you. He will always be with you, darling. In your heart and in your soul. Because you made him, with your body, your blood and your flesh, inside of you for months, and he's still in your body, blood and flesh, here and now, forever and always.” He told you, cupping your face in his shaking hands.

“Nothing and no one can ever take that, or him, from you. Even if he's not here with you, physically.”

You looked into Henry's baby blue, bloody shot and teary eyes, sucking your wobbling lip between your teeth, chin shaking as your body was wracked with a wave of new tears and emotions. No one had ever said something like that to you before. Everyone that knew about your son told you to move on, that the pain would pass and lessen, but it only grew worse over the years. Missing out on his first tooth coming in or losing one and sneaking money under his pillow for the tooth fairy, his first steps and word. His first day of school, his first crush on someone, watching him grow tall and do some many things you saw other kids doing. Your mother even suggested finding a guy and having another kid, but that thought horrified you, afraid that the same thing would happen all over again.

But, Henry's words had instilled something in your sore and cracked heart, like putting a plaster on it. He was right, your son might not be here physically anymore, but you had created him with your own body, nestled in your womb, his DNA was yours and it was still alive, so he was still alive, in that way.

“His name,” You said softly, letting go of your trembling lip. “was Julian.”

Henry smiled at you. “It's a beautiful name.” He replied, gently.

It was then, that it struck you, something you had only just realized as you shared a devastating, raw and such a personal moment that you have never shared with anyone else, or even talked about with the people that did, that you tried to avoid thinking about. You had freely given Henry the information about Julian, you had never told any of the guys you previously saw or dated, a few asked about the small, silver and blue urn, but you always changed the subject.

Why had you told Henry about him, so freely, letting down all the thick walls you had built around yourself over the years? You had known him for two months and been only four or five dates, but you felt safe with him; loved, understood and listened to.

Henry wrapped his arms around you and stood you both back up, guiding you back into the living room, sitting you down on the couch, then went into the kitchen, finding two glasses and two bottles of wine on the kitchen counter, obviously you had come into the living room as he picked up Julian's urn to ask which bottle he wanted. He just grabbed one, pulled the cork out of the neck and poured you both a glass, before bringing it out to you; sitting on the couch with you tucked into his warm and protective side. Neither of you said anything, sitting quietly on the couch, sipping your glasses of wine, in silence.

“Thank you.” You whispered, your voice still hoarse from all your crying. “I've been hanging onto that for so long.”

“Of course.” He whispered back, gently kissing your temple. “I'll always be here, if you need to talk it out, or cry it out.” He told you, giving you a tender expression, before hugging you snugly.

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

Welcome to Faerieland - Fan Fic (last chapters)

Here we go! Last chapters of Welcome to Faerieland.

Link to full story on AO3 here.

*****

Dru and Ash landed a mile or so away from their destination, in order to avoid drawing attention to the location. As soon as their feet touched the ground, the two rocs turned around and disappeared above the treetops.

“I can walk,” Dru said and Ash offered his arm to steady her while she limped toward the general direction of the cottage. She knew it pretty well, it had sort of become a Blackthorns’ country home.

“So how do you know this place?”

“My eldest brother is dating the King of the Unseelie Court, and that’s where they meet sometimes.”

Ash whistled.

“One of your brothers is King Kieran’s lover? I think I heard about him.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty serious, although they won’t ever be able to be official about it. I guess you know what the rules are about faerie royalty’s consorts?”

“I do,” he averted his gaze and brushed a hand through his hair, in what seemed to be a nervous gesture. Dru realized it was the first time Ash had looked uncomfortable about a subject.

“A lot of rules need to be changed,” he said abruptly. “Don’t you agree?” His green eyes bore into her as he said it, as if he was desperate for her approval.

“Well, King Kieran has already been carrying out a lot of changes since he came to power. It’s just that… sometimes, it takes time. You can’t change the world overnight.”

Ash kicked a pebble. “You could, if you didn’t insist on everything being consensual. Maybe King Kieran cares too much about what people think of him... or, you know, in general.” He shrugged but there was a predatory glint in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before, and it almost made her cringe.

“You know, Ash, if what you are looking for in a sovereign is arbitrary decisions and a bitchy attitude, we have the Seelie Queen for that.”

She had expected Ash to laugh, his free, careless laugh - God, she loved it when he did that - but he seemed lost in thought.

She had to admit she had been a bit harsh. She knew the Seelie and Unseelie Courts were in much better terms now that King Arawn was dead. The Queen had appointed the Unseelie Prince Adaon as her most trusted advisor and the two of them and King Kieran met regularly to reinforce the bonds and cooperation between both realms.

Dru started humming a song and Ash paused, his green eyes widening. “Are you singing… Royals ?”

“Yeah, I love that song. Do you know it?”

“I do,” he answered, suppressing a smile.

As they walked, she sang louder - she knew the lyrics by heart - and he watched her with glittering eyes, clearly entertained.

“And we'll never be royals It don't run in our blood That kind of luxe just ain't for us We crave a different kind of buzz Let me be your ruler You can call me queen bee”

“Maybe I will,” he whispered in her ear as he tickled her, and she elbowed him playfully.

He sang along with her then - he had a beautiful tenor voice - both of them throwing their heads back at the same time to howl at the sky “And baby, I'll rule - I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule” , like a pair of wolves. They roared with laughter, Dru holding her ribs and leaning against Ash for support. Watching him from the corner of her eye, she marvelled at the fact that she had found a new friend in such a short time.

At the Academy, people either feared her because she was a Blackthorn or wanted to be friends with her simply for that same reason. Or both. She was almost a celebrity, despite herself. Only because of her last name and her eldest brothers’ hand in ending the Cold Peace in the most spectacular way. And of course, there were always the loud-mouthed bigots and moralists who were baffled by the Blackthorns’ ties with the Fair Folk and their so-called “sexual and moral depravity”. The Rosales, of course, suffered the same criticism, and Jaime had always been a comforting shoulder and reliable friend to Dru in those moments where she felt she had had too much to deal with.

She didn’t want to worry Julian, Emma, Mark or even Helen with her troubles making friends at the Academy.

She couldn’t confide in Ty, because he didn’t care at all what people thought, and was content with sticking to his close friends, Livvy and Anush. His teachers, especially Ragnor Fell and Catarina Loss were absolute fans - even if Fell would never admit it - and everyone at the Scholomance was too impressed by his obvious academic superiority - and maybe, the Carpathian lynx tailing him - to dare bother him anyway.

Ash seemed to be far away from all of this, as if he had been living as a hermit in a remote tower, which was probably close to the truth.

He was the only one outside her siblings, with the exception of Jaime of course, to treat her like an ordinary girl.

And maybe, maybe someday Ash could become more than a friend. He was nice, definitely fun, absolutely gorgeous and he had kissed her after all, even though she knew it could be meaningless where faeries were concerned. She had been waiting for Jaime to figure things out for so long, and Ash had appeared out of nowhere and had shown interest without a moment’s hesitation.

She was interrupted in her thoughts as a broad-shouldered silhouette falling from the sky dropped on the ground before them. Dru released Ash’s arm to clap both her hands on her mouth, relief washing over her. Kit, looking as angelic as ever with his bright blue eyes and tousled blond hair, fluttered his white wings tipped with gold as he advanced gleefully to greet Dru.

The reunion was cut short as he was suddenly thrown back by a figure shooting straight into him like a cannonball and from one moment to the next, Kit disappeared into a ball of black and white feathers, rolling on the grass.

It took Dru a moment to realize that Ash had disappeared from her side and that he was actually the one who had attacked Kit. She ran to separate them but soon they were shooting up, caught in a wrestling match a few feet above ground, moving so swiftly they were a blur.

Dru let out a heavy sigh before she put two fingers between her lips and whistled as loud as she could. The two figures froze - they were still grappling each other - and looked down.

“ASH! KIT! Both of you. Get down here! NOW.”

They both looked at each other.

“ASH! What the hell is wrong with you, this is my brother’s boyfriend !” Dru continued, gesturing frantically toward Kit.

Ash released Kit first, grudgingly, and they both landed softly on the floor. There was a long gash across Ash’s cheek but he was grinning like the Cheshire cat, his eyes glittering in excitement. He winked at Dru as he wiped blood from his mouth. Kit was rearranging his hair, looking pissed, and Dru realized that his knuckles were bloody and that there was a small cut on his eyebrow. Both of them seemed otherwise unharmed.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Batman ?” Kit said, glaring at Ash.

“Sorry,” Ash replied, wiping dirt from his shirt. “I took you for a psychopathic jerk who nearly killed me a few years ago. He literally kicked me and my uncle out of the place we used to live in. You look exactly like him.”

“Well, it can’t have been me since last night was the first time I ever saw you,” Kit replied sharply, wiping his bloody knuckles over his shirt.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I figured that out pretty fast. You fight like a pussy compared to him.”

“Want to say that again?” Kit lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Boys, could you please stop comparing the sizes of your dicks, so we can move on?”

Ash and Kit complied, arguing over which Batman movie was best the entire way, until the cottage came into view, a few feet away. The door opened and Jaime came out of it, running toward them.

“Dru,” he cried out. He caught up to her, and threw his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. She lost herself in his familiar and comforting scent and pressed her cheek against his torso. “Mi corazón,” he whispered softly. "We were worried sick. Cómo estás?”

Jaime brushed his hands through Dru’s hair and planted a kiss on her forehead.

She swiftly pulled back, her eyes darting to where Ash was leaning against a tree, talking to Kit, his arms crossed. He was smiling indulgently at her, as if he didn’t mind.

“I am fine, thanks to Ash,” she said, and pulled Jaime over to where Ash and Kit were standing. “Jaime, this is Ash. Ash, this is Jaime,” she introduced, waving her hand awkwardly between the two of them.

“Thank you for taking care of our precious Dru,” Jaime said, extending his hand. “We owe you one.”

“No hay de qué!” Ash replied, shaking his hand.

“Hablas español?” Jaime asked, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Solo a hombres con un excelente gusto en mujeres.” He gave Jaime a wicked grin and looked pointedly at Dru. Jaime’s face fell.

A high-pitched shriek had them whip their heads up in time to see a majestic roc land on the ground, a few feet away. Ty hopped gracefully from the giant bird and walked immediately to Dru. He was pale - even more so than usual - with deep dark circles under his gray eyes, and Dru marvelled at how gorgeous her brother was anyway, whatever state he was in. She sometimes wished she had inherited the same stunningly sharp features. Without a word, Ty knelt in front of Dru and started inspecting her wound.

“Ash, this is my brother Ty,” Dru announced proudly.

Ash started to extend his hand but Dru shook her head at him. He let it fall by his side.

“Ty, this is Ash.”

Tiberius nodded without lifting his gaze.

“Who tended to the wound?”

“I did,” Ash answered.

Ty finally stood - and Dru realized Ash was almost as tall as Ty, which was saying something, since Ty was very tall - and glanced at Ash for the first time, his gray eyes looking down under his long eyelashes and not lifting up from a spot on Ash’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he said curtly.

Hesitantly, Ty put his arms around Dru in one of the rare hugs he had ever granted her. It was awkward and short, but Dru knew it meant Ty had been truly terrified of losing her.

After they released each other, Ty whirled and started walking toward the cottage. He paused after a few steps and glanced over his shoulder. The four of them had just been standing there, staring at him. “Are you coming?”

They all hurried after Ty, Dru having one arm around Ash’s, and the other around Jaime’s.

“So, tell me. Are all your brothers this handsome?” Ash asked her, as he looked Ty up and down appreciatively.

“EXCUSE ME? “ Kit interjected. His whole face had gone bright red in an instant and he started cracking his bloody knuckles. He looked poised for a second round.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Ash did not seem in the least bit concerned by Kit’s reaction.

“It’s my boyfriend you are talking about.”

“And I just said I found him attractive. Is that in any way offensive?”

Dru laughed. “No,” she said. “I am sure you were simply stating your opinion and not trying to steal Kit’s boyfriend.”

“I am not trying to steal anyone’s lover,” Ash concurred, gazing wistfully at Dru. ”I just admire beauty when I see it”.

“But he would definitely be up for sex if Ty wanted to,” Jaime muttered sarcastically under his breath.

Ash shot him a puzzled look. “Of course, I would. Why not? Kit would be welcome as well, the more the merrier.”

Kit opened his mouth but seemed too much in a shock for a witty comeback. That was a first.

Oddly enough, Dru realized she didn’t feel jealous or baffled by Ash’s statement. He was like an untamed bird breaking out of a cage, unwilling to bend to any rules of propriety. She guessed part of it was due to his fey heritage.

“Mark is the Unseelie King’s lover, the Seelie Queen keeps trying to get into Julian’s pants and now you two,” Jaime said eventually, looking over at Ty and Dru. “What is it with the Blackthorns and the Fair Folk anyway?”

“Probably the exact same thing there is with Blackthorns and any other species,” Ash said evenly.

Everyone turned a questioning look at him.

“They are hot,” he said simply, and shrugged.

Everyone laughed at that.

*****

They were all starving so they decided to have breakfast in the cottage before heading back home.

Kit, wearing an apron that had "Doughnut sandwiches are a proper meal” printed on it (and that probably belonged to Mark Blackthorn), was in the kitchen, scrambling a huge portion of eggs in a large pan with a wooden spoon. He somehow managed to make it look totally hot.

“Eggs?” Ty asked Kit as he came to stand next to him and put a hand on the small of Kit’s back.

“Yeah, I would have cooked pancakes, but we are missing a few ingredients to do that. So it will be eggs. Eggs and fruits. God knows there are plenty of fruits here.”

“You know how to cook pancakes?” Ty asked, his gray eyes widening in surprise.

Kit shot him a shy glance.

“Yeah, I… I asked Julian for his recipe. You know, in case one day I needed to cook for you…r family.”

Kit and Ty both exchanged a look that was so intimate, Jaime had to glance away. He found Ash leaning casually against the fridge, his arms crossed, and gazing at him with a smirk on his face. He looked like he owned the place and hadn’t just popped uninvited into the home of strangers. When Jaime raised a questioning eyebrow at him, Ash unfolded his arms to draw the shape of a heart in the air in front of him. Jaime rolled his eyes. He definitely didn’t like this guy.

They set the table, while Dru was in the bedroom looking for clothes.

Kit and Ty sat next to each other, their fingers intertwined under the table and their backs to the kitchen counter, which left Ash to sit across from Ty and Jaime to sit across from Kit. They had left a spot at the head of the table for Drusilla, who would have Ash on her left and Ty on her right when she came back.

Ty only had fruits on his plate, and he was eyeing Kit gulping his eggs down, as if he was reconsidering having some himself.

“Want to try?” Ash brought his fork to Ty, who flinched as if he had been stabbed.

Kit grabbed Ash’s wrist and pushed the fork away from Ty.

“Ty can use my fork if he wants to try it. He is my boyfriend, after all.”

Ash shrugged. “Yeah, no worries, I think I got that. You can tattoo it on your forehead, it will spare you from having to repeat it to every living soul you encounter on Earth.”

Ash glanced at Jaime, and said in a lower voice, directed only at him. “And it will keep other people from pining for someone they can’t have.”

“Excuse me?” Jaime turned to whisper in Ash’s ear. “What does it have to do with Dru and me?”

“I was not talking about Dru,” Ash whispered back.

They both jerked their heads up, as Dru swooped in from the bedroom then, wearing a beautiful red dress that Jaime remembered having seen on Cristina. It was much tighter on Dru, clinging to her curves and emphasizing her cleavage. Jaime swallowed. He couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on in his head.

Ash immediately stood to draw Dru’s chair and she nodded by way of thanking him. She sat on it as if it was a throne, her chin up.

Jaime glanced over at Ash, who seemed so free about his sexuality, and felt a pang of envy.

“So, what’s your deal, Ash?” Jaime blurted. Ash raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Are you…” Jaime cleared his throat. “Bixesual?”

A slow grin spread across Ash’s face. “We’ve just met and you’re already trying to fill your fact sheet about me and tick one of your little boxes?”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Jaime said, feeling uncomfortable.

“I know you didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I am not offended by your question,” Ash continued in a gentler voice. “It’s just that… not everyone can fit into little boxes.” He swiftly glanced at Ty when he said it. It was a flicker movement, but lynx-eyed Ty caught it immediately.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Tiberius said. “I am definitely gay.” He slipped half a banana inside his mouth then, totally oblivious of the gesture. Kit and Ash weren’t though. Kit made a noise between a snort and a chuckle and spilled the water he was drinking through his nose and all over his shirt, while Ash almost fell off his chair roaring with laughter. Dru looked at the boys with motherly affection.

Jaime stood and hurried to the kitchen to get a towel to clean the mess. When he turned, Kit was already there, leaning against the kitchen counter, extending his hand and looking at Jaime with a genuine smile that lit up his gorgeous face.

“Thanks, Jaime,” he said, as he grabbed the towel and started padding his shirt with it. The planes of his muscles stood out and could be seen right through the wet fabric.

“No problem,” Jaime mumbled, feeling his heartbeat increasing inside his chest.

He averted his gaze, past Kit, to the table, where Ty and Dru had their heads bent together, caught in a deep conversation.

Ash was peering around Ty, watching Jaime with amusement. When he caught Jaime gazing back, he stuck his tongue inside his cheek, and started moving his fist back and forth in front of his mouth, miming a blowjob.

Jaime resisted the urge to flip him the finger.

****

When breakfast was over, Dru lay sprawled on a sofa, her leg propped on Jaime’s lap, and Ash was examining the sound system, so he could put music on.

Kit and Ty had disappeared. God only knew where.

“So, what was that demon attack in the middle of Faerie about?” Jaime asked.

“Ty has a theory. And you won’t like it,” Dru replied. “He believes the Unseelie prince who held us hostage has made an alliance with a Greater Demon… probably a Prince of Hell.”

Jaime tensed. If Ty believed this, it was very bad news indeed. “So why send an army of demons to attack an ally?”

Dru twirled a lock of her dark brown hair as she replied. “Two options. Either the Prince of Hell discovered that his ally had been exposed and wanted to silence him. Or… or we will soon be caught in the middle of an internal war between the Princes of Hell.”

“You mean… there might be more than one involved?”

“To quote Ty, evidence makes it more likely than not,” Dru replied, imitating her brother’s voice. Jaime felt dread wash over him.

He gently put Dru’s leg on an armrest and excused himself.

Sometimes, he felt so anxious it was all he could do not to curl up in a corner and wait for his chest pain and dizziness to fade. The mission he had carried out a few years back, where he had to stay hidden all the time, never staying in one place, had made him jumpy, poised for any threat. He didn’t want Dru to see that side of him. For her, he could only be the calm and reliable friend she was used to.

He decided to scout the rest of the cottage for an empty room. There was a corridor - leading to a bathroom? more bedrooms maybe? - on the left side of the main suite’s door.

He went through and just as he turned around a corner... stopped short.

Halfway down the corridor, Ty was leaning with his back against the wall and Kit had his hands propped on either side of him, trapping Ty in a cage of his arms… and they were kissing.

Jaime had never seen two men kissing before and he was surprised to see how tender and sweet it looked. Ty was running his long pale fingers in Kit’s blond hair while the other hand rested on the small of Kit’s back, half of it concealed under Kit’s waistband.

Kit was naked from the waist up and Jaime could see all the tanned muscles in his back contract as he deepened the kiss, eliciting soft moans from the Blackthorn boy.

They were beautiful together, two opposites inevitably drawn to each other, their bodies fitting perfectly like yin and yang.

Jaime felt his whole body react, with a familiar flutter around his stomach and heat rushing up his cheeks. He knew he should not be watching, but he couldn’t get himself to tear his gaze away.

Kit broke the kiss to trace the dark Marks swirling up Ty’s neck with the tip of his tongue. Ty’s gray eyes fluttered open and he caught sight of Jaime. His intense gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t even seem surprised or angry. He simply raised an eyebrow at Jaime as if to say Can I help you with something ?

Jaime hastily retreated to the living room.

He found Ash’s lean figure perched on the wide low table at the center of the room, dancing to the blasting sound of Beyoncé’s Single Ladies and singing along. “If you like it, you should have put a ring on it,” actually sounded very good in his velvety voice. He was twisting, hands on his hips, and throwing his legs up like a professional, while making dramatic faces at Dru, who was sprawled on the sofa, howling with laughter. As he brushed his lips with his finger, licking it and started caressing his torso while throwing his head back, shaking his beautiful silvery hair, he managed to make it look erotic and not ridiculous at all. Jaime had to admit… His moves were perfect, fluid, coordinated and he totally… pulled it off. Annoying jerk.

“Having fun without me?” Kit burst into the room - he was, fortunately, wearing a shirt this time - and immediately hopped on the table to join Ash and one could not imagine they had been wrestling less than an hour before.

When Dru caught Jaime watching them, she patted the spot on the sofa next to her and he moved to drop beside her, throwing his arm around her shoulders.

The music had changed to Rihanna’s S&M and Ash and Kit were dancing together as if they had rehearsed for hours, their dance steps coordinated and smooth. They looked like two lifelong best buddies who could guess each other’s moves. They were pulsing with energy, although obviously neither of them had slept the previous night. Ash made a show of licking Kit’s cheek, and Kit pushed him away, grimacing. When Ash arched his back to rub his buttocks against Kit’s crotch and Kit spanked him, Dru wiped tears from her eyes. Jaime imagined what it would be like to go to a nightclub with the both of them. They would most likely steal the show.

As if on cue, the next song was… Stole the show, by Kygo. As they danced close together in perfect synchrony, Jaime noticed for the first time the similarities between Ash and Kit. Though Ash was all pale, white blond hair and alabaster skin, and Kit was all golden hair and tanned muscles, there was something about their facial features, the planes of their cheeks, the lines of their jaws… They did not look like brothers, but they could easily pass for cousins.

Jaime grabbed a Hot Shadowhunters calendar that had been left on the side table and started flipping through the pages. Looking at the January page featuring Jace Herondale, he wondered why everyone said Kit was like a mini Jace when Jaime could clearly see there was a difference, now that Kit had grown into more adult features. At least to Jaime, Kit’s fey heritage was plain.

When the music changed to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, Jaime turned his head to find Ty leaning against the kitchen counter and watching the two dancers with a bemused expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

He eventually caught Kit’s eye, lifted a questioning eyebrow, and jerked his head toward the bedroom door. Kit stumbled from the table in his hurry to join Ty and followed him out of the living room and through the main bedroom door, which shut behind them.

*****

Kit jumped on the huge threesome bed as soon as they were inside the bedroom. He felt exhilarated, full of adrenaline and restless energy, and he wanted Ty so much that he was certain he would spontaneously combust if they didn’t share their bodies within the next minute.

He shot Ty a smoldering look as he lounged on the thick mattress, twisting his shoulders seductively while singing along to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, which was blasting through the thin walls.

“We got this king-size to ourselves Don't have to share with no one else Don't keep your secrets to yourself It's Kama Sutra show and tell, yeah”

Ty had folded his arms against his chest and was shaking his head, as if he didn’t know what to make of this misbehaving boy.

“Kit, you interrupted me earlier when I was trying to have a serious conversation. Will you please let me finish this time?”

"I'm in trouble." Kit continued, clapping a hand over his mouth in a dramatic oops gesture. "But I'd love to be in trouble with you."

Ty rolled his eyes. He didn’t seem ready to play along with Kit, so Kit finally stood and grabbed Ty's upper arms, forcing him to back up until he had him pinned against the wall. He started wiggling his hips, rubbing against Ty, his body swaying to the music.

“You've got to give it up to me I'm screaming, "Mercy, mercy, please!" Just like they say it in the song Until the dawn, let's Marvin Gaye and get it on.”

Kit slipped a hand under Ty’s waistband, straight into his boxer shorts, and whispered “Hello there” as he brushed his lips against Ty’s ear.

“Kit…” Ty said sharply, as a warning, though Kit could hear his breathing was uneven.

“Ty,” Kit replied with all the seriousness he could muster. “When I saw you riding that Shinigami demon carrying a crossbow, I was so turned on it was all I could do not to jump your bones there and then.”

Ty laughed softly. “It appears you have a kink involving me wielding dangerous weapons. Maybe I should bring a claymore to bed next time and threaten you with it.”

“Honey, you know that, as far as I am concerned, you carry the deadliest weapon around with you at all times,” Kit started stroking Ty’s length as if to illustrate his point. It hardened under his touch. Good, we’re heading somewhere. "I was talking about your brain of course," Kit added.

“Kit, listen to me.” Ty grabbed Kit’s wrist and pulled it out of his pants. Kit groaned. “Haven’t you noticed anything strange about Ash?”

That caught Kit’s attention. He had not expected Ash to be the subject of their conversation. He had actually hoped to avoid any kind of conversation altogether. For a little while at least.

“Well, I noticed he is an amazing fighter and dancer. I am totally up for challenging him again, either in a training room or on a dancefloor.” There was something about Ash and him fighting and dancing together, a raw yet steady energy, not like the restlessness and all consuming love he felt around Ty, but something grounding him, making him even more focused. As if he had found a kindred warrior spirit.

“He probably has no effect on you, but… I think spells have been worked on him to render him… likeable. People are inevitably drawn to him, want to protect and follow him.”

Kit swallowed, suddenly deadly serious. “Does this… work on you?”

“No. And I have several theories about that. First… Well, I am a bit different. My brain doesn’t work the same way others’ do. Second, the Blackthorns have a bit of Greater Demon blood, even if it is quite diluted. I do believe Dru genuinely likes him.”

“You mean from your ancestor Lucie Herondale?”

Ty nodded. “And the third and most important explanation is… you. You have my full loyalty.” He rested his forehead against Kit’s. “There is no way in hell I am following him, when I could follow you. ”

Kit brushed his lips over Ty’s.

“What about Jaime? He seems to dislike Ash.”

“I am still trying to figure this out. But it may be one of the reasons I am immune to it, myself.”

“What? You think the Rosales have Greater Demon blood as well?”

“Maybe. But that’s not what I was referring to.”

They were both interrupted when they heard voices raising in the living room. Jaime’s voice was the loudest. And he sounded totally pissed.

Ty hurried toward the door, and Kit followed.

****

As soon as Kit and Ty had disappeared behind the bedroom door, Ash jumped over Dru and Jaime’s heads to land behind the sofa and stole the Hot Shadowhunters calendar from Jaime’s hands. “Hey!” Jaime cried out.

Ash circled back and dropped himself next to Dru, which left her crammed between him and Jaime. As he flipped to the first page, the January page, Ash froze. He was gaping at the picture of Jace Herondale, as if he could not quite believe his eyes.

Falling for Jace Herondale, already? What a surprise.

But oddly, Ash didn’t smile or make a sarcastic comment, as Jaime would have expected. He had a sorrowful expression and a faraway look.

“This is Jace Herondale,” Dru said softly. “Surely, even you have heard of him ?”

Ash swallowed. “Yeah,” he said absently. “Yeah, I have. He looks… happy.”

“Well, of course, he is happy. He has it all, hasn’t he?” Jaime said. “War hero. Married to the love of his life. The Consul as faithful parabatai.” Ash flinched, as if each word was a needle to his skin.

“Ash, is everything okay?”

Ash shook his head as if to clear it.

“Yeah, yeah, I was just thinking about… the butterfly effect. How a single human being’s existence… or absence, can change the course of things… can change the whole world.”

Where the hell did that come from? Jaime wondered.

Ash lifted his gaze to stare at the door where Kit and Ty had disappeared. “Take Kit for instance. Who knew it would only take a hot boyfriend to turn a ruthless, bloodthirsty ruler into a harmless kitten.”

“Er- Ash, I am not sure I am following you,” Dru said gently. “What do you mean?”

Ash let out a heavy sigh and slumped back, crossing his long arms behind his head, the Hot Shadowhunters calendar left at the January page on his lap.

“Nothing, I am rambling.” It looked like he was lost in his thoughts again.

Jaime seized the opportunity to whisper in Dru’s ear. “Dru, can we find some place private to… talk?”

Dru gazed at him with a puzzled look on her face. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

Jaime didn’t get a chance to answer as the entrance door rattled at that moment and they both whipped their heads in the direction of the noise.

The door opened and Mark Blackthorn, all tousled blond hair, pointy ears and flushed cheeks, erupted inside the cottage, wearing ragged jeans and a white shirt with a message that stated, “All good things come in threes”. He paused, as if he didn’t really expect to see so many people in his living room.

Jaime immediately withdrew his arm from Dru’s shoulders and stood, but soon registered that Mark was not looking at him… He was staring at Ash who had, from one moment to the next, leapt on the table in front of them and was crouched on top of it, ready to pounce, a dangerous glint in his ice green eyes. He had moved to protect Dru from a potential threat, Jaime realized. And there was no trace of the Ash that had been goofing around with Kit a moment before. The feeling that he had been played like a fool until then hit Jaime like a freight train. They had all fallen for Ash’s laid-back, good guy act. In one instant, Ash had revealed his true, predatory nature…

“Mark!” Dru waved from the sofa, unfazed. “You already know Jaime of course and this is Ash,” she introduced. “Ash… this is my brother Mark.”

Ash relaxed from his stance and leapt off the table, flashing a bright smile and wearing his cool guy mask back on. As if he hadn’t been ready to rip Mark’s throat a second before. The abrupt change in Ash's behaviour almost gave Jaime a whiplash.

“Have we… met before?” Mark asked, looking at Ash with his brows furrowed as he closed the door.

“In any event, I wish to be properly introduced,” Ash said, evading the question. “I am Dru’s boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?” Dru interjected at the same time Jaime exclaimed “WHAT?”

Ash shrugged. “I thought our make out session had settled it.”

Jaime felt heat rush up his face. He whirled on Dru. “We’ve known each other for three years and you’ve known this guy for what? Less than twelve hours? And you’ve already kissed him?”

“To be fair, I am the one who kissed her ,” Ash said in a calm voice. “She didn’t tell me to stop, though.” He paused, his long fingers stroking his delicate chin as he pondered. “Then again, how could she have, what with my tongue being down her throat and all?”

“Ash, don’t intervene,” Dru said, her already white complexion growing paler by the second. “This is not between us.”

“Really?” Ash answered in a fake shocked expression. “I could have sworn it was my tongue down your throat.”

“What’s going on here?” Ty asked as he came out of the bedroom, followed by Kit.

“GREAT!” Jaime said. “That’s just my luck! We’re just missing Julian and…”

“And?” Julian asked, his tall broad-shouldered figure appearing in the entrance. He froze in the doorway, hand on the doorknob, his face a mask of shock as his blue-green eyes swept across the room.

“... And all my worst nightmares are reunited in the same room. OK, let’s be done with it.”

Jaime took a deep breath and caught each of the Blackthorn brothers’ gaze, one after the other.

“I. FANCY. DRU. OKAY? I like her. I know she’s sixteen, but we are good together and I want her to be my girlfriend.”

*Cough* “ Too late.” *Cough* That was Ash. Dru turned to glare at him.

“Well, that’s not even relevant anymore, is it? Since apparently… She prefers Legolas, here.” Jaime continued, waving his hand toward Ash.

“Why does everyone keep saying that? I don’t even look like him.”

“Lego-who?” Ty asked, puzzled.

“He’s talking about Ash. Don’t worry honey, I’ll explain,” Kit said, speaking for the first time.

“And what the hell are you doing here?” Julian asked, turning toward Kit, a flicker of panic crossing his features.

“He just came out of the bedroom with Ty,” Mark said.

Kit lifted both his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t having sex with him,” he blurted. “I mean… not this time.” His face went red. “I mean- I am out of here. If anyone’s looking for me, I’m in the bedroom.” He whirled and paused in front of the bedroom door, his hand on the knob. “Not having sex with anyone...” he specified before he disappeared behind it.

Julian heaved a sigh and turned his gaze back to Ash.

Ash gulped. He looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, his green eyes wide.

“This is not the end of it. But first things first. Can anyone tell me what the hell Ash Morgenstern is doing here?”

They had barely registered the question, when a sharp cry from behind Julian had them all jump. A slender figure peered around him, red hair like flames flowing over a green velvet dress embroidered with gold. Jaime had seen enough drawings and pictures of her to recognize her instantly. The Seelie Queen.

She pushed Julian aside and ran to Ash, throwing her thin pale arms around him and burying her face in his chest, the golden circlet around her head tipping to the side as she did. “Where were you last night? I came to the house, and it was empty . I have been looking for you everywhere since!”

Dru was staring at Ash open-mouthed. He shot her an apologetic look.

“Mom, let me introduce you to Dru. Dru…” Ash cleared his throat. “Meet my mom.”

*****

Tagging @gabtapia ❤️ Hope you'll enjoy it and, of course, don't hesitate to correct my spanish ;)

[lovemybluebully]

Danger Room Level 1

Posted this at the beginning of the year on my DA account. Thought I’d throw it up on here. This was my first Wolverine tickle pic in 4 years! O_O

https://www.deviantart.com/lovemybluebully/art/Danger-Room-Level-1-865337680

Wrote a little story to go along with it.

Story is below the ‘Keep Reading’ line.

*/M Tickle Fic (Obviously lol) "Any other surprise challenges for me today, bub? Or is that all ya got?" Wolverine smirked confidently up at the team leader of the X-men, glancing over his shoulder at the pile of rubble consisting of destroyed weaponry and dismembered sentinels and robots of all sizes. Cyclops only sighed as he shook his head and looked down at the Canadian brawler from the control room of their training facility, having exhausted almost every combination of attacks that he could think to throw at him.

These scenarios of Wolverine slicing and dicing up every obstacle and foe were quite predictable and honestly getting a tad boring to watch over and over. Scott decided it was time to try something a little different. "No, this just isn't working. These upper level programs are just all foreseeable for you. Lets try something new. I say we scrap everything and start over from scratch. How about we start you at level 1?"

Logan's smirk disappeared as he frowned up at the other man. "Level 1? Yer kiddin' me, right? That's the program the Professor uses to train the kiddies."

"Trust me Logan it'll be perfect for you. Since you've always skipped over the bottom levels you'll have no idea what they contain so you won't be able to predict them so easily. Hell I don't even know myself exactly what is on each level, but lets give it a shot! Maybe we'll both learn something." Scott actually wasn't lying since he himself had been too competent for those beginner programs when he had joined the X-men. It was likely that Logan would just blow right through them, but he was curious and quite frankly desperate for a change of pace. "Fine. But this is gonna be just a waste o' time," Logan grumbled as he lazily stretched out his arms and cracked his neck. "Don't underestimate the Danger Room and dismiss this program so easily. It may be aimed towards the less experienced, but should still provide its own formidable experience. Remember to stay alert and don't let your guard down." Wolverine just scoffed and blew off his advice like he normally did. "Yeah whatever Slim. Lets get on with it."

"Ok great. Now just a moment here. I'm initiating level 1....," Scott uttered with some fast typing on the control board before pressing one final button, "Now." They waited for a few quiet moments, but nothing happened. Logan was about to quip some sarcastic remark when finally the Danger Room began to show some activity. A compartment on the wall opened and two gloved robotic hands being controlled by metal tentacles began to slowly make their way over to him. Logan snorted in disbelief and shook his head as he looked over the two appendages and noted that they were not holding any kinds of weapons; basically looking completely harmless.

"That's it? This is ridiculous. What's next, a pillow fight? Not that I expected this crap to be any kinda challenge whatsoever," Logan rolled his eyes as he raised his hands into the air and released his deadly claws; ready to dispatch the advancing robot hands with a quick swipe once they closed in. Not even a second later he quickly found his arms ensnared as two metal tentacles had crept in from behind to successfully restrain him much to Logan's shock. He growled as he tried to slice at the tentacles with his sharp claws, but they firmly held his arms away from each other just above his head. The distraction had been just enough that he barely had time to notice that the gloved hands had now reached him as one of them wasted not a moment to grab hold of the hem of his uniform's shirt and roughly jerk it upwards, exposing his bare stomach.

"Hey! What is...?!" He shouted in confusion; his words cut off as the other hand immediately shot forward and buried it's furiously wriggling digits right into his muscular belly.

Logan hadn't listened to Scott. He had let his guard down completely when he had seen this "threat" first enter the room. His overconfidence was now going to be his downfall for mocking the capabilities of the robot hand; the hand that was now ruthlessly tickling him. This tactic was a complete shock to him, and having not put up any of his mental defenses in preparation the laughter exploded out of him as soon as contact was made. "Ahahahaahaa! Wha-Whahahat's goin' ohohohon?! Stahahap thaaat!" He howled out at the mindless hand that relentlessly continued tickling all over his sensitive abdomen; the other hand holding his shirt securely out of the way. Scott too was in complete awe by just what method the program had decided to use, though he couldn't help but grin as he saw the situation that his normally cantankerous teammate was now in. It was already a known fact by the mansion's inhabitants that Logan was surprisingly ticklish as his female team members found it quite endearing and took great delight in ganging up on the burly mutant at times. Heightened senses did have their drawbacks. Still nothing that Scott himself would partake in, knowing that while Logan might put up with it from the ladies he was pretty sure he'd be skewered on the spot if he even made a hint at attempting such a thing. In a way he now felt that he had a sense of power in having Logan in this position. "See? That's what happens when you underestimate the situation, now get to work Logan. Tickling probably isn't a real world offensive that you're going to run into, but no harm in being extra prepared." Wolverine's claws remained out, but he couldn't move his arms enough to free himself. Unable to think straight he continued to fail in his efforts to come up with a strategy to get out of this aside from yelling up at the amused operator in the control room. "Cyyyykehehehee! Tuhuhurn thihis shihihihiiit ohahahahoff!!" Arms bulging he thrashed uselessly in the grip of the tentacles, trying to block the torturous hand from his body by lifting his knee to no avail. He'd been tickled worse than this before, but never had he been this helpless to defend himself. Meanwhile Scott mused over the scene before him. It in fact was a little stupid to be messing with one of the world's deadliest mutant's like this, and he was pretty sure there would be Hell to pay later. His hand hovered momentarily over the button to shut down the Danger Room, but then he pulled back. "No, I think you just need a little more time to figure this out. I have faith in you. I mean, this program is only used to train the 'kiddies', right?" Yup. He was pretty sure Logan was going to kill him after this. "Fuhuhuhuck yooooouuuu!!" Logan cackled as he desperately tried to regain some kind of focus though was only barely able to retract his claws back into his hands, knowing that they were of no use. "Aw c'mon Logan. You're not that ticklish, are you? Can't resist just one little hand tickling you?" Scott couldn't help but tease a bit, having on more than one occasion seen Logan nearly lose his mind from just having his stomach tickled by his teenage sidekick, Jubilee. No sooner had he said that when a third hand began to move in from out of Logan's sight before grabbing the squirming mutant right below his ribs as the fingers playfully dug in over and over again.

"Bwahahahahahahahahaa!! Noooo!! Gehehet 'em offa meeheeheehee!!" Roaring with laughter from the added torture Logan was regretting not taking the lowest level of the Danger Room more seriously. With his arms being held out of the way he couldn't even use them to help guard his body no matter how hard he pulled to free them. It wasn't much longer before his legs began to weaken as he attempted to sink to the floor to hopefully get him a split second of reprieve.

He was allowed to move to the ground, but the hands were unrelenting. With a firm tug the restraining tentacles around his forearms pulled him down onto his back as a few more hands now appeared seemingly out of nowhere to join in tickling under his arms and the other side of his ribcage.

"No!! No!! Stahahahap ihihihihit!! Lemme outtahahaha heeheeheeeere!!" The Wolverine howled as he kicked and squirmed like crazy; his armpits being one of his worst spots. Two other metal tentacles quickly slithered over and grabbed onto each leg to stretch him out and prevent him from curling up in defense. Tears crept out of the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard as so far he had made no progress in getting loose. "Very disappointing Logan. I thought for sure you'd have passed all these lower levels with ease. Well it seems we've uncovered your true weakness. Something that your healing factor won't protect you from. We'll probably have to repeat this level over and over until you get it right," Scott grinned wider, only half serious as he liked to push Logan's buttons at any given opportunity. He was hardly listening though; too focused on the incessant tickle torture. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse two additional hands made their way over and quickly tugged off his boots, revealing his twitching bare feet as Logan's eyes bulged in panic. "HEY!! Hey hey waahaahaait a m...minute!! No don't!! Not the-AAAHAHAHHAHAHA!!" Fingers wildly scratched at his tender soles, tickling from his wide heels to up under his curled up toes with not a thing he could do to stop them. He was laughing harder than he'd ever had as the tears began to roll down his cheeks. He absolutely could not handle having his feet tickled and once had accidentally kicked Rogue for trying. Luckily she is a tough woman though she used it as an excuse to really punish him with his ankles trapped in the crook of her super strong arm while Logan hysterically cried 'Uncle'. This was more than he could stand. Being spread out and tickled in all his most sensitive spots at once with no way to guard himself was where he drew the line. He loathed the thought of what he was about to do, but he couldn't hold back the frantic pleas that came pouring out. "NAAAHAHAHAHAHOOOO!! N-NO MORE!! STOPSTOP!! PLEEHEEHEEEEASE!! I CAN'T..HAHAHAHAHAA..CAAHAAHAAN'T T-TAKE THIHIHIIS SHIIIIIT!!" Scott was just enjoying the show as he chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "Wow. Who knew? All one has to do to defeat Wolverine is to tickle him and he'll be begging for mercy. Better hope none of your enemies ever find out about this one."

And with that he finally pushed the button to shut down the currently running program in the Danger Room. He'd have been more than happy to let it keep going, but even he could feel some sympathy for his frenemy and knew once he started begging that he had had enough. Logan instantly panted in relief as the hands all stopped tickling him while he was gently released from the restraints, everything then retracting back into the chambers that they had emerged from. A giggle escaped him here and there as he still had a phantom feeling of the fingers all over on his body.

Scott slowly clapped his hands in jest from the control room as he grinned down at the seemingly lifeless body. "Not bad, Logan! I think you almost had it there, but I'm sure you'll do better next time! So what do you think? Ready for level 2?"

The middle claw that immediately popped out of Logan's fist crudely gave him his answer.

[jaskiersvalley]

Holy shit, I’ve read so much of your work without knowing who you are— on both Tumblr and AO3. Well, I’m very glad I followed a link to your profile because now I can tell you I love your work!! And I’ll finally be able to thank you for it!

You are far too sweet. Usually I tend to stick to a corner of fandom and not venture far so I’m glad you have followed a link to my profile :D There’s some really exciting Big Bang and Reverse Big Bang pieces coming on AO3 soon and I like putting short ficlets on here. And this one is especially for you!

Winters at Kaer Morhen were tough. Lambert was always to one to loudly grumble about how terrible it was. Not just the memories that haunted the long hallways and empty rooms, there were other things that made winters awful. Four witchers were locked together high up in the mountains when they were used to roaming, being solitary and dictating their own schedule. The sudden change was a culture shock and often resulted in growling disagreements for weeks on end. Usually, they re-learned how to coexist and have company again just in time to leave for the year, only to rinse and repeat the pattern. It didn’t get easier as the years went on.

If that had been the only problem, maybe winters wouldn’t have been so bad. Alas, there was more at play. Bitterly cold nights and only marginally less cool days packed with physical labour took their toll. But they needed to work, to chop wood, hunt and collect herbs. An idle witcher was a bored witcher and those were dangerous. Plus, if they were busy then there was no time to argue outside of training which they had to do to keep in shape. The worst though was the pain. Old injuries and aches were made worse by the cold. But there was nowhere else safe to winter. If people saw them at their weakest, when the cold bit through scars and sank its teeth cruelly into long since healed injuries, they wouldn’t trust a witcher ever again. Part of a witcher’s ability to get paid was in the myth that they were untiring, immune to such human things like aches and pains. So it was safer to hide away for the worst of winter, to suffer with those who knew what it was like.

In the hidden corners of Kaer Morhen, no human could see when Lambert’s knee gave way from the time a pegasus kicked him. Or the consequent hip problems he’d developed thanks to the knee healing badly. Eskel would help pick him up from the floor and settle him by the fire without a word. There was no room for sympathy in their world but they could still be compassionate. In turn, Vesemir would cook stews and soft foods on the days Eskel’s jaw seized up and he could barely open his mouth for more than a drink. And Lambert would take Geralt’s wood chopping duties on the days his elbow couldn’t bear the weight of an axe. There was a reason Vesemir stayed at Kaer Morhen almost year round. The older a witcher got, the more injuries they lived with and winters were more difficult. He knew that Geralt and Eskel were starting to feel their years when they arrived back sooner and left later, trying to avoid the trip up and down the mountain when riddled with so many aches and pains.

The letter from Lambert one year was both disappointing and a relief. He wasn’t returning for winter that year, something about having an invitation in the south. That year, winters were much quieter without his constant bitching. Instead, the other three suffered in silence which was almost worse. There was no snapping and snarling, the old keep was plenty big enough that they could avoid each other and nurse their hurts in absolute privacy. It was the loneliest year.

On the Path, it was pure chance that Eskel bumped into Lambert who looked much better than expected. He even managed to smile at Eskel.

“Come with me next winter, I’ll show you something amazing.”

The offer was one that caught Eskel off guard. Never before had Lambert been one to share, hoarding his stash of soothing creams and warm water skeins as if his life depended on it. Such an offer was made ever more curious when a cat witcher sauntered out of the woods, looking rather pleased with himself. He gave Eskel a once over and grinned.

“We’ve got room for you, big guy, bring the rest of your pack too.”

That winter, it was just Eskel and Vesemir at Kaer Morhen. They’d heard from Geralt to say he was going with Lambert and taking Jaskier with him too. The winds howled through Kaer Morhen and Eskel’s teeth chattered even as the scars on his face prickled from being so close to the fire.

In the spring, Geralt was at the bottom of the mountain looking rested and healthy. A bard was by his side looking tanned and spoiled.

“Meet me by the Theodula pass at the end of the year. We’re bringing Vesemir too.”

The year was harsh, new injuries, a badly set shoulder that Eskel had trouble with in the spring meant he was dreading winter. When it came time to decide which direction to turn, Eskel faced the north, he couldn’t risk the chance of Vesemir spending the year alone even if they weren’t much company for each other over the cold months. Dutifully, Eskel headed towards Kaer Morhen. At the bottom of the mountain, a vaguely familiar figure greeted him.

“Lambert and Geralt owe me. You need to head south, Wolf.” It was the cat witcher. “Vesemir is already half way there, Geralt had Jaskier sweet talk him into finally abandoning the old crumbling tomb.”

Without much choice, Eskel turned Scorpion around and Aiden accompanied him. The further south they headed, the warmer the weather got. They passed through Aedirn and Lyria into Sodden and Toussaint. Not that they stopped there which surprised Eskel, Geralt had always daydreamed about the place. Instead they carried on to Geso, Maecht, Etolia before entering Vicovaro. There, Aiden seemed perfectly at home, stripping out of his armour in the sweltering heat. A little more modest, Eskel allowed himself to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. They approached a sprawling mansion and Aiden hopped off his horse.

“Honeys we’re home!” he hollered. Eskel watched as the door opened and Lambert bounded out, seemingly full of energy. Behind him was another man, following with a little more dignity.

“Welcome home,” the man greeted Aiden with a kiss that was easy with well established familiarity. Lambert pulled Aiden in too with zero care for what was considered polite. Ignoring the two, the man turned to Eskel. “Welcome, I’m Cahir. You’re welcome to spend the the season here. From what I heard, Kaer Morhen hasn’t been the best of places to rest after a tough year.”

Understatement of the century, Eskel thought. He didn’t have much choice but to accept the seeming generosity of a stranger. One that Lambert apparently bedded, as did Aiden. And Geralt trusted too at that. From the doorway, Vesemir appeared, looking a little out of place still and Eskel could well and truly appreciate that.

As the weeks passed, it became easier. There was no cold, no worries about needing food and supplies in a hostile environment. Even the aches and pains that plagued them during the winter seemed to be held at bay. It was winter but Eskel could enjoy a crisp apple without his jaw locking, could chew even tougher meats and not freeze with agony of each move. The novelty of it put him in a good mood and, looking around, he could see the others in a similar state.

“From now on,” Cahir said one evening, a glass of wine in hand and Aiden’s feet in his lap, “I want you all to consider this your safe haven. Winter here and stay here all you wish. If you need a place to recuperate, you’ll always be protected here.”

It was a most generous offer, one that Eskel didn’t think could be a serious one. Nobody wanted witchers around, especially not if they weren’t on contract. Yet there was Cahir, seemingly comfortable with not only two witchers in his bed but three others in his home too. As time passed, Eskel learned that maybe he had been a little wrong. It was a serious offer for sure. And Cahir’s bed was big enough not for just two, but three witchers. It was something Cahir, Lambert and Aiden took great joy in proving to Eskel over and over again.

[yuta1forme]

light & shadow pt. 1 | yuta

summary: standing in line for doyoung’s book signing, yuta wonders if he has ever acted normally around you 

author’s note: i had no idea how else to split this story into a readable format so  this will be a two (maybe three) part series! as always let me know if you would like to be tagged in the future parts!

taglist: @sweet-rintarou​

prologue: [21:26] 

genre: fluff, friends to lovers, college!au (this part)

pairing: yuta x reader

length: 1.7K

There are certain fundamental truths Yuta knows about the universe - the sun always rises in the east, milk goes before cereal and that Nakamoto Yuta does not blush. 

“Nakamoto Yuta, do I have permission to flirt with you in Japanese?”, the translation app reads out in its robotic voice. He whips his head around to face you as if the words had left your mouth and not the phone held in your hand. And then he feels it. That unfamiliar heat rising to his neck and cheeks. One look at the amused grin on your face and he knows that you have noticed too. If there is one thing that has not changed in all eleven years of him knowing you, it’s that he should always expect the unexpected from himself when he is around you. 

Even right now, hearing you gush about your attractive new coworker, Yuta feels an unfamiliar knot of form in the pit of his stomach. He suspects that it is the protectiveness he feels towards you that is making him feel so strangely antagonistic towards this man he has never met. But there is a niggling feeling at the back of his mind that tells him that that’s not the only reason why. 

You always had a way of getting a reaction out of him that no one else could, always had him feeling emotions that he didn’t know he could feel. His relationship with you, while not better or worse than the relationship he had with any of his other friends, was certainly different. It always had been. 

In freshman year, equipped with only a translation app on his phone, Yuta left his hometown of Osaka for Seoul. He had been offered a full-ride sports scholarship by Sooman University. He would play for the school’s soccer team and pursue, to his parents’ relief, a more “practical” degree in Business Management. 

He would be playing with the team where some of his favourite soccer players had first gotten their start before moving to the Japanese league. It was a dream come true. Well, almost. 

He had just never imagined it would be quite this...lonely.

Over his first month in the city, he could count the number of people he had spoken to on one hand. The first was his roommate with whom his conversations were limited to “hello” and “good morning”. The second and third were two middle-aged cafeteria ladies, who would coo over him and give him an additional helping whenever they saw that he was down. The younger of the two looked so much like his aunt, that it made his heart long for his family back in Osaka. 

The fourth and final person was Mr. Jung Yunho, the Student Affairs Counsellor - an energetic man in his early thirties who had lived in Japan for most of his adult life. He had sense that something was amiss and had tried to pry into what was bothering Yuta right from their first meeting. After about three weeks of beating around the bush, Yuta had finally, begrudgingly, confided in him about his homesickness and his trouble communicating in Korean. Mr Jung had listened intently through it all, occasionally patting his shoulder to comfort him. 

“You must feel very lonely, Yuta”, the older man had told him, resting one hand on his shoulder, eyes shining with sincerity. 

It was lonely. He didn’t have a single person he could call a friend. Everyone he had met thus far seemed so busy, living a life far too fast paced to notice the quiet foreign student at the back of the lecture hall. He wondered if anyone in his classes would even notice if he stopped attending lectures. The only time he felt like he belonged somewhere was when he was playing soccer with the team, but even then he wondered whether he could call his teammates, his friends. 

“Let’s start with helping you communicate first, shall we?”, Mr Jung had said, interrupting his self effacing train of thought. 

“I’ll put you in touch with someone who can help tutor you in Korean. A Korean Literature student who’s been working with some other foreign students as well. I have a gut feeling you two will become great friends!”

That was how Yuta had come to know you. He clicked on your kakaotalk profile picture and zoomed in to your beaming face. You had one of those warm, welcoming faces. A face that one would trust immediately. Your face gave the impression that smiling was your resting face. The laugh lines on either side of your mouth and the crinkles beside your eyes were further proof of that.

Yuta had sent you a short, impersonal message introducing himself as the student Mr. Jung wanted you to tutor. He had not wanted to get his hopes up. Having been all by himself in a foreign country for the past month, being dependent on someone felt strange to him.

Still, before he went to bed that night he found himself refreshing his messages, hoping for a notification from you. As his luck would have it, you hadn’t replied even the following morning. Yuta had swallowed the lump forming in his throat, pushing any disappointment out of his mind. 

You made the decision to move, all on your own, to this country far away from your friends and family, where you don’t even speak the native language. You have to face the consequences on your own too. Y/N is not obligated to help you. No one is. This is your own battle, for you to fight on your own.

With those thoughts in mind, he had busied himself with getting ready for the first match of the season against the neighbouring university. 

At half-time, Sooman University was trailing behind Seoul University with a score of 3-1. With the centre forward benched because of a foul, things weren’t looking up for the team. Yuta had made several attempts to score a goal throughout the game but had been stopped by the right-back, Park Minsoo, on Seoul University’s team. He was much taller than Yuta and had a larger build, which he used to his advantage. 

If there was one thing he absolutely hated, it was foul play. Yuta’s teammates had tried signalling to the referee that Park had been playing dirty, but the referee, infamous for being biased towards the Seoul University team, had brushed off their concern. 

After having collided with him several times over the last half, Yuta was getting impatient. He knew this wouldn’t end well for him but he had let his anger get the best of him. After another foul-worthy tackle from Park, Yuta used his side to shove the man out of his way with all his energy. Perhaps it was the momentum with which Yuta had crashed into him or pure dramatics, Park landed on his back howling in anger.

The referee blew his whistle to signal a pause and the players from both teams began fighting amongst each either, trying to put the blame on the opposing team’s player. The situation with Park must have been grave because the Seoul team’s coach and manager hurried on to the pitch as well. Yuta’s team captain stepped forward to defend Yuta from the wrath of the other side. But ofcourse, being Japanese, Yuta barely understood a word being spoken. There was no way he would be able to dig himself out of this. 

The thought of being benched for the rest of the semester crept into his mind. The fear of losing his scholarship made his legs tremble and he instantly regretted not heeding his older sister’s lifelong advice to him to be more gentle.

Then you appeared. Like an angel, only instead of white robes and a halo made of pure light, you wore a blinding neon green visor and an equally garish hot pink t-shirt bearing the Korean Literature Department’s logo. He saw you hop down the bleachers and squeeze through half a dozen sweaty soccer players, to thrust yourself in between Yuta and the opposing team’s coach. You explained somewhat emphatically to the referee that Yuta was a foreigner who barely spoke Korean and that any missteps on his part were purely a misunderstanding because of the language barrier. The man didn’t seem convinced, grumbling and gesturing animatedly at the two of you, egged on further by the other coach’s growing impatience. 

Yuta wished he could understand what was being said. He tried to hang on to every word being spoken, but the adrenaline from the tackle and the heightened atmosphere made it even harder for him to concentrate. He picked up a few words here and there. A mention of a foul. Then someone yelling out the word suspension, which made him clench his fist so hard he thought he would pop a vein in his arm.

But he understood the last words to come out of your mouth, perfectly well.

“Please let my friend off the hook this one time? I apologise on his behalf”.

Friend. No, he definitely had not misheard that. You had called him your friend. 

You had yanked Yuta forward by the arm, pushing his head down into a deep bow. Yuta took the hint and apologised, somewhat robotically, to Park and his coach. He was not bothered by the condescending smirk on Park’s face or the dirty looks that were thrown his way by the rest of the Seoul team as he allowed himself to be dragged off the field by you.

You dragged him quickly to the empty booths near the back of the stadium, sat him down and handed him a bottle of Gatorade. 

“I saw your text. I’m really sorry I didn’t reply any earlier. But to be fair I had wished you good luck with your game but I doubt you saw my message considering you were down here getting shoved around by that asshole Park”, you had started rambling while Yuta chugged the drink. 

Then he did something that he would cringe about for years to come. He should have known right then, on day one, that he could never act like his usual self around you.

He had shot up out of the seat, stepped forward and pulled you right into his arms, lifting you a couple of inches up in the air due to the sheer force. Through shaky breaths, he had whispered out a barely audible thank you to you. To his relief, you didn’t fight him off.

After a few seconds, you broke the silence and embrace. 

“Hey, I know I just saved your ass but you’re kind of really stinky from the sweat”, you had said in between giggles. 

He had dropped you back down and grinned somewhat apologetically at you in response. 

After that day, he was no longer alone.

[wendimydarling]

Revenge

Title: Revenge

Summary: Walter gets revenge on his wife.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x First Person Reader 

Word Count: 1918 

Warnings: Nuthin’ but floof here! Oh, and some female nudity.

A/N: This story was inspired by drunk Tumblr! and the conversation between me, @hell1129-blog​, @yoursecretsmutblog​, and @ly--canthrope​ in the comments of this post here. Enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walter closed the door to the apartment, kicking off his shoes and tugging his sweater over his head. The day had been long and arduous, as most of his days were. He was looking forward to spending the evening with his girl. Who seemingly is nowhere to be found, he thought as he glanced around.

“Babe?”

“I’m in here!” he heard her reply. It sounded like it came from the bedroom. Walter traipsed down the hall and was met with the most beautiful sight he’d ever witnessed.

There she was, his siren wife, lying naked on their bed, her body on display for him. Her soft curves never ceased to arouse him; her beauty stealing his breath away, the matted shine of her olive skin hypnotizing him. But it wasn’t just her alluring glow that made him tremble. It was the fact that she had cuffed herself to the headboard and she was grinning at him profusely, already rubbing her legs against each other in anticipation.

“I found an extra set of your handcuffs when I threw a load in the wash,” she explained, biting her lip. “I hope you don’t mind.”

It was Walter’s turn to smile. How on earth had he gotten so lucky? He stripped off his remaining shirt and straddled his tiny wife.

~~~~~~~~

I’ve had such a bad day. I can’t wait to get home to you.

The text message had seared my heart. I swore to myself I’d make his day better somehow, so when I found his handcuffs while going through the laundry, an idea immediately came to mind. I hurried quickly through the chore and headed to the bedroom to get ready. Walter would be home soon.

Once I was satisfied with my hair and touched up my makeup, I made my way to the bed, hurriedly slipping out of my work clothes. I laid down and hooked one wrist with the cuffs, relishing the way the cold metal felt against my flushed skin. We’d used them before, and I would never tire of the solid, relaxing sensation that flooded my body the moment I was restrained. My lady bits were already dripping, and Walter wasn’t even home yet.

Or maybe he was. I heard his boots thud outside the front door so I hastily put my arms above my head and connected the other wrist in the cuffs, trapping myself. I didn’t have a key; the only way out now was Walter. I slunk down a little so that I was nice and stretched, feeling grounded and excited for what was in store.

“Babe?”

“I’m in here!” I called out to him, unable to keep myself from grinning as I pictured his reaction. I wasn’t disappointed; the look on his face as his jaw dropped three inches was worth everything. My pussy throbbed at how dark his eyes grew, and I pressed my legs together, fending her off.

“I found an extra set of your handcuffs when I threw a load in the wash,” I teased, biting my lip as I watched my husband swallow thickly. ‘I hope you don’t mind.”

Walter smiled slowly and I shivered as he took off his shirt, allowing me to see every muscle in that thick chest of his as he came over to the bed and climbed on top of my small frame. He grabbed a pillow and tucked it under my back before pressing his weight on my thighs and I was at once unable to move, my entire upper body deliciously arched and at his mercy. 

He leaned onto his elbows, his face hovering over me as his fingers brushed over my breasts. I squirmed a little, the light touch tickling softly. His smirk had taken on an evil hue and I gulped, suddenly uncertain about my life choices this evening.

“Do you remember,” He started, tracing circles around my nipples, “The surprise party you threw me for my birthday?”

Oh shit.

I tugged on the handcuffs at once, but I couldn’t move an inch. I looked into my husband’s eyes, pleading with him.

“Walter no, no no no this is not what I had in mind, don’t do this!”

“Do you remember the slideshow?” he asked, his fingers traveling up to my armpits, hovering over the exposed skin. 

“Walter pleeeease!”

“Do you remember how I said you’d pay for it?”

All I could do was whimper, squirming ineffectively underneath his large frame. 

“Welcome to my revenge, Sweetheart… thank you so much for offering it to me.”

“No Walter--fuck!!!” I squealed as his fingers started to dance over my sensitive hollows. He knows that it’s my worst place and Detective Marshall is a methodical man; he took care to tickle every exposed nerve beneath my arms. I laughed loudly, my inability to protect myself only further heightening the sensation as he tortured me freely.

I watched him through my laughter; his face was covered in joy, and I realized he was truly enjoying this. Whatever bad things had happened today, my suffering was erasing them from his mind. I figured I could take being tickled for a while, if only to see that happiness never leave my husband. 

Then again, maybe not. He switched from spidering to poking and I screamed, arching my back even further into the tickles. That seemed like the opposite of how I should have been responding, but my body was reacting of its own accord at this point.

“WALTER PLEASE!!! No mooohohore!!!”

He just shook his head, chuckling at my feeble attempt to beg. 

“You really think, after you embarrassed me with all those childhood photos, that I’m going to let you go after only five minutes? No my love, get comfortable. I’m going to tickle you all night.”

“NOOOOOO!” I wailed, the fingers switching tactics again. This time he was digging, and I was barely able to catch a breath before another long batch of laughter ripped through me. Walter sat up, and I knew what was coming next. I squirmed helplessly as the rest of my naked torso was exposed to his nimble fingers.

“Don’t you dare,” I warned futilely. 

“You’re not really in a position to be making demands,” he quipped, running those stupidly talented fingers up and down my sides. I kicked my legs futilely, or at least I tried to. I was unable to protect a single inch of my sensitive skin as ticklish sensations swarmed my body. Walter was laughing with me, egged on by my cries for him to stop. 

He finally settled on my ribs and my laughter hit a new peak as he began to vibrate his fingertips against each one. Digging in with fervor, my husband set out to discover every new place within my bones that would cause the loudest response. 

Just when I thought I couldn’t take another second Walter paused, spreading his large hands across my entire abdomen. I gasped for air, staring at his stupid grin as I pleaded with him for mercy.

“No more Walter, please… I can’t take it, I’m gonna die!”

“It’s just a little tickling,” he chided, grazing his fingertips over my belly to keep me tense. “So long as I let you breathe you won’t die. You’ll just wish you had.”

“Walteeeeeheher…” My moan turned into a chuckle as his fingers started to pick up the pace, spidering softly all over the sensitive flesh of my torso. I clacked the cuffs hard against the headboard, the only movement I was capable of to express my frustration. Walter just laughed and attacked my sides once more, causing me to scream anew. 

“Shhhh,” he warned me, “You’re going to make the neighbors think I’m murdering you.” 

“YOU ARE!!!!” I shot back, twisting the little I could to evade his attack. I lost that battle in less than a second, and my screams grew louder as he dipped a finger into my belly button. He clapped a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. I saw an idea spring to life on his face as I laughed into his hand, and I watched in horror as he slowly lowered his head. 

I tried to bite him, tried to shake him off, but nothing I did could stop his descent toward my torso. Walter’s lips hovered an inch from my navel and he looked up at me as I glared at him, those icy blue eyes boring wickedly into my soul as he dramatically took a deep breath. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the hell that was about to ensue. 

Walter blew a raspberry straight into my core and suddenly the world ceased to exist. The only thing that existed was tickles. He blew raspberry after raspberry all over my sensitive belly, scrubbing his beard against my skin each time he took a breath. His hands returned to scrabbling rapidly over my armpits and I absolutely howled, tears rolling down my face as I could to do nothing but lay there and take it. 

“I’M SORRY!!!! I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY!!!” I screamed, face flushed red and desperate. Walter stopped tickling again and returned to his position of lying on top of me, his fingertips walking slowly up and down my armpits. It kept me giggling, but it was bearable.

“Sorry for what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“For embarrassing you at the pa-HAR-ty,” I exclaimed.

“Good. Now admit you like this.”

“What the fuck, no I don’t!”

Walter just smiled knowingly.

“I could smell it halfway through, love… you’re soaked. Admit it, you got turned on by a little tickling.”

I shook my head. He wasn’t wrong, but I’d be damned if I gave him an excuse to do this again. Walter sighed.

“Alright, well I guess I’ll just have to keep tickling until you see reason.”

He started wiggling his fingers again and I gave in at once.

“NO NO NO OKAY! I’ll admit it I--” I swallowed thickly, sighing in defeat. “--I liked being tickled.”

“Well if you like it, I guess that’s no reason for me to stop,” Walter mused, reinstating his assault under my arms. I squealed.

“Oh god, Walter PLEASE STOP!” I begged, my lungs burning with the effort to breathe. He ran his hands up my arms, squeezing them gently as he kissed me. I moaned into his mouth, all at once ravenous to be taken. His lips found their way to my neck and I gasped, desire searing its way into my loins. I pulled at the cuffs, wanting to touch my husband and frustrated beyond words that I couldn’t. It seemed so unfair, seeing as though his hands were roaming my body freely. 

“Walter,” I groaned, writhing underneath his touch. “Please uncuff me.”

“No,” he mumbled against my collarbone, slipping his fingers into the slick between my legs.

“I intend to fuck you, just like this. And when I’m done,” Walter looked into my eyes with the most serious expression I’d ever seen, except for a tiny glint of humor in his eyes. The slightest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, one that made me shiver, and not in a good way. I knew that look. He leaned over and whispered in my ear the worst words I had ever heard in my life.

“When I’m done, I’m going to tickle you. All. Over. Again.”

I vowed then and there to hide any and all handcuffs that ever made their way into our apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[lonelyreputation]

Different (part four)

A/N: WOW! So much later than anticipated!! My apologies! Took me some time to write & edit! But here ya go 💫 Part ~four 🥳 There’s only one more part after this, woot woot!! 

THANKS A MILLION FOR ALL OF YOUR LOVELY WORDS AND KIND MESSAGES!!! 🤗💞🌻 I appreciate all of you to no end I love you all so much 🤧 I’d love to hear your thoughts!!

REQUEST/PROMPT: Unrequited Love

Part ONE | Part TWO | Part THREE

Let’s Chat!! | MASTERLIST | Add Yourself To My Taglist!

Warnings: Few swear words

WC: 4.1K // only a ~smidge of angst

-

It had been two months since you started walking in a different park; two months since Shawn had spilled tea on you.  Two months since your last contact with him.  And while it initially hurt seeing him, after a few days, you were starting to feel somewhat normal.

While two months felt like a blink of an eye, it had been a total of eight months since you last really saw Shawn.  Eight months since that explosive argument where you put it all on the line for him and he cut you loose.  Well, you cut yourself out from his life, but that was because you knew it was to keep your sanity above anything else.

It took some time adjusting to a new park, but all in all, you found it more peaceful than the last.  And that was probably due to the fact that you now had a walking partner.  Since Brian took you out for coffee, he weaved his way back into your life.  So for the last two months, you had spent it drinking an insane amount of caffeine, and getting some light exercise with Brian.

It felt nice rekindling your friendship with him.  While at the time, it made sense to cut anyone out of your life who connected you to Shawn, now you saw how much of a mistake that was.  Because as you walked into the frigid February air, feeling as if icicles were hitting your skin, you finally had a close enough friend you felt comfortable confiding your secrets in.

“I’m seeing someone,” you dug your mitten-clad hands further into your jacket pocket as the wind picked up.

For a second, you thought the wind had picked up your secret, but when you turned your head to look at Brian, there was a very concentrated look on his face.  You elbowed his side, and he was brought out of whatever world he found himself in, as a smile lit up his face, “That’s––Wow, Y/n, that’s great.”  

“Thanks,” you shrugged off his forced tone of excitement.

While his smile was genuine you could see it in his eyes, and hear it in his voice, that he was thinking something different.

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

Another howl of wind came through as you tilted your head down and to the side, bracing the cold impact, you almost didn’t hear the word lucky.

You waited until the wind died down to speak up, “His name’s Charlie.”  And a soft smile made its way across your face as you thought about the date he took you on two nights ago, “He’s really sweet.”

The wind picked up again when you were explaining to Brian how you met him through a mutual friend.  And while you had only been seeing him for a little over a month, things were still casual between the two of you, but you could see the relationship progressing into something more serious.  

In the past, you had been so hung up on your fantasy with Shawn––the clichè story of how the two best friends fell in love––that you brushed off every guy who tried to make an advance on you.  And it wasn’t until you had spent the whole party laughing with Charlie that you realized Shawn never held back when it came to girls around him.

So this time, you weren’t holding back.

“I’m happy for you, really,” Brian threw an arm around your shoulder to give you a quick side hug, and it was the first time he sounded genuine, “You really deserve this.”

“Yeah,” it was the first time the wind decided to stay quiet, and you spoke confidently, “I do.”

The rest of your walk was silent as the two of you enjoyed the company of each other.  There was something so soothing about not feeling pressured to fill the void of silence with noncommittal conversation.  It was something you missed about having a best friend.

When you completed your walk, about to ask Brian when the next time he would be up for a walk, he cut you off, “We’re––I’m having a little get together in a few nights,” he rocked back on his heels, “You should bring your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you quickly corrected him.

Brian rolled his eyes, “But really, I’d like to meet him.”  You nodded, keeping silent, because you knew that Brian was holding back on some key information.  And with a sigh, he answered what you already expected to be true, “Shawn might stop by, but he said he didn’t know if he would be up for socializing.”

Even after eight months of voluntarily avoiding him, there was still a sharp zip of pain that stung your chest when you heard his name.

“It’s fine if he's there,” you tried to brush it off and act nonchalant, when on the inside, you were going absolutely insane, “I’m over him.” Brian raised his eyebrows, not believing your statement, and you let out a huff, “Fine, okay.  Maybe I’m not totally over him, but…” you kicked up some dirt and whispered, “I’m really trying.”

Brian smiled and wrapped his arms around you, “That’s all that matters,” he squeezed you tight, “And if that new boy makes you happy then that’s a plus.”

“Yeah,” your voice was muffled from your head being buried into his puffy winter jacket, “I’m happy.”

///

You decided to invite Charlie to Brian’s get together.

You briefly mentioned it as an offhand comment as the two of you were doing dishes together; he was washing and you were drying.  You held your hand out, expecting to be passed another plate, but were met with air.  So when you looked up to see him stop mid-wash, with a smile on his face, you knew it was the right call to bring him and a smile instantly lightened up your face.

“So this is Brian’s place?” Charlie said as the two of you rode up the elevator.  

He couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he was practically jumping up and down in the elevator.  He was almost too excited to meet your friends while all you felt was nauseous.  All of the worst case scenarios ran through your head and everything kept circling back to Shawn.

What if Shawn was there? What would Shawn do? Would Shawn care? Did Shawn even know you were seeing someone?

But you shook your head clear of all the ‘what ifs.’  You were done focusing on those eight months ago.

When the elevator dinged onto Brian’s floor, you couldn’t help but return Charlie’s infectious smile as you grabbed a hold of his hand and walked off the elevator.

Walking down the hallway to Brian’s apartment felt like an eternity, but when you got to the door with 643 nailed onto it, you could hear the hoots and hollers of insanity.  You didn’t bother knocking as you turned the door knob and came face-to-face with Brian, down on one knee, chugging whatever he had in the red solo cup.

Once finished, he threw the cup onto the ground as people around him cheered.  You looked at Charlie with raised eyebrows and an apologetic smile, “That’s Brian––”

“Y/n!”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence as your hand was ripped away from Charlie’s and you were brought into a bone crushing hug.

“Oh, Y/n I’ve missed you,” Brain fake cried into your shoulder.

“It’s been two days,” you patted his shoulder and looked back at Charlie who had an amused smile on his face.

“Too long,” Brian laughed as he let you out of his hold and turned around, “You must be Charlie.”

He nodded his head and took Brian’s outstretched hand in his.  They exchanged pleasantries and talked for a few moments before you excused yourself to get a drink from the kitchen.  You were in the middle of making yourself a vodka coke when Charlie slid up next to you.  

Automatically a smile made its way onto your face as you handed him a sip of your drink.  He took a sip and scrunched his nose up, “Did you put any coke in that?”  You threw your head back in laughter and took the cup from his hand, “Is getting through a night with me so hard you need that much alcohol?”

From the glint in his eyes and the teasing tone he spoke with, you knew he was joking.  But you weren’t going to lie to yourself and say that you were just taking precautionary measures in case Shawn decided to show up.

Charlie tapped his fingertips on the top of your hand, and you flipped your hand over, palm facing upwards as he slotted his fingers with yours.

You smiled up at him, “I would never need that much alcohol for you.”

He let out a laugh as he reached over the counter and grabbed a regular soda can.  When you offered him alcohol to mix with his drink he shook his head and said something along the lines of being the designated driver.  

But his words were lost on you as you heard someone call out your name.

“Y/n?” The crack of the soda can wasn’t loud enough to drown out the voice you hadn’t heard since he spilled tea on you.

Your eyes widened, and your first thought was that you hadn’t had enough to drink yet to face him.  Charlie looked down at you, with a mixture of concern and amusement, as you downed half of your drink before facing your ex-best friend.

“Shawn, hey,” you tried your best to smile as he stood in front of you in the red shirt you bought him for his twenty-first birthday, “How are you?”

He looked a little shocked as he stared at the half-empty cup on the counter he saw you make just minutes before.  But then you saw his eyes glance over to your hand intertwined with Charlie’s.  It was a subtle look, but his dumbfounded expression morphed into one of confusion as he scrunched his eyebrows together.

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, thinking he found the right words to say, but backtracking because he knew anything he said wouldn’t be good enough.

“Charlie,” you cleared your throat, “This is Shawn, and Shawn this is, Charlie, we’re––”

“Hey,” Shawn interrupted you before you could define your relationship status in front of him, “Nice to meet you.”

Charlie smiled, excited to meet another one of your friends, “Hey man, love your music.”  

There was always part of you that thought it would’ve been better if you told Charlie the whole truth about your friendship with Shawn, so that he’d understand how much you didn’t want to hear him genuinely compliment his music.  But all that you revealed to Charlie was that Shawn had been a friend for a few years; nothing less and definitely nothing more.  

A tight smile formed on Shawn’s face, but his eyes were dull, “Appreciate it.”

Charlie untangled your fingers and threw the arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close to his side, “This one always skips it when it comes on shuffle.”

Charlie was the only one laughing.  You stood frozen with your eyes wide staring at Shawn, as you felt your heart drop in your stomach.  Shawn also stood frozen, but his eyes were wide with perplexion and a hint of sadness.

“I just think it’s weird hearing a friend singing unexpectedly on my phone,” you tried to play it off with a shrug and Shawn let out a weak laugh.

“She doesn’t even eat tacos,” he let out another laugh as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, Shawn’s eyes narrowing in on the action, “This one,” he playfully rolled his eyes as he looked down at you with an affectionate smile, “She’s different.”

Your body froze up.

Different.

Shawn froze up as his eyes widened just a smidge.  It seemed as though everyone at the party disappeared and you and Shawn were transported to the night you overheard him in the bathroom.  She’s different, he said about you, she’s just a friend.

You had no reason to be upset.  You were almost completely over your best friend who had broken your heart.  But standing in between a guy who you currently had feelings for, and the guy who you used to love…That word made your skin crawl.

You tried to lighten the situation by laughing; it was forced, Charlie didn’t seem to notice as he joined in on your laughter, but with one look at Shawn…You knew he could tell you weren’t genuinely laughing.

Shawn only stayed for a few more moments before saying he saw someone he hadn’t seen in forever.  With the pointed look in his eyes, and how he stretched out the word forever, you knew he was talking about you.  But he seemed to grasp the awkwardness of the situation and let you be with Charlie.

He took a sip of his soda, “He seems really cool, does he have a girlfriend? Maybe we could double date.”

His comment was casual, with an obvious playful tone, but you felt your hands start to sweat and bile stinging the back of your throat.  He had no idea, but that was your absolute worst nightmare.  Hearing about all of his dates when you were best friends was torture enough.  But to actually see him on a date?

“I’m just going to go to the bathroom,” you pressed a quick kiss on Charlie's lips and patted his chest, “I think Brian is in the living room?”

Charlie nodded his head enthusiastically and was already off searching for Brian before you left the kitchen.  You finished the rest of your drink, throwing the plastic cup in the trash bin, before hastily making your way to Brian’s room.  He always kept his room off limits during a party, but you knew he would let it slide for you.  

You rushed in, closing the door softly behind you, and went to sit at the bottom of his bed.  You leaned your elbows on your knees and rested your head in your hands.

You were over Shawn.  You had someone else in your life who made you laugh, brought a smile to your face, and would surprise you with takeaway food and a movie when he knew you had a rough day.  Charlie was nothing but kind and supportive of everything in your life, and you were upset with yourself because why couldn’t you love Charlie like you loved Shawn.

Charlie reciprocated your feelings; he was a good guy.  So why, just moments ago, did you feel more butterflies in your stomach when Shawn was in front of you than you ever did standing next to Charlie?

The door creaked open, and you saw a sliver of the hall light creep into the dark room, “I know I’m not supposed to be in here, Brian, but I really needed to clear my head––”

“It’s not Brian.”

Your head shot up and you were met with Shawn staring at you.  His hands were tucked into the front pockets of his black jeans, and while he tried to look as neutral as possible, he looked just as awkward as you felt moments ago.  His eyes were darting around the dimly lit room and he was chewing on his bottom lip.

You knew that he felt awkward.  You knew that he looked nervous.  And you knew, from that one sentence, that he sounded discouraged.

“So,” he rocked back on his heels and then forward on his black boots, “You have a boyfriend?”

With a scoff you rolled your eyes, “Not that it’s any of your business, but he’s not my boyfriend.”

“So you just hold hands and kiss anyone now?”

You shrugged your shoulders in annoyance and rolled your eyes, “What––Why are you so worked up about this?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “I’m not worked up––”

You raised an eyebrow, “Uh, yes you are,” you spoke as if it was the most obvious thing, “you followed me into a room.”

Without an excuse for your matter-of-fact point, he ran his fingers through his hair, “You made tour miserable.”

You let your mouth drop open,”Me?” You couldn’t help but let out a single laugh about how ridiculous that sounded, “I made tour miserable? I wasn’t even with you, Shawn.  We weren’t talking––”

“Exactly! That’s how you made it miserable!” He said exasperatedly and threw his hands up, “How is it that you ruined touring and our friendship in the same month?”

Offended by his accusation, you stood up and pointed a finger at him, “You did that all by yourself.”

“Me?” Shawn mimicked your offended tone, “I wasn’t the one who fell in love with my best friend––”

All anger in your system left your body for a millisecond as you let your shoulders drop in sadness, “Are you really throwing that in my face right now?”

You felt crushed––absolutely shattered––that the person you once thought the world of would throw your feelings in your face in such a cruel way.  He always gave advice to fans to chase after what they want, to not be afraid to fall in love, to be honest with their feelings.  But behind closed doors with you? You couldn’t think of someone who was more hypocritical.

It took a second longer for Shawn to register the words that spewed out of his mouth.  He knew he was in the wrong, he knew he shouldn’t have said those words as maliciously as he did, but he couldn’t take them back.

But when Shawn noticed something wasn’t going his way, he changed the subject, “Do you…” The glare in his eyes disappeared and you saw just how exhausted he looked, the moon shining through the window highlighted the small bags under his eyes, “Do you really not eat tacos anymore?”

It was a typical Shawn move; trying to remove himself as the root of the problem and that only fueled back up the anger in you.

You shot him a glare, “Write a fucking song about it.” You said it in the nastiest voice you could as you purposely bumped his shoulder with yours as you stomped passed him.

But before you could reach for the door handle, Shawn caught your elbow in his hand and you felt a type of warmth you hadn’t felt in nearly a year, “I did write a song.”

“I don’t care, Shawn,” you rolled your eyes and tried yanking your elbow from his hold, but it was no use, “Let’s just go back to the party.”

“When you’re ready.”

“I am ready to go back,” you stopped struggling against him and let out a defeated sigh, “We can just pretend you never followed me here and I’ll go back to––”

“That’s a song I wrote––”

You whirled around, wanting to be done with arguing with him, “No, shit––”

“–-For you.”

His hand dropped from your elbow the same time your mouth dropped open as the two minute and forty-nine second song zipped through your mind; Every single night my arms are not around you, my mind’s still wrapped around you––I’m waiting––What if my dad is right, when he says that you’re the one––I’m waiting––I’ll wait forever––Say the word––I know your heart like the back of my hand––I’m waiting.

But he didn’t wait.

“How––” You felt your throat tighten up as your voice cracked, “How can you say that to me right now?”

It was as if Shawn hadn’t realized that revealing the inspiration behind the song would backfire on him.  You knew he didn’t think it through because he always told you stories when he told the girl what song he wrote about her and she would swoon.  

“It’s a––It’s a sweet song,” Shawn stumbled over his words as he rambled, trying to get every single one of his thoughts out before you would eventually stop listening to him, “It’s how I felt about you––How I feel––Everyone loves when a song is written about them and I––I just thought––If you knew that that song is about you––”

“I told you I was ready and you––you didn’t…” you looked up at the one person you thought you would always give the entire world up for.  The frown was evident on his face as he bit the inside of his cheek, glassy eyes looking down at you, “I‘m happy now.”

“I didn’t know that––”

You tried everything in your power to be angry at him, to throw words just as spiteful back at him that would cause him to lose sleep, just like he did with you, but all you felt was your heart breaking all over again.

“You wrote that song before I told you how I felt.”

“I know,” Shawn said exasperatedly, “I didn’t know how you felt–––”

“And you're telling me this now?” Your voice cracked as you felt the familiar sting pierce behind your eyes, “Because I have someone else in my life?”

“That’s not––”

“Do you know how manipulative that is?” You spoke on the verge of tears, feeling a lump begin to form, “I can’t keep doing this with you, Shawn.”

“Y/n, please, that wasn’t my intention,” Shawn’s voice was as desperate as the hold on your hand,  “I miss you––I––I miss us.”

“This is why I needed space,” you croaked out, and as much as you wanted to shake off his hand, you found yourself craving the warmth of his touch, “We can’t work like this––”

“I won’t be an asshole,” he pleaded with you, as if that was the only fault in your broken friendship, “I won’t come between you and your boyfriend, I won’t push you to talk to me when you don’t want to, I won’t hurt––” He cut himself off before he made a false promise, “––I’ve never missed anyone as much as you.”

You could try and rationalize all the reasons why you shouldn’t miss him––because that list outweighed the reasons why you did miss him––but you knew that you would be lying to yourself.  While your nightmares still centered around the day he let you down, your daydreams were filled with the familiar warm touches.

And holding his hand loosely in yours, now that you were reacquainted with the warmth, you didn’t know if you could live without it again.

“If––If we do become friends again,” you softly whispered, “We…” The light squeeze of your hand caused you to look up at him after your sentence drifted off.  His eyes were so full of hope, full of desire, that it killed you to say your next words, “I’ll need to think about it.”

“I’ll take it,” Shawn’s voice was small, “I just––Did you miss me at all?”

With a sad smile, you nodded your head, “Everyday.”

And with that, you dropped his hand and made your way out of Brian’s room and back to the liveliness of the party.  It didn’t take you long to find Charlie, seeing as he was standing next to Brian shouting out in excitement as he sunk a ping-pong ball into a red solo cup.  You rolled your eyes and made your way over to the rambunctious duo.

“Thought you weren’t drinking?” Your voice was directed at the boy you came to the party with, but your eyes trailed on a very tired looking Shawn as he came out from the hallway.  

His eyes met yours in a longing stare as you saw his eyes shift to the person who had just thrown an arm around you, showing you the inside of his cup, “Just water.”

You forced out a laugh as your eye contact with Shawn dropped when someone handed him a drink, “Responsible.”

Throughout the whole night, your eyes were always drawn to Shawn and the red solo cup he had only taken one sip out of.  And if your eyes weren’t on him, you felt his eyes on you.  

As you were sitting on the couch with Charlie, your head leaning on his shoulder, you closed your eyes and laughed at the funny story he told.  He was a hit with your friends, and nothing could’ve made you happier in that moment.  When you were listening to one of your other friends pitch in their funny story, Charlie gazed down at you and sneaked a quick kiss.

The kiss was sweet, not lasting more than a second, but when he pulled away and joined in on the conversation around you, your eyes automatically found the back of a red shirt as he weaved through the crowd.  Your eyes didn’t leave him until he closed the door behind him.

Maybe there was something that could’ve made you happier in that moment.

Taglist: @http-isabela, @musicalkeys, @adelaidestreets, @alina--jpeg, @fallinallincurls, @lights-on-mendes, @mendesficsxbombay, @now-that-i-saw-u, @particularnarry, @shawnmendez, @shawnsmutual, @turtoix, @vinylmendes, @5-seconds-of-mendes, @pupsandducks @musicalkeys

[nicklightbearer]

Not A Warning, Babe, It’s An Order

yet another whf tickling fic! i just cant get enough of these two. this one is a lot longer and a good bit more.... sweet? cute?

in this; virgil didnt die and also nick and jack are Frens <3

“Ugh!” Nick huffed, balling up yet another failed composition and throwing it towards the trash can- at this point, while most of it at the bottom was empty bottles, it was overflowing with similar papers. Ripped, crushed, and ruined.. None of them were right. He couldn’t get down the mood he wanted, not in the slightest- and though he eyed the pills set in a neat bowl on his desk, he ended up shoving those away too and just pressing his head to his hands.

This wasn’t working. He couldn’t feel it, that groove that would inspire him to write a million words all in one night- that focus, that drive.. It eluded him.

From the open window, a cold chill. He’d left it open on purpose, of course- tonight, of all nights, he’d actually hoped that Jack would show up- but so far, nothing. Perhaps he wasn’t listening. 

Perhaps he was off indulging in his own hobby. A thought that would’ve once made Nick shudder just made him snort now, and he stood up to grab his guitar.

Maybe this time, he could interrupt the magician’s work instead.

Making his way over to the window, he gave the guitar a few plucks- out of tune, dammit- but with his keen ear for such things, he twisted the pegs just so until the guitar sang as beautifully as ever. He pushed open the door to the balcony, giving a few strums, before settling on a chair outside and kicking his feet up on the railing.

Yes, this would do nicely. 

Jack.. Wasn’t actually hunting, not tonight. He hadn’t been, as of late- sneaking off to Nick’s room to get a bit of company now and again, coupled with ‘terrorizing’ the poor man, well.. It’d been doing just fine. 

At the moment, he was actually perched on the windowsill of some random citizen- he hadn’t bothered checking who, it didn’t matter- and peering into the window to a bedroom across the way. This house was his target- a doctor lived there with his wife, and it seemed that this particular fellow had taken a vested interest in the bobby’s investigation of the ‘escape’ of Foggy Jack.

Irritating, to say the least. Those doctors gave him the heebie-jeebies. 

He’d been there for.. Oh, three hours? It was about three hours when he finally noticed something to break the monotony- hell, the doctor hadn’t even come home yet, all he’d seen was the wife folding laundry and watching the late-night run of Uncle Jack’s show- and it was.. Well, at first he thought he was hallucinating. It wasn’t the first time.

But as the song trailed off, he noted that it was different from recordings. It was as if Nick was playing his guitar right out into the open night air, something like a ballad version of When You’re Gone. 

Surely Nick wasn’t playing outside at this hour. Though he tried to ignore it- probably just some other musician practicing- it kept going.. And his curiosity got the better of him.

Sighing, he slid down from the window, dissolving into his usual mist before even touching the ground. 

If it was Nick, he’d be rather cross. At the same time, it was definitely a first for him to be doing something like this, and he wondered to what end it was.

When Nick noticed the fog rolling up the streets, converging into a larger cloud as it got closer to his house, he smiled grimly. It had worked- and he wasn’t actually sure how Jack would react to such a summons, as odd as it was. But he needed help- and of all the times Jack had offered, well, he surely wouldn’t be that put off.

He closed his eyes, now crooning the words to his song softly as he felt the fog push up towards his balcony. 

“When you’re gone… Baby, it’s a long way home.” He could feel a presence behind him now, but he didn’t bother stopping his playing. It was near the end, anyway.

“Baby, it’s a long way home.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder as he finished the tune, and lolled his head back to open his eyes and grin up at Jack. The magician was quiet- looked rather neutral, but curiosity glinted in his eyes.

“A wonderful performance as always.” “Why, thank you.” “But I must ask.. It’s nearly midnight, most of the good folk have gone to bed or out to their activities of the night. Why haven’t you?” “I’m glad you asked!” Nick beamed, swinging his legs down and standing up as he grabbed Jack’s arm and dragged him inside- not that there was much resistance. 

“I have to write a new song. And I’m having a lot of trouble!” “You sound delighted about that.” Nick huffed, setting his guitar down and turning to cross his arms with an irritated frown. Jack merely tilted his head, still not entirely sure where he came into play.

“Well! You’ve helped me before.” “Ah, so it’s like that?”

The way the word was murmured shot a shiver up his spine, and Nick held his hands out placatingly as a cruel smile spread across the magician’s face.

“No! No, it’s not, you big bully. Godsakes.” “Well, do explain.” Nick sighed, stepping over to his bed and flopping to sit on the edge- and, when Jack didn’t move, he patted the spot next to him. There was a brief hesitation before he settled down, hands resting on his lap as he watched Nick almost warily.

“I need a favor.” “A favor.” “Yes. I know you get all excited about- about making me laugh, but I hardly ever get to see you laugh. And I think it would make for a great inspiration if you’d let me have my own fun, for once.” Jack’s face reddened considerably, even if Nick could only peek at the spaces around the edges. He shifted, bringing a knee up onto the bed so that he was facing the magician and leaned forward while clasping his hands together earnestly.

“Please! It’d be a big help, really.” “I..” “And you can- you can have your fun later, once I’m done. Okay?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “No strings attached?” “Well- I mean- oh, don’t be mean. You know what I meant.” “Mmh. I suppose if it’s such a big help..” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose for a moment before nodding in agreement. Nick clapped once, already excited. “Perfect! Okay, perfect. Here, you lay down, let me get my pad.” Jack may well have just up and died, with how heavily his blush was- but he complied, laying back on the bed awkwardly before covering his face and exhaling. Nick had scampered over to his desk and ripped the last page off again, completely trashing his original ideas and bringing over the blank paper and pencil to set on his nightstand.

“.. It’s not going to be very comfortable there. Here, up you go.” As he was pulled into a more comfortable position- laying so that he was propped up on pillows instead of flat on the mattress- he was silent. Nick paused for a moment before scrambling to sit on his legs, suddenly rather aware of how awkward the situation could become if he didn’t pull this off perfectly.

“.. And the mask?” “Oh no. Not taking it off.” “Jacky…” The magician peeked through his fingers, watching how Nick’s face fell and his eyes shined. Ooh, he was getting good at those puppy eyes.

He deflated, hooking his fingers around the edges and wiggling it off carefully. The night air felt cold on his exposed skin- especially with how fiery it was from the flustered state he was in.

“There. Happy?” “Absolutely!” Nick’s smile was back, and he laced his fingers together, stretching them a bit before wiggling them a few times- Jack had to bite back a giggle of anticipation- to get warmed up. 

“Alright. Don’t cover your face again, okay? I need to see you smile!” “God.” As his palms pressed to the magician’s sides, he yelped at the immediate slam of arms that nearly locked him in place.

“Woah there, Jackaboy- hey, you’ve only gone and trapped me!” “Well- I can’t- aha!”

His fingers curled slightly, and even with his jacket to protect him, the magician had to lock his jaw to keep the tingles that spread across his torso from affecting him too much.

“Come on, you silly boy.. Lift your arms up.” “I can’t if you- if you keep- doing that!” “Doing whaaaat?” The teasing! The tone! He hated it- but as skilled fingers began kneading at his sides, he couldn’t voice any of that. He pressed his arms down a bit harder, jerking as Nick’s hands slid down to squeeze his hips experimentally.

“Gosh, you’re such a baby about it. With all your big talk about how sensitive I am, I thought you wouldn’t be half so bad..” Nick tsked, pulling back for a moment before pushing his hands underneath the jacket and clawing at his stomach. Jack nearly had a heart attack right there, hands flying up to his mouth to stifle the sudden squeak as he squirmed.

“But that’s not right at all! You’re just as ticklish as me, aren’t you? God, what a hoot.” This was it. This was his funeral. 

“Imagine if the constables caught wind. Foggy Jack, menace to society- and all you have to do to reduce him to a pile of fluff and giggles is a little tickling.” “Fuck ohohoff!” “Ooh, swears. So scary.” Nick was careful as he pulled one hand out to start undoing buttons- the jacket was soon pushed aside, and he grinned as he ducked his head down. One hand locked on each side, squeezing over and over as his face pressed against the magician’s stomach- and though he didn’t yet do much other than that, the hot breath he could feel through his shirt made Jack buck up in an attempt to throw him off.

“Hold still! Squirmy wormy, squirmy Jacky, my gosh!” “Faha- Fuhuck you-” “Oh, quit the swearing. I’m not going to stop.” His hands drifted up, nails easily drilling against ribs and finally coaxing out a howl of laughter as Jack threw his head back against the pillows. Accompanying this was an even more infuriating sound- a soft ‘oooomnomnomnom’ as he nibbled at Jack’s shirt- and the slight biting feeling only earned more laughter that had now reached a much higher pitch than he’d ever admit.

“Jeez, no wonder Virge likes this snack..” Though he heard the words, he had no time to process them- not now that Nick had deftly undone his dress shirt and buried his face against him, blowing a raspberry square in the middle of his stomach. “NooOOHOHO- AHAHA- NIHIHIHIIIIHIHICK!! NOT THE- THEEHEE-” “Oooooh, yes! That’s perfect, Jacky.” Though he had started pushing at Nick’s shoulders, the musician merely chuckled and pushed his hands up- and from how he started kneading his fingers into Jack’s underarms, the shocks it sent up his arms drained his strength almost completely.

“Tickle-tickle-tickle… Oh, this is rich. No wonder you like doing this.” “Nihihick- plehease-” “Pleeease what? You volunteered.” “Noho! I didn’t- ahAHAHA!” Another raspberry. If he’d been able to form a coherent thought, he’d be thinking about how awful that mustache of Nick’s was for such an endeavor- the way it brushed against his stomach sent shivers across his body and left him breathless from the laughter.

Nick hummed a little as he looked up, reveling in the fruits of his labor for a moment and relishing in the squeals of laughter that now poured from Jack’s smiling mouth. It really was inspiring- the way he thrashed about and laughed as though he were witness to the funniest joke on the planet.. One that Nick had…

That was it!

Nick rolled off of him abruptly, seizing the pad and pencil from where he’d landed on the floor. Jack was still giggling softly, gasping for breath as he opened his eyes and blinked- a disappearing act from Lightbearer was.. Definitely unexpected.

But he heard humming beside the bed, and after fixing his shirt, he peered over the edge to see the musician scribbling on his pad of paper, occasionally pausing to tap the eraser to get a beat before resuming.

He was only the slightest bit disappointed. As he made to sit up, though, Nick looked up- then huffed, standing once again and pushing him back down.

“Oh no, I’m not done with you yet, mister. This is a full song, not just one verse!” Shit. “Now, Nick- really, it can’t be that hard to-” “It is! Now hold still. Wait- I’ve an idea.”

He got on his knees, gesturing for a moment before finding his words.

“Roll onto your stomach. Hug a pillow if that helps.” He complied, and though many spots were now protected by the bed, he had a funny feeling he was going to hate whatever was happening- of course, this was only strengthened when Nick turned his back and settled to sit on his knees. He maneuvered in such a way that he could sit criss-cross, pulling Jack’s feet through his legs and yanking his shoes off with ease.

Oh no.

“Nick- come on, this is getting ridiculous..” “Not a peep! I don’t want any protest, I’ve got to focus!”

Nick hummed the part he was thinking of as Jack buried his face in a pillow- before, of course, using the eraser end of his pencil to poke rapidly at the magician’s feet. The steady stream of giggles he earned was muffled into a pillow- but it seemed like enough, and he started writing again for a moment before repeating his actions. Jack balled up a fist and slammed it against the bed a few times, his legs screaming that he kick but wholly unable to due to their position.

“Nihihick- come on, aren’t you done yet?” “Don’t be impatient! Hey, you ought to be flattered-” He paused, now poking between each foot with every word and relishing in the flurry of flustered snickers he earned-

“You’re~my~muse~for~this~song! Isn’t that exciting?” “Ihi- eheheh- I suppose…” “Hey, if this works, maybe we can try more often! God knows with that album I’m supposed to have coming up…”

A thrill shot up through his stomach, and Jack grasped at the pillow he was strangling to the point where he was certain it would rip. “I didn’t agreehee to ahahany such thing!!” “But you would! Or..” Nick swung around, now facing him properly and giving him a brief break-

“I can convince you~.” Jack’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest- only to have a sudden wave of giggles come out instead, as Nick slipped his hands under his jacket and shirt to flutter his nails up and down the magician’s back and sides.

“Nohoho- you’re awful! Ahahawful!” “Oh, you love me.” “I hahahate ihihihihit!” Nick laughed along with him for a moment before landing a final pinch on one side and grabbing his notes again. Jack grumbled into his pillow, taking deep breaths to try and calm down. Of all the things Nick could’ve asked him to do…

But soon, they’d both gone quiet, and the scratching of pencil to paper began to slow- more pauses, more tapping, slight grumbling. Jack risked a peek over his shoulder, noting the irritated expression that Nick had.

“.. Something wrong?” “Well.. This next part. It’s less.. I need that giddy feeling. And it’s not coming.” Jack squirmed his way back onto his back and sat up, pulling his legs out from under Nick- with the lack of protest he must be pretty focused.

“That giddy feeling?” “Yeah. Like- when you take Joy for the first time in… No, that’s not quite it.” He hummed again, tapping the pencil on paper before groaning and shaking his head.

“Smilin’ like a little child, in a candy store.. Like that. Sort of.” Jack was content to watch, the look of focus combined with aggravation endlessly fascinating- and when the expression popped to a surprised look, his eyes widened. Surely not again…

“I’ve got it! I know.” And he tossed the pad onto the nightstand again before turning to Jack- this time, he was determined. Jack winced, a smile already tugging at his lips- but he was taken aback when Nick instead raised his arms above his head. “Tickle me!” “.. What?” “Well, it would work! It has before. That giddy feeling- you’re pretty good at getting it when you want.”

A more menacing smile now found its way onto his face, though a fairly endeared one. Of course, this was much more his speed… 

Though Nick had seemed determined at first, that quickly melted into nervous giggles as Jack’s hands pushed under his shirt, nails already scratching steadily at his sides. His arms swayed, wanting to come down from where he held them but staying up.. For now.

“Well, I must say, I greatly prefer this to your horrible torture. We should’ve started here, instead.” “Ghhheheh- thahat’s not- how it works!” “Well, it should be.” He chuckled quietly, slowly making his way up Nick’s torso and almost admiring his dedication- even when his ribs were the target of light squeezes, he kept up, though he’d folded at his elbows to clasp his hands behind his head as he trembled. 

“You- ha!- fucking, you’re a buhuhuhullyheehee…” “Isn’t that what you asked for? Please, Mr. Lightbearer, do clarify. You wanted me to tickle you, so I am- what’s the problem?” “Ghhhhheheheh…” Jack paused for a moment, hands resting on his ribs, before abruptly pushing up and drilling into his underarms. Nick yelped before squealing out more laughter, arms falling back down and locking as he covered his face. Judging by how he swayed, he’d probably fall if he wasn’t careful- so Jack carefully guided him to lay down, keeping at his torment the entire time.

“Go on, uncover your face- I’ve barely even picked up the pace…”

Nick jolted, then gasped through his laughter and finally pushed at Jack’s hands.

“Thahat’s- stooohohop, I neeheed to write!” “Aww.. Do I have to?” Jack pouted, but finally let go when Nick squeezed his arms down again.

“Yehehehehes!! Jack!” “Oh, fine.” He paused. “You actually have trapped my hands, though. Ease up.” Nick took a few deep breaths, slowly releasing his arms- squeaking at a final squeeze from Jack before he was released properly. Grabbing his notepad, he shook his hands out to try and get rid of the shakiness before bringing his knees up so he could write again.

“Cover your face… Hm- hmhmmmm.. Mmh, mmhmmmmm…” Jack tilted his head, trying to peek at the writing and huffing when he was swatted away. “I’m not done! No looking.” “Are you using my words?” “No- well, sort of. You’ll see.” He kept humming a few times before shifting so that his back was to Jack.

“.. Hey, do it again. But not so fast. I’m trying to nail the chorus.” “Do what?” “What do you think, you bully?” Jack snorted, settling on tracing his nails up and down Nick’s back- enough to earn a few snickers, and keep him content as he wrote. “What an effort, for a single song.” “You have no idea.” “Mmh, I think I have some. I’ve watched you write the whole thing.” “Yeah, well.. Shhh.” More humming- and quite a few giggles later- he finally set the pad down and pushed Jack’s hands away.

“Okay. That’s the first draft.” “Draft, are you serious?” “Well, I have to make sure it’s perfect!” Nick stretched, though he kept an eye on Jack- of course, the bastard’s hands twitched towards him, but he held himself back well enough. “It’s late. The best thing for me is to sleep on it. That’s why I write so late, so that I wake up with a little inspiration left over.” “Mmh, I see.” He faceplanted on the bed, reaching up to work off his wig; it was a mess, anyways, so it didn’t matter if he just threw it on the floor for later. Jack simply sat where he was, unsure if he was now overstaying his welcome.

“.. Lay down. Dork. You’re probably just as exhausted as me. It’s fine.” Though he hesitated for a long moment, he eventually settled next to Nick- the blush was back in full, but Nick didn’t seem to care. He slung an arm over the magician’s waist, already drifting off himself. Jack sighed softly, now not holding back the urge to gently comb his fingers through Nick’s hair.

“.. Good night, Nick.” “Mmnh, nighty night. Don’t run off.” It was the last request he had- and though he had other places to be, things to do.. Jack smiled fondly at the musician that now snored next to him. He was perfectly happy to wait.

[theonewiththefanfics]

Hate (one-shot)

Synopsys: Bucky and reader have been stuck in the safe house for quite a while now, and the snow doesn’t seem like it will be letting off any time soon. New Year is creeping closer and closer. And it’s just the Reader’s luck that she’s stuck with a person who absolutely despises her guts.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Genre: fluuuuuuuuffff, soft angst 

Warnings: swearing, the reader is so dumb... like the last three brain cells she had, left the chat because of what an idiot she is

Word count: 2816

He hated her. Y/N was absolutely one hundred percent sure – Bucky Barnes despised her. The war veteran, the last serving Howling Commando, the longest-held war prisoner and the man who had stolen her heart hated her.

      She watched him from over the rim of her coffee cup, how his long brown locks fell over his high cheekbones, and he huffed pushing them away from his face. Y/N had to force down the groan of just how much she had to restrain herself from going over, running her fingers through his hair and maybe tying it back in a little bun. Fuck, if he ever did that, she was sure she’d die from the hotness that was Bucky Barnes.

      They hadn’t known one another for that long. Y/N had joined the Avengers a couple of months after the whole Thanos thing. For one, she had been one of the unfortunate ones to be dusted. She had been taking a warm, relaxing bath after a long day when her feet suddenly disintegrated in the water. The last thing Y/N had managed was to throw her book over the side, so at least that didn’t get wet.

      Sam had found her after everyone was brought back by Bruce. He was recruiting new people for the team as the new captain, and the first thing she had been there to witness was his try-on haul of the new star-spangled costume.

      “Don’t you think it’s a bit novel?” Y/N asked biting on her lip. “I think the shield would be enough to tell them who’s the boss.”

      “It’s a symbol!” Sam emphasized and turned around to look at his ass. “It’s supposed to send a message.”

      Y/N hid her smile behind her palm and shrugged. “Just… never picked you as the tights guy.”

      Sam groaned. “They are not tights!”

      That was the moment when Y/N had met Bucky, and that’s when all of her rational thinking flew out of the window faster than Redwing.

      He came sauntering into the living room, a grey T-shirt stained with sweat and clinging to his body, the fabric defining each and every muscle the man owned. When Sam said that Y/N started drooling quite literally, it might've been because of the fact that a little dribble of her coffee she had had in her mouth actually spilt out on her leg.

      “You look like the American fucking flag,” Bucky snorted and gulped down a large mouthful of water, cocking his hip out.

      Fuck, Y/N thought to herself, how in the absolute hell can someone drinking be the most sinful thing on Earth. Like holy hell when did sweat become a turn on for her? Especially when it slowly slid along his neck and disappeared down his chest. She had to close her eyes to remove the mental image of him panting on top of her. Sweaty, like in that moment, but because of different reasons.

      “Fuck off, tin can,” Sam snapped back, “or I’ll replace you with her.” He motioned with his head towards Y/N, and she ducked further down on the couch. “You’re not special with your sniping.”

      Bucky shook his head and threw her a quizzical look. “And what’s so special about you?”

      Y/N would’ve probably answered nothing, that she’s completely ordinary because actually talking about her abilities and giving herself some credit was way beyond her skill set, so Sam stepped in.

      “She’s an army vet and was in the Snakeskin program.”

      Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed. “Snakeskin?”

      “They were an elite ground force group of troops trained to be as stealthy as assassins. Her specialty is sniping. So, don't go on thinking you're something special. 'Cause you're not.”

      The super soldier now fully looked her over, and Y/N wanted the couch to cut open and swallow her whole, because holy fucking fuck, was Bucky’s gaze intense. It was like he was trying to carve out her soul just by looking at her. The only thing that came to her mind was to give him an awkward smile and a small wave. He gave her a nod and then looked back at Sam.

      “I’ll be out for the rest of the day. Steve said he wanted some help with repainting the fence.”

      “Yeah, you go be a good wife,” Sam waved him off and looked himself over once more in the mirror. “And please remind him he owes me twenty bucks.”

      “What for?” Bucky hollered from the hallway.

      “He knows!”

      They only heard a scoff before the elevator dinged, announcing Bucky’s exit.

      “So,” Sam looked at Y/N through the mirror. “That went well.”

      If only that was how she saw it. Y/N thought Bucky hated her, and Sam’s little remark about her replacing him was not sitting well with the woman. She wasn’t there to replace anyone, least of all one of her childhood heroes who was doing everything in his power to prove his worth to the world (even though she didn’t think he had anything to prove and everyone else could just go off and fuck themselves).

      She was just there to hopefully once again regain some sort of a sense to her life. After leaving the Snakeskin program, and being one of the victims of the Snap, it was hard to find where she belonged. Then Sam called Y/N up and told her they were reforming the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, and he wanted her to be a part of it, so she jumped on the opportunity.

      And that’s what lead them to that moment – Y/N slowly sipping her coffee as Bucky tried to finish up a crossword puzzle. From time to time she glanced up from the swirling black liquid to the super-soldier, but of course, he wasn’t paying any kind of attention to her. He never did.

      After their first meeting, their interactions were limited to small ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’ and communicating during missions. There was never any direct animosity, but the fact that Bucky talked to everyone on a daily basis except for Y/N – well, she didn’t need it to be spelt out.

      But it was just Y/N’s luck, wasn’t it? First, she got sent out on a mission with a man who can’t stand to even spare her a glance, then they get snowed in without a way out (even the jet was seven feet under the snow), and now New Years was right around the corner, and she would have to spend it all alone.

      Y/N looked out the window to the never-changing scene of swirling white flakes. They weaved and moved in a dance she couldn’t comprehend. But while she watched what was happening beyond the glass, Bucky was watching her.

      His eyes trailed the way her face curved and sloped, eyelids half-closed surveying the scenery, but mostly how her flannel shirt had slipped off from one of her shoulders. He so badly wanted to reach out and gently place it back to where it was, but he couldn’t.

      Bucky was no longer the same confident man in an army uniform that used to sweep ladies off their feet and make them dance the night away. This man woke up in the middle of the night in cold sweat and could barely keep eye contact with anyone that wasn’t Steve, Shuri or Sam for no longer than five seconds. So, pulling Y/N’s shirt back up was out of the fucking question. But he didn’t have to dwell on it for too long.

      “I’m gonna take a shower,” she announced, although she had no real idea as to why. Bucky only responded with a hum, which she guessed was more than what she expected to receive, but then again – it was more of an acknowledgement than she’d gotten in the three days they’d been stranded together.

      The stream of hot water pelleting her skin was a welcome change from the icy touch of being ignored and discarded. Although Y/N was stuck in a safe house somewhere in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere in Finland, it was a Stark-created safehouse. So, it was occupied by every possible piece of technology. Including the best speakers known to man.

      Because Y/N was a punk-rock emo bitch at heart (did you really think I wouldn’t put this in? Killjoys are back, suckers! Put on your fucking eyeliner and get ready cause it was not a phase, mom, it's a fucking lifestyle!), her playlist automatically switched from ‘Kicking-Ass’ that was designed to hype her up during missions to ‘Singing-Like-A-Rock-Star’ with ‘Gives You Hell’ blasting through the bathroom.

      It was like Tony had known that people would be absolutely jamming in the bathrooms because the floor was lined with a rubber mat, giving Y/N the freedom to go ham.

      And she sent up a little 'thank you' to wherever Tony was because she had needed that. She had needed to let go of all of the tension and thoughts that had collected in her body just so she could re-enter that same worrying state a second later. Just with clean hair now.

      Pulling on comfy grey sweats and a huge navy-blue T-shirt, she twisted the towel and plopped it back over her head to keep the wet strands away. The house was constantly warm because Bucky kept the fireplace stocked almost 24/7, but it was even warmer now as he had added a new pile of wood, though the man himself was nowhere to be seen. Which was fine by Y/N.

      With a huff and a roll of her head, she ventured into the kitchen, having decided that dinner needed to be had. It was halfway through her boiling pasta when the shrill sound of her phone ringing made her drop the sauce-slathered spoon.

      “Yeah?” She pressed the phone between her shoulder and ear and went to wash off the spoon, careful not to put the curved-inward part under the stream.

      “Y/N,” Sam’s warm voice invaded her senses. “How are you holding up? Fury and Maria says the storm’s still raging.”

      A glance outside of the window told her as much. “Any news on when it might stop?”

      “None at this moment,” Sam replied. “They’re checking every five minutes for an update so they can finally send an extraction bird out.”

      “Ooh, can you ask Maria to send the one with the bed?”

      “Sorry,” Sam sighed in mock sadness, “that one’s been sent out to Guatemala to pick up Wanda.”

      “Ugh,” Y/N groaned and threw her head back. “Damn Wanda and her mission. Could she not like manage until she got back to the Tower? It's not like she's had to sleep in the middle of the jungle or something?”

      Sam laughed, and it made her smile, knowing that he understood her joking tone. “Yeah, right? What a princess!”

      Y/N smiled and finally added the pasta to the boiling water. “What are you gonna get her for her birthday?”

      “Dunno,” her friend replied. “She’s been looking at that one perfume for a while, but we gotta figure out what Vis is getting first… speaking of other halves – you and Bucky getting on well?”

      Y/N huffed turning to face the boiling pot and stirring the pasta in it. A little vortex formed completely mimicking how she felt on the inside. “As well as two people who can’t stand to be near one another, but have to share a place, can.”

      She heard him chuckle. “Come on, it can’t be that bad! I still don’t think you’re in the right about this.”

      “About what?” her eyebrows furrowed. She took out a piece of pasta and chewed on it. Still wasn’t the right texture.

      “About Bucky. I think you’ve got it all wrong.”

      The scoff that wanted to escape her throat was blocked by the piece of food, and she almost choked on it. “Sam, he fucking hates me!”

      “I – I don’t hate you,” came a voice from behind Y/N, and she spun around, mouth left hanging open as her phone was clutched tightly by her ear.

      She could practically hear Sam grin through the phone. “I guess you gotta go.”

      Bucky stepped closer just as she lowered the now silent mobile. “Y/N, why would you ever think I hate you?”

      “Be – because you do?”

      “When did I say that?”

      She shook her head. “You didn’t have to.”

      Bucky’s whole face fell at her words. “What do you mean?”

      “I mean you talk with everyone else but me. You can’t look me in the eye one bit, and do I need to remind you when you actually left the whole Christmas gala thing right after I walked in, and I quote ‘I can’t be around her’.”

      Bucky’s eyes widened, and this time it was his jaw that hung open. “You heard that.”

      “Loud and clear.”

      “I – I,” he stammered and then cleared his throat. It was time to put all the cards on the table. “I only said that because had I stayed; I would’ve done something I’d regret.”

      “Like what?”

      “Like kissed you.”

      And there went Y/N’s breath. And her heart. And her sanity. And frankly, everything she’d ever known.

      “I would’ve most likely told you how I felt,” he said and stepped closer watching every facial feature of hers.

      “And how do I make you feel?” she breathed out.

      “Nervous. I haven’t had feelings like this for a girl in decades… and I didn’t know how to process them let alone act on them. Things have changed so much since I was chasing skirts… nowadays everything’s so complicated… and I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same. I mean, we have to work together, and we live in the same place, so if things didn’t work out… I just didn’t wanna risk it.”

      As he talked, she had started to pace. In stressful situations where she didn’t have to focus on pulling the trigger or if she wasn’t trying not to trip off a treadmill, Y/N paced. A lot. She was pretty sure there was a line in the living room floor where she had done her thinking before missions.

      “Wait, so you like me?” Y/N spun around and pointed at him. “Like really like me?”

      “Yeah,” Bucky chuckled as relief flooded his veins. He wouldn’t have smiled as wide as he did, had he not seen her lips quirk up. “Yeah, I really like you.”

      “And you don’t hate me?”

      “Not one bit.”

      Y/N stepped forward, head hanging low as she carefully grasped Bucky’s hand and intertwined their fingers, metal twining with flesh. “So, you like me?” she looked up at him, eyes intently watching his face. He squeezed her palm stepping closer as well, chest to chest at that point. He placed both of their hands right over his beating heart.

      “Yeah, I do... Happy New Year, Y/N,” Bucky muttered with a shy smile gracing his face.

      “What?” she had been so lost in his eyes that his words weren’t registering. His soft chuckle was like a melody designed by angels.

      “I said Happy New Year.”

      Y/N looked down to the worn watch on his right wrist and sure enough, the two hands were perfectly aligned to 12. A small chuckle escaped her mouth as she reconnected their gazes.

      “Happy New Year, Buck.”

      He was so close to her; she could smell the hot chocolate he had been drinking. Y/N closed her eyes, insides trembling as he leaned closer. But the kiss never came

      “I heard you in the shower.”

      “What!?”

      Bucky grabbed a spoon from the table and used it as a microphone, pointing at Y/N and wiggling his hips to the rhythm of the song. “’ Hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!’” She shoved him away from her and through a laugh threw her towel at him.

      “Ugh, I hate you!”

      “No, you don’t!” Bucky grabbed at her waist and pulled her to him. Together they plopped down on the couch, and Bucky didn’t hesitate to pull her in his lap, legs thrown over his and head resting against his shoulder. Y/N looked up at him, her hand leaning against his stomach as she drew gentle circles on the shirt clad torso.

      “Can I kiss you?”

      She chuckled and moved closer to Bucky. “Are you still going to make fun of me and my singing?”

      He looked like he was contemplating before he nodded, a wide smile on his face as he pressed his forehead against hers. “Yeah. Most definitely. For as long as you let me.”

      “And if I say forever?”

      She didn’t need to hear him say what was on his mind when the only thing that existed was Bucky’s smile. Y/N’s own lips widened, as he bent closer. The New Year and the new decade had begun quite a few minutes ago, but neither cared much because as their lips touched, a new chapter in their lives opened.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Bucky tag list: @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn​ @projectxhappiness​ @callmebucky-doll​ @coal000​ @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken​ @sophiealiice​ @raquelbc2003​ @watch-out-for-thorns​ @potentially-kinetic​ @thatonegirljessy99​ @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub​ @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611​ @horrorx570ximagines​ @the-nargles-made-me-do-it​ @pooslie​ @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel​ @purplebananatragedy​ @pxrrishly​ @parker-barnes-af​ @skulliebythesea​ @california-grown​ @stevehesaidabadlanguageword​ @belongsto-prachi​ @hello-i-am-insane @its-nott-my-problem

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

Forever tags: @lumelgy​ @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki​ @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @sweet-ladyy​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines​ @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28

A/N: Hi! so, quite a lot of things have happened. and the biggest thing is... I’m gonna be seeing MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE in JUNE!!! AAAHHHHH!!! I’ve been a fan of them since I was nine, and now I finally get the chance to see them perform live! I’ve never been so stressed in my life while trying to get tickets to something! I was in the middle of my 9 AM lecture and I was legit shaking. I fuffed about for like 3 seconds and those 3 seconds cost me the tickets... at first! and then it was like the emo gods were smiling down upon me, I saw there was another date added. I thought it was a glitch in the system because nothing was announced. so, obviously, I clicked off, only for my twitter notification to go off that they have announced they have added another date. I think it’s fair to say that I was barely functioning as I clicked furiously on my computer. And now I get the chance to see them... I am STOAKED!!!

[bubbletimestories]

could you do a sebastian fic where sebby is dating his s/o only to get information out of them but they know he's manipulating them ? and then at one point he starts developing feelings for them but they were planning on breaking up with him :(

So....do you know the story of the girl who wanted to answer a quick prompt but finished with 5 pages ? 😅

I hope you’ll like it (I tried to write as gender neutral as possible) and thank you for the request, it’s highly appreciated  💞 💞 

The lies on your lips 

The sun illuminates the white facades of the mansion and gives the flowers in the gardens hues almost too rich for a painter's brush. The end of summer is still mild and the atmosphere is charged with the sweet scents of cupcakes and lemonade that we love to enjoy in the shade. However, not everyone takes advantage of summer idleness to relax under a tree while reading a novel. Two figures move by whirling in the courtyard, raising with each step a small cloud of dust which whitens their legs. Of the two duettists, only one is out of breath and, as usual, it's you. Your legs are stiff with fatigue, your chest heaves far too quickly but your hand does not shake, you refuse to give up. A few steps away, your fencing master does not even seem to be sweating and is patiently waiting for you to catch your breath, as he always does. His amused gaze could be infuriating if you didn't also perceive a touch of lust in it, as if the shock of your blades were only a preliminary before a more intimate and sensual melee.

“Your movement is good, Milord/Milady, but you are still resting too much on your left side. A Lisbon boot would disarm you in no time."

 Comfortably installed in an armchair stretched with white and blue fabric, your mother observes you from a distance, waving her fan of feathers. She absolutely does not believe that her child, with such an unathletic physique, can do much with a foil, but she readily acknowledges your progress since the arrival of the new teacher. If your father weren't on a trip to the wilderness of Scotland (a grim business of murder, alas, mixed up with occult), he'd probably be very surprised to see you so quick and determined.

With a discreet movement of the wrist, your teacher invites you to take a break but you don't want to, you want to draw on your last strength to carry a few more assaults before your limbs become soft like those of a puppet. Without reaching, you put yourself back on guard and attack with even greater vigor and speed, hoping deep down that you could pull even a grimace from the man in black. Your blades clash with a loud bang, you continue to waltz, gauging each other like two predators until at last you see a rift in your opponent's guard. Exhausted and excited, you rush into it and realize too late that this is a trap. The next moment you are lying on the ground, your foil a few feet from your hand.

 "Looks like you've lost again but your last streak, albeit a bit rushed, almost cost me the win. Hope you didn't hurt yourself while falling. "

 Gloved hands glide over your limbs to make sure you've got nothing, and you suppress a delicious thrill as you cross the eyes of an exquisite red. As expected since he won, you will have to resist the urge to scream while he satisfies you tonight, while his hands will hold your delicate wrists, his mouth will give you a thousand tortures without you being able to let your passion escape. One day it’s him who will lose his head, his body sweaty and your name on his lips. The delicious flavor of the forbidden only makes this relationship all the more incredible, those moments stolen from the time when the owl howls, just a few steps from the mother's bedroom. You get up with his help, dusting your dust-covered outfit while your mother congratulates the fencing master.

 - Well done, Mr Michaelis, you really are an outstanding fencer.

- It’s too much honor, Milady, I’m just one hell of a teacher.

Sebastian bowed respectfully, always so modest under all circumstances, so detached. His calm sometimes makes you think of a snake, a magnificent black viper that ripples in the grass, but that would be forgetting the burning heat of his body against yours, his kisses sometimes tender sometimes disarming at the most incongruous moments. Breathing still choppy, you take time off to go to your room and clean yourself up properly, removing the thick gray layer that covers your limbs, stuck with sweat. The bath prepared by the maid does you a lot of good and you let her clean your hair and nails, anxious to appear to your advantage. Then you ask to be left alone to get dressed, pacing the room, naked. Every corner of the room seems to you to be inhabited by the presence of the fencing master, in one place he devoured your lips, in another he healed your swollen ankle although it was not his role. You who had always refused the suitors around you, it didn't take long for you to succumb to the charm of the man in black, his soft voice, his elegance. Your affair has lasted for several weeks and no one suspects anything thanks to the young man's discretion. Your fingers stroke the glove you managed to steal from him after a night of love, you bring it to your lips, feel the grain of the fabric against your mouth. Then your smile subsides.

 Liar

 Such a perfect being, so mysterious, could not but arouse your curiosity but also your suspicions. When you have a father who investigates the cults of Britain, you learn to beware of what sounds too good to be true. And then there's this young boy you sometimes see, puny, a long lock in front of his eye. His almost ghostly allure has stuck on your retina and if you don't know exactly what to think, one thing is certain in your mind: Sebastian is lying to you, he is manipulating you like a vulgar doll. Deep down, it doesn't shock you, he wouldn't be the first to want to make an obedient toy out of you, but it's the first time you've let someone pull your strings. In the mirror, you meet a frozen gaze, filled with anger even if you don't really know which of him or of you deserves your hatred the most. Your hands angrily take the clothes on the bed, the satin slides over your flesh like an icy wave, so different from the softness of gloved hands. No need to lie to yourself, you realized a long time ago that Mr. Michaelis had wrapped his chains all around you, not just around your body but also around your heart. You want him, you love him and you hate him. However, you are aware that crying scandal would be pointless. The beautiful man is too meticulous, too well-liked to arouse any suspicion. And then, in this affair, who has the most to lose? That’s why you keep quiet, you don’t intend to chase him away or prevent him from carrying out his plans. No doubt he will achieve his ends and disappear without leaving a trace. But that doesn't mean you have to remain his puppet. Tonight you will end your relationship.

 ***

The moon is high in the sky as you leave the mansion to enter the gardens under the pretext of wanting to enjoy the starry night. The knots of your outfit flutter gently in the light breeze and you walk between the thickets to get away from the lights, the music, the rest of the world. No need to watch for a rustle, crackle or noise, you know Sebastian will arrive as quietly as a feather in the wind, as if he were emerging from the darkness. With a few glances, a purely aristocratic authoritarian chin movement which he adores, you have made a date with your lover in the secret gardens. Strangely, you don't feel any pain at the thought of breaking your bond, only a great void and a certain weariness. He gave you what you didn't think you wanted: the feeling of being desirable and lovable, and for that you are grateful to him. But it has to stop and quickly, before it gets too hard.

 "Did I tell you how much that color highlights your mouth, Y/N? Tonight you looked like you could devour the world with just one bite, with the movement of your lips."

 In the half-light, his pupils shine with a glow more reminiscent of amethyst than ruby, you have learned to recognize this change as a sign of interest, when his excitement is strong. Unless it's just a comedy, a subtle acting game. This is not the first time he compliments your mouth rather than your eyes like everyone else does, he says he loves the way you talk, curl your lips, consume like a voracious and greedy animal. Behind the delicate and elegant facade, he alone knows your insatiable appetites, the violence of your desires. You smile before picking up one of the swords you took care to take tonight. The bare blade captures the moon's rays and makes it shine with a silvery sheen.

 “We're going to play a game, Mr. Michaelis. We will face each other now, in the stillness of the night, until one of us bleeds. During this time, you will have to answer my questions honestly, without lying."

 Your vibrant voice informs the young man about your intentions, it is not a parade of seduction but a declaration of war. Regardless, both situations will bring him equal pleasure and he stares at you with a smirk, picking up the other sword without taking his eyes off you.

- This is a dangerous game, my love, what will I gain from it?

- You never refused a good fight seems to me.

 To support your point, you raise your sword with an innocent smile, knowing in advance that the pleasure of the game will outweigh anything else in the fencing master. You see it in the crease of his mouth, in the movement of his eyebrow, you've caught his attention. With feline grace, Sebastian begins to circle around the yard as before, shedding his jacket and exposing his thin muscles under the snowy fabric of his shirt. He can feel all the anger pulsing through your veins, you must have discovered something incriminating him, but that's okay. His mission is coming to an end and he will soon have to return to his little master, even if the prospect does not enchant him too much. He loves your company, your light shoulder movement when you concentrate, the tension in your muscles when you hold back from sighing, the twinkle of your eyes revealing the fire that burns under the fine varnish of appearances.

 - Let's start with something easy: is Sebastian Michaelis your real name?

- That’s the name I have agreed to bear on this earth.

 Your blades cross, you study each other with your eyes as you vainly search his face for signs of deception. You have never detected one before, you will not pierce his mask tonight. Fighting in your evening clothes is much more complex than in your fencing ones, the fabric stretches and hinders you in your movements but it only reinforces your rage. And then you have this strange thought that wounds will look better on pretty fabric than on dull cotton. As for Sebastian, he ditched the black of his suit tonight to let blood show with every scratch.

 - Did you come here to spy or to gather information ?

- Yes.

 His answer is simple, spoken in a clear voice without any emotion, shame, regret or even mockery. Would you have liked him to be more cruel? At least that confirms your suspicions even though you now feel a thousand questions on your tongue ready to pop out. You have to stay focused, parrying an attack to respond better. You feel stronger, faster than ever before, it's an exhilarating feeling but one that you can't appreciate because what's at stake in this fight is your heart.

 - Did you seduce me on purpose?

- Yes.

 Once again, he responds calmly as if you asked him if the weather would be nice tomorrow. The detachment with which he says "yes", while continuing to parry your attacks effortlessly ... it's almost painful. Sebastian executes a movement as fast as an arrow, his sword biting the fabric of your sleeve but not cutting into your skin. You're sure he did it on purpose, he doesn't want the game to end and you know full well he's too good to be hurt. His speed and agility are almost… inhuman. In a flash, you think back to the ghost you saw, to certain stories circulating about the queen's hound ...

 - Would you have kill me on the orders of your master?

- Yes.

 The attacks are faster, you waltz at a frantic pace, moving forward, backward, constantly avoiding to better face each other again and you feel the anger rising more and more at the risk of blind you and getting lost your concentration. Still, the young man does not seem to be trying to take advantage of it, just pushing your boots aside without trying anything further. On the contrary, he slows down the movement gradually, detailing your rapid breathing, the sweat that pearls on your forehead, the red of your cheeks. You are exhausted and even if you are enduring, you maintain an aristocratic health, you have to be careful. That's why he lets himself be disarmed, your sword under his chin while looking at you intently without even trying to wipe the thin scarlet line that crosses his cheekbone, signaling the end of the fight.

 "Do I have the right to add one last truth before we go our separate ways? "

 You should say no, you would like to refuse, tell him to disappear from your sight, that you never want to hear his voice again, his sweet but empty words, his exquisite and bewitching lies. But you nod your head without lowering your blade, in anticipation. Perhaps he will explain more precisely why he used you. After all, he's only telling the truth tonight, cruel as it is. Sebastian plunges his shifting eyes deep inside yours, running his tongue over his lips before speaking the most shocking, infamous truth a demon can ever articulate.

 " I love you."

[generallybarzy]

smile like sunshine iii

Monday: ~7k words

Previous 

summary: After some family drama being revealed last night and a rude awakening this morning, the last thing you wanted was to spend the day stuck with your family, and Mat has the best solution for that. You run off to be alone together, reminiscing back to the summer of 2008 and each of you trying to understand and control these strange, emerging feelings.

an: Sorry it took so much longer, I appreciate your patience! Honestly not even sure if this chapter has a plot, it’s just slow burn and mutual pining at this point. Things are starting to heat up so there’s a warning for some smutty thoughts ahead ;) 

It’s the summer of ‘19, eleven years after you first met Mat Barzal, and things are bound to be a little different this time around. 

Usually, the first night at the beach was so refreshing after running around like carefree children in the sun the whole day, but falling asleep last night had been no easy task, not with your heart racing and your mind circling around different scenarios- both real and fake- of you and Mat. Already, all the near kisses and comfortable, lingering touches with him throughout the previous day had you feeling butterflies, nervous, and giddy, and longing around him. And after on and off sleep all night, you wanted nothing more than to lie in bed for a bit longer and fantasize, but there was one thing dampening your hopeless romantic mood.

The yelling.

There was a reason you wanted Mat to come with you on this trip. It was the same reason you approached him the first day you met, the same thing that had you thinking back to him years and years afterward. The arguing, the fighting, the tension in the house, the way you'd always end up on your own. Both of your siblings had texted you early this morning, saying they were heading out to their friend’s places, friends the three of you had made after repeated years of coming here, so you were on your own until Mat woke up.

You were at the beach, for fuck’s sake, why couldn’t your parents just hold it together? You threw the pillow over your head and groaned, just trying to drown out the noise of your parents fighting in the other room. Over what- you had no idea, and they probably didn’t know either. Well, they lasted a good 24 hours without fighting, you’d give them that.

There was a small knock on your door, and when you could do nothing but groan in response, it cracked open slightly. “(Y/N)?” Mat poked his head in, hair still soft and messy from sleep, speaking gently, carefully. “Can I come in?” He saw a nod from you and sent you a soft smile. Any other time, you would marvel at how cute and soft Mat looked right after waking up, but you weren’t in the mood for that right now. He closed the door quietly behind him and sat on the edge of your bed in silence. You knew he was here to comfort you, but you didn’t feel so comfortable when you could still hear the arguing in the other room.

Mat’s heart was aching for you. He could see how much it was hurting you to hear your parents yelling, and wanted nothing more than to hold you against him and kiss your cheeks and tell you everything would be okay. He wasn’t going to put himself into your family drama, but part of him was so, so angry at your parents for not being able to hold it together for you and your siblings. He wasn’t quite sure how to help, but he let his hand fall to your leg and rub comfortingly, and as he caught a glimpse of the beautiful scenery outside the window, he knew what you needed. “Want to head outside?”

“Please.”

It was beautiful outside, stuck in that early morning haze where it was all misty and blue and the first glimpses of soft yellow sunlight were only peaking ever so shyly over where the sun hid beneath the horizon, not yet sure if it wanted to rise or not. Waves crashed against the ever-changing shoreline, coming all the way up to lap your ankles at times. You were walking barefoot in the wet sand with Mat, toes sinking in and leaving little prints behind you. His arm was laid across your shoulders, pulling you against his side so that his cologne filled your nose. His T-shirt was all wrinkly and looked like he slept in it, and his exposed arms and legs were already looking all tan and golden even in the dim lighting of the morning. As much as you loved the comforting silence, he must be wondering. “So now you probably get why I wanted to bring someone along on this trip.”

“Yeah.”

There was a second of mutual sighing before you decided to continue.

“They’re great, ya know? I love them, I love my whole family… but separately. Not together. I hate it when they’re together. Does that make me shitty?”

“No, of course not.” He squeezed you closer into his side, tilting his chin down to rest against the top of your head, wanting nothing more than for you to smile again. “You still love them, and I can see how much it hurts to deal with that. I get why you didn’t want to be alone on this trip.”

“I’m used to it. Whenever they’re together this happens. Every year. And we all just… split up and go to our separate friend’s houses. That’s where my siblings are now, and where they’ll probably be all day.”

He was silent for a few more moments before stopping in his tracks so he could properly focus on you, hands smoothing from your shoulders down, down your arms. You gave him a weak smile, but he noticed the tears gathering in your eyes and sighed and sucked up all his courage to pull you against him, arms squeezing around you tightly and chin dropping to your head. “I can’t believe you have to put up with that every year. That’s so shitty. I can’t imagine how it feels.” He knew you probably didn’t want any pity, but he truly, truly felt so hurt for you. “I’m sorry.” There was an excruciatingly long moment where you did absolutely nothing- and Mat worried you were about to push him away- before you wrapped your own arms around him and squeezed back.

“Thanks for being here.”

“Of course.” He stayed still for a moment, just breathing against you and reveling in the feeling of your body pressed against his again like that morning you cuddled in the motel- of course, you had no recollection of that, but it was easily one of his favorite parts of this trip. So far. He was contemplating leaning down to brush his lips against your forehead- Would that be too much? Not platonic enough? She’ll hate me for it. Or she might love it- when you uncurled your arms from his waist. He let go on your cue, not wanting to make it awkward, even though it had already dragged on much too long for just friends.

He stepped back, trying to pretend he hadn’t just been thinking of kissing you, already feeling like this day- this week- was going to be magical, even if you came out still just friends. “So, it’s just us today, huh?”

“It’s just us.”

“Great. Well, I might have an idea…” He paused to think for a moment as if he hadn’t already fantasized and planned this in his head all night. “I know we only have your family’s car here, so I was thinking we could walk to this car rental place I saw nearby and get our own for the week and maybe go someplace further up the beach to be alone.” It sounded truly magical, getting to go out alone with Mat, get away from your family, and just get lost in him- the real him, and not the memory you had been holding on to and reminiscing about for years. But, unfortunately, it just wasn’t realistic.

“There’s no way I can afford to rent a car for the week.”

“I’ll pay.”

“No, Mat, I can’t let you pay for that.”

“Why not? I mean, I have the money. And it was my plan anyway.” He could see how much you wanted to fight for this, but also knew that you wanted nothing more than to get away, so he smiled and wrapped his arm over your shoulders again. “Consider it an early birthday present.”

“I thought the outfit was my early birthday present?” You seemed almost offended that he was spoiling you so badly, and it was kinda cute.

“There’s plenty more to come, (Y/N).” You smiled, biting your lip in that way you did when you were excited, and Mat couldn’t help but smile back. “Speaking of presents...” You saw him reach into his pocket out of the corner of your eye but thought nothing of it until he was reaching out a closed fist to give something to you. His hand hovered over top of yours for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, but you were too lost in the swirls of honey and green of his eyes and the warmth of his hand to notice the mischievous sparkle and the smirk on his face. His hand opened above yours.

“Ew! What the hell?!”

You may have reacted a little dramatically, shrieking shortly and jumping against Mat’s body as you tossed the dead crab to the ground in disgust, but you couldn’t help it. A dead crab??? That was so gross. You wanted to yell at him for ruining what was a really sweet moment, but hearing Mat howl with laughter beside you was like heaven. As you watched him cackle, bent at the waist with tears in his eyes, you caught a faint waft of deja vu. He had done the same thing to you repeatedly when you were younger when you were more gullible. His smile, his laugh, the early morning sunlight reflecting off his skin: this was exactly like eleven years ago when you were childish carefree and friendly. When you were best friends.

When you didn’t have to worry about being attracted to him.

Embarrassed by how easily you fell for that, and how you had been gazing into his eyes only moments earlier, you punched his shoulder. “Mathew Barzal!!! Are you still eleven?!”

“Are you? I can’t believe you still fell for it!”

“Shut up! You know I hate those!”

“Obviously.” he caught a glimpse of the smile on your face and knew you really couldn’t be mad at him. He mimicked your reaction with drama and fell into a new fit of giggles.

“I’m never going to trust you again.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You couldn’t help but smile, no matter how much you wanted to continue scolding him. Yeah, you would still trust him, and you’d probably fall for anything he tried. “You’re so stupid, Mat.”

“Maybe,” he continued laughing and pulled you against him to continue your walk down the beach. “But you know you love me anyway.”

You have no idea.

It was crazy that you were here with him- Mat Barzal, your childhood friend and NHL All Star- after eleven years. It was crazier that so much of his character hadn’t changed at all since he was young, the humor, the mischief, the childishness. Crazier than both of those things, though, was how quickly and easily you were falling in love with your best friend.

Mat was right, your trek to the car rental place was only about five minutes, five minutes of walking in the warm morning sun with Mat’s arm around your shoulder, and after some paperwork and licenses showed, you and Mat were choosing a car for the week. Originally, there would have been no way for you and Mat to escape- you’d all traveled together, crowded into the family SUV, and you know your parents would never give you the keys, and even if they did, it would be really inconvenient if you and Mat left and they needed to go somewhere. Now, it was liberating, freeing, knowing that you could go places on your own. And after all the work was done, Mat immediately gravitated towards a certain car that caught his eye.

“Oooh, what about this?” It was a classic- maybe 70’s- a powder blue convertible, sleek and long, the type of car you could imagine your parents sneaking away with, sipping milkshakes in and making out in the backseat in their teens. Despite its age, it seemed to be recently updated to include some sort of Bluetooth add-on on the dash so you could listen to your summer playlist.

“Wow, that’s, like…” Amazing? Something of your hopeless romantic fantasies? Absolutely. “It really doesn’t seem like your type, Mat.” You tried to stay realistic, but the hopeful smile on your face gave it away, and Mat leaned in closer, running a hand across the finish.

“Wouldn’t it be so cool? Like an old movie. Imagine driving down the coastline, blasting music, all warm in the sun, with the wind in our hair….” holding hands across the console, hands sliding up each other’s thighs, pulling over to lay on the hood under the stars, making out with each other desperately in the back seat….

“Okay, you make a pretty compelling argument.”

“So this is the one?”

“Let’s do it, Barzy!”

You had never, ever in your life, felt as free as you were now: flying down the empty coastline highway with Mat, wind in your hair and smiles on your face as you sang along with him to your summer playlist, searching for a place to pull over and run to the water. You sat in the passenger seat, sipping on a fruity smoothie you had convinced Mat to pull over for and laughing and smiling and feeling absolutely free. Liberated. You had the entire day with Mat, only Mat, nobody else. Nothing could touch you out here- none of your parent’s fights could get to you, no responsibilities could plague your mind right now- no, nothing could touch you but the sun. And you knew the sun would never betray you.

Speaking of the sun, Mat was behind the wheel, laughing with that beautiful, gleaming grin, his smile flooding warmth through your body just like the sunshine was warming your skin. You were flying down this empty straightaway, laughing and squealing as Mat sped up, trying to see how fast the two of you could go. His hair had grown out a little bit since the season ended, and was blowing back out of his face, looking so soft and just begging you to touch it- and you had to physically restrain yourself from reaching over to glide your fingers through the dark locks.

“Mat, turn it up!” You squealed in joy and threw your hands up into the air as your favorite song came on. Mat glanced over at you with a laugh, his eyes gleaming behind dark sunglasses.

“This is the life, isn’t it?”

It didn’t take long for the road to open off into a little rest stop: a parking lot and public changing room settled between the road and a wide, empty beach. There was nobody around, just you, Mat, and the ocean. The moment Mat had put the car in park, you were jumping out, grabbing your bag of swimsuits, sunscreen, and miscellaneous hygiene products out of the backseat.

“Shit, look at this view.” Mat was right. From where you stood in the cemented parking lot, a sandy hill sloped downwards for a bit only to flatten out onto the beach and open up to the wide expanse of ocean in front of you. Mat ran his hand through his hair, smoothing it back behind his ears after the breeze had pushed it out of place. He was wearing the shirt you’d convinced him to buy, the color really making the hints of green in his eyes pop, and the top few buttons were undone, revealing golden collarbones and more below.

“It’s pretty.“ You watched, awestruck, as Mat stretched, bringing his arms high above his head, and lifting the end of his shirt list to reveal the indents of his hipbones disappearing down into his shorts. Oh, fuck. You had to get out of here before he drove you insane.  “I’m gonna go change, Mat. Take the paddleboards down to the beach a while, ‘kay?”

“You got it.”

You rushed to the changing room, momentarily cringing and wondering when the last time it was deep cleaned was, and caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were sunkissed and flushed red hot, obviously visibly affected by Mat. God, these feelings you had for him… were they just physical attraction, or were they actually more? He was just so hot. But he was also so good to you. He cared for you, and took you away when it was becoming too much, he was always your distraction when life was too overwhelming.

Mat was really gonna be the death of you.

You quickly changed into your favorite bikini, ignoring the twinge of self-consciousness. “Alright, girl.” You looked at yourself in the mirror, psyching yourself up. “Just you and Mat today. Control yourself. He’s your friend. You can’t keep daydreaming about him and undressing him in your mind.”

As you opened the door, your bag slung over your shoulder, you were stopped in your tracks as you saw Mat down on the beach, shirtless and golden, rubbing sunscreen on himself. And you knew then that the little speech you gave wasn’t going to be enough to get you through this week. It wasn’t hard to mentally undress him when there was only one piece of fabric keeping you from knowing what laid between his hips and thighs. Who knew what was under there, right? Look away, look away, don’t stare, don’t stare.

You tried your hardest to push it out of your mind.

“You need some help there?”

He turned around in the middle of trying- and failing- to reach a certain spot on his back. “Are you offering?” He’s wearing that sly smirk on his face, and your knees almost shake at the look he gives you.

“Nevermind, I’m sure you can reach it yourself.”

“Wow,” Mat feigned a hurt expression. “I can’t believe you’d let me burn. What a friend you are.”

“Alright, you dummy. Only if you help me, too.” He hands you the sunscreen and turns around so you have access to his back- his golden, toned back. You try to ignore how warm and smooth and taut his skin felt under your palms as you smoothed the cream over him. And Mat was holding his breath, trying his hardest to ignore the gentle movements of your small hands, rising across his back and up over his shoulders. “There, that should be good.”

Mat turned, skin gleaming in the sunlight. “Let me help you now.” You couldn’t believe this was actually happening- the classic, cliche rubbing sunscreen on each other’s backs, and you almost fell apart when his big hands rubbed over your shoulders, down your back. His hands were so big but so soft and gentle against your shoulders. “That’s a pretty small bikini. Aren’t you worried it’s gonna come off in the water?”

You couldn’t tell if he was teasing you or if he was genuinely worried, but you shook off the feeling that he could be looking you up and down any second. You were friends. He doesn’t look at you like that. “I’m just trying to tan today.”

“You’re not gonna come out to the water with me?” He was pouting. This 22-year-old man was pouting because he thought he’d have to play in the water by himself.

“Mat, you’re such a big baby. I’ll be in the water. Just not in the water.”

“What do you mean?” He seemed confused at first but lit up with a smile when you lifted the paddleboard.

“Come on, Barzy, let’s hit the waves.”

You waded out into the ocean together, shrieking and laughing when the water splashed up to your thighs, cold against your warm skin. One part of the beach curled in almost a hook shape, creating a little pocket of the ocean with very little waves, too deep for you to just stand in but smooth and steady, the perfect place to just lay back and relax without being interrupted by crashing waves. Mat was quick to dive in and swim around, not minding how cold it was, but you were trying not to get your hair wet. Not yet, at least. You wanted to lay back and soak up the sun, maybe daydream about Mat for a while.

Oh, daydream you did, and it was embarrassing how hot and bothered it was making you just watching Mat.

He had spent a while swimming around you in circles, and you had certainly enjoyed watching the way the water rippled over his back as he moved, the way his muscles flexed and stretched and the way his skin glowed in the sun, the way that every now and then he would throw his head back so you could see every breath in his throat as he ran a hand through his dripping hair. “Mat, it looks like you’re tanning already.”

He laughed, taking on a teasing voice. “Were you watching me?”

“Maybe I was.”

He turned to where you were laying on your stomach in that tiny little bikini, eyeing him up and down behind those dark sunglasses. “Oh, yeah?” He floated on over, letting his eyes glance across you as well. He couldn’t help the heat that curled through him as his eyes dragged over your skin: the smile on your lips, the way your legs were swinging playfully in the air, the curve from the small of your back to... He swung his arm towards you and playfully sprayed you with seawater, causing you to shriek and cover yourself up from his attacks.

“Mat, that’s cold! Stop!” You splashed water back at him, spraying him right across the face, but nothing could wipe that beautiful grin away. Damn him, he was too cute.

He grinned crookedly in a way that you knew- you just knew- that he was planning something. He crossed his arms on top of your paddleboard and leaned in, his wet hair falling over his eyes and dripping onto your arm. “Better get used to it, you’re coming in!” He put his hands on the side, tipping it dangerously close to flipping. Oh no, no, no, as hot as his smirk was, the last thing you needed right now was to be wet and up close to his body.

“Mathew Barzal, I swear to god, do not flip this board!”

“Too late.” He rocked you back and forth daringly, a smile splitting across his face and making it impossible to not smile back. He had such a dumb effect on you, he could always make you smile, no matter how you were feeling or what was about to happen. And then you were splashing into the water next to him, grabbing frantically at anything that would keep you from drowning. Of course, the first and only thing your hands could contact was Mat’s smooth, slick skin. Your arms wrapped around his bare sides as you came to the surface, rubbing the saltwater out of your eyes and gasping.

Mat was laughing, the loud, beautiful cackles that would sound obnoxious and annoying if they were coming from anyone other than him. They reverberated through his body and into yours, soaking you to the bone with happiness. He was practically vibrating against you, and you would’ve laughed too if you hadn’t just been pushed into the water.

“Mat!” You slapped his shoulder and he struggled to control his giggles. “This isn’t funny! I could’ve drowned!”

“Nah, you couldn’t have.” He squeezed you where he had one arm wrapped around your waist and the other on the paddleboard to keep the two of you afloat. His arm was big and firm and secure yet gentle. “I’ve got you, see?”

Yeah, he got you, alright. His big hand was on the curve of your waist, your legs were tangled around his, you were pressed chest to chest, feeling every little giggle and breath from him, and your hands were gripping at his shoulders. You tried to ignore the feeling of his toned abdomen up against you, pretend as if it didn’t spark something hot and inappropriate in you. And maybe it was just the way you were holding onto each other for dear life or the way your bodies seemed to mold together perfectly, wet and shivering, but something was drawing you towards his lips.

Mat wanted to stay like this forever, locked in a right embrace with you, floating weightlessly out in the ocean. You had your arms in a vice grip around him, pressing your wet chest against his. He knew you didn’t mean this in a sexy way and he definitely wasn’t supposed to be thinking like this, but damn- being almost naked and having your wet body, soft and smooth and warm, up against his- who wouldn’t be getting turned on? He was gonna savor it. But when he caught himself focusing on the way your lips were puckered into a little pout, he knew he had to put out the fire building up in his stomach.

“Your hair is a mess.” Mat reached a hand up and pushed aside the wet locks of hair that were sticking to your face, tucking them behind your ear delicately.

You splashed him with water, making sure to target his own hair. “Oh, I wonder who’s fault that is?”

“Woops.” Mat laughed again, squeezing you as he did so and moving around with you in his arms.

You continued to splash and swim and play with Mat until he seemed to finally be worn out, and the two of you decided to lay on your boards for a while to rest and dry off under the sun.

Mat was lying next to you on his own paddleboard, his dark hair air-drying all fluffy and haloing around his head, and arm thrown over his face to block out the sun. Seeing as his eyes were covered, you couldn’t help but glance over and check him out, watching his bare chest rise and fall with each breath. You let your gaze travel shamelessly down his golden, toned chest and ribs and abdomen to where that V shape was disappearing into his shorts, and you just knew your mind was going to wander to the immaculate layout of his stretched out body when you were alone in bed tonight.

God, he was so attractive.

This isn’t love, this isn’t even a crush, you had to tell yourself over and over. You’re just attracted to him, like millions of other girls out there. He’s attractive, he has charm and humor, and good looks, that doesn’t mean you love him. It was taking everything in you to hold yourself back from jumping into fantasies of the two of you together- you wanted to hold his hand, kiss him, hug him, cuddle him, call him “baby”. But that’s only because he’s hot, (Y/N). Really, why else would you think of these things? Maybe because he had always been the one you relied on to distract you, even when he wasn’t physically there. He cared about you, he always put you first, he remembered your summer together after ten years apart. And he took you away when your family became too much.

“Mat?” He hummed in response and looked over. “I’m sorry you have to deal with my family’s shit. We’re only a day in and they’re already fighting”

“It’s fine. I’m here to distract you from that, remember?”

“Thanks.” You went back to laying in silence and thinking. Thinking about how crazy it was to be here, to be with each other again. “You know, the only reason we ever met in the first place was because my parent’s marriage was falling apart.” You glanced over at Mat to find him propped up on one elbow, his toned upper body turned towards you. “I never would’ve approached you as a kid if I wasn’t just… so desperate for a friend. For anyone to hang out with.”

“Shit,” he sighed, pushing some hair back behind his ear. “I’m sorry we had to meet under such bad circumstances.”

“Don’t be. If my parents falling out of love caused me to meet you, I can deal with it.”

He laughed, “You’re only saying that ‘cause I’m a star.”

“You have no idea how wrong you are, Maty.” He smiled at you and butterflies erupted in your stomach.

“Yeah, our story’s pretty great, don’t you think?” He sighed, soft and thoughtful as if he was contemplating something and flattened down onto his back again, crossing his arms behind his head. “It’s weird. We only reconnected last year but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. Or for the past eleven years, at least.”

Your heart almost burst out of your chest with Mat’s words. Yeah, you did feel like you’ve known him all your life. You broke your eyes away from his and focused your gaze and the sky, finding it easier to spill your heart when you weren’t looking at him. “At that game, the night I found you, it was so crazy. When I heard your name I just… felt like it had to be you. I was trying to put the pieces together but I just couldn’t imagine that it was actually you. And my friend got me to look up some pictures, and I just… I can’t even describe how it felt.”

“It probably felt the same as when I saw you in the bar.” Mat couldn’t help but think back to that night. He had been at the bar, on his phone when some pretty girl caught his attention. “You really made it to the NHL, huh?” He didn’t know what this girl meant, and those words rang in his ears for a few long seconds, but there was something about her… the way she carried herself, the nervousness in her voice. Before he could figure it out though, she was rambling, how sorry she was, how he must not remember her, “the summer of ‘08?” And then he knew it was her.

“Did you recognize me?”

“Well…” Mat shrugged sheepishly. “Not at first, honestly. But I knew there was something familiar.”

“It was your smile that did it for me.”

“What?”

“I was looking through pictures, and I wasn’t sure if it was actually you or not. I mean, you’ve obviously changed since you were eleven years old. But when I saw a picture of you smiling, I knew. Your smile hasn’t changed a bit.” Mat’s heart pounded, ached, in his chest. Wow. He looked over again and caught your gaze, making note of your red cheeks.

God, he was so in love with you.

“Did you ever think about it, Mat?” Because hell, I thought about you constantly. “About that summer?”

“Of course I did. I mean, I did get a lot busier, but every now and then something would remind me. Summers weren’t the same after that.”

It was so strange to know that all these years you were thinking back to that childhood summer together, Mat Barzal had also been thinking about you. “You know, I was so scared to approach you. I’m glad I did. You’re just as cool as you were when we were children.”

“You’re pretty cool too.”

You laid in silence again, pleased with the little conversation you had just had, and stretched out in the sun, finally completely dry again. Mat watched as you stretched out, moving your hips a little bit and extending your legs, and had to look away to keep his composure. If only you knew what you could do to him.

“We should probably go get something for lunch, yeah?”

“Yeah, let’s head back.”

The next few hours passed in a blur of warm sunshine and joyous laughter and pictures of Mat- just Mat. Mat’s skin, his arm around your shoulder, his skin touching yours, his hair drying all fluffy and soft and dark in the sunlight. And as you flew down the empty road again, smoothies in your hand and greasy takeout food secured between you and Mat, you couldn’t help but take out your camera and snap some pictures of him sitting beside you, his hair blowing back and a smile on his face. You wanted to document this entire week. You wanted to remember this day forever.

Hours later, with full stomachs tired bodies and warm hearts, you settled back with Mat against the hood of the car as the sun began to set in the background. It was cooling off a bit, so he had thrown on his Hawaiian shirt again but opted to keep it unbuttoned. You sat next to him, fiddling with pieces of string and little shells that you were trying to make into a bracelet.

“Mat, if I made you a bracelet, would you wear it?”

He glanced up from his phone, where he was trying to take a photo of the moon beginning to rise over ocean, and let out a short laugh when he saw your work. “Of course.”

“Even after this week? When we’re back in New York?” He hesitated a moment and you laughed. “Come on, it’s not gonna look that bad.”

“No, but, I don’t know... You can’t just make me jewelry. People will think we’re dating or something.” As much as Mat wanted that to be a reality- as much as he wanted to wear that bracelet for you and hold you and kiss you and tell you how much he loved you and have you to himself- he knew it wouldn’t do him any good to constantly have a reminder on his wrist of how he fell in love with his best friend and couldn’t be with her.

“Friendship bracelets?”

Friendship. Friendship. But he pushed a smile onto his face. There’s no way he could say no to you. “Yeah, sure.”

“Great. Let me measure you then.” You leaned over, taking his wrist in your hands and wrapped the string around his wrist. Mat tried to ignore the way his heart jumped at just the feeling of your fingertips on his wrist. It wasn’t even romantic, it wasn’t even cute, but it was you, and you were touching him. Sometimes he hated his body, how it would react so strongly to the simplest things you did as if he was still a teenage boy in the midst of puberty who couldn’t control himself.

He watched, mesmerized out of the corner of his eye as you focused on braiding little shells onto the string, the ocean in front of them forgotten. You had no idea what you did to him. You got tired of working on the bracelet soon, setting it aside and laying back next to Mat, smiling up at the stars that were only beginning to peek out from the fading blue of the sky. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening- you were laying on the hood of a car next to your childhood best friend, the center of your attention, NHL All-Star Mathew Barzal. But none of the titles mattered when you were together. When you were together, he was just Mat. Your Mat.

“My friends can’t believe I’m on vacation with you right now.”

“Oh yeah? Am I the coolest person you’ve met on vacation?”

“I’d say yes, but I don’t want to inflate that ego of yours.” You knew he was joking, though. He wasn’t one to brag, or to boast about his accomplishments, which was refreshing to see in a professional athlete, and you weren’t expecting that when you first approached him. “Actually, I met a pretty cool guy here a few years ago. I was sixteen, and he could drive already. He might be the coolest guy I ever met.”

“Ooh, a summer romance. Sounds dreamy.” He couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy and sarcasm in his words.

“Shut up, Mat.” You laughed as he rolled his eyes next to you. "You know, I kinda wish we would've been older when we met. Like, in our teens."

“Oh yeah? Why?”

You could have told him. Told him you wanted to hold him, kiss him, lose yourself in him, and see what would’ve happened had you been teenagers that summer. But you shouldn’t. You couldn’t. “I don’t know. We would’ve had more freedom, I guess. We wouldn’t have to be hanging around our parents all the time. I just wonder what would’ve been different.”

There were a few silent moments while Mat processed what you said, gazing up at the stars above and thinking it over and over in his head. Was he overthinking? Fuck it, maybe he was, who cares? He rolled onto his side, propping himself up with an arm, the metal cool against his sun-warmed skin, and caught your gaze, searching, questions evident in his eyes. ���I think I have a few ideas.” Before you could ask what he meant, he was leaning in. Your mind went hazy, unable to process the moment: your faces were close, much too close for friends, his fingers were grazing across your jaw and his lips looked so, so soft all of a sudden as he stayed there, inches from your face, waiting, your cheek encased in the warmth of his palm.

He was waiting on your cue. Waiting for you to do anything. Don’t leave me hangin’ here, babe.

You could practically hear your own heartbeat by the time you rolled onto your back. No, no, you read it all wrong. He’s not trying to kiss you. You were friends. He was leaning in to hear you better. Stupid hopeless romantic brain trying to find love where there is none. “Yeah, if we were older when we met, we would’ve at least tried to stay in touch with each other.”

“Yeah, we would’ve.” Mat rolled back over, staring up into the stars with burning cheeks and a pounding heart, hoping you didn’t realize what he was trying to do there. Rather have you unaware than rejecting him, right?

“Mat, remember when we used to mess with crabs?”

“And you were super scared of them?” He laughed as you shook your head, trying to ignore the embarrassment creeping in. “Yeah, of course, I remember.”

“Wanna go recreate that memory?”

“Oh, for sure.”

So you headed down onto the beach, barefoot and way too close to each other, with nothing but your phones as flashlights in your hands.

The first time you did this together was 2008. You and Mat had snuck away from where your parents were talking together on the porch and made your way down to the beach quietly. “Shh, we can’t let them know we’re leaving.” He had whispered to you with a little smirk. You were both only ten or eleven, but already Mat had you wrapped around his finger. You followed him, holding his hand, as he led you down to the beach and announced you were going to look for crabs- the ones your parents had told you not to go near. And you looked and looked and looked, and soon you found one. It wasn’t impressive, but to your young minds, it was huge and dangerous.

You remember daring Mat to touch it, but as he got closer and closer you began worrying and begging him to stop, to the point of tears. “It’s fine” he convinced you “It’s really not that scary.” But as he approached it, it ran off in your direction, causing you to jump and screech in fear. That was the first time Mat had to console you, rushing to hush you before your parents came and found the two of you. He hugged you and promised to scare away the crabs. And that was the first time he hugged you.

The first of many.

“Woah, look at the size of this guy!” And now it was 2019, eleven years later, and Mat was the same, always there to console you and save you, even if he was the one to cause your distress. “I’m gonna touch him.”

“Mat, that’s a bad idea. What if you get pinched?”

“I won’t.”

“Famous last words, Mat…” Of course, the more you told him not to, the more he wanted to do it. Before you could stop him, he was already approaching it, crouching down and grabbing it between his fingers. “Mat! Don’t do that!”

He stood up with it in his hands, smirking and coming closer to you. The crab was flailing its big claw around and snapping, and you knew it would attack anything in reach. “Wanna touch him?”

“No! Absolutely not!”

“You sure?”

“Mat, if you bring that thing any closer to me I’m gonna punch you. Put it down!”

You saw the grin shit-eating grin on his face and rethought your words. Before you could clarify yourself, Mat was shrugging. “If you say so.” And the moment it was back in the sand, it was running towards you, and, though you tried to keep your composure in front of Mat, you couldn’t help but jump and squeal in fear. That had Mat bending over at the waist, cackling and wheezing at your reaction.

“Mat, shut up!” But the more flustered you got, the more he giggled.

“Ah, don’t worry, I’ll protect you from them!” And he pulled you into his side, his arm fitting perfectly around your waist, tucking you against him and holding you firm, his laughs vibrating through your body and making you smile once again.

“You’re a dick.” But the smile on your face said otherwise, and Mat knew.

“And you’re still scared of crabs.” He laughed again and poked your side, teasing, gentle. “Some things never change, huh?”

That’s true- you both knew it. Some things never change. Like how Mat still loved to tease and poke fun at you, after all these years. How he was still the one you fell on when you needed something. Or how he still wants nothing more than to help you and keep you safe. And you still had Mat wrapped around your finger.

But some things do change.

Standing here in Mat’s arms with his giggles washing over you, the moon rising above you over the ocean, you knew. Things had changed. You had grown, matured, and so had he. And so had your feelings.

You’re not just friends anymore.

[sickslickman]

Welcome to the Table States

Been thinking of doing this for a while, just a cast list for Welcome to the Table by main, major recurring, minor recurring, and guest spots. Let me know if I missed anyone. Also I don’t know sports teams worth a damn, so if I don’t name the state’s jerseys as they should be, that’s why.

Main cast:

(These are characters that premiered in the first episode and appear in most if not all of the episodes. Note: unless otherwise mentioned, all characters in this series are portrayed by Ben Brainard)

DC: The District of Columbia. Runs the meetings. Acts as the leader, but occasionally the shady side of politics comes out of him. Trying desperately to keep his sanity amid the virus, BLM, and everyday American life. His appearance goes from wearing a polo shirt to a suit and tie. Appears in every episode.

Call: “I’m about to do something drastic!”

Florida: The Sunshine State. The Mr. Hyde to DC’s Dr. Jekyll, he is all for absolute chaos and fun over order and following guidelines, and basically comes to the meetings solely to ruin DC’s day. Knows how to call every state because everyone eventually moves to Florida. His appearance is usually a tank top, shorts and a bucket hat. Believes that the coronavirus is a hurricane (or a tropical storm, it varies from day to day). Appears in every episode.

Call: “Duval!”

Texas: The Lone Star State. Usually represents everything the conservative side stands for (guns, politics, religion, women’s rights, big government, you get the drill). His appearance is a red button down shirt and a black cowboy hat. Appears in most episodes.

Call: Sing lines from “Who Put All My Ex's in Texas” by Willie Nelson

California: The Golden State. Usually represents everything the progressive liberal side stands for (abortion, anti-police, anti-fascism, anti-confederacy, BLM, you get it). His appearance is hipster based with beanie and thick-framed glasses. Appears in most episodes.

Call: “Hey Human Torch!” (Unknown if that’s official call or if it just worked because of the wildfires currently ongoing in California)

New York: The Empire State. Tends to be gruff, abrasive and sometimes hostile with his arms almost always folded. Politically is sort of the middle ground between Texas and California; mostly would rather be doing anything else. His appearance used to be a winter coat and hat but has since switched to a Giants jersey. Appears in most episodes.

Call: Unknown at this time, but does react when someone claims their pizza is better.

Major Recurring:

(These are states that make frequent appearances and/or have a strong presence)

Louisiana: The Pelican State. Florida’s best friend and main partner in crime. Very laid back. Only character that speaks with a Cajun accent. His appearance was initially a bucket hat and suspenders with no shirt, but has gradually shifted to wearing LSU gear. Loves daiquiris and gators. Appears in most episodes. His premiere episode is the most watched episode of the series.

Call: “Who dat? Who dat?”

(Note: At this point he has appeared in as many episodes as the main cast, considering bumping him up to main.)

Georgia: The Peach State. Always acts like he just got out of bed, and is almost never seen without a mug of coffee. His appearance has gradually shifted from pajamas to Panthers gear. About as chaotic as Florida, but more out of being dim-witted than out of desire for chaos. Appears in many episodes.

Call: Unknown at this time

West Virginia: The Mountain State: The only state to appear in the pilot episode that is not a main character. Appears very infrequently. His appearances usually involve following coronavirus guidelines and his usage of the word “f***.” Initially dressed in Amish clothing, he has since changed to a Mountaineers football shirt and hat.

Call: Unknown at this time

Washington: The Evergreen State. As the American spread of the coronavirus originated in Seattle, he is almost always coughing but passes it off as “allergies.” Usually wears a dark short-sleeved button down and hipster glasses with ear buds. Appears in several episodes.

Call: Unknown at this time

Massachusetts: The Bay State. Appears frequently and loudly. Has a love-mostly-hate relationship with New York. Tends to be a very abrasive and loud voice of reason. His appearance has gone from a Celtics jersey to a Bruins one.

Call: “Is that Matt Damon and Ben Affleck?”

Utah: The Beehive State. His appearance is a dress shirt and tie and he usually carries a Bible. He is a Mormon and very religious. Has an antagonistic relationship with Florida, who constantly belittles him and inquires about his multiple wives (which Utah does not do anymore). Appears semi-frequently.

Call: “I wish someone were here to tell me about my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ!”

Kentucky: The Bluegrass State. Usually wears a dress sweater and carries a picture of Governor Andy Beshear with him everywhere. Tends to be a voice of reason and one of the least problematic states at the table, which is surprising given who his senator is. Appears semi-frequently.

Call: Pronounce “Louisville”

The Carolinas: Both make frequent and strong appearances, and both have a rough relationship with Florida. Both wear T-shirts reflecting their states.

South Carolina: The Palmetto State. Likes to remind Florida of the Jameis Winston crab legs incident. Gets annoyed if you say his barbeque is trash. Loves college football and is always talking about Clemson.

Call: “Carolina BBQ is trash!”

North Carolina: The Tar Heel State. Although he has only appeared in the series fairly recently, he has already become a recurring character. Loves barbecues and basketball. Tends to get hit with a lot of natural disasters.

Call: “It’s bo time!”

Colorado: The Centennial State. Wears a blue T-shirt and a ski hat with goggles. Is usually high all the time and constantly talks about weed. Appears semi-frequently.

Call: Howl like a wolf

Alaska: The Last Frontier. Has only appeared a couple of times but has made a strong impression. Wears an “Alaskan grown” shirt and winter hat. Speaks in a slow but patient voice. Likes to be left alone. Has a friendly rivalry with Texas on account of size. Is a little weird but friendly enough.

Call: None. He is always there. Like Batman.

Minor Recurring:

(These are for characters that are more like supporting characters. Note that although several of these states have had episodes focusing on them, their overall presence is less than that of the major recurring)

Indiana: The Hoosier State. Has only appeared twice. Has trouble coming to terms with Mike Pence’s alleged homosexuality. Not much else notable about him.

Call: Sing the Indiana Jones theme (Although he would prefer “Hoo hoo!”)

Pennsylvania: The Keystone State. Appears semi-frequently but is mostly a slightly less abrasive New York or Massachusetts. Wears an Eagles jersey in most appearances. Constantly asking for a drink. Constantly asking people to choose between Wawa or Sheetz.

Call: “We are!”

Wisconsin: The Badger State. Wears a giant foam Swiss cheese hat on his head. Is perpetually drunk. Argues in favor of the rights of the people (although not always in the best ways). Hates Illinois and especially the Bears.

Call: “Anyone need anything from Quik Trip?”

Illinois: The Prairie State. Mostly just known for Chicago and not much else. Wears a Cubs jersey and hat. Seems rather old fashioned and does not like alcoholics. Everyone in his state seems to hate each other. Hates Wisconsin and has arguments with New York in regards to who makes better pizza.

 Call: Unknown, but seems to react to someone insulting the Bears.

Ohio: The Buckeye State. Loves skyline chili and wine at two o’clock. Begins just about every sentence with “ope.” Used to dress like a rapper wannabe, but now dressed in Ohio State gear. Hates Michigan and given the chance would kill him himself.

Call: “O-H!”

Michigan: The Great Lake State. Wears a Lions jersey and hat and brings a bottle of Vernors with him everywhere. Hates Ohio and wants to beat Ohio State at football.

Call: “Liberate Michigan!”

New Mexico: The Land of Enchantment. Appears very infrequently. Speaks Spanish on top of English. Is intelligent to a degree but will throw down if necessary. Mostly talks about cultural things. Wears a blue hoodie-looking sweater.

Call: Unknown, but responds when someone claims to have better green chili.

Mississippi: The Show Me State. Claims to be the “Harvard of the South.” Carries a water bottle with him wherever he goes. Gets into arguments with California over Confederate momentos.

Call: Unknown at this time

Alabama: The Cotton State. Mostly appears in the weekly recap videos. Represents the philosophies of the Deep South. Not much else known about him.

Call: Unknown at this time

Arizona: The Grand Canyon State. Appears mostly as a semi-frequent character in the weekly recap videos. Not much else is known about him.

Call: Unknown at this time

Missouri: The Show Me State. Appears semi-frequently in the weekly recap videos. Not much is known about him other than he likes barbeque and has a feud with Kansas over Kansas City.

Call: Unknown at this time

Oklahoma: The Sooner State. Appears mostly in the weekly recap videos but has made other appearances too. Tends to be rather sarcastic and blunt, but is prone to overreaction at times. Hates Texas.

Call: Unknown at this time

Tennessee: The Volunteer State. Appears mostly in the weekly recap videos. Tends to be high-pitched and melodramatic.

Call: Unknown at this time

Oregon: The Beaver State. Appears mostly in the weekly recap videos. Was very active during the BLM protests and was vocal against the use of police brutality and unmarked abductions.

Call: Unknown at this time

Minnesota: The North Star State. Appears mostly in the weekly recap videos. Was very active during the BLM protests and in support of defunding police and reallocating resources. Tends to be a voice of reason.

Call: Unknown at this time

Connecticut: The Constitution State. Has only appeared a few times in the weekly recap videos. Tries to avoid dealing with Florida as much as he can.

Call: Unknown at this time

Maryland: The Free State. Wore a T-shirt in early appearances but is now decked out in crab gear in recent ones. As abrasive as a northern state, but with as much pride as a southern one. Early episodes had a running gag of Maryland’s issues regarding coronavirus tests.

Call: “Anyone have any Old Bay?”

The Dakotas: Appear infrequently. Only have about thirty-six people among both of them.

North Dakota: Has only appeared a couple of times. Not much is known about him.

South Dakota: Has appeared more often than his brother, but usually only talks about the Sturgis Bike Rally. Also is trying to fight meth.

Call: “Who’s the better Dakota again?” (will call both of them)

Iowa: The Corn State. One of the biggest running gags in the series is that no one seems to know where he is or how to get in touch with him. Tends to come and go from meetings whenever he sees fit.

Call: Unknown at this time

Background characters:

(Characters that only appear once or have no real significance to the series)

Nevada: The Silver State. Has only appeared once. Dresses like a Vegas dancer.

Rhode Island: The Ocean State. Has only appeared once to discuss his name change.

New Jersey: The Garden State. Has only appeared once. Doesn’t like it when New York keeps visiting him.

Wyoming: The Equality State. Has only appeared once when Florida insulted his name.

Nebraska: The Cornhusker State. Has appeared a couple of times but has had no real significance.

Kansas: The Sunflower State. Has only appeared a couple of times. Tends to feud with Missouri over Kansas City.

Idaho: The Gem State. Has only appeared once(?).

Arkansas: The Natural State. His only real appearance was in the poker episode when everyone told him he couldn’t play on account of he never shuts anything down and can’t weigh in with anything.

Delaware: The First State. Has only appeared twice. Like the state itself, nothing of significance has yet been noted.

Virginia: The Old Dominion. Has only appeared a couple of times, and his only notable role was in the mask debate.

States that still have not made an appearance:

Montana

Vermont

Maine

New Hampshire

Hawaii (Note that Brainard has stated he wishes to find a Hawaiian native actor to play this character.)

Other characters in this series:

CDC: The Center of Disease Control. Originally played by Ben Brainard, the role has since been taken over by comedian Drew Lynch. An overworked, underappreciated man who tries to get the states to adhere to coronavirus regulations. He has a bad stutter and has not slept in weeks. He may be being kept alive purely on coffee and good intentions.

International DC: Played by Elana Rose. Has only appeared once. DC’s sister and the international relations part of the federal government. She’s not very good at her job and tends to act very “mean girl.”

Mother Nature: Played by Liz, aka “lozclaws”. The goddess of earthling weather. Has an on-again off-again relationship with Florida.

Claire: Also played by Liz. Mother Nature’s...roommate? Mother? Not entirely sure. Tries to be a voice of reason to a pair with very little reason between the two of them.

The National Guard: The national army. Has only appeared twice, once to bodyguard Maryland, the other to discuss the BLM protests.

The 3rd Amendment: The third amendment to the Constitution of the United States. Only appeared once. It was very confusing.

Virginia: Kentucky’s sign-language interpreter. Only appeared once. Was deeply offended by Florida (as we all are).

Greg the Sound Guy: The guy who handles the audio and holds the mic boom for the show. Only appeared twice. Probably doesn’t get paid enough.