#also look dream sounds so fond in that second clip

[moonlightlullaby]

no celebrations?

summary: Corpse and reader celebrate his birthday in the most chill way. Based on this lovely request (ty again for sending it!) 

pairing: corpse husband x gn! reader

category: fluff

warnings: food ingestion; alcohol ingestion; loads of physical touch (let me know if I forgot to mention anything)

A/N: Hello (: This is such a lovely concept, I just couldn’t wait to get started hehe Also, I got a bit carried away and just went with it, so I’m really sorry if that’s not what you’d pictured. I do hope you enjoy it tho <3 Take care!

word count: 2.4k

Masterlist

Walking into our shared bedroom, I catch the sight of Corpse exiting the bathroom. As our eyes lock, my lips curl up tiredly and a long sigh I didn’t even know I’ve been holding finally frees itself. He sits on the edge of our bed and extends his hand to me. When I take it, he pulls me so I stand in the space between his legs.

“How was the day?” he asks with both of his hands on my waist. 

I hum, quirking a brow and tilting my head a bit “At least tomorrow - you know, the most unspecial, completely ordinary day of the year -” this earns a giggle from my boyfriend “is Sunday and I can just ignore all of that” I wave my hand in the direction of the adjacent room, where my laptop - filled with texts, assignments, spreadsheets and appointed Zoom calls - is. 

At my words, Corpse wraps his arms around my figure, pulls my body even closer to him and plants a kiss on my stomach through my shirt. My hands, in turn, caress his upper back and soft hair. 

Coming in contact with the string of his eyepatch in the process, I lean back slightly, which causes him to shoot up at me with a small frown and pouty lips. He sits still, though, as I carefully remove his eyepatch, and, while his eyes are still closed, I give each of his lids a peck. He smiles and tilts his head up to meet my lips in a long, tender and effortless kiss. Oh finally.

The idea of quarantining together was welcomed as a blessing by both of us. It meant more time spent together after all. However, with my school and work demands and Corpse’s irregular schedule, we still barely see each other throughout the day in spite of being a few feet apart from one another. And when bedtime rolls in, we’re both so exhausted all we can do is mumble words that could be counted in the fingers of one hand before drifting off. This, of course, when my boyfriend doesn’t stay up until dawn working. Don’t get me wrong, I’m his number 1 fan and admire his passion and all the hard work he puts in everything he sets his mind to, but I’m also not going to lie and say I don’t miss his warmth at night. Hence I want to devote this Sunday to him.

After a while, I break the silence “I’ll be right back.”

I let go of his hold and take my turn to use the bathroom. After doing my night routine, brushing my teeth and getting into my cozy pajamas, I walk back in the dark room and lie down, settling myself back in Corpse’s hug like two puzzle pieces matching together.

~~~~~

The excitement for a new day - not any day, no, but August 8th - washes over me as soon as I open my eyes and get a glimpse of the sleepy boy next to me. 

A couple of minutes go by as I contemplate on getting up, torn between prolonging our cuddling for some more and doing something to show Corpse my appreciation for him. The latter wins and I, cautious not to wake him up, slowly unwrap my arms from him and step out of the bed. Drawing the curtains to make sure the summer daylight doesn’t disturb his peaceful state of mind, I make my way out of the room and to the kitchen. 

Wondering what to make for breakfast, I take a good look around until my eyes catch the plethora of fruits we’ve bought a few days ago. Fruit salad it is. 

Corpse has, for as long as we’ve known each other, made it very clear he isn’t too fond of his anniversary and similar celebrations - and, even if he hadn’t explained it to me, it’s rather evident how uncomfortable they make him. This year, his friends’ and especially his fans’ hype for the date - although unintentionally - has added an extra layer of unease to it all, to which I don’t intend to contribute.

Even though I don’t want to make matters worse and would never overstep his boundaries like this (because, thankfully, I’m not Betty Cooper and he isn’t Jughead Jones), I still want to celebrate Corpse. I want to celebrate his birth and his existence, which I’m immensely grateful for. He’s both the best friend I can confide in blindly and the lover I want to share my lifetime with. He sticks to his truth and dreams higher than I could ever imagine. He turns the darkness in the world and in his mind into light with his words and with his laugh. Having him in my life is one of the best things to ever happen to me and seeing him fly makes me more proud than I can put into words. 

There’s a lot to toast to, so the solution is a celebration that is so smooth and so chill - the smoothest and most chill possible - that it doesn’t even feel like one. Just log off and enjoy a laid back day together.

As I chop a kiwi and make a mental list of fun and uncomplicated things we can do that don’t require much time and many skills, in walks Corpse, in an old white tee which is one too many sizes bigger than him and in his black sweatpants. He rubs his eyes and lets a raspy “good morning”.

“Mornin- wow! They really weren’t lying when they said when you hit 24, hotness knocks at your door”

He chuckles and shakes his head “No one’s said that”

“Well, then consider yourself the muse of a new proverb, baby”

He scrunches up his nose in response before grabbing the cup of orange juice I’d placed on the counter and taking a gulp. 

“Thank you” he turns my face and gives me an orange-flavoured kiss, neither of us having ever really cared about morning breath. 

“For calling you hot? Oh save it to when I’m done with the list of cheesy compliments I have for you” I take a grape and before I can get it in my mouth, he steals it, with wrinkles on the corner of his eyes.

“Then we’d be here for eternity!” he’s not wrong.

Corpse helps me put the fresh fruits in bowls and, with them and our juice cup in hand, we head to the balcony. Sitting next to each other, we calmly eat, take in the light blue sky and the cars and passersby changing the scenery ahead of us. Conversation flows naturally.

As we empty our bowls - after stealing many bits from each other -, I twist in my seat and face him “Hey, Corpse, do you see this?” I point to the very prominent and familiar dark circles under my eyes. “Wanna help me get rid of them?” I ask, knowing damn well it’d take a lifetime for them to actually go away and not giving up regardless.

~~~~~

The bathroom is filled with chatter and laughter and the sink, with hair clips, scrunchies, a sharpie, bowls, hair products and a towel. Corpse hisses as our cool homemade face mask comes in contact with his skin. His curly hair is pushed back and held by a blue hairband and I apply the mask to his face, making sure not to leave any spots uncovered. Well, that’s what I’m trying to do, which becomes an unnecessarily challenging task when my lovely partner can’t be still for more than two seconds. 

He kept switching between dancing to Soulmate, by Mac Miller, and mouthing its lyrics. Now that I got him - after a small threat that I wouldn’t hesitate putting this weird mix we made in his pretty mouth - to keep his lips together, the (adorable, admittedly) swaying, however, continues. He stops momentarily, only to shuffle things around right after.

Something cold touches my skin, making it my turn to let out a hiss this time. The sound is accompanied by a small jump, caused by the surprise. Corpse chuckles and, when I glance at the spot on my arm the cold thing came in contact with, I realize it’s just the sharpie. All he does is give me a mischievous smile.

While I keep massaging his face and covering it with the mask, Corpse litters my body with his drawings. Smiley faces, lightning bolts, hearts, clouds... his repertoire is vast and any exposed skin he can find becomes his canvas. Each line causing me to giggle and shudder a little. With him focused on his creations, it’s 10 times easier for me to complete my task. 

“Alright, my turn” he states, smiling, and I’m quick to grab the sharpie. 

As he adjusts a matching hairband on my head, I put a dainty heart on his neck. And, as he takes the bowl in his hands, I swiftly plant a kiss on top of the drawing. At this, he sighs in content and my chest gets warmer.

I soon understand how hard it was for him to stay still as Stay comes on and all I want to do is have a little karaoke session and dance. Corpse entertains himself with my struggle and, because it’s his birthday, I’ll let it slide. So, to make the whole process easier, instead of focusing on the song, I focus on the gorgeous face in front of me. A beautiful face to a beautiful soul. 

One of the various perks of sharing an apartment with Corpse is I get to see this face in all ways: sleepy, completely clean - no makeup, no mask -, all wrinkled in the morning, red when he’s embarrassed or when he laughs too hard… His laughter. Its sound pulls me from my trance “You’re staring, y/n” 

“Well, at least I wasn’t moving around, Corpse” I reply with squinted eyes and nudge his side playfully. 

We begin collecting the things scattered across the sink and storing them in the cabinet, and the song comes to an end, giving way to Dang!

“How long do we keep these on?” 

I hum at the question and check the playlist on shuffle on my phone “How does 5 minutes and 2 seconds sound?” 

Facing him, his grin mirrors mine and he spins me around. We laugh and allow ourselves to be as goofy as possible, jamming and moving our limbs around with a green paste on our faces.

~~~~~

After washing off the masks in the shower and painting our nails - so we’re both rocking the black nail polish look -, we’ve set our minds to - finally - finish the puzzle we started two months ago. It’s a 90’s anime setting inspired composition and we’d gotten about 40% of it done before our schedules got more hectic and the game, well, pushed aside. For weeks, the pieces sat on the ground of our living room and silently judged us every time either of us stepped to the side, as we crossed the room, in order not to crush them.

Sitting around the puzzle with comfy clothes, we team up against it and indulge in the wine Corpse’s got us and the hawaiian pizza I’ve ordered. 

As the picture comes more and more to life, moments of comfortable silence and of chattery - when we talk about anything from our shopping list and gossip about our neighbours’ lives to parallel universes and the matrix - follow one another. A different playlist on shuffle is our background noise. 

Time flies and the sun’s already hidden when it clicks to us that there are only 5 pieces left. Each piece is fitted in the whole with a giddier feeling than the previous. Corpse picks the last one - deep blue with purple and black specks - and turns to me with an excited smile and an eager gaze that I’m sure are mirrored on my face. I nod encouragingly. He places it in the puzzle and celebratory sounds fill the room.

Corpse stretches his arms and pulls me in a hug, but, since we’re both kneeling and because of the distance between us, we end up falling and lying on the ground in rather uncomfortable positions. 

“Come on, puzzle, that was easy breezy! Gotta step up your game if you really wanna challenge this duo right here!”

“Oh for sure!” Corpse squeaks as we laugh at our nonsensical brag.

After a moment while we catch our breath, he rubs my back and speaks, pulling my attention to him “Not that I’m not loving this position, but what if we watched some Drag Race?”

Is this man real? If I couldn’t feel his heart beating under me or his arms around my figure, I’d be sure he’s just a figment of my imagination. “But it’s your b- don’t you wanna choose something you like more? Li-” 

“Nope,” he boops my nose “Drag Race, or maybe Love Island, would be great right now.” And people still dare say the perfect man doesn’t exist!

“You’re such a dream!” I give him a quick peck before continuing “Ok, so I put on the show and you get more wine…?” He hums in approval and stands up. Our eyes briefly jump from each other to the puzzle and back to each other, then we simply nod. A silent agreement to leave the puzzle here. We’re both too lazy to put all the pieces back in the box and too proud of our achievement to let it go just yet; besides, everything’s been sitting here for about two months, what are a few more hours?

He steps to the side, gets our glasses and makes his way to the kitchen. I lie on the couch and scan Netflix for Drag Race. Corpse comes back, placing the glasses next to the couch, and gently lies down on top of me. He nests his head on my chest and we both hum contently.  

While RuPaul announces what the winner’s prize will be, I play with his hair, letting my fingers knead his curls. His right hand flies up to meet mine and I bring our intertwined hands to my lips, peppering his knuckles with kisses. The gesture is cut by a loud laugh that escapes my lips as miss Vanjie Mateo’s iconic moment replays on the screen. 

“Hey,” Corpse’s voice makes me look right back at him “I love you. You know that, right?”

My heart melts at his words and at the way he’s looking at me right now. I nod with a smile.

“I love you too, birthday boy.”

#corpse husband imagine #corpse imagine #corpse x y/n

[edie-baby]

baby girls - chapter two | lando norris

Chapter Two: Perhaps

summary: What's the best way to tell the guy you like that you have a kid? Well, lying about it and making him think you're cheating isn't the best tactic, Mila's about to find that out the hard way.

word count: 1650

warnings: swearing, absentee father (the asshole ex has evolved)

last chapter

Dreaming of a perfect man while on a perfect vacation in the perfect scenery was, well, perfect. Until the dream ended, and Mila was forced back into reality by the wails of her daughter coming from the next room, the heartbreaking sound kicked Mila’s motherly instincts into high gear, her sleep-addled brain coming into a laser sharp focus within a split second.

“Hey baby girl, what’s going on?” Mila spoke, scooping Mahri into her arms with practiced ease. Mahri’s sobs quieted almost instantaneously, her tears still tracking down her face with a vengeance. Mila tried wiping the tears away, but they were replaced just as quickly.

“It’s okay, just breathe bubs. Whatever’s making you upset, we can fix. It’s all good.” Mila whispered, bouncing Mahri around the room as it had calmed her down when she was just a baby.

“I want Daddy.” Mahri cried, and Mila could have collapsed at the weight of the words the toddler had said. There was a large hole in both of their lives in the exact shape and size of Mahri’s father. Once high school sweethearts, now sworn enemies.

As much as Mila tried to block out all thoughts and feelings related to Mahri’s dad, she couldn’t blame the kid for missing a man Mila herself found missing sometimes. Matyas was Mila’s first love, her boyfriend since 8th grade, and her best friend since kindergarten. They had grown up side by side, acknowledging they had crushes on each other in their second year of high school, and having a baby together by the second last.

Matyas and Mila, contrary to most’s predictions, had stayed together through her pregnancy, and even for a while after Mahri was born. Matyas would bring all of Mila’s schoolwork home and help her work through assessments while she was pregnant, and once Mahri was born, they alternated taking days off school to babysit when members of their family couldn’t.

But something Mila had never admitted to others was that Matyas was an asshole, only kicking into higher gear once they had both finished school. Mila had an acceptance letter for university and a part time job lined up, whilst Matyas hadn’t even bothered looking, preferring to use the excuse of ‘I have a child’ to stop him from venturing into the adult world. Despite this, cooking, cleaning, and looking after the baby was Mila’s job, obviously because she was the woman, the mother.

When Mila finally decided to end her toxic relationship with her lifelong best friend, she was villainized for it. Her parents and friends blamed her for tearing her own family apart, whilst her older siblings were more than supportive, having accidentally witnessed Matyas’ less than desirable traits. Up until about six months ago, Matyas would visit regularly, taking Mahri for her swimming classes, and playing with her at the park, occasionally taking her for the day to save Mila some money on daycare.

However, much like any tale of a teenager, Matyas was single and lonely, and a barrier to being in a relationship was the fact that he had become a father at seventeen. It wasn’t exactly a big check mark next to his name, so when he had told Mila he needed to move on, find someone special, she didn’t anticipate that meant moving on from his daughter. Six months with no contact was the longest Mahri had ever gone without seeing her father, and it was the longest Mila had ever gone without seeing him. Mila didn’t have the heart to tell Mahri, who looked at Matyas as though he hung the stars, that her father wanted nothing to do with her anymore. Yet as the days turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to months, Mahri’s cries for her dad became all the more heartbreaking.

“I know, baby girl. But he’s on holiday, remember? He’s having lots of fun in Limbo.” Mila lied, continuing to rock her daughter in her arms, heart feeling heavy as stone at the blatant lies she was forced to tell her daughter just because her ex-boyfriend was a coward.

“I want a new daddy.” Mahri whispered, giving up on keeping her head up, preferring to let it fall heavily onto her mum’s shoulder. Mila couldn’t help but chuckle silently, the unfiltered, mumbled by age, words that her daughter came out with sometimes were what kept Mila going. With a few more bounces, Mila was sure her daughter had fallen back into a deep slumber and moved to lay her back in the small bed, covered with pillows, blankets and stuffed animals.

Mahri’s words echoed in Mila’s head, and as she reached for her phone to send yet another unanswered text to Matyas, Lando’s face appeared on her screen, an incoming FaceTime call that was as daunting as it was exciting. Mila looked over her shoulder, listening for any movement from Mahri before she answered the call, setting her phone against the toaster on the kitchen counter as she began brewing some coffee. It was nearing five in the morning, and knowing she would be usually waking up in an hour and a half meant it was going to be a caffeine fueled day.

“Hey baby boy.” Mila spoke a moment after the call had connected, looking down at the phone to see Lando’s tired face, snuggled up in bed with a small smile on his face. His smile only growing when he heard the fond nickname fall from Mila’s lips.

“Hi love. Why are you making coffee? It’s so late.” Lando mumbled, squinting to get a better look at what Mila was doing in front of him. His eyes devoured her figure, a large tshirt covering the tops of her thighs, and from what he could see, or lack thereof, she wasn’t wearing pants.

“Actually, it’s early. It’s a bit past five at the moment.” Mila replied, giggling at the way Lando seemed entranced by the view of her bare skin, smiling fondly when he snapped out of the trance at the sound of her joy.

“What the fuck are you doing up so early?” Lando almost shrieked, the volume of it causing Mila to startle forward, pressing incessantly at the buttons on her phone to lower the sound, checking over her shoulder paranoid that the gorgeous Brit had woken her barely sleeping baby.

“Oh, sorry. Do you have someone over?” Lando mumbled, looking crestfallen as he recognised the anxious look on Mila’s face. He couldn’t have been so naive to think that a woman as gorgeous as her wouldn’t have company on a Friday night - Saturday morning for her - and it had been about four days since they had spoken, he should have known.

“Uh, kind of. But no, but yes. Fuck.” Mila cursed, trying to find the right way to tell Lando that, yes, indeed she was worried he had woken someone up, but no, it wasn’t the kind of someone he was thinking of. She watched as Lando gulped, his mind spiralling with images of Mila with someone else, and although he had seen it in Austria, it hurt to know that their week together hadn’t meant as much to her as it did him.

“That’s alright. I’ll, um, let you get back to that, I guess. I’m sorry I called.” Lando muttered, moving to end the call when Mila panicked, the thought of hurting the man she was falling in love with had overridden her fears of him freaking out over the fact that she came with a lot more baggage than initially thought.

“I’ll call you later, baby boy, I promise. I want to talk to you, now just isn’t really a good time. I’m sorry.” Mila’s voice was trembling, she could see Lando’s want to get out of the conversation and never speak to her again, and it was the very last thing she wanted.

“It’s fine, you have your own life. We’ll talk soon. Bye.” Lando finished, his voice curt and clipped, but Mila could very clearly see the hurt hidden beneath the thin veil. She felt a piece of her heart break at the sight, knowing she was not only lying to him, but also causing him pain whilst she did so made her question whether it was really worth it hiding the little ball of energy in the next room.

Before Mila could reply, the call cut out, and she was left staring at the photo of herself, Victoria, and the twitch quartet on her lockscreen, something she had changed to remind herself of the amazing week she spent with some new lifelong friends.

Mila unlocked her phone, desperate to get away from the look she and Lando gave each other, preferring to admire her home screen, a photo from hers and Mahri’s most recent adventure to the park, Mahri laughing her ass off at Mila, who was very scaredly looking at the flock of geese running toward them while she took the photo.

Of course she had to give birth to a sadist, and if she was honest, she’d take that over the obvious masochistic trait she had been born with. The conversation with Lando replayed in her mind a million times, part of her wondering why she couldn’t just own the fuck up and tell him she had a kid. It wasn’t like she was telling him she wanted kids with him, or that he already had a kid, fuck if he didn’t want to, she probably wouldn’t introduce him to Mahri for years.

Yes, Mahri was her number one priority, but she couldn’t live her entire life for her child. She was nineteen, a gorgeous woman, and she deserved to be loved. Perhaps she could live her life with her child, and perhaps with someone else too.

But after today? She wasn’t sure she’d get the chance to even try.

#lando norris #Lando Norris fluff #Lando Norris fanfiction #Lando Norris fanfic #Lando Norris x oc #Lando Norris imagine #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #ln4

[mmvalentine]

The Bargain Pt 6 | Feysand

Modern AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7

Feyre and Rhys sat in a cafe, where sunlight streamed in through the wide glass window and punk music was a pulse the walls had.

They were sitting in the centre of the space, where there were small armchairs around a coffee table, and spread out on said table were their cups of coffee, a large sheet of butcher's paper, and an assortment of art supplies. There were also various magazine clippings and postcards they had gathered over the morning to serve as reference pictures. Feyre's German was still coming along and she had ordered a slice of their Kirschtorte, thinking it was a cherry cake and not at all expecting it to be full of Kirch liqueur.

The two had spent the morning discussing how they would proceed with the design. Rhys had encouraged her to take the lead, said she was the better painter, and that he had never really been a sunshiney kind of guy anyway. But Feyre was shy about starting, since she saw Rhys as the more experienced artist and found his talent slightly intimidating.

In the end, it was agreed that the mural be more of an abstract piece, where Rhys would sketch the structure and bones of it, and then Feyre would take lead on the colours and detail.

After that was settled, they rolled out their art supplies and Rhys picked up a black marker.

Feyre settled back in her arm chair with her second coffee, and watched as Rhys knelt down on the floor at the low table. She couldn't see what he was drawing yet, so she contented herself with watching the movement of his shoulders instead.

Today, Rhys was wearing a black waffle shirt with long sleeves, and black jeans that hugged the muscles of his legs.

After Rhys had finished her tattoo, Feyre thought about him often. She would inspect her arm to check the how everything was healing, and remember the pressure of his fingers on her skin.

At the time, she thought of Rhys as a sort of escapist fantasy, a contrast to her life with Tamlin. She figured it didn't matter too much who he actually was, as long he was not Tamlin it was a fun daydream. And she had always wondered what it'd be like to be in a relationship with another artist. To have someone to bounce ideas off, or critique your work, or inspire and challenge you.

By the time she and Tamlin had broken up, Feyre had filed Rhys away in her mind as someone whom she knew nothing about, and had probably been crushing on as the idea of love rather than a person himself. And she did not put any further thought into it than that.

But now that Rhys was here, in Berlin, right in front of her, she was sharply reminded that there were other, non-Tamlin related things about him that were... undeniably appealing.

The shape of his shoulders, for one and two. Rhys was now moving back and forth over the massive sheet of paper, filling the space with what looking like undulating curves back and forth across the page. The marker in his right hand made a faint scratching sound as he moved, and his left hand was braced on the other side of the paper. He had strong looking hands, and long fingers.

While Rhys was deep in concentration, Feyre stole a peek at his face. When he moved up to do the top left corner of the page, he turned enough toward Feyre that she could study him in profile. The toffee of his skin was warmed in the afternoon sun, and although his hair was very short in the back, a thick curl of it fell into his face as he leaned over the table.

"Okay, I think that's a start for me," Rhys said, sitting back on his heels. He turned back to Feyre, who quickly dropped her eyes to the page.

"Oh, this is lovely," she said, standing up to get a better view of the whole page.

Rhys had stretched a curving pattern, high and cresting on one side like a wave and then trailing off toward the other. Dark swirls and shadows curled around the bottom edge, like something brewing underneath. He ran his eyes over the page, and scratched the back of his head.

"Summer always means sea and storms, for me," he said. "You'll have to brighten it up for me."

They swapped spots then, Rhys taking Feyre's place in the armchair and Feyre biting her lip as she surveyed what Rhys had made. She loved the movement of it, and it was characteristically dark and restless like Rhys' tattoos.

Feyre selected a tray of pastels, which she thought would move most like paint without having to get messy in the cafe, and tried to ignore the pricking feeling of Rhys' gaze as she worked her way through his pattern. It was a strange thing, adding to someone else's work. Like picking through their mind and putting your own thoughts in there, slotting them amongst theirs. She hoped Rhys wouldn't mind her intrusion.

Summer, thought Feyre. She dreamed scorching sand, frothing seafoam, melting ice cream and heart-shaped sunglasses. One thousand rainbow butterflies. Soft swirling seashells and wildflowers in droves.

And then as she got lost in the colours, suddenly she found herself thinking of the deep gold of Rhys' skin, the white of his teeth, the sparking violet of his eyes. She had just found the perfect colour for them, and then dropped the pastel abruptly when she realised what she was doing.

Feyre was so embarrassed, her mind went blank and she couldn't keep going. Rhys took this to mean she was done.

"I love it," he said softly, coming down to kneel beside her. He moved a finger over a stretch of turquoise, and slowly looked over the whole thing. Taking his time to appreciate it.

"Well, as you say, it's a start," Feyre murmured. "You get the idea, at least." "Yeah totally," Rhys said. "I can see where it's going, and I think it'll be great on a large scale." He picked up a black pastel and started deepening shadows here and there.

"Yes, that's what it needs," Feyre agreed. "Tarquin's going to love it," she said.

Rhys stood up, and took a photo from above. He spoke out loud as he texted.

"Something... like... this?"

He sent the text to their contractor, and grinned at Feyre. "Well, I like it anyway." Feyre found herself smiling too.

"So do I," she said.

And although it had only been a day, she thought that if this was what Rhys' mind looked like on the inside, she might be quite fond of that, too.

****

Sorry I actually had a bit more action planned, but as you may know by now I'm not driving the fics run themselves... and this bit wanted more space than I had anticipated. Hope you don't mind it moving a little slow!

Also, I didn’t quite know how to reply to all of your kind comments individually but please know that I hoard them like a dragon and I really, really appreciate you guys. Thank you so much.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #fluff #mine

[dreamygeorgenap-archive]

Hello Dreamy, can we talk about this clip for a second again :]

First of, the stuttering when he says “he looks si handsome” in a normal bait we all know this doesn’t happen.

Also what is up with Dream and saying George is handsome lately istg he says he’s handsome/hot every chance he gets.

Also I found it very cute and interesting that at first he said “little sweater” instead of “christmas sweater” before correcting (?) himself,

Finally the chuckle at the very end, that one sounded very sincere and close to the ones where he lets out when he’s feeling nervous.

From George’s point of view he immediately went “Oh! Dream’s here! Yes :D” that was quite adorable in my opinion!

-⚜️

Hi! Yes, we can! It’s such a cute clip.

I’m mad at myself for cutting it out, but Dream said, “look at George” and then runs after him. What do I always say? Dream stuttering speaks volumes. He says “he looks so handsome” in his soft voice and then you’re right his laugh is so FOND but also sounds nervous. Omg he loves him so much.

I also love how Dream’s team is talking about something else entirely and then Dream’s like, “look at George! Have I mentioned George? He’s so cute!” so then they all start talking about George.

I wanted to see what it looked like from George’s POV and look:

The way George goes silent and then smiles so big and so fondly when he and Dream stand together. Again, George’s team is talking about something else entirely and George just has a cute little moment with Dream. Love it.

Then I love how both Dream and George immediately knew to go up against the wall and take a screenshot. That’s soulmate behavior right there, don’t even need to talk to communicate.

#such a cute moment #it gave me vibes of in the last MCC #when Dream and Sapnap had a moment of cheering for each other without speaking #and then George runs up and Dream shows him sapnap in 2nd place #they’re best friends your honor #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #dnf #dreamnotfound #MCC #asks #anonymous #⚜️ anon #emoji anon #my video #my clip #in love behavior #fav dnf

[nebulousnajm]

whose child is this? - levihan crackfic

Levi heads to his room to grab a document from his desk, but all thoughts of bureaucracy and paperwork fly out of the window as he finds a baby sitting and blabbering to itself on his bed. The baby looks up at him in the doorway and exclaims “papa!” upon seeing him.

He frowns. Very few of the survey corps have children, and so he’s familiar with how those look like. This brunette child is not one of them, “whose brat are you?” he asks, as if it is capable of answering him.

Did a governor or someone from the inner walls visit? It’s probably someone’s child that wandered off. He sighs, closes the door, and goes to ask the guards stationed at the headquarter doors about any recent visitors. The answer is “no sir, only the supply carts have come today,” he nods in thanks and deliberates on what to do.

On his way back to his room, Levi passes by Hange’s lab. He can hear them sorting through their books, probably looking for some obscure fact to back up a working theory. He knows that Hange is friendly and on talking terms with all of the staff, so they may recognize the tiny intruder.

(continued after the cut)

He knocks –to announce his presence– and enters the room. He finds Hange scanning a book with one hand and jotting down notes every other second with the other, all the while muttering to themselves. For a split second there’s something comforting about the sight; about seeing them be at some level of peace doing something they love. But he pushes the thought away into the forbidden corner in his mind where all similarly sentimental thoughts go.

“Hey four-eyes,”

Hange looks up, “hm? oh hey Levi! i didn’t hear you coming in”

“I’m not surprised. Anyways, did one of the supply staff have a brat recently?”

They look thoughtful, “..no i don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

It’s an expected question; he’s never expressed an interest in the detailed lives of the staff, but given his current predicament, he’s sort of forced to know more.

Levi also realizes that there’s no way to explain the situation in a way that will make sense, but then again, Hange has never needed things to make sense to take them seriously.

“There’s a... baby in my room, and i don’t know whose it is,” he looks away and doesn’t mention that said baby thought he was it’s father.

“What?!”

“I don’t know! Why do you think i’m asking you?”

He must look visibly flustered because Hange laughs and puts down their book, “alright, maybe if i see this mysterious baby i’ll recognize it,” they get up and –presumably– head to his room. He spares a glance at the lab before he follows; it’ll need a dusting soon.

Once he catches up to them, they ask, “what does it look like?”

“Brown hair and grey eyes, you’ll see for yourself,”

“Grey eyes huh? I don’t think I know of anyone who has a grey-eyed baby,”

Levi wearily hopes that Hange unlocks that memory once they see it; this whole situation is starting to take a lot longer than he’d like it to.

They reach his room and find the baby looking around in wonder at its surroundings. It’s quiet. He remembers that this is unusual for babies but doesn’t know what to do with that piece of information.

Hange giggles as they approach the tiny creature on the bed, “who are you, you little cutie?”

The baby raises its arms and says “mama!”

Hange complies with the request and lets it wrap its small arms around their neck and rest it’s head on their shoulder.

“I’m not your mother though,” a small pause as they notice something on the baby, “aww you have a book with you?”

It does? Levi hadn’t seen if it had something in its hands, but going off of the small yellow cardboard square it’s holding, it apparently does. He plucks the item from its hands, and reads the title out loud, “The Bumblebee and The Tulip”. The script on the cover is legible but strange.

Hange smiles, “it’s been ages since i’ve seen a children’s book, I’ve only ever found them in Sina,” they glance back at the baby, “so you’re a rich kid, huh?”

“Doesn’t look like one though. No fancy hair clips or jacket. Not even expensive shoes,”

They hum thoughtfully, “true. What a strange little specimen,” they take a look at the baby’s clothes, “speaking of strange, these clothes are weird too. Simpler yet somehow more complicated than usual,”

Well. This isn’t going great, “I don’t think there’s anything “usual” left in this situation,”

The baby, which has been sitting contentedly in Hange’s arms this entire time, now reaches towards him and says, “papa,”

He narrows his eyes at it, “why does it think we’re it’s parents? And can it only say those two words?”

Hange laughs a little, “I don’t know, but babies can only say so much. Do you know how to hold one?”

The answer must be on his face because they just continue, “you basically have them sit on your arm, and you support their neck or back with a hand as well, here try it,” and they offer the baby to him.

“I think i’ll drop it if I try to carry it,”

“You won’t, this one’s quite light so you’ll be able to handle it,”

Levi shoots them an unimpressed look but hold out his arms anyway. Hange hands the small thing over to him and arranges his arms so that they look like how Hange’s did. He’s still a little worried that he’ll accidentally hurt the child even as it just sits there and stares at him with strangely familiar grey eyes.

Hange tilts their head to the side and smiles, “you look kind of adorable together,”

He glares at them with no real heat, “no we don’t”

“It’s true! You know what? Actually..” but they trail off.

That’s weird. Hange never keeps an observation to themselves, “what is it?”

They look kind of sheepish, “okay, well, it’s ridiculous, but the baby does look a little like both of us,”

“What,”

“I know it’s impossible, but it has your eyes and it’s nose looks like what mine did when i was that age,”

Levi looks back at the baby and a weird feeling blooms in his chest. Hange’s observation explains why the eyes were familiar; he’s seen them everyday in the mirror. He also notes that even the baby’s hair is of a very similar shade to Hange’s, but that doesn’t mean anything; brown hair is very common.

“Right, well. This brat might look like us but that doesn’t mean shit. It’s not our child and we don’t know whose it actually is,”

Hange sighs, “I’m sure we’ll find it’s parents once we ask around, but it is confusing. You said you just found it on your bed?”

“Yeah,”

“No disturbance around it? Any footprints or signs that the window was open or anything?”

“I wasn’t really focusing on that when I found it,” but he does take stock of his room now and notes that nothing seems out of place; as if the child simply manifested into existence.

Just as they’re contemplating on who to ask, they hear voices. But not from the hallway.

The sound of two voices in conversation came from the wall to the left, the one that has no door or window and just connects to more stone. Yet it sounds like someone is coming from there as if through a hallway.

Levi and Hange glance at each other, “Levi do you have a secret corridor attached to your room?”

“No. why would I-“ but he stops short as the voices become clearer.

Because if this entire thing wasn’t weird as fuck already, it’s their voices that are coming closer, and he starts to be able to pick out the conversation:

“Four-eyes i swear to god if our child is in the universe of the cannibal-murder-giants,” that’s his voice. What the fuck. To make matters worse, the baby he’s holding turns towards the voice with excitement.

Someone, no, Hange laughs. That’s their laugh, but Hange is standing right next to him staring wide-eyed at the wall.

“There’s nothing to worry about! the drop range I set for here is limited to only the building where our parallels work at, so Kora should be safe. what I’m really hoping for is to find her alon-“

Two people materialize as they step out of the wall, and freeze upon seeing them.

Two people, may he add, that look and sound exactly like them.

A very thick silence suffocates the air, and it’s only broken when the baby squirms in his hold, reaches out towards the other two and says “mama! papa!”

The other Hange awkwardly waves at the child while the other Levi simply says “shit,”

Other-Hange tries to smile, “uh hi. can we have our child back, please?”

“your child?” the real Hange chokes out.

“Yes, she accidentally wandered here while we weren’t paying attention,” other-Hange replies as if answering a normal inquiry about the weather.

This other-Hange approaches him with their arms out to receive the child and he instinctively steps back. The other-Levi laughs, “we’re not gonna bite,”

His own hold on the baby isn’t going to last while she’s trying to jump into her mother’s arms, so he tentatively hands her and her book over lest he drops both.

He notes that other-Hange wears a wedding ring, and when he glances over to his apparent twin, he’s wearing a matching one too. Great.

“You just caused a huge mess, you know that Kora?” the other-Hange tells the baby with a fond smile.

Kora simply laughs in response.

Levi’s fairly sure that his brain short-circuited, because he asks “who are you?”

“Damn I didn’t think I would be this stupid” other-Levi says.

other-Hange laughs a little, “hey be nice! you weren’t the brightest bulb when you learned of this either,”

“Yeah whatever, we gotta head back anyway before we break this universe,”

“Right. Well, it was interesting meeting you two. Try to convince yourselves that this was some weird fever or lucid dream, things will go smoother that way,”

And with that, both Others turn back to phase through the stone wall they came from. Kora waves at them both as she disappears without a trace, just like how she appeared in the first place.

It might have been minutes or hours that Levi and Hange just stood there gaping at the wall, but eventually he says “what the fuck?”

“I have so many questions. I’m going to be thinking about this for the rest of my life,” Hange says as they sink down to sit on the floor.

Levi joins them and thinks that maybe one of the new recruits snuck something into the tea.

–––––––––––––

thanks for reading! 

this fic can also be found on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31065770

please don’t repost or upload on another site :)

#this is that crackfic i talked abt lmao #levihan #aot #snk #aot fic #aot fanfiction #snk fic #snk fanfiction #crackfic #crack fic #levi ackerman x hange zoe #hange zoe x levi ackerman #fanfiction #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan fic #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin fic #levihan fanfiction #levihan fic #aot anime #snk anime #mine #my writing

[shih-coulda-had-it]

Headcanon gran was mute in his younger days like the only people who hear him talk was people close to him nana etc. But still a man of few words like hearing him talk was if hell froze over (after nana died he had to start teaching so communication was a must) defiantly know sign language.

I like this headcanon! It fits well with what's been given to us, which is Sorahiko being relatively silent until Nana's dead. Extra notes: From multiple Google searches, JSL is mainly taught to the deaf, and even in the community, there are divisions amongst vocabulary. Japanese Sign Language (JSL) has three forms, and uses fingerspelling and mouthing as supplemental context tools.

This ficlet is in Toshinori's POV because I couldn't quite lock down on when I wanted this version of Nana and Sorahiko to have met.

//

It’s Toshinori’s first time meeting Shimura’s partner, and he is not ready.

He had thought he’d been ready for anything, that first afternoon he chased Seventh Wonder down the path along the canal: a gentle pat on the shoulder before discouragement, derisive laughter, or worse. But against all the odds, Toshinori’s earnest (and frantic) pitch found a willing listener.

Seventh Wonder introduced herself as Shimura Nana three months ago. She advised him on workout routines, and on weekends, she went through grappling maneuvers and recounted stories about life as a pro-hero.

Toshinori hadn’t dared to let himself think Shimura was treating him as anything but a charity case. But last month, Shimura’s stories had acquired a different, almost conspiratorial tone. She also began instilling in Toshinori a rudimentary knowledge of Japanese Sign Language.

(This latter development is blithely reasoned away as dexterity training. As for the former...)

Last Sunday, Shimura revealed herself to be in possession of a transferable stockpile Quirk.

It remains a miracle to Toshinori that Shimura trusts him not only with the knowledge, but also the actual future of holding One for All. Of potentially fulfilling his dreams to lift Japan out of its paranoid, panic-ridden state. Sure, the drawbacks are scary (All for One? Blowing off his limbs?) but Shimura assures him that she has plans.

One of these plans is her partner, Gran Torino.

Toshinori knows practically nothing about the man. Shimura doesn’t gossip, and no matter how Toshinori scoured the Internet, he couldn’t even find a picture. The most he has is what’s on the Nippon Hero Association’s online registry.

Gran Torino. Quirk: Jet. Active for three years as opposed to Seventh Wonder’s nine.

He reflexively slows his pace to the meadow where Shimura trains him, eyes widening at the stranger standing beside Shimura. Tall, imposing, clad in a brown leather jacket and denim jeans and Western cowboy boots. His hair is silver. He is gesturing at Shimura and mouthing in time with his decisive hand movements, but try as Toshinori might, he cannot hear a sound.

Shimura signs back, smoother, until Torino (it’s got to be Gran Torino) disgruntledly brushes his sternum and sets his fists waist-high for a second. A concession. For what problem?

She glances around Torino and spies Toshinori, who is stock-still because he might have been the cause of an argument between Shimura and her partner. She smiles; Torino grimaces with a tight-lipped frown. “Yagi-shonen! Come over here, don’t be shy!”

“Shimura-san,” Toshinori greets, rushing to close the distance. “Sorry if I’m late!”

“Ah, no,” says Shimura. “It’s more like we’re early.”

To Gran Torino, Toshinori executes a quick bow and comes up with his hands fumbling through an introduction. “Good morning,” he says, clumsily spinning and crooking his fingers. He’s learned this. He’s learned this. “My name is Yagi Toshinori. It’s nice to meet you.”

Torino blinks down at him. His expression is unreadable.

Toshinori gulps. “Did I do it wrong…?”

As Shimura hums a noncommittal sound (which is universal for, ‘Well, it could’ve been better,’ which Toshinori is certainly not about to disagree with), Torino critiques Toshinori’s attempt in a single soul-evaporating word.

“Hasty.”

“Sorahiko,” Shimura chides in a fond tone, and she knocks her shoulder into his, friendly and affectionate. Torino exhales through his nose; he shoves back before straightening his spine. The difference between Torino and Toshinori’s height extends.

“Gran Torino,” the man introduces himself in a low, clipped voice. He fingerspells this, and his actual name, until Toshinori crabs onto the impromptu lesson and commits the signs to memory. Once he’s met Torino’s standards, Torino says, “Hn,” before falling silent.

Shimura seamlessly picks up the thread of conversation. “Have you had breakfast yet, Yagi-shonen?”

“Ahahaha,” says Toshinori. “I had a slice of toast?”

“Hm. Well, it’s your lucky day. We haven’t had breakfast yet either! Here, here, take this,” and Shimura hoists a picnic basket into Toshinori’s arms, “and Sorahiko, you’ve got the duffel.”

Unimpressed, Torino signs, “And you?”

“I,” says Shimura, offloading a meter-long duffel bag into his arms and unzipping it briefly, just to pull out a rolled-up blanket, “am picking out a breakfast spot.”

Torino snorts.

The breakfast spot ends up being under a tree; the blanket absorbs the dew leftover on the grass immediately, but Toshinori would be willing to suffer the dampness every day if it meant being gifted a bento for breakfast. The ovular box is filled to the brim. Rice, egg, pickled vegetables, grilled salmon…!

“Shimura-san,” says Toshinori, awed, “did you make all this?”

“Nope! I wasn’t even allowed to touch the pan.” Shimura passes over an additional thermos. Uncapping it allows miso-scented steam to waft away.

“Torino-san, thank you for the meal!”

“Hn,” Torino grunts.

The first few bites are pure, uninterrupted bliss. A good breakfast, however, comes at a price. Toshinori is only halfway through the pickled vegetables when Shimura announces, “Sorahiko is here to help you prep for the entrance exam into U.A., Yagi-shonen.”

“What?”

“They’re increasing the difficulty of the exams,” she informs him. “The physical component in particular.”

“I thought it was just an obstacle course,” says Toshinori, a tad bewildered.

“Ha! That information is outdated by, uh, Sorahiko, when did Recovery Girl complain…”

Torino flashes three fingers, and doesn’t seem to need to add any other signifier, because Shimura gets the answer right on the first try.

“Right, right, three days. So three days ago, Recovery Girl called us up to complain about how her colleagues are reacting to the escalating pro-hero turnover rate. Lots of, ‘we need to demonstrate the reality early if we’re going to winnow out the spineless applicants,’ y’know?”

“Oh,” says Toshinori faintly.

“So,” Shimura continues,”you should expect to walk away from the entrance exam with some bruises. Lots of bandages too. Unless!”

“Unless?”

“I’m right, and having the Gran Torino here providing, ah, supplementary combat training will put you ahead of the legacy students!”

“That’s not… illegal?” It’s one thing to mask grappling maneuvers as play-wrestling in an abandoned meadow, and even then, Shimura was quick to tug them both back onto their feet. It’s a whole other thing to train Toshinori, whose records will show him distinctly unconnected, to beat out his peers.

“It’s a little bit illegal,” she confesses. “But so is giving you One for All, and we can’t exactly do anything about that.”

“I don’t have to go through the heroics program,” Toshinori says, even though he really, really wants to. “You could save One for All until I graduate high school, and then I won’t be a minor.”

Shimura smiles at him like a promise. “If I say you’re getting One for All before U.A., then you’re getting this Quirk and getting into your dream school, Yagi-shonen. You will, of course, be earning it. And then everything is unquestionable!”

Gran Torino clears his throat. Shimura looks over, and her brow furrows in concentration. Toshinori catches a few words by lipreading.

“Questionable relationship,” he signs.

“Ah. Yeah, that’s still true. Can I get away with ‘Shimura-sensei’ without a credential?”

“Flimsy.”

Toshinori has a sudden idea. “Ah, Shimura-san… what if I called you Shimura-shishou?” Hm. That sounds wrong. This is the pro-hero who’s practically giving Toshinori a second chance at life; she is deliberately fixing fate, intending to give a Quirkless kid a Quirk of unimaginable potential. Seventh Wonder, Shimura Nana - she deserves the greatest respect. “Oshishou?”

Her eyes widen. So do Gran Torino’s.

“Ah,” says Shimura, stunned.

“The Nippon Hero Association was talking about apprenticeships,” he reminds her.

Torino signs to Shimura, “How old is he?”

“Fourteen.”

“Less than a year to fifteen,” Toshinori adds. He may or may not have looked up apprenticeship laws. So long as the administration doesn’t pry, then he could just be a scrappy student with civilian origins. And then once U.A. would get into the swing of things, Toshinori would be old enough to potentially be apprenticed.

Not that they would ever sign paperwork. Shimura has been adamant about keeping Toshinori safe, and being safe means his civilian life needs to be squeaky-clean.

“I’m definitely not certified to be a master of this profession,” says Shimura. “Are you comfortable with this, Yagi-shonen?”

“Yes,” says Toshinori. He says it firmly, implacably, trying to invoke the same tone that once persuaded Seventh Wonder to stay on the ground and hear out a Quirkless kid’s dream. “Without a doubt, oshishou.”

She huffs and looks down at her half-eaten breakfast; her ears are turning pink. Silently, Torino reaches over and touches her wrist. Toshinori hurriedly returns to his own meal, feeling like he’s intruding on some moment.

And softly:

“Alright, Yagi-shonen. Alright.”

#bnha #yagi toshinori #all might #torino sorahiko #gran torino #shimura nana #nanahiko but like pre slowburn #shih.txt #asks #thealphabearart #toshinori is too polite to ask why and when jsl became a thing for them #therefore it's up to the reader :)

[popurikat]

Newtmas essay when?

Finally getting to this, thanks for waiting, I needed to go over a few bookmarks. (Warning, this post contains spoilers from the MAZE RUNNER book and FEVER CODE book, so if you haven’t read either or yet and want the jist of my analysis; just know that in general the fandom interpreting Newt as gay before it was revealed on a twitter post was not just a random headcanon and that Thomas in general is portrayed to have very strong unconditional love for Newt throughout the series; and it shows. To the point that even the director for the movie has stated that Newt and Thomas have a strong bond and portrays that in the movies. I will also preface that I am NOT adding personal opinion anywhere here, these are just backings from quotes and how they are thus meant to be taken/read as. My words are taken as a reader who is currently reading Scorch Trials has yet to fully read Death Cure or Crank Palace.) Anways, without further ado at 3AM today, I’ll try my best to explain how even though Dashner tries his best to make Thomas have other, female love interests; he creates a not so subtle gay subtext for Tommy boy here when in the context of interacting with Newt throughout the lore. Apologies beforehand for any grammar mistakes along the way.

To commence, I am going to start with FEVER CODE, as its supposed to act as the story’s preface to the actual events that play out later. Newt and Thomas upon meeting each other describe their presence as “familiar” and or as a “long lost friend” and they genuinely hit it off from the start to the point that Newt is okay with having Thomas see him cry over the fact that he and his sister are separated since he is doomed to be WCKD’s control analysis as he’s the only one lacking immunity from the flare itself. Once Newt is done being emotionally vulnerable we get our first instance of his personal nickname for Thomas: “That’s the way things are Tommy,’ he said his voice not quite steady. ‘The world outside’s gone to hell. Why should we expect any different here? [...] He said it as if they’d been friends for years” (ch. 14).   An interesting note here is that Thomas doesn’t bother to correct him or stifle the moment by feeling that all this information was too much, he genuinely wanted to hear Newt out and is fine with seeing this side of him; if not slightly taken aback by how natural it is that they can converse about such aspects of their lives. In fact, Newt makes such an impact on Thomas that Thomas ends up that same night dreaming of him: “Throughout his shortened night, he dreamed of Newt and Sonya. Of Newt and Lizzy“(Ch. 14). The thing with Thomas though is that the idea of comfort and connection is very foreign to him as he’s been basically isolated all his life with only the adults like Ava to talk to and the one exception being Teresa as his only kid companion. So Thomas didn’t even think he could make others like him for being himself unless they were vital to the overall production of WCKD. Seeing this portion right before the end of chapter 14: “Alby, Minho, Newt, Teresa. Thomas had friends.” shows that Thomas really had to deep dive to see how he deals with personal connections and why he was excited about the notion of friendship. He could’ve been happy with just Teresa, but only fully cemented her bond to him as “friend” when his circle grew and these kids he got to hang with taught him he can be himself, a concept he didn’t realize was possible when all his life was dictated on what he was supposed to learn or do. It becomes especially clear just how controlled his life is with the aspect of sentiment when later on Teresa’s mental communication evokes physcial pain and fear in Thomas. I’ll get back to that later as its more of a small tid bit of Thomas’ view on his forced love interest, Teresa. And yes, I say forced because multiple sentences with Thomas have him even wish he could cease all communication with her. Moving on, let’s talk about mimicking for a second. As humans, we mimic as a behavioral response to become closer to the person we care about. It’s the reason why yawning or laughter is contagious and or why we copy the posture of the person we converse with face to face. Thomas is seen to do this the most with Newt’s quirks. I’ll give the example in chapter 15: “Newt has been promising them that he was saving something special, and he did that annoying zipped-lipped sign every time [...] the little light in his eyes showed he enjoyed every second of their torture” versus Thomas: “Thomas did Newt’s zipped-lipped gesture, and that got him a sharp poke in the ribs”. So, we know enough that Thomas’ mannerisms are developing as a sign that he wants to be closer to Newt and to continue this sense of playfulness they both enjoy from the other. This is the start of their budding bond and a clear indication that they hold each other at greater fondness than the rest through this unconscious copying. Through this copying, they also pick up on emotional cues the other lets up on. Newt is especially good at noticing small things like when Thomas is anxious or overthinking: “He was just shocked that with all their exploring, the others hadn’t already discovered it on their own. And there were supposed to be TWO mazes. How had Newt and his friends not stumbled upon either one of them? ‘Tommy?’ Thomas realized Newt was staring straight at him, eyebrows raised. ‘Sorry,’ he said embarrassed, ‘wandered off for a second there what did you say?’ Newt shook his head in admonishment. ‘Try to keep up, Tommy Are you ready to see the grat outdoors?” (ch. 15). Also in chapter 23: “Tommy?’ It was Newt, breaking him out of his thoughts. ‘I can see your wheels spinnin’ up there.’ He tapped the side of his head”. This furthers Newts perceptiveness on his friend and Thomas’ ability to pick out when he is being looked after. And they bounce off each other really well in that aspect. To the point that Newt can crack a joke he knows will land right on Thomas’ sense of humor: “Newt waggled his fingers in front of Thomas’ face [...] A laugh exploded out of Thomas’ mouth that sent a spray everywhere. ‘Sorry’ he said, wiping his lips on his sleeve” (ch.15). It’s enjoyable to know that at least at a surface level, they have fun together and can cheer the other up if needed or know when to ground the other to reality. It is also through these instances that as a reader I pick up that Thomas’ nervous ticks perhaps allude to an anxiety disorder he has; of which Newt is aware of and never puts Thomas down on for exhibiting. He in fact understands it and deals with it accordingly as he himself has a similar circumstance. SO, what does all this paying attention lead to? Thomas’ devotion to protect Newt. Yeah, thats right I said devotion. Thomas’ actions are influenced by his developed instinct to protect Newt at all costs. Here is the biggest example that comes to mind: “What in the world happened to Newt? -- Less then two hours later, Thomas had spliced together a series of camera clips [...] Thomas turned off the feed. He couldn’t take it anymore...Newt, Newt, Newt, Thomas thought, feeling as if the very air around him were turning black.”(ch.52). Essentially, Thomas seeing Newt plummet to his near death by falling from the maze wall as a result of Newt’s ongoing depressive state, this is the moment that makes Thomas realize WICKD isn’t as good as they seem and that he is going into the maze to save Newt. Its admirable how much self sacrifice Thomas does for someone he cares so much about, to the point that their name is like a mantra. Thats a sensible area of passion and fighting spirit for someone who is “just a friend”.    Oh and, the feeling of fondness is mutual mind you if I haven’t been clear. After experiencing the horrors of cranks for the first time, realizing Newt was not immune, and watching Newt until they entered the pits it has been months since they last interacted; this is their first reunion: “What’s up Tommy?’ Newt exclaimed, his face filled with genuine happiness at the pleasant surprise that’s been sprung on him. Thomas couldn’t remember exactly how long it’d been since he’d seen Newt. ‘You look bloody fantastic for three in the morning” (ch. 23). I need to preface this that Newt DOES NOT mean that sarcastically and that out of all the people in the room (Minho, Chuck and Teresa are there in this scene), Thomas only reacts this way specifically toward seeing Newt is okay and back.   The characters are also not afraid of being physically close. “Well, look who the bloody copper dragged in,’ Newt said, pulling Thomas into a big hug” (ch.31), “They shook hands, and then the two of them set off...” (ch. 31), and my favorite: “Thomas jumped at the sound, then stumbled. Newt tripped over him, and then they were both laughing, legs and arms tangled in a pile on the ground”(ch.32). I don’t think this far in the novel, Thomas has been AS (emphasis on as) comfortable with touch  with anyone else other than Newt. And thats a big step forward on the aspect of trust in a relationship, being able to be comfortable with the presence of another person enough to be as intimate with them as shown here.  And all this, is just fever code itself. Mind you this is not the MEAT of the novels as it came out later. But even without it, lets look at Thomas in Maze now, I’ll try to keep this segment a lot more brief. Here’s Thomas looking respectively at boys his age: “A tall kid with blond hair and a square jaw...a thick, heavy muscled Asian kid folded his arms as he studied Thomas, his tight shirtsleeves rolled up to show off his biceps [...] Newt was taller than Alby too, but looked to be a year or so younger, His hair was blond and cut long, cascading over his T-shirt. Veins stuck out of his muscled arms”(ch. 2). Thomas’ initial reaction to being surrounded by boys is to deeply analyze their rugged good looks and heavily emphasize their best physical traits. When reading this the first time, my mind immediately thought this boy at the very least is supposed to be portrayed as bi, especially when later down the line Teresa gets a similar descriptor: “...despite her paleness, she was really pretty...silky hair, flawless skin, perfect lips, long legs.” So right off the bat, we know that be it boy or girl, Thomas emphasizes how attractive someone looks in his eyes when he truly does have a sense of attraction to them. Case closed. Within the same chapter we get Thomas also immediately clinging onto Newt for a sense of grounding, it is now ingrained in him at this point that the boy is his lifeline, a person to rely on. “Thomas looked over at Newt, hoping for help.” And help he does, Newt in this chapter helps ease his worries, explain a general idea of what the glade is and even pats him on the shoulder a bit to ease tension. And Thomas doesn’t bat an eye in the same way he’s weary of literally everyone else. In fact, he’s eager to stay put with him as shown with; “If Newt went up there, then I wanna talk to him.” And if none of that seals the deal, we got early bird Newt being so touch starved he flattens himself next to Thomas to wake him up at the crack of Dawn in chapter 6: “Someone shook Thomas awake. His eyes snapped open to see a too-close face staring down at him, everything around them still shadowed by the darkness of early morning...’Shh, Greenie. Don’t wanna be waking up Chuckie, now, do we?’ It was Newt --the guy who seemed second in command; the air reeked of his morning breath. Though Thomas was surprised, any alarm melted away immediately”. This whole scene follows firstly by Thomas once again impressed by how strong Newt is and then Newt giving him a rundown of what everyone else was too afraid to show Thomas, the grievers. And you know, this scene could’ve ended well and everything as totally platonic, but then we have “Newt turned to look at him dead in the eye. The first traces of dawn had crept up on them, and Thomas could see EVERY DETAIL OF NEWT’S FACE, HIS SKIN TIGHT, HIS BROW CREASED.” Now, look me in the eye and tell me there is a hetero explanation on looking at your best bro like they are the sun reincarnated themselves. But let’s not hog all the homosexual undertones with Thomas here. Wanna know what Newt’s initial reaction to having a girl in the glade was? “It’s a girl,’ he said [...] Newt shushed them again. ‘That’s not bloody half of it,’ he said, then pointed down into the box. ‘I think she’s dead” (ch.8). It’s actually a stark contrast to the other gladers eagerly wanting to know her age, how pretty she looked, and calling dibs to date her; Newt isn’t interested in any of that, he’s more perplexed on her status and not even bothering to remark on her looks, he was the only one not to and even remarks a few other instances that girls are more Thomas’ domain. For instance, he makes a joke in fever code when Thomas remarks that the girls in the institution were going to tackle him down, Newt proceeds to point out sarcastically something along the lines of “wait, isn’t that YOUR dream though?” So Newt is pretty out spoken of his disinterest in girls, and his full admiration and attention on Thomas. Oh, and yes, Newt immediately switches over to “Tommy” the moment Thomas mentions he hates being called greenie, and once again it just becomes a thing between only the two of them. Newt is also the one to be straight forward about the whole Runners business. He warns Thomas about the dangers and doesn’t necessarily turn him down on his desire to be one, he in fact encouraged him to just wait until the right moment. “No one said you couldn’t, but give it a rest for now”(ch. 15). So once again, Newt is the voice of confidence and reason for Thomas to prosper. In turn, this time around Thomas is the one to catch when something is bothering Newt. For instance, “Newt chewed his fingernails, something he hadn’t seen the older boy do before...he was genuinely concerned -- Newt was one of the few people in the Glade he actually liked ”(ch.16). Interesting how we went from fever code “friend” to “like”. And also, when Newt explains his concern about the runners not coming back yet, Thomas pieces together how scared Newt is of the Maze without being told and goes to stand next to him as a physical presence to ground Newt as they wait near the entrance. In fact, this piece is trivial to understand why Thomas does what he does next. When everyone else had given up on the Runners still outside with 2 minutes left til closing, and Newt was escorted away from the entrance, Thomas waited. And when Thomas saw them, he yells to Newt, realizes he’s too far to do anything, and makes a decision himself. He KNEW how much Newt cared about his fellow Gladers, they were like family or “kin” as its said in the book, so what does he do? “Don’t do it Tommy! Don’t you bloody do it!’ ... Thomas knew he had no choice. He moved. Forward. He squeezed past the connecting rods at the last second and stepped into the maze”(ch.16). Yes, Thomas does this because of his empathy for the Gladers, but the chain reaction of Newt’s concern is what sets his decision in stone. And yet again, Thomas enters the maze for Newt.  And that’s pretty much the constant for the rest of Maze Runner the book, Newt just sticking up for Thomas and Thomas in turn just being happy that: “He was at least relieved that Newt was there” (ch.17). And thats basically their entire dynamic. Newt just going: “If you really did help design the maze Tommy, it’s not your fault. You‘re a kid -- you can’t help what they forced you to do” to ease the survivor’s trauma Thomas has, as well as saying “I actually believe you. You just don’t have an ounce of lying in those eyes of yours. And I can’t bloody believe I’m about to say this...but I’m going back in there to convince those shanks we should go through the griever hole, just like you said”(ch.51); and I think thats the most romantic thing to hear from him. Just right out being all for supporting Thomas no matter what happens as long as he stays alive and continues to fight, he doesn’t care about what happened before. And Thomas eats that up because it fuels him even more to seek out a means to escape for the people (Newt) that deserve a life outside of running from monsters forever. So essentially, I’ll state again, it’s always been Newt the catalyst for Thomas to run head first into the Maze and seek freedom. And with all this I can clear that these two are shown to if not be romantically involved, at least have unconditional love for the other that transcends the author’s original intention.  And with that in mind, here’s the thing with Teresa as a love interest. I can list here quotes of every time she mind speaks to Thomas and how that affects him, but then this would be too long. And this is a newtmas post gosh darn it. Teresa is gleeful to humiliate, control, hurt, and force Thomas to believe they’re in love. In multiple instances we get her barging into his mind unwarranted making him understand that she has full access to his inner most thoughts. Theres nothing romantic about that, and I think its why Thomas ends up being so perceptive to the smallest of gestures that allow him to think on his own and feel like his own person. Something I’ve seen Brenda do later in scorch, and something I’ve seen Newt do since the very beginning is that they allow Thomas to come to his own conclusions in order to create his own opinions on the matters at hand. Thomas’ love language revolves around words of affirmation. He likes it when people confirm his thoughts are valid and that remind him that WICKD can’t hurt him anymore now that he has the power to be his own person. This is where Newt comes in very handy. He allows Thomas to grow in ways his female love interests have yet to show, sorry Brenda but I’ve heard you were trying to unite all immunes together to the safe haven by the end and in a sense still only using Thomas to get by; I still think she was the better call than teresa of course and I have no remorse for Teresa getting smushed by a boulder. But essentially my point here is that, how do you fail to make your initial love interests clash so badly where one has no real care about the others well being so long as everything goes according to WCKD by using a form of gaslighting and manipulation? AND THOMAS HAS STATED HIS DISCOMFORT ON THIS MULTIPLE TIMES, but the narrative always erases these instances from his mind in place of pity for Teresa’s well being (as you can tell, Teresa through this becomes my least favorite character, I can rant about her some othe time though with proper backing). The narrative in turn treats it all like a joke. I understand there are scenes where Thomas is worried about her and looks out to make sure shes ok, but even then he doesn’t know how to react with mental images of her kissing his cheek or when she screams the next minute that she doesn’t know who he is or how hes speaking into her mind. And thats because they can’t properly communicate their emotions to the other, not even in fever code could Thomas give a forward answer if he loved Teresa or not, she just assumed. Come to think of it, Thomas really doesn’t show much affection to Teresa of his own accord. So then, how DOES Thomas show his affection? Thomas provides acts of service as his love language, if he cares about you enough he will risk his life for you. Why? Because Thomas values putting the people he loves foremost knowing full well they are what help him have purpose and succeed in continuing on. In a way, Newt and Thomas’ dynamic works in this instance because they balance the other out and because they have seen each other at their worst and at their best. In a way, that's why knowing the ending of the books makes it harder to accept that Thomas would just easily take the shot...when all his life clung to Newt’s survival. But that’s a story for another time where I compare the movies (of which let me make that clear, yes I prefer) over the books. For now just know that the book may have done this by accident, maybe not, but at the end of the day theres solid proof that Thomas and Newt care about each other in a way that is separately portrayed from their connection to the other glade members, and have this consistency of soft moments running through the entirety of the series. In conclusion; newtmas. Newtmas. NEWTMAS, etc.

#Newtmas #long post #Skquill #ask #The ending gets a bit ranty with Teresa I must admit #but for the most part its just me recalling the best newtmas moments from the novels I've currently read #Please add on more newtmas proof to the thread

[hoodoo12]

Prologue

The start of the story. Beej and Pate are in for a ride . . .

@werwulfy @rainingpaint

Beetlejuice sat on the balcony, feet on the railing, smoking a cigarette. Pate wasn’t incredibly fond of him smoking, but let him do it out here at least. In further deference to her, he tended to sneak a smoke after she’d gone to bed and was deep asleep. It wasn’t an addiction for him, he just liked having the ability to draw a breath and have bitter smoke in his lungs, and to be able to see the ash burn because of that breath. A little bit of faux life, that flame.

He sent clouds of white smoke into the atmosphere. Thinner, more defined trails of smoke twisted from the lit tip of the cigarette, and with a little concentration, he could make them into wispy caricatures of Sandworms.

The night was peaceful; it was so late few cars passed by and all the residential windows were dark. There was some light pollution from the city, and the moon was half full, so only the brightest stars were visible but not much more. Insect chirps seemed loud until they simply became white background noise. There was a faint bite of chill to the air, but he barely felt it. Idly he contemplated lighting up another cigarette after this one was gone.

A rough gasp startled him. Clipping its heels came a second plus a moan that sounded more frightened than any he liked to hear from Pate’s mouth. Beetlejuice kicked his feet off the railing, pushed himself up, and flicked the still lit butt of the smoke over the edge of the balcony all in one motion, hurrying back inside.

“Pate? Baby?” he said quietly beside the bed.

She didn’t hear him still lost in sleep.

That didn’t stop her continued fear, now complete with half-muttered words and twitching that was almost but not quite like struggling against restraints.

Beetlejuice hated this. Although sporadic, these episodes had become more frequent for her, and he was never able to rouse her when she was caught in their web.

With a flick of a thought he dropped his suit with the exception of the cotton briefs he wore underneath--typically he didn’t just wish clothing away, finding the act of undressing or being undressed a sweet precursor to gettin’ it on--but his lover was asleep and said gettin’ it on was the last thing on his mind at the moment.

Slipping back under the blankets with her, Beetlejuice pressed against her and tried to hold her, even as she now struggled against him, as he had learned she would.

“Pate, baby, hey,” he muttered uselessly, in a soothing voice. He’d also learned she never heard him, but he felt like he had to do something against these night terrors that wrecked her sleep. “It’s okay, baby, I’m right here, I’ve got you--”

He stroked her hair and pressed light kisses to her forehead occasionally. She flinched away from them with new gasps of fear, and he wondered what it was she saw and felt when he kissed her. One blessing--or curse?--of these nighttime episodes is that she never remembered them once she woke. She was exhausted the following day, but whatever haunted her fled at dawn.

Beetlejuice wasn’t looking forward to the day it no longer hid.

Pate’s words still made no sense. Sweat broke out on her forehead and tears fell from her closed eyes. Gently, the specter wiped them away, still whispering ineffectual platitudes to her.

Eventually--time was still a slippery concept for him; it could have been five minutes or an hour--she calmed. As much as he’d like to think he helped, Pate did it on her own. Her breathing slowed, her trembling stopped, the half-formed words on her lips died. The rapid pulse he felt returned to normal, now that she wasn’t fighting or running from her dreams. She eased back into sleep and no longer jumped when he kissed her.

He’d let her sleep as long as she wanted. He’d tell her about the episode when she woke up later. They needed to do something about this. His own poking around for answers had yielded nothing; he was going to have to either expand his search or they needed to talk to someone else who may be able to help.

That could all be later. Right now he only stayed pressed against Pate, still holding her, wishing he could protect her from these visitations and feeling inept that he couldn’t.

tbc . . .

#writing #fanfiction #beetlejuice #novel that's an rp #sequel

[oohnoniall]

Hawk & Sparrow [Rowan Whitethorn x OC] - Chapter 3

WARNINGS; Fantasy violence, cursing, Mirima doesn’t have self-control and that leads to her burning out a Lot, Rowan avoiding his feelings, Mirima having no idea about her feelings, there’s a lot of feelings being avoided, power dynamics in the relationship.

Prologue.

Chapter 1 

Chapter 2

       Her body ached, her mind ached. While she had not done anything as horrible as burnout, Fenrys had put her through her paces. She had never known how hard just keeping her control could be. She had never realized just how badly she suffered from control issues. Rowan had told her time and time again that she needed to control herself. But she hadn't realized how hard it was actually going to be.

       She trudged into the kitchens, slumping onto a stool that sat just before the fire. Normally, Emrys sat there but he was at the countertop, forming some type of dough that had what appeared to be raisins in it.

       "Hard day?" The older man questioned, his eyebrow quirked up slightly.

       Mirima scowled slightly as she slipped a dagger from her belt and a whetstone from her pocket. "It didn't seem to be until this morning," she admitted as she dragged the blade along the stone.

       "Rowan goes easy on you," Emrys teased her, causing her scowl to deepen. "I haven't seen you this exhausted in twenty years."

       "I'm used to Rowan's tactics," she sat down the dagger once she was certain the point was sharp enough. She took care of her blades ritualistically most of the time. Sharpening the blades calmed her, oiling them helped ease her mind. Normally it was saved for a pre-bed ritual, but the night before she had crawled into her bed and fallen into a hard and heavy sleep. She hadn't dreamt. Instead, she had been blissfully at peace. For once in her life, she had not been aware of the dangers surrounding her. She had been aware of the pillow beneath her and the blanket on top of her.

       It had been peace she didn't know she craved.

       "Of course," Emrys' eyes twinkled as he looked away from her. Mirima knew he meant well. But it was hard to know that he was well aware that she cursed Whitethorn's name half the time and still assumed Rowan was kind to her.

       The man had made it abundantly clear that he didn't want her there. He had told her time and time again that she was not ready for any of this. Mirima wanted to prove him wrong. She wanted nothing more than to be welcomed into the cadre. Although, at this point, she was unsure if it was because of her own dreams or if it was just to spite Rowan Whitethorn. Anyone with half a brain would know that spiting him was unwise. The man was more of a monster than anything. It was one of the reasons that Mirima admired him.

       Even if she didn't admit that fact to anyone.

       "I am! He's been putting me through Hellas and back since I got here," she nearly snarled as she began to peel the potatoes for breakfast. She wasn't normally on breakfast duties, but she had figured it would be best to help out. At least while she was complaining to Emrys.

       "Have I?" His voice caused her spine to straighten, her grip on the dagger tightening just slightly. "Considering you're still here, I haven't done a good enough job."

       Mirima looked up then, her eyes catching Rowan's long white hair before anything else. Her throat felt dry, her stomach knotted up as she glanced once at the expression on his face. He looked as though he was either amused or furious. With Rowan, it was hard to tell the difference. Especially when it came to her and her training. She knew that he didn't want her there. She knew that he thought she wasn't good enough.

       That or he really hated the cadre. She couldn't actually tell.

       "I thought you'd be gone for a week," Mirima stated, her tone casual despite the racing of her heart. At least her training had taught her how to keep her composure.

       "I never said how long I'd be away," he stated as he leaned casually against the wall. Rowan never looked casual. Something was off. Mirima did not know what it was or what it potentially could be, but she was determined to figure it out. If she didn't it was likely to drive her mad.

       "You're normally away for a week," she shrugged her shoulders, turning her gaze back to the potato in her hand. She focused on how the skin felt gritty underneath her calloused fingers. She focused on the way the blade slid across the potato, the slight bit of force it took to begin the initial peeling process. How it felt to focus on something other than Rowan Whitethorn and the stare that always made her feel somewhat nervous. "I assumed that it would be the same."

       "We have something to discuss," Rowan said before she could ramble about his usual schedule. "In private."

       She knew his meaning. She wiped her dagger off on her breeches before she stood, sliding it back into its sheath in a graceful movement. "I'll be back by dinner. Tell Luca to stop taking the good jobs," she said cheerfully to Emrys. Neither man would be allowed to know how nervous she was.

       Rowan had met with Maeve. He had told her he would be. He had also said he'd be away three days but had barely been gone two. Maybe she had been declared unworthy. Maybe Maeve had given up on her. Or maybe it had nothing to do with that whatsoever. This could be something completely different, she just had to trust him.

       Easier said than done.

       Mirima followed Rowan up the steps and towards his quarters. She had been a fair amount of times. He would patch her up in his rooms, often snapping at her for whichever stupid choice she had made. She had been allowed to watch as he tattooed Gavriel once. She had been silent the entire time, her eyes never left his hands.

       His rooms were grander than anyone else's. She wondered if it was because he was a Prince or if it was all to do with the fact that he was part of the cadre. With his dark, wooden furniture and his grand fireplace, it felt cold. Uninviting. Rowan clearly hated Mistward. He had never made it into his home, unlike Mirima.

       She had turned the fortress into her own personal safe haven. She had spent so many years there that she would have gone mad if she had not. There was no reason for her to feel cold, alone. Not when the forests sang with the early morning sunlight. Not when she could smell the sea whenever a fresh breeze blew through the fort, always making her ache with need. The need to control it, to harness it. To be part of it. She knew there was a lake hidden somewhere nearby, she had been able to sense it from the moment she had stepped onto the grounds. Yet, she'd never had the time nor opportunity to go off and search for it.

       Rowan was not fond of letting Mirima near large bodies of water. He seemed to believe it would be the quickest route to a burnout. Mirima thought he was too cynical. The water was part of her. As much as the air was part of him.

       She stood in front of his desk while he took up space in front of the fireplace. The fire crackled, albeit not merrily, spreading slight warmth through the cold room.

       "What did you want to discuss?" Mirima's voice came out softer than she had expected it to. She hated sounding small around him. Hated that he might see her as someone meek, vulnerable. She knew that she was a warrior. Someone who would one day stand beside him in battle. She couldn't let him see her as anything else. It would risk the only future she could see for herself.

       "I didn't speak to Maeve about you," he didn't look at her as she spoke. Despite his words, she did not feel relieved. "I didn't have the opportunity to."

       "What happened, Ro?" Normally, he would have glared at the use of the familiarity. He would have told her how inappropriate it was. When he still didn't look at her she realized just how horrible things must be. Rowan never missed a chance to show his disapproval.

       "We'll have a visitor during our training sessions," the words seemed forced. She could practically taste the tension in the air.

       Mirima worried her lower lip as she took a cautious step toward him. "What do you mean? Is Fenrys going to stick around for a bit?"

       "No," his voice was clipped. At least that was normal. He wasn't dying or sick. Mirima hated to think that he would never get to see her successes. She didn't know why she wanted his approval, why she aimed to please him in some fashion. Maybe it was just because then she would know she had done it. She'd beaten the odds and become the member of the cadre she had always wanted to be.

       "Tell me," she rested her hand on his shoulder. He flinched away, causing her to drop her hand. It felt as though a shock had gone up her arm from the brief second her fingertips had brushed against his neck. But that was stupid. It was probably just her being far too familiar with her trainer.

       "Maeve wanted me to train another girl."

       "For the cadre?" Mirima's eyes grew hard as Rowan finally turned to face her. There was something in his eyes. Something that dulled the forest green to a grassy color. She wondered what that emotion was but found that she did not care. Anger coursed through her body. It burned too brightly and too quickly for her to care about whatever Rowan Whitethorn was feeling.

       "Hellas, Mirima, no," Rowan snapped at her. The anger that had flared so brightly quickly calmed. "I wouldn't train another damned soul for the position you want. You'd gut them than me. No, this is just a little demi-fae who never got control over their magic."

       "Who can't control their magic?" Mirima did not see the irony in her own question. She had always assumed her own control issues were rare. She had no idea where they stemmed from, just that no one else in her village had ever had trouble doing what they wanted with their magic. Neither had anyone else in Doranelle.

       "Someone who's afraid of it," Rowan stated bluntly.

       Mirima gave him a mock glare. She wasn't sure if he was completely wrong about that. It brought forth a question that she had never had to ask herself before. Was she frightened of her magic? Did she know what to do with it? She thought she did. She thought that it was as much a part of herself as breathing. But could there be something deeper? Rowan had never brought up this idea before. It was enough to temper her tongue, to make her sit and think for a moment.

       "I'm not afraid," she stated after thinking for a few moments. She didn't know if she was telling him the truth or not. But it felt like it. She felt as though she would know if she truly was afraid of the power that lived within her.

       "You're not afraid of anything," Rowan sounded as though this were not a compliment. "You'd sooner get yourself killed than listen to reason. That isn't bravery, Mirima. That's foolishness."

       His words stung her more than she cared to admit. Is that why he didn't want her fighting alongside him? He thought her nothing more than the village fool? Perhaps it made sense. Mirima had lived her entire life in the same small village. She had been stifled there but that didn't mean she had belonged elsewhere. Maybe she was just a foolish girl from Varnsway. Maybe that was all she would ever be.

       "Tell me about my new friend," she moved then, sitting on top of his desk as though it were her own. Rowan seemed not to notice, too lost in his thoughts as he stared at the mantle above the fireplace. "Will I have to play nicely?"

       "Maeve will kill you if you drown her," he said bluntly. "Besides, Terrasen would be left without a queen."

       That caught Mirima's attention. Her spine straightened, her eyes turning into the blue of a crystal sea. "So it's true then? Aelin did survive the massacre?"

       "It stays between the two of us," Rowan warned as he finally looked away from the mantle. Upon seeing her on the desk, one of his brows twitched slightly.

       "Why?" Even as she asked, she realized that it would be safer for the woman. "I mean, wouldn't she be better off with a guard surrounding her at all times? I'll volunteer for a shift."

       "Mirima," he snarled, causing a slight smile to cross her features. "She'd be in more danger if anyone knew. Adarlan is after her. If they manage to kill her, you know they'll have some advantage over Wendlyn. It'll break their spirits."

       "Which means we're next." One didn't have to be a military strategist to understand the risk the wrath of Adarlan. Mirima was not afraid of anything, Rowan had not been wrong about that, but the idea of bending the knee to the tyrant of Adarlan.

       "You'll help me train her. You know what it's like to be uncontrollable. Help her get used to life here," he looked older. His eyes darker than she had ever seen him, lines beside his eyes showing his half-century of life. She wanted to make things easier for him. She wanted to give him a moment's reprieve. But she couldn't. Mirima knew that they needed to keep some sort of wall between them.

       Even if she gave him nicknames.

       "Ro," she picked at her fingernails, "are you certain that's a good idea? I could drown her. Or you. Or I could accidentally kill her during swordplay or something."

       "I trust you."

       He'd never said that to her before. Rowan had never made her feel as though she could do anything she wanted. Half the time, he was trying to get her to abandon her dreams. Half the time, it felt as though he wished he could snap her neck and be done with her. Having his trust was something that she had never dreamed of. She had always thought that he would turn his back on her the second he was done training her.

       Maybe there was hope for them yet. Maybe Mirima would be able to prove herself to him through this whole damned thing. Or maybe it would just ruin whatever trust she had managed to build. Maybe she would never truly be able to live up to her expectations of herself. But that was okay. Rowan trusted her and that was all that mattered.

       At least for now. Mirima knew she still had a very long way to go when it came to proving herself.

       "So what's our plan?" She looked him in the eyes, ignoring the way her stomach knotted when the forest green met hers. It had happened every single time her eyes met his. Thirty years, thirty long years of feeling something odd whenever he looked at her. It was no wonder she tried to force that away, to tell him jokes when she shouldn't and to make light of things when she was terrified.

       "I don't know yet," Rowan admitted as he stepped over to her. His steps were light, never making a single sound. She wondered how often he had prowled around, silent and always listening. How many times had he caught her talking about him with Luca and Emrys? How often had he heard her curse his name?

       Despite both of them having the heightened senses of a Fae, Rowan had always been more of a predator. For years, he had been walking that line by himself. He had been alone with only the bloodlust and the killing that Maeve had made him do. Mirima saw it as glory, despite not knowing the truth of any of it. It was Rowan's business. She knew better than to ask him about any of it.

       She would take the stories told by others over the haunted look in his eyes whenever he pinned her any day. She didn't want to relive her own moments of glory. She supposed it would be the same for him.

       "Rowan Whitethorn not knowing something?" Mirima teased, a gleam in her eyes as she looked up at him. Her head tilted back, blonde locks cascading down her back in a waterfall while a playful smirk found a home upon her lips. "Now that is something I never thought I'd see."

       "When will you learn how to talk to a superior?" His brows furrowed slightly as he looked down at her. She had to ignore the overwhelming scent of pine and snow that clung to him.

       She hated that stupid scent. Hated how she dreamed of it at night, how she felt both enraged and comforted by it. None of it made sense to her. Nothing about Rowan Whitethorn would ever make sense to her. He was horrible and kind, the worst and the best. He was everything to her and nothing all at once.

       It was a miracle she had managed to keep his name out of her letters to her parents.

       "When will you learn that I'm not inferior to you?" Mirima turned her head away from him, wanting to break free from his gaze and that disgusting scent.

       "No one said you were," his fingers twitched. She wondered briefly if he wanted to run his fingers through his hair or strangle her. Either option seemed reasonable. "But you can't hope to make it any further if you don't listen to your commanding officer. They're not all as friendly as me."

       "Or Fenrys," Mirima interrupted.

       "I heard that he made you nearly flood our practice space," he snorted. "That doesn't seem as friendly."

       "So I'm not great at breathing exercises," she shrugged her shoulders. "I still managed to go without burning out." She was surprised that Fenrys had not told Rowan of her disappearing act. She would have been made to run laps until she vomited, would have been reprimanded hundreds of times had she done the same to Rowan. He would never have let her just walk away. Perhaps Fenrys had taken pity on her, perhaps he had seen something that Rowan did not.

       That or she had looked as though she were on the verge of burning out.

       "Don't joke about that," his voice hardened as he stared down at her. She looked back at him, hating the way he stared at her as though she was nothing more than a piece of glass. "Your burnouts are serious. If you die on my watch, I ..."

       Mirima didn't want to know what he would do. She didn't particularly care either.

       "I am not going to die, Rowan. I know myself better than any of you seem to realize," she crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking more like a petulant child than she realized.

       "You're not invincible, Mirima. You never will be," he told her, looking down at her with a gaze that she could not comprehend. Rowan Whitethorn gave her several incomprehensible looks. She often wondered if he hated her based on those looks, wondered if he even knew the fire that blazed in his forest.

       She doubted it. Rowan was too busy with his own problems to worry about how he looked at her. That wasn't something either of them thought about. It was always about training, always about Rowan teaching her everything she needed in order to be part of the cadre. Part of everything.

       "I'm capable though," she breathed softly, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll help you train her. Just ... Just don't let my training fall to the wayside. I expect to be in the cadre by the end of the year."

       Mirima shoved herself off of the desk, brushing against him as she did so. Rowan quickly backed away, his spine stiff and his gaze hardening to one she knew so well. She began to leave. Her gait smooth and steady unlike the pounding of her heart.

       "You'll never be ready," he called after her. "Lorcan would eat you alive just from your recklessness."

       "Then I guess you'll have to enjoy the show," Mirima stated without ever looking back at him.

       She kept up appearances as she headed back out of Mistward, a smile on her lips and a gleam in her eyes that normally meant trouble. If Rowan thought she was nothing compared to this would-be-queen she would just have to prove him wrong.

       She slid a dagger out from the sheath on her thigh, twirling it between her fingers as she headed deep in the forest. If Rowan was giving up on her, she would train herself.

       Hellas save them.

#rowan whitethorn #rowan x oc #rowan whitethorn x oc #rowan is running out of patience #mirima floros #mirima is trying #rowan x mirima #mirima doesn't believe in feelings #celeana sardothien #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass oc #soulmate #mates #mate au #I ship them no one else does but I do and that’s what matters #are they soulmates or are they both just depressed #cadre

[carcinized]

Hey hey hey I don’t have Tumblr BUT I saw your post about C!Tubbo dissociation headcanons and here I am, asking for them. And possibly more C!Tubbo headcanons. Preferably angsty. Just. Any of them. Please. Thank you.

oh, a fellow starved c!tubbo enthusiast. hello there, i do have some headcannons to spare luckily, hope you enjoy!! mostly this is the dissociation ones but i have some miscellaneous ones & songs at the end for you :]

so obviously uhhh tw for dissociation/depersonalisation/derealisation in this post!!! also going to put them under the cut bc this is long lmao

oh and disclaimer: this is very much based off my own experiences with (near constant) chronic dissociation so it might be different from other experiences!! yeah.

oh ALSO this is disorganized and probably missing stuff because i am going through a bad bout of spaciness as of right now, so apologies if anything is confusing, feel free to ask for clarification!

idk background timeline stuff so it fits into the story

at first he didn’t even realize he felt disconnected from things. it started off as a coping mechanism during combat and felt so similar to the feeling of being “in the zone” he’d known before that he didn’t question it

after a bit, it spread from only being there during battle to during conflict in general. still, he didn’t mind it—it actually made arguments more bearable because they felt almost secondhand.

eventually he came to use it as a crutch so much that it became constant.

that was when he started wanting it to go away.

and then because i can’t bear to give my precious c!tubbo constant dissociation he probably gets breaks from it sometimes idk lmao

his experiences:

gaps in memory

auditory processing issues

lots of depersonalisation and not recognizing himself in the mirror (which is even more fun/terrifying if you add in shapeshifter headcannons)

a lot of the time he feels like his actions aren’t his, which helped him to feel less bad doing morally ambiguous things (spying, exiling tommy, hunting technoblade, etc)

after it all he was left with near constant dissociation almost all the time.

it nearly always feels like the world is secondhand to him and he has no control/impact (ironic considering the power he has, and he knows that, but)

often wonders if he is dreaming and just waiting to wake up from a coma he’d gotten from one of his many battles.

when things get really bad he wishes he could just wake up from it.

often doesn’t recognize his hands looking down at them, especially with the burns he has now. they’re not his hands, right? but they are. they’re his hands. huh.

uhhh examples of where it could have been shown in plot if you squint lol

for example, that famous clip of him dancing while wilbur and tommy argue in the background would be a physical representation of him zoning out (dissociating) to get out of/away from an argument.

the whole yes man thing could have either been an auditory processing issue where he replied yes to wilbur without hearing what wilbur had asked OR a gap in memory where he didn’t remember telling tommy the opposite

he pulled away for like 5 months into snowchester and talked to hardly anyone but his husband and son. dissociation is hard to interact with people during because you feel so isolated for so many reasons—sometimes you feel you’re the only real thing there, sometimes it feels there’s a glass wall between you and everything else that IS real. and even ignoring that, most people can’t relate to feeling that way, leaving you even more alone. he could have pulled away because it was too much too keep going through that (i did that don’t recommend it tubbo JSJD)

miscellaneous headcannons that i don’t see very often:

after winning a battle, his instinct is to play a disc and look out at the sunset because that’s what he and tommy always did (see his lore yesterday (june 18th)—he did it with ranboo despite tommy not being there)

i’m rather fond of my original-l’manberg-citizens-consider-haircuts-and-fixing-up-appearances-affectionate-because-wilbur-did-it headcannon so i’ll add that here—basically wilbur gave everyone military cuts and new suits and everything. and while that was just for war, it was also because he cared about all of them. ever since, they all considered fixing up someone’s appearance an act of love.

tubbo refused to let anyone cut his hair after the red festival, not trusting anyone. he would probably let ranboo do it now, only he’s rather attached to the way it hides his burns and some of his horns and keeps him warm in the freezing snow.

he builds walls like how tommy builds cobblestone towers—a reflex, a coping mechanism, a habit. he built the l’manberg walls and ever since the defense has been second nature, whether for the best or the worst.

ive been waiting forever to share these i have way too many. i pass the hours staring out the window listening to misterwives and imagining c!tubbo animatics to it and now i have a chance to share them oh my god

so without further ado,

c!tubbo animatics i have in my head:

whywhywhy by misterwives: ok this one isn’t chalked out but it has him vibes

alone by misterwives: just him and ranboo. figuring things out. helping each other heal. i legitimately have an entire animatic in my head to this lyric by lyric and could make a fucking storyboard for it if only i could draw. if anyone wants me to write out lyric by lyric what it WOULD be though feel free to send an ask aHAHHAHAHA

over the rainbow by misterwives: a montage of c!tubbo just. finally going apeshit. that would be so cathartic alright and it’s such a badass song he deserves it

it’s my turn by misterwives: pretty much any times that tubbo finally got to do something back at someone who wronged him—the butcher army going after technoblade, him yelling at quackity about borders saying “well don’t i get to put my foot down too?” the lyrics “i know you’ve got your version of the story, i’m sick of saying sorry, i’m sick of always having to explain” during his spy arc PLEASE he had to justify everything he did and the “are you happier?” comment and schlatt breathing down his neck aAAAA give my boy a break (also the instrumental uses a lemon demon-type sound which makes me think of ranboo so i love imagining a cool bee dup building the outpost montage there snhshagahffn)

find my way home by misterwives: idk the vibes just fit man

oxygen by misterwives: hhhrnggg clingy duo angst oW

i did say i spend a lot of my time listening to misterwives and daydreaming c!tubbo animatics didn’t i?

anyways yeah. here’s some c!tubbo content to help us poor starved c!tubbo enthusiasts :’D also misterwives propaganda go listen to them female led band with a fucking badass lead singer with banger songs and incredible vocals and lyrics ANYWAY

#dsmp #tubbo #dream smp #mcyt #dissasociation tw #feel free to add your headcanons btw or ask for clarification on these!!! i would love to talk abt c!tubbo with you SHJDJDJDJD #dissociation tw #depersonalisation tw #derealization tw #allyster rambles #ask #anon

[xhanisai]

#LetMarinetteDrinkCoffee2K19

Uploaded on A03 and FFN.net

~(x)~

Thirty-six hours.

She has been awake for:

Thirty.

Six.

Hours.

She, along with the ever so loyal Chat Noir have taken down sixteen akumas in a span of three days. Just after battling the first five, the duo were knackered beyond words, grumpier than edgy brutes in Hollywood films and definitely stuck with panda eyes, covered by their masks. Chat Noir dropped the puns in exchange for a more...colourful set of vocabulary, which Ladybug would have scolded him for on a normal day; they're meant to be role models for children after all.

Moreover, her infamous clumsiness from her civilian side has gradually seeped into her vigilant half, making the fights harder to battle and probably causing her partner more distress than help. Scratch that- she definitely caused him a lot of distress. She collapsed from a roof into La Seine from exhaustion after releasing her cleansing light. The dirty, freezing water and the sound of Chat's desperate screams gained her another twelve hours of consciousness. (The ten minute lecture and yelling from him afterwards may have helped too but no way in hell was she going to admit that). "I can't go to sleep just like that Chat...I have school in a few hours..."

"Then skip it! Tell your parents that you're sick or something- just PLEASE get some sleep, Bug."

"I have an important test-"

"Important my ass- your health is top priority here!"

"So is yours!"

"I'm used to staying awake for so long,"

"LISTEN UP NOIR! IF I'M GONNA SLEEP, SO WILL YOU. IF YOU STAY AWAKE, SO WILL I. SO STOP YELLING AT ME-"

Of course, the pair were interrupted by another god forsaken akuma and they violently swore at Le Papillon and his never ending madness. Ladybug muttered out very morbid things such as how she was going to skin the old man alive once she gets his miraculous or something like that.

This was all two hours ago.

Marinette was on her last legs now as she struggled to get up the stairs to her form room. Quickly chugging on her tenth energy drink, Marinette disposed the can somewhere secretly (they're banned in school after all) and flopped down onto the nearest desk. She inhaled sharply, reaching for the travel mug she secured in her bag, filled with the most sweetest, sugary, coffee one could ever have. Tikki mustered up the energy to pat Marinette's collarbones with her frazzled paw, hiding in her dark turtleneck collar rather than the purse for once in order to warm up.

A few more minutes passed but they felt like seconds to the heroine in disguise, nuzzling her mug. She internally prayed that taking three showers in a row managed to get rid of the disgusting river smell out of her hair before dashing out of the house. That thought process was interrupted when she clipped the mug's lid off. She smiled for the first time in twenty-four hours and pursed her lips for a sip.

"Girl? You're early again? Wow!" Alya's energetic voice was like a slap against her face, almost causing the poor girl to drop her life saving beverage. She sent her best friend a pitiful pout, ignorant to the rush of her classmates heading to their seats. The mass majority of them gave their class president a surprised look, wondering if pigs will start flying next at the sight of her early presence. Though, there was some tension by the others, no thanks to the recent incident between Lila and Marinette's 'supposed' stealing and bullying.

"Mmhm..." Marinette warmed her cheek with the mug, hoping that the brunette could take a hint and let her indulge in the diabetes level of sugar. She almost didn't feel Alya's fingers smoothing against her pale forehead, brushing away the dark fringe with a frown on her face. She then placed a hand on her flushed cheek, shaking her head.

"Marinette, you don't look very well. You haven't been well for days. I think you should go home..." Alya was prepared for Marinette's spiteful snort, countering the blue eyed glare with her fond hazel pair. "I studied my butt off for this physics test and won't rest till I get it over and done with. Maman and Papa said that if I get full marks, they'll lift the energy drinks ban off me." The Asian pursed her lips childishly and ignored Alya's gaping face before going in for the coffee which has been torturing her poor nose with its sinful scent.

With a speed that could rival a blue hedgehog, Alya swiped the mug out of Marinette's hands. The latter reacted quite late, blinking a few times with confusion before realising what happened.

"Alya-aaaaaa..." Marinette flopped tiredly on the desk, chibi tears running down her eyes whilst she pathetically reached out for her saving grace. "Ple-eeeeeease..." "If your parents have banned you from energy drinks then I bet that they won't appreciate you drinking coffee either." Alya's frown deepened at Mari's cries.

"Let DC have her caffeine, Cesaire." Kim whooped from the back, joined by a few agreements by Nathaniel, Mylene and Rose. "She looks like shit, no offense 'nette." The boy only received a thumbs up from Marinette and a scowl from Alya. Alix simply observed with her lips sealed. Confusion wracked through her head as she evaluated the events so far. Marinette was too tired to give a damn.

"I don't know Le Chien, I've been tailing our heroes for the past few days with little sleep so I think maybe I should drink this instead and send my girl home." Alya chuckled and ate up the sight of Marinette's torn face.

"No-ooooooooo! You can't drink up the only thing I'm living for! Don't you understand? Without that cup, that specific cup of coffee, I will no longer go on. All my happiness and dreams will be crushed! My will to breathe this wretched polluted air will be dissipated and then you all will have to pay for my funeral and live on without me because ALYA DRANK MY SOUL!"

Marinette was so tired, she was delusional. The filter was gone and her limp form pretty much melted on the desk with sadness. Alya almost gave in.

"Well!" Nino's voice piped up from the doorway, walking in with a dead looking model following him like a chick. "Guess our lil' Dudette robbed my seat, again. What next? You gonna rob my locker too?" Lahiffe snickered when Marinette flipped out her middle finger at him, refusing to lift her head up from the table. A few others giggled as well whilst Nino dramatically fell to his knees, yelling how he was so 'wounded' and couldn't believe the sweetest girl in the world had the balls to do that to him!

Adrien on the other hand, let his lips upturn for the first time in a day, fondly and shook his head. He definitely knew how the girl was feeling- oh boy. If anyone could relate to her now, it was him.

He made way to her, encasing his hand over hers, beckoning her to lower her finger with a playful tut. Marinette shivered at the feel of his silver ring against her skin.

"Now, now, it's rude to pull a gesture like that. No matter how much Nino deserved it," Adrien ignored his best friend's betrayed 'Hey!' and laughed warmly. Seeing Marinette woke him up more than the pathetic cup of coffee in his hand. He felt his heart skip a beat when she slowly lifted her head up to meet his gaze.

"Can I toss him out of the windows instead?" Her tone was so innocent, it was like she was asking if she could borrow a pencil. Adrien giggled out a 'No', his smile never leaving and squeezed her hand. Marinette dropped her head back down with a groan that sounded like 'Coffeeeeee'.

"Alya?"

"No, Adrien."

"She looks like she really needs it,"

"What she needs is a warm, toasty bed with fluffy pillows and her giant cat monster teddy, Mr. Cat."

"Nino-oooo, please help me persuade your girlfriend. I'm too tired for this."

Adrien collapsed on the seat, right next to Marinette, playfully flopping against her. He sipped his cup, eyes still closed. On any other day, Marinette would have freaked out five minutes ago. Now? She's too tired to think let alone move or speak. Nino and Alya bickered whilst the rest of the class (save for Chloe who scoffed) cooed internally at Marinette and Adrien.

"I'd let you have my coffee but this is as bitter and black as Mm. Mendelieve's soul," He earned a cute snigger from his twin tailed friend. She unconsciously moved closer to the blonde, clutching his cardigan's sleeve, half asleep. Adrien relished every touch, beaming. Though he could have sworn that Rose piped out a 'So cute!' at the back. The thought left as soon as it came. He focused on Marinette's scent and her warmth, tempted to sleep against her again. That's what friends do, right?

"I wouldn't be...able to take a sip of that without...gagging," Marinette shook her head quickly to stop nodding off. "Mine has fifteen teaspoons of sugar, lots and lots of cream, caramel, chocolate sauce, whipped cream and sprinkles..." She admitted quietly, blind to Adrien's choked face. Maybe it's a good thing Alya took that away from her!

"Are you trying to give yourself a heart attack? Diabetes? A food coma?" His shock was quickly replaced by her pitiful eyes. "D-Don't cry please-" "I just wanted to stay awake..." She peered at her coffee in Alya's hand so longingly, bottom lip jutted out (Adrien had the urge to kiss it but he quickly knocked that thought back). "I also really like...sweet things..."

"You're sweet enough already, Princess," Quickly, Adrien slapped his hand against his mouth, eyes widening at how the words slipped out. He blinked rapidly a few times before sighing in relief. Marinette didn't seem to have caught it and the others were too busy watching Nino and Alya argue. Curse his sleep deprivation...

"Princess...?" The model gulped as Mari continued. "Heh...I really like that nickname...reminds me of Chat Noir," Her lips curled into a peaceful smile and her eyes glazed even further. Adrien's demeanour softened, the subtle 'o' of his mouth curbed into the sweet smile his lips love turning into when Marinette's around.

"He has good taste. It is very fitting for the most awesome, amazing, kind girl to have the title of a princess," The boy mused. He gave a cheeky wink which prompted Marinette to roll her eyes playfully.

'Yes! Look how comfortable she is around me now! This is what I've been waiting for ever since I came here! A proper one on one Marinette time~!' Adrien celebrated internally.

"Then, since Alya and Nino act like a married couple all the time," His eyes flickered to the still squabbling pair, fussing over Marinette, before back at the petite girl. "They could be your parents, the King and Queen,"

Marinette hummed with amusement, her lips turning into a familiar smirk. For some reason, he knew she was going to banter back. He couldn't explain why.

"Then Chat Noir could be my Knight, considering how he's always used the 'I'm your Knight in shining leather' comment," Adrien felt his cheeks involuntarily redden. "And you could be..."

The older teen leaned closer to her face.

"I could be...?"

"...my..."

"Your?"

"...my prince-"

"Marinette!"

Blonde boy and Noir girl snapped out of their bubble, along with the rest of the class. They all simultaneously gasped as the Italian transfer student leaned against the door timidly.

Her left cheek had a huge, purple bruise and her arms were covered in bandages. Everyone looked at her with concern whilst Adrien cocked an eyebrow in suspicion. Marinette merely blinked.

"You...you're de-akumatised now...right?" Lila clutched her arms, hugging herself to make her smaller. Almost the whole class flinched and gawked at the designer. Alya narrowed her eyes in confusion, Nino cocked his head but Adrien...

He was fucking livid. A solid ten minutes before class, six days after her last stunt, this brat dares to antagonise Marinette again!?

Marinette let out a dumb "eh?", blinking repeatedly.

"I-I know you were mad about how I caught you cheating a while ago...but I didn't expect you to be akumatised and attack me yesterday night!" Lila burst out crying. "Why didn't Ladybug's healing powers work...why am I still hurt!" She clutched her cheek, enacting how much pain she's in.

Perhaps a week or two ago, the class would have leapt for Lila's side. However, everyone had a feeling that something's not right, something's not adding up. This feeling has been building up ever since Lila's arrival but they all seem to have brushed it away.

"I got akumatised?" Marinette rubbed her eyes and blinked at Lila again. Any other day, the girl would have leapt for her own defense. Right now, she was way out of it.

Sweet, innocent Rose furrowed her eyebrows too.

"Hold on- hold up! I've tailed every single akuma that's happened so far. There's only been sixteen these past three or four days and none of them involved you or Mari." Alya slammed the coffee down on the desk, oblivious to the Asian girl's twinkling eyes and soft "coffeeeee~". Adrien kept a protective grip on Marinette's upper arms, venturing closer, trying to keep her behind him, as if shielding her. His eyes turned acidic and rage boiled over.

"That's because she lured me out in the outskirts! She had giant needles and she looked so scary-" Lila let out a loud whimper. "It took hours for Ladybug and Chat Noir to defeat her!"

"Oho? I want giant needles...then I can stab Le Papillon with it and then I can finally sleep at night~" Marinette was painfully oblivious to her class' incredulous stares as she made googly eyes with the coffee. Nino sighed and took away the mug, placing it on Mm. Bustier's desk and then glared at Lila. No one paid mind to Marinette's suffering.

"Certainly I can't catch every single akuma, however, we've only seen the cleansing lights sixteen times. Thus, either you were hallucinating-"

"I wasn't! Where'd you think I got these injuries from!?"

"-Or! It was a non-akuma that attacked you. Some freaky criminal from the sounds of it. Ladybug's powers can't heal you if you were injured from anything other than an akuma." Alya then marched towards Marinette, sheltering her slightly too. "This girl has a terrible sense of direction so it's impossible for her to have dragged you to the outskirts and make it in time for school." Marinette simply sighed, paying zero attention to them.

She tried using her mind to get the coffee closer to her but turns out, she's not telekinetic.

If Lila was smart, she would have agreed with Alya and made up a story of the supposed criminal that attacked her. It would have bought her the coddling she wanted at the very least. However, it seems that Le Papillon's akumas kept her up at night too, making words slip out of her tongue before her brain could fully comprehend them.

"I swear on my sweet, dead grandmother's life, Alya! It was Marinette! I know it was! Would I ever lie to you?" She clutched her chest. "Even Rena Rouge and Carapace fought her too. Marinette was so strong...so evil...I think she's working with Le Papillon..."

.

.

.

Silence.

Not a single sound was heard.

Everyone held their breaths.

Internally, Lila panicked. Why wasn't everyone jumping to her side? Why was everyone so quiet? Dammit- why isn't everyone berating that damn blue eyed bitch and catering towards her!?

"Now that I think about it," Max broke the silence. Adrien, Alya and Nino immediately whipped their heads towards him, eyes wide with multiple emotions. Each of them were coming up with ways to make his death look like an accident along with Lila's if he bought the lie.

"I think I saw that horse boy running around too...what was his name again? Peggy...Pugo..." Max could have fooled strangers with his confused, calculating expression but his close friends knew way better.

Game on.

"Yes! Peggy! He was there too!" Lila exclaimed and then whimpered loudly, bringing her arms together, as if she was in agony. "He saved me! Otherwise...I'd have...lost my head...Marinette was so close to..."

"Is that so?" Adrien's voice was like thunder. It wasn't that he was loud, no; he was very startling instead. A tone which no one but Lila has heard before when he threatened her not too long ago. An icy chill was sent down everyone's spine and his emerald eyes gleamed with bloodlust. "Please do tell us more, what did our everyday Ladybug do in her akumatised state?" He wrapped an arm around her possessively. Alya and Nino stood closer to them.

Lila's face almost darkened with indignation but she quickly fixed it with the kicked puppy expression. She took a step back, clutching a fist to her chest.

"W-Why are you guys acting like this...Max? Alix? Are you seeing this? I think those four are against me now too-"

"But at least that weird monkey one was around to help you, right? If Marinette was THAT strong then I bet Ladybug and Chat Noir called the entire cavalry." Alix rested her chin on her clasped hands, glaring at the four people down. Only Lila missed the playful bump Kim and Max gave on her back.

"Y-Yes! Also the lizard, the hare and the erm...pigeon? Marinette almost won...she could have devastated Paris- no...the world! I think that's why Ladybug wasn't able to use her cleansing light- she was beaten black and blue..." Everyone else started to mutter, causing Lila to almost smirk victoriously. 'Yes...that's right, keep this up,' She cackled in her mind.

"Excuse me!" Marinette finally shouted, standing up with hands on hips. Lila's heart almost burst in excitement. Finally some fuel for her fodder! More ways to isolate Dupain Cheng! "The only devastation here is how no one's letting me drink my coffee! Nino just give me it!"

She didn't expect the smack upside behind her head from Alya, making her yelp in surprise. The bespeckled girl grabbed Marinette by the shoulders and yelled.

"YOU IDIOT GIRL! YOU'RE BEING ACCUSED OF TRYING TO MURDER ROSSI AS AN AKUMA WHILST PULVERISING TEAM MIRACULOUS IN PROCESS YET ALL YOU CAN THINK ABOUT IS A PUDDLE OF CAFFEINE FOR A DUMB MOCK TEST THAT WON'T AFFECT OUR GRADES!?"

She shook her shoulders harder, muddling Marinette's mind up even further. Adrien stammered, trying to break them up whilst Nino and the class watched with delight. They didn't miss the appalled expression Lila threw.

The way everyone brushed her off...the poor, injured...pitiful girl!

"A-A-A-AL-Y-A-A-A!" Alya finally stopped her torture and let Marinette flop into her arms. Marinette let out a groan, swirls in her eyes and the class burst out laughing.

"You did it Alya! You beat the akuma! You're a true hero!" Rose squealed out as Juleka chimed with a "Way past cool". Playing along, Alya straightened out the collar of her polar shirt, mock pride on her face with a smug smile plastered on. She handed Marinette to Adrien's waiting arms and stalked towards the back of the room.

"W-What-" Lila didn't get a chance to finish her sentence.

"Miraculous Alya Charm!" The brunette hollered, tossing a pen in the air with a cheesy grin. Kim and Alix made whooshing noises, as if to mimic the sounds of rushing magic ladybirds and everyone else cheered. "Your injuries should all be healed up now Lila! Good on ya~ now, Nino, it's time to bring that Theo artist and get him to make a statue of me for the park-"

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?"

Lila was now huffing and puffing. Raw animosity shone in her eyes, hands clenched into fists by her sides, knuckles whitening and teeth gritted. Adrien didn't try to hide his devilish smirk and the oddly quiet Chloe folded her arms, awaiting for the girl to show her true colours. Alas, lack of sleep made a slower, more frustrated Lila.

"I'm here, injured, traumatised! Ladybug was almost killed! This...THIS WITCH-" She pointed venomously at the knocked out Marinette in Adrien's arms. "Tried to kill ME! And you all don't care!? You're all worse than Chloe!" More crocodile tears ran down her cheeks...

Though they ran down as purple drips, somehow cleaning away the bruise? My, what magical tears indeed. Mylene and Ivan quickly opened a group chat (sans Lila and Marinette) to arrange years worth of apologies for their class president. They could be old and grey at one point but they'll still find a way to apologise to the sweet angel.

"You see Lila, everyone knows that's not true," Adrien purred out, sitting down against the chair like a spoilt royalty with a beautiful girl in his arms- who would kick everyone's asses in one go. He summoned a bit more of his inner Chat Noir.

"How would you know!? You weren't there, Adrien!" Lila hissed, banging a fist against the door. Weren't her arms in agony again?

"I suppose, but," He tucked a hair behind Marinette's ear with a grin.

"I was with her, all night,"

Everyone let out a dramatic, yet fake gasp, clutching their cheeks whilst Chloe let out a little cry "Adrikins how could you~!", one arm over her head whilst Sabrina fanned her with a book. Lila paled and sweat dripped down her face. She shook her head slightly, taking a step back.

"W-W-What do you mean? What were you doing?"

"Well, what else would two, unsupervised teenagers be doing all night? Why do you think we're so tired?" He played with Marinette's hair, smile widening. His peripheral vision caught Alya with her phone whipped out, probably not too long ago.

"T-That's a lie...you're just saying that to protect Marinette...your father would never let you out of the house at night, let alone with a no named wench like her!"

"Do I need to show my hickies as proof?" Adrien had a big bruise on his collarbone from falling onto his roof when coming home, lack of sleep messing with his coordination. It was dark enough to be mistaken as a love bite and the boy was never more grateful for it than he was now.

"Whoa du-uuuude- keep it child friendly here!" Nino winked.

"Enough of my love life now," Adrien's smile was wiped off and the dangerous frown was back on.

Lila gulped as everyone else followed suit. Some were close to exploding on the spot whilst others wore a look of pure disappointment and sadness.

"Can't you see? The gig's up Lila. You've lost. We all know you've been bullshitting from the start- well some of us anyways," His gaze swept over the class who looked terribly sheepish for a moment before reverting back to their intimidating stances. "Take a seat over there," He beckoned to the lone chair that Chloe kicked out at the front, quickly adjusting Marinette to rest her head on his lap so that she remained hidden.

"What if I don't want to." The Italian sneered, itching to run down the head teacher's office and come up with a way to save her sorry ass. If there's one thing she refuses to do, it's to accept defeat. No matter how high the odds are against her.

"I believe you don't have a choice, Rossi." He admonished, hands clasped against his mouth similarly to Alix not too long ago. "Don't make me pull a Chloe Bourgeois here and make your fucking life miserable by getting my father involved. I'm tired as hell and no one has got the time to humour you anymore. Take. A. Seat."

Keeping her steely gaze on his frame, Lila made way to the chair, plopping down and crossing her legs, trying her best to look powerful and threatening.

"Now, you're going to sit there, keep your mouth shut till I've finished talking, you got that-"

"You think that crap's going to work on me, Adrien? Hah! My mother is an embassy. You can google that for all I care, not like the rest of you googled whatever else I've said," Her smile was like a snake slithering, making everyone else feel uncomfortable.

"Did I say you could talk? Did my earlier threats fall on deaf ears? Do you love the sound of your voice so much that you're unable to comprehend simple french words from anyone else?"

"I-"

"I said keep your mouth shut."

His tone felt like a cataclysm to her heart. Immediately she snapped her mouth shut and dug her fingers into her knees. The looming presence of everyone else didn't help either. The weight of the situation finally crept up on her and the girl realised...

She's not going to get out of this one.

"Alright, so where was I...? Oh that's it!" Adrien leaned back. "I'm going to cut the chase. We're not mad because you lied, we're mad because you hurt Marinette and tried to do so again. I want you to fess up every single thing you've done in order to hurt someone so that we can record it and send it to the teachers. We have no trust in you and we know for definite that you'll chicken out if we don't do this now." His eyes were like ice now. For the first time, you would recognise Adrien as Gabriel's son for his chilly aspects, not because of his brand.

"..."

"Lila."

"I..."

"..."

"From the moment I arrived, I kept touching you and clinging onto you,"

"I had to take ten showers that day-"

"I stole your book! And threw it away!"

"...you bitch..."

"I threatened Marinette in the bathrooms to take away all her friends, especially you. That I'd make them all turn their backs on her and she'll be alone forever. That almost worked, didn't it?"

Alix was seething on the spot, desperate to break Lila's nose. The grip that Alya had on her phone almost snapped the device in half, distraught with the suffering Marinette has been through.

"That was the day I gave her that stupid advice of taking the high road huh? Should have realised how much of a psycho you were back then instead of being scared for Marinette of you turning into an akuma and trying to kill her." His instincts screamed to cataclysm Lila right this second. "Regardless, your threat didn't really work, hm? She kept fighting,"

"And that's why I faked my injury, hid the cheat sheet in her bag and put my necklace in her locker. That's all you need to know." Lila was about to stand back up but a hand clasped her shoulder from behind. She didn't need to look up to know that the perfect manicured nails belonged to the mayor's daughter.

"I didn't dismiss you yet, and also," Adrien leaned forward. "You're hiding some things, you know why I know? Because I have connections. You're better off spilling it yourself than me getting my hands dirty, Rossi."

"..."

"Rossi."

"That day when your fencer friend got akumatised..."

"The day you lied and forced yourself into my house? Yes, carry on,"

"I teamed up with her akumatised form..."

"How and Why."

"..."

"Tell us."

Everyone took a bated breath, cold sweat dripping down their heads, anger grinding in the pit of their stomachs whilst Marinette remained blissfully asleep on Adrien's lap.

"I worked with her akumatised form to take down Ladybug and give her Adrien because I hate, HATE Ladybug! I don't regret anything I've done! Never have, never do and never will! I will rise to the top and take you all down one by one!"

.

.

.

The whole class erupted in an uproar.

Obscenities were roared out.

Threats were exclaimed.

Students were restrained.

Agreste watched Rossi with hate that could rival Le Papillon's for Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Chloe struck her hand out, poised to give the brat a good smack.

"Quiet!"

A hand grasped Chloe's wrist while another tipped the cool cup of coffee down her throat.

Marinette slammed the travel mug down, gently putting Chloe's wrists back to the girl and then turned towards the class. Her eyes flickered to Lila's bewildered form for a split second and then back at everyone else.

"First off, thank you Adrien, for bringing the truth to light. I suppose waiting and planning for the right moment was a better idea than going out yelling and screaming." Marinette gave him a smile full of saccharine, making his heart skip a beat or two.

"You shouldn't be thanking me. I'm the one who let it get this bad in the first place...besides, you'd have concocted up something similar had it been anyone else getting harassed by her."

"You're not perfect. Everyone makes mistakes. Besides," She glanced back at the fuming girl behind her. "You've acknowledged it and sought a solution to fix it, rather than covering it up and lying," Lila's teeth were basically scraping each other.

"Marinette..."

"Second! As much as I'd love to beat her up for real like you guys, we are much, much better than this. Control your emotions or else Le Papillon will control you," Murmurs filled the room and everyone began to try calming down. "If I really was akumatised, Lila," Marinette began "I would have finished the job. So I think it's wise to not try and get me under Le Papillon's influences again," Her eyes were like ice, piercing Lila's weak frame.

"What do you mean again?" Adrien felt a rock hit the bottom of his stomach. The way Marinette flinched caused his paranoia to stir. "Marinette...?"

"Erm...when I got expelled? And also during the bathroom threat? But it's okay! I managed to outrun the bathroom butterfly- wait. I outran the butterfly but Lila got akumatised the next minute..." Marinette's eyes widened in threatening way, turning back to said girl. "You walked away all smug...so how did you get akumatised?"

Lila didn't answer.

"You're working with Le Papillon...?" Alya gasped out.

SLAM!

The force of Adrien's hands slamming the table as he shot up shocked the class once more. Alya moved in quickly to grab Marinette and keep her out of the way.

"Get out and never come back. If I ever see your face anywhere nearby, you're dead."

Lila immediately tripped out of the chair, feeling like she's been shot a thousand times by everyone's blood lusting looks. She scurried towards the door, only to crash into M. Damocles. No words needed to be exchanged by the looks of his infuriated eyes. A few other teachers, including Md. Bustier and Mendelieve crowded her. They all wore the same blistering look, beckoning Lila to follow them to the headmaster's office. They heard everything.

"I'll be back in a bit class," Md. Bustier spoke. Her voice lacked the usual cheerfulness and motherly tone.

With that said and done, the classroom door was closed.

Lila was gone.

Marinette has received justice.

Whoa...

.

.

.

A dizzy spell suddenly hit Marinette and Adrien, causing them both to stagger on the spot, quickly supported by their best friends as the event of what just happened came crashing down on them. Adrien was quick to recover, having managed to catch catnaps in between battles whilst Marinette took a few minutes to regain her bearings.

"Yo what the fuck just happened now..." Kim broke the silence. "The day started off good with DC getting all loopy and Agreste Jr. getting chummy with her and boom! Jr. turns into a kickass interrogator and DC pretty much admitted that she can easily kill someone!? I THOUGHT YOU TWO WERE ALL SWEET AND INNOCENT!"

"Kim, you know Maman has been teaching me various forms of martial arts since I could walk. It will only take me five seconds to snap your spine in half from where I am...well, when I'm lucid anyways," Marinette squinted slightly, almost swearing that she could see stars. The others turned to Adrien for his explanation.

"...I guess watching Naruto does have its perks..." He itched his nose shyly, his cheeks flushed slightly at everyone else's groans. "YES I'M A FILTHY WEEB. DEAL WITH IT." He folded his arms defiantly. "And Father has rubbed off on me too," This, everyone accepted. Adrien turned around again to face his friends, eyebrows furrowed and sleep clouding his vision. He really was dead on his feet.

However, one thing didn't leave his mind.

"Marinette, why didn't you tell me?"

"Hm? What?" She yawned quietly.

"That you were almost akumatised when she threatened you?" Marinette picked up some cool anger in his words, recoiling back and then put her hands on her hips. Her eyes narrowed.

"I don't know and I don't care. I don't need to tell you everything, hmmph!" Truth be told, Marinette didn't want to be seen as a scaredy-cat or a coward, so, she kept mum. She was also pretty hurt from everyone's actions and behaviour beforehand too and she felt really bad at the idea of making them even more guilty.

"What. Kind. Of. An. Answer. Is. That?"

"I don't appreciate your tone Monsieur,"

"And I don't appreciate yours either Mademoiselle,"

"Well tough."

Adrien sauntered towards her, hands in pockets and one eyebrow cocked. The stance and swagger was so identical to Chat Noir that Marinette swore for sure that she's hallucinating.

"It's okay to not be okay you know," He then gestured out to the rest of the class who observed. Everyone wore a weak smile. "In order to progress, we need to communicate. You're always looking after us, catering to our feelings. Let us do the same. We really want to make it up to you," He let a hand rest on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

With a sudden determination, he leaned forward and quickly brushed his lips against her cheek. Her face softened and her mouth opened in a cute gape.

"Please?"

Tears flooded Marinette's eyes, causing everyone to rush forward, hoping to calm her down. The tears never stopped streaming, no matter how much the girls dabbed her eyes with napkins.

"I...I..." Marinette began. Everyone leaned in eagerly.

"I..."

.

.

.

"I just realised how I never got to savour my coffee..." Marinette sniffed.

.

.

.

Everyone literally dropped on the floor with a groan. Of course, she wasn't lucid. She probably was never lucid from the start! Before anyone else could say anything, Alya pushed Marinette on Adrien's back, commanding him to take her home.

"Yeah sure...I think I need a day off too..." He held the snoring girl on his back, piggy style before letting out a yawn.

"Don't try anything funny with my girl~" Alya teased and ignored Chloe's bristled comments. On a normal day, Adrien would have denied this and claimed that Mari was just his friend.

This isn't a normal day.

And Adrien is tired and grumpy and sarcastic.

"Then perhaps I shouldn't mention about how yesterday was such a wild ride~"

"Agreste!"

"Bye!"

"I'm being serious!"

.

.

.

~(x)~

#my fanfics #my fanfiction #i really hate tumblr's formatting #ml #mlb #miraculous Ladybug #miraculous Ladybug and chat noir #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #adrien agreste #adrienette #adrinette #ladynoir #no reveal #lila is exposed #not my best writing #please enjoy #goodnight #i recommend you read it on ao3 instead tho

[female-overlord-3]

Blurt it into existence

Happy Bi-visibility Day 🎉 here is a little thing I couldn't get out of my head and somehow finished just in time! If The Old Guard is my comfort movie well Julie and the Phantoms is my comfort show 😆 Enjoy Reggie figuring some things out! This is Julie/Luke/Reggie cause they all have 2 hands 💖

It's sort of the little things that Reggie usually misses but they keep happening more and more that even he notices.

It's when they harmonize and it feels like their all one amazing voice. It's that heated tension when they share a microphone. How proud they are after performing or practicing or practicing something they've just made.

The small things build to big things which becomes a new thing and something he's still trying to figure out which means he has 2 things to figure out.

Eventually he solves the new thing pretty quickly but doing something about it takes longer… or as long as his self-control lasts which isn't exactly stellar.

Finally Reggie can't hold it in anymore and blurts it out to Luke when it's just them practicing riffs.

"I think I like Julie?!"

Luke shrugs and keeps playing.

"I like Julie too."

Reggie just shakes his head frantically and his bass disappears so he can grab Luke with both hands by the shoulder and pulls him close to stare him right in the eye as he says this.

"No like actual feelings man."

It finally dawns on Luke what Reggie is trying to say but still there's no reaction as he keeps playing, shifting to a slower sound before making his guitar disappear.

"Oh well I like Julie too. With actual feelings." He frowns in thought and crosses his arms in defence. "Which both you and Alex teased me about remember?"

Reggie chuckles at that. "Huh ya you both are really obvious but like what do I do? I mean I know she loves us and you a bit more but what should I do? Ignore it? Try something? Find someone else?"

Luke eyes him in thought before grinning, a mischievous look Reggie knows means fun trouble.

"Ok well why don't we just tell her and see what she thinks?"

Reggie goes silent for a moment before a bright smile breaks across his face, one Luke reciprocates.

"Ya maybe if I tell her she'll help me figure this out. God feelings are weird. How do you guys do it? I'm just used to fun easy crushes that are well fun and easy but actual feelings kinda suck."

Luke's smile turns smug and he presses a messy kiss to Reggies cheek. "Cause I'm a genius and always know what to do Reggie. Now come on."

Reggie stares in shock before frowning at him.

"Hey, you gotta stop doing that Luke. I'm still trying to figure out the weird feelings I've got for you man."

Luke just pats him consolingly on the arm still attached to him.

"I know Reggie I know, now come on. Julie should be done studying by now right?" Luke questions and slings an arm around Reggie.

"Ya she should be it's like almost dinner time."

They drop in front of her door and knock because if theres one thing Julie Molina knows it's how to get people to do what she wants. Now occasionally the boys remember their manners.

Then Luke has to go and poke his head through the door.

"Julie Reggie has a question for you."

The odd tone Luke uses makes a feeling of nerves settle back again and Reggie's about to pull Luke back so they can be anywhere else but it's Luke who yanks him through the door instead.

Reggie barely resists the urge to poof away because Julie has those cute butterfly clips in her hair and she's just so pretty. She's also giving Luke an annoyed look which makes him feel better.

"See this is why I like you, you defend me when Lukes being annoying and look cute doing it."

Luke gives Julie a look as he motions his hands to Reggie and sighs.

"What-oh right. Julie I'm possibly in love with you in a more than friends way… what should I do?"

She looks from him then Luke and there's also that same mischievous look in her eyes too. Reggie feels like he's missing something he should already know.

"You're asking me… What you should do?" She questions and Reggie just nods.

"Ya cause we know you and Luke are an almost something and I'm not trying to mess with that but I'm not usually a full on feels kind of guy. So like is there a way for me to… not be? Also help me figure out these feelings I have for Luke too cause Alex just stares at me like I'm missing something but never tells me what." He squirts at Luke in annoyance. "You too. Both of you stop waiting for whatever I'm missing and just tell me! It'll save everyone time."

Julie seeing the signs that Reggie is heading for an actual freak out, takes his hand and brings him to sit next to her on her bed.

"Hey Reggie I promise you after today you'll have all of this mostly figure out alright? Now I'm gonna need you to answer some questions I'm going to ask." She squeezes his hand which instantly calms him. "Just blurt it out without thinking."

"My specialty then! Alright I'm ready. Go!"

Both Luke and Julie laugh at that which makes him feel way too warm and giddy.

"Okay favorite thing about Luke?"

"Eyes."

"Favorite thing about me?"

"Smile."

"What do you feel when you think about me?"

"Happy."

"What do you feel when you think about Luke?"

"Also happy."

"My favorite song?"

"Trick question you said you'd never be able to have one cause all the songs you love are special in their own way."

"Luke's favorite guitar?"

"Also trick question because just like you, each on is special and has its own unique use."

"Do you think how you feel about me is the same you feel about Luke?"

"Probably?" 

Reggie finally pauses in thought before gasping. 

"Omg I'm also in love with Luke." 

He snaps his head to look at Luke who just winks at him. "Luke I'm possibly in love with you too!"

He goes silent again and before throwing a pillow at Luke who let's it pass through him. "Wait you knew and you didn't tell me!"

Luke doesn't even look ashamed at this and proceeds to throw himself onto both Reggie and Julie's lap.

"Dude I tried to see if you were interested even before we died. You just never reciprocated so I let it be."

"What! You know how bad I am at that stuff! WE COULD'VE BEEN TOGETHER SOONER IF YOU JUST TOLD ME. WE COULD OF DOUBLE TEAMED TO SWEEP JULIE OFF HER FEET LIKE SHE DESERVES." He starts slapping Luke in the leg then pauses for the third time during this whole thing.

"Wait you were into me back then?"

A hand flies to his chest. "Aww man that's so embarrassing you had a crush on me even then."

Julie's hand pokes him in the chest.

"So did you Reggie."

"Oh huh right." He takes hold of Julie's hand and starts fiddling with it.

"So does this mean you love me too?"

The fond look she gives him makes Reggie blush.

"What do you think Reginald?"

"That I'm in some weird fever dream." 

"Well if hearing it will make things seem more real then yes Reggie, of course I love you too."

Reggie face breaks out into a blinding smile because he's so happy.

"Dude did you hear that? Julie loves me!"

Julie and Luke laugh again because they do love their ridiculous boy.

"Well I also love you too." Luke adds and pats his cheek, leaving it there for a second longer than usual before dropping it.

"Why do I feel like both crying and proofing to the roof to yell?"

Reggie feels like he's too full of emotions he might actually explode.

Julie tugs his hand and pulls him closer.

"Come on group hug."

They all laugh in joy as they crash together and hold each other tight.

"Wait what do you guys like about me?" He asks as they all fully settle on Julie's bed fully comfortable.

He has his head in Julie's lap and his feet on Luke's. Luke has a hand gripping his ankle and his head on Julie's shoulder.

"You always make me laugh. Luke always makes me smile." Julie answers and they both look to Luke.

"Kinda the same for me too. You both just make me happy."

Humming in happy contentment as Julie runs her hand through his hair and Luke taps his fingers on his ankle, Reggie just asks one more question.

"How'd you guys figure out you liked me?"

He opens one eye to see both of them starting to blush and he has an inkling of what it could be.

"Oh my god you guys wrote a song about me didn't you!"

Julie tugs his hair but gently at the comment.

"Got it in one Reggie. Not gonna lie though it was a bit frustrating cause it was after I accepted I felt something for Luke."

"She was so mad when I realized what the song was about before her. Mainly because I had the first part done and she finished it."

Reggie chuckles at that.

"Well duh we've known each other longer but Julie was able to finish it right, like it needed her."

"Reggie man that was insanely poetic.

"I can be from time to time."

Julie rolls her eyes at that.

"Very rare times."

They all bask in the quiet for a few more seconds before Reggie rolls over and looks at them.

"Wait how are we going to tell Alex?" The raised brows from both Julie and Luke answers that for him. "Oh he knows doesn't he? That's why he just stares at me like I should already know!"

Luke sighs loudly and drops down to take the spot Reggie left.

"Yup he definitely fits the disaster Bi thing you were showing me Jules."

Reggie looks at them confused at what that means.

"What the heck does that mean?"

"Well you know Alex is Gay cause he likes only boys? Bi or bisexual is when you like both genders or more. That's at least how I describe it and feel. Luke thought he was too but then he found out about being Pansexual and said that felt more like him."

Reggie stares at them in awe.

"There's a word for it." He whispers and tries to go launch himself off the bed and open Julie's laptop on her desk but two hands latch onto him to keep him stationed on the bed.

"Nope. Enjoy the cuddling."

"Reggie we were having a moment!"

He struggles weakly before relaxing back into their arms.

"You can't just say there's a word for something I couldn't name most of my life and expect me to chill right now!" He argues but stays where he is.

They both pat his chest to comfort him.

"You can research all you want tomorrow while I'm school. I'm sure my dad can answer some questions too since he was the one who helped me figure out I was bi."

Some unknown tension lifts from Reggies chest but it's not the two hands resting there.

"Your dad is so cool."

"Cause he has such a cool daughter."

No one disagrees.

After that it's as if they've been doing this since the start. Sometimes they're all together or with at least one other person, never alone unless they need it.

For now it's enough.

#julie and the phantoms #lol #julie and the himbos #Julie/Luke/Reggie #cause why not #realizing feelings #bi reggie #bi julie #pan luke #julie molina #Reggie #luke patterson #moon writes

[dirt-cup-draco]

Severus Snape x Reader- Starstruck (2/2)

Part 1 found here---> Ta Da

Previously:

Wand still posed against your neck he dragged you back to the abandoned house. Only when you were safe inside, having cast a protective charm on the place, did he release you. Spinning on your heel you brought your palm up to his cheek swiftly, the sound of you smacking him ringing out against the silent night. “That was for acting like a pig,” You sniffled, pride wounded.

 And then, you grabbed the front of his robes, lips slanting against his, all teeth and tongue. His hands stalled just above your hips, unsure of what to do next. “And that, was for saving my life,” You panted. 

Too concerned with your safe arrival it went unnoticed by all in the order, including yourself, that for the first time since he was a schoolboy, Severus Snape was a little bit flustered, and a whole lot starstruck. 

You wished that you could say the days after your rescue had been peaceful and filled with bliss. In reality, you found yourself overwhelmed during the day and terrified during the night. Molly was darling and you appreciated her to no end, but you were growing weary of the questions and constant attention. When she realized you weren’t fond of answering her prodding inquiries, she pretended as if nothing was wrong. You were glad for it but you caught her long glances and pitying stares. 

Sirius tried to be helpful too, having more insight on what you might’ve been through than Molly, but his attempts also fell flat. His best idea was to coax you to eat, encourage you to put the weight that you had lost from being withheld from food and water for all the time that you had been tortured and on the run. You wanted it to help but you had no appetite, but the demons in the back of your mind made your stomach churn with memories you wanted to forget. 

It all came to a head one night when Arthur had joined you all for dinner. He was a bit too boisterous, a bit too excited. He was a fun and loving man and you never wanted him to change, yet the way he slammed his silverware down on the table as he told another joke you weren’t quite listening to startled you and his long and deep laughs unsettled you, reminding you of the taunting you had endured. 

Your hands began to shake and you felt your heart begin to pound relentlessly. You stood, hands quivering and face pale as you looked apologetically to the friends in front of you. “Excuse me,” You squeaked, leaving no other explanation as you ran upstairs, finding the room that Sirius was allowing you to stay in “for as long as you needed”  he had said. 

Severus watched with what appeared to be boredom but deep beneath the surface he felt some...concern. Ever since you were a first year in Hogwarts, Severus had been able to see a fire within you, it seemed as if current events had been steadily stomping that fire out. It caused an ache in his chest where he hadn’t thought one possible. 

“Oh dear,” Molly sighed beside him, worrying at her apron as she began to gather dishes. “The poor dear,” 

“No use in pitying the woman,” Severus vocalized. 

Molly ground her teeth together, rounded cheeks flushing red. “She’s been through-” 

“I didn’t say she hasn’t been through difficult and unspeakable things,” Severus remarked, taking no time to apologize for his interruption of Molly’s oncoming scolding. “But pitying her will not take that away. Y/N needs space,” 

“She needs care!” Sirius interjected. “Something I don’t think you’d know about,” 

Severus bristled, his steely gaze locked on his old tormentor. “I shall be turning in for the night. The meal was filling as always Molly,” He chose his words carefully, knowing the balance in grimmauld place was an unstable one. The rest of the order let him retreat in silence, keeping their mouths closed, lips pressed together in thin lines. 

Severus took the room across from yours, lingering in the hall for just a moment. He heard nothing and assumed you must have fallen asleep despite the horrors that were clearly plaguing you. You had opened his eyes to something new that he had never considered before: opening his heart again. Your kiss had left him rattled to say the least. 

He told himself it was simply out of relief and appreciation but you always had a kind word for him, a sympathetic smile, when everyone else in the room only had cold shoulders and clipped sentences. You were objectively, a pretty woman. He could appreciate the shape of your body, the lilt of your voice, the edge to your wit. You had intelligence and nerve but you didn’t use it to ground others beneath your feet. Your kindness was given freely. 

Which is why it had begun to pain him, pondering of the weight of your torture and how it must be eating away at you. He would take your struggles and burdens onto his own shoulders if he could and that is how Severus knew you had captured his heart. It had been decades since he had cared for anyone other than himself. 

Being unable to rest, Severus took out a book and settled against his headboard for the night, his readers slipping over his nose as his head started to nod some time after ending the seventh chapter. The words blurred on the page but suddenly snapped back into focus as he heard a scream that melted into a whimper and ended with a cry. He was at full attention now as your senseless pleas and screams rang from your room. 

Had you begged and cried in a similar way when you had been tortured? Severus couldn’t bear the thought of it.

Climbing from his bed he padded across the room, rough wood floors creaking beneath his feet. It seemed your cries didn’t only wake him, for when he opened his bedroom door he found Tonks and Remus peering out of their bedroom with bleary and sleep glazed eyes.

“Should we wake her?” Tonks asked, looking between Severus and her husband, a yawn tugging itself from her lungs. Remus gave Severus a long look as he closed his bedroom door behind him, taking a step forward to your room. 

“I can help her,” He explained as the werewolf continued to eye him wearily. 

“I thought she needed space,” Remus had an argument resting heavily on the tip of his tongue.

Suddenly, your voice rang out clearly, “S-severus please, help me, I’m so scared.... so scared.... They’re coming!” It seemed you were still dreaming but you had spoken. It seemed you wanted Severus. 

Taking small pride in this, Severus tried to give Remus a reassuring look that appeared more like a sneer. The couple retreated back to their room as you continued to cry out into the night. Opening your door slowly, Severus surveyed the room, turning on a small lamp that stood in the far corner of the dusty bedroom. It cast a warm glow over the room that hopefully wouldn’t bee to strenuous on your eyes. 

You tossed and turned in your covers, the sheets spinning themselves around your legs and your pillows having fallen to the floor. You whimpered, pressing your face into your mattress as your imagination brought up something despicable to you. Your cheeks were stained with the clear tracks of your tears and Severus prodded himself to approach you. 

“Y/N,” He spoke clearly and sternly but it seemed you couldn’t hear him. “Y/N, you are only dreaming,” He tried again, hand resting gently on your shoulder as he shook you awake, the sudden and foreign rocking waking you in a panic as you shot up. Severus stepped back quickly and narrowly avoided your forehead colliding with his. 

Your breaths were coming out sharp and quick and your head dashed from side to side rapidly, taking in your surroundings. You relaxed some when you realized you were in grimmauld place, safe from any death eaters that may want to harm you. “Oh god,” You cried out, dropping your head into your hands before your head popped up a second later, eyes finding Severus’ as if you were surprised to see him there. “Please tell me you were the only one I woke,” 

“Then I would be lying to you,” Severus answered honestly and you grimaced, guilt filtering through you. “They don’t mind, it’s understandable that you haven’t been sleeping well,” 

“And you? Do you mind?” You had to asked, wiping at the remnants of your tears that had crept past your eyes while you slept. 

“If I was asleep when the commotion began, it might have caused some upset,” 

“Why weren’t you asleep?” 

“Why did you call out for me?” Severus asked instead, eyebrow raised and lips pursed in curiosity. Heat crept up your neck in an obvious blush and Severus liked the rosy color on you. 

“I don’t remember,” You lied. You were fixed with a pointed stare and your defense crumbled. “Because you saved me, I feel better around you. You arrived in my time of need, when you’re around it feels like no one can hurt me,” 

Your honesty, however slow coming, was without filter and Severus could feel his stomach flip in a pleasant way. You felt safe with him. 

Sitting at the end of your bed, Severus set a steady hand on your knee and you seemed to appreciate the gesture, a small smile working it’s way on your lips. “Would you-” He began but clammed up as you continued to look at him. Shaking his head, he decided to abandon his proposition. 

“Would I?” You prompted, voice still shaking from your wicked nightmares but you were starting to tease again and Severus took that as a positive sign. 

“Would you- That is to say-” Severus stumbled, cheeks now rosier than yours. 

“Yes I would like you stay with me,” You finished for him, hand reaching for his. 

“Then I will stay,” 

You held tight when he intertwined your fingers with yours as he maneuvered your bed, laying on his side and holding his arm out straight in front of him as you pressed your back against his chest that was rising and falling with slightly quickened breaths. 

You kept his hand in yours and pulled his arm to rest across your waist and wrap around you. Severus relaxed and tugged you tighter against him, legs tangling with yours. “Is this only because I was the one to your rescue? If it had been someone else-” 

“I didn’t want it to be anyone else,” You said simply, not leaving room for argument and too exhausted to say more. 

It was all Severus needed to know as he kissed the back of your neck in a shy show of affection, the both of you drifting off into a long and peaceful rest. You dreamed of a hooked nose and inky hair while he dreamed of floral shampoo and a kind smile. 

It went unsaid even as Severus crawled into your bed the next night, and the night after that- and many more nights to come- but you were both a little bit starstruck and certainly falling in love. 

Tag List: @angelinathebook @thehumanistsdiary Those who might like part 2: @paigelin @starofthedawn @giveusbackourbucky @purpledragonturtles

#severus snape #severus x reader #severus snape x reader #fluff #awkward snape #same tho #drabble

[alias-b]

sins of my youth. 012

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hey all! Billy and Evie continue their strange mating ritual. TW: Mentions of past abuse and student/teacher relationship. Heavy petting. SMUT. Phone sex. ;)

TAG LIST OPEN. Chat with me if you have the time xoxo

Chapter 12: Cupid and Psyche

   Evie groaned the next time she woke.

   Pain blared like the morning sun streaming on her face. Flames licking supple cheeks.

   Billy gone in the bed upon turning over.

   His scent apparent all over her damn sheets. Seeped into the pillows. Aramis. Hairspray. Paco Rabanne Pour Homme. Evie wondered if Billy liked to leave parts of himself where he goes. An impression similar to hands in wet concrete. 

   Sometimes a warm body pressed up against you was the only thing reminding you that you were here.

   She curled around his pillow to inhale. Felt butterflies flutter her stomach. Landing on delicate organs to decorate them in jewel toned wings. Iridescent glows that washed harsh reds away.

   Evie wondered what it would be like to crystallize. Utterly.

   Feet touched the floor to leave such fantasies aside. Those butterflies decayed upon seeing her face in the mirror. Hissing, fingertips gingerly touched the skin on fire. Upset welts around her puffy eye. Lungs gave a shudder before Evie was scrambling to replace the emptiness.

   Needy fingers went for her drawer and pulled out a box labeled “FB + EF.” Pushed all the way in back hidden under sheer and lacy panties. Hands clicked around the little pieces of jewelry she wasn’t able to wear in the open until she lifted a brooch to the light. A sparkling ladybug. 

   Fredrick got for her during the first month of that magical summer. They went to some dirty adult party three cities away where people in their twenties and thirties were doing cocaine out in the open. Evie shared a tab of acid with Fredrick that unlocked her entire psyche. Draped herself into him to watch colors spin along the TV. Felt his hand palm her breast before they found a room.

   “Do you think I’m fat?” Evie asked between kisses, coming down from her trip and sweltering with heat. Trembling too hard.

   “What?” He actually laughed into her mouth, came out and pulled her body flush. “You’re not fat, love, you’re so beautiful.”

   At the time, Evie wasn’t sure how that answer made her feel worse. 

   But, the lady bug pin was now scuttling into her stomach. She nearly broke the drawer with her clenched fists pushing it down.

   Exhale.

   Oh, how she moaned like a wanting slut that night. Rode Fredrick hard and turned over afterward for him. Started to cry when he tried to take her home afterwards because she didn’t want to go.

   Didn't want the dreaming to end. She wanted to stay wrapped up in him forever.

   It was their first fight. He screamed she was being a child and manipulating him. They both shouted about telling her mother the truth. 

   Evie really started to sob that she hated him and he just held her wrists and kissed her deeply. Softened suddenly as she fell into his arms. Told her she was too pretty to be so upset. That she had a hold on him. That he was starting to fall deeply and madly in love with her.

   And that made her feel like a god. 

   They ended up back at his place. Evie got home the next day to Mona hiding her pack of smokes behind a picture of Dolly Parton. Not asking where her daughter had been all night. Just said to get ready for her next talent show. 

   Hungover, Evie still won the prize money that went into some new clothes, her future fund, and fresh paint for the salon. Talent scouts cooed to keep growing.

   “Evie!” A knock startled her daydreams. The drawer smacked shut. Heather poked her face in and frowned. “Oh, honey...you need some more ice on that. We made pancakes.”

   “We?”

   “Steve and I. Billy went home to shower, he had to give Max a ride somewhere. Come on, eat some breakfast.”

   Evie changed, rubbing her throat on the way out. Steve blinked at her and tried not to wince.

   “I know it’s not pretty.” Evie pressed her lips. 

   “You saw me after Hargrove kicked my ass.” Steve reached over the little island counter to give her chin this encouraging tap. Darling smile curling. Heather put a big plate down so Evie slid onto a stool.

   “Thanks, sorry I passed out last night.”

   “Ice cream will be a good pick me up later.” Heather kissed Evie’s good side. “Want us to stick around today?”

   “Ah, we can hang out tonight. I gotta clean up and I wanted to go talk to Billy about something.” Evie took a bite and sighed. Steve and Heather exchanged looks. “Nothing happened. Perverts.”

   A beat before laughter erupted. It felt so needed this hour

** ** **

   Evie tried to use makeup to cover the easier welts. Felt useless with her eye socket the size and color of Jupiter. A huff before she flicked a brush aside and stood. She left Blue on the couch before venturing out. Frost and slush marked the unforgiving winter outside. Evie had waited until Neil’s car left and crossed over. Knocked.

   Susan poked her head out.

   “Oh, Evie, I... Dear, what happened?” Susan’s wedding ring caught the light as she touched her lips with worry. Red hair piled up upon her head and a sea foam sweater dress.

   “I slipped on the ice.” Lashes batted. “Sorry, I caught you in the middle of something.”

   “No, I was unpacking the last few boxes in our garage. Shifting some furniture. Think we’re finally moved in. I was just going to change and catch the bus, our shelves are bare.” Susan held the door back. 

   “I was here to see Billy, is he…?” Evie trailed off when she heard it. The blasting music from the farthest bedroom. Shut tight.

   “Yes, in his room. Evie, he’s… He’s in a mood and might not come out.”

   “A mood?” Evie studied the woman. Thin hands clasping so hard that they paled.

   “Maybe a friendly face will be good.” Susan decided, not convinced but too polite to turn Evie away now. “Go on ahead.”

   It appeared Max was out with friends. Susan disappeared into the kitchen after gesturing so Evie crossed down the hallway. Knocked and wasn’t heard. Pounded harder.

   “I’m busy, Susan!” Came the bark.

   “Not Susan.” Evie shot right back. There was a curse before some scrambling and the door yanked open. Billy in a white tank tucked into some jeans with grey socks. Lax. Chain shifting as he breathed. “You look real busy.”

   Eyes screwed up at her. Seemingly irritated. 

   “What are you doing here?”

   “You left, I just...wanted to hang out. Talk, I mean.” Her feet shuffled before she matched his taller posture. Chin lifting. 

   “Getting clingy on me.”

   “As if you have any business talking about that.” She joked, arms crossing. 

   “I spent the night in your bed. We shot the shit, I’m not your boyfriend.” His clipped tone etched some surprise over Evie’s face.

   “Okay, asshole, when and where did I ask if you wanted to be my damn boyfriend? You going to ease up a little bit? I don’t need that.” Evie flared and he sucked in his cheeks before pulling her into his room and shutting the door. “The fuck is your problem all the sudden?”

   Billy had gone to turn the music down a bit, head craning to see her pressed into his door. One of his hands was idly rubbing his ribs. Some of their anger died. A tense expression crossed his face.

   Evie realized she’d never really seen the inside of his room. Smelled like Billy. Smoke, hairspray, and cologne. Random plates and beer cans with smashed cigarette buds. A little vanity made of crates. Near empty shelves. Weights laying round. Laundry mostly in a basket propped up in the corner. Curtains that were really clipped up sheets. Something somber about it all. Like nothing was his. Like he had to make the space livable. Bearable.

   “I don’t plan for guests.” He plucked up a pack of cigarettes. 

   “Bullshit, I see girls climbing in and out of your window.” Evie lightened the tension. Billy hitched as if he might chuckle. Felt guilty instead.

   “Well, help yourself to a seat.” Billy kicked back into a beaten brown couch so Evie nudged her shoes aside and joined him on the other end. “Well?” He lit himself a smoke and scratched his chin, eyes on the window.

   “About last night, that stuff I said...”

   “Weren’t drunk so you can’t take it back.” The white hot cherry pointed to her.

   “I’m just saying," Evie gestured at air, "it was a lot.”

   “Me beating the fuck out of our second period teacher was a lot.” Billy got his cigarette snatched before he plucked it back. “Think of your pretty voice, yeah?”

   Evie pouted, made this rumbling sound at him before she sat back.

   It clicked in Billy’s head.

   “You’re looking to drown your sorrows. Finally something I can really help with.” Billy reached over the couch and came up with a bottle of amber liquid. There was an unmistakable sound of the front door closing, signalling Susan had left. 

   “Heather and Steve wouldn’t approve.” Evie took the bottle anyways. Gulped.

   “Easy, jesus.” Billy drank after. One quick swig. Watched her bring her legs up to cross them. Leggings and a thick, violet sweater with wool socks. Curls spilling. “Small drinks, don’t be an idiot.”

   “Strong words from you.” She sipped that time. Savored the woody burn as it went down.

   “Don’t I know it?” He puffed. Evie offered him the bottle and sighed, relaxing before she spoke.

   “Did Fredrick cry when you hit him?”

   “Like a bitch.” Billy exhaled smoke. “Drove past his place after I dropped Max off at her friend’s. Cleared the fuck out.”

   “Oh.” It still ached. This person who touched her life was suddenly gone. Maybe never to return. Like her father. It should have been a fucking comfort and instead everything ugly swimming under Evie’s skin pushed to the surface.

   “Did you like it?” A whisper.

   “I always do.” He spoke, drank about it. Evie thought back to leveling Tannen’s face. Silently agreed. Wondered when he would break his chains to get revenge.

   “Do you think I’m fat?” Her tone droned next.

   “Why are you asking me stupid questions, Evie?” Billy’s cigarette was hanging lazily from his lips. Bold, crystalline eyes appeared bored at her as an arm came up on the couch. She blinked at him.

   Evie liked that reply. She was fat. She was pretty, too. She hoped. They can coexist. Billy could just be crass about it. Obscene.

   She enjoyed that about him, too. Even if she wouldn't admit it.

   “Do you think about fucking me when you masturbate?” She said in the same controlled tone.

   Billy choked, almost inhaling his lit stick, and spit it on the floor. Still coughing, his head snapped with bulging eyes. Stepping on the cigarette to kick it under the beaten sofa.

   Pride swelled.

   “What the fuck, Evie?” He set the liquor aside. Evie was on her feet lightning quick so he got up also. Just as quick. “Hey, why’d you come here?” 

   She had the door open when his palm smacked it shut. Evie spun there, pressed between him and the wood. Billy breathing into her space. One arm still outstretched. Too intent.

   Evie thought for a moment, she heard his pulse begin to race.

   Her heavy eyes flashed at him. Waiting there for something to crack. 

   And then trembling fingers dipped and clicked the lock on the doorknob without breaking eye contact.

   This shrewd look crossed his eyes. Filled his whole expression with neon light.

   God damn, he was just too beautiful. Stunning like ethereal Cupid about to revive Psyche with true love's kiss after their trials. Wings unfurling all delicate and feathery. They both crystallized.

   “I should go.” Evie said without trying. Not moving an inch. Billy dropped his arms and stepped back to see her. Flicking his eyes before he let his light burn. Leaned forward and bit the inside of his cheek. A rasp.

   “Take your fucking clothes off.”

   Evie threw herself at him.

   Knocked Billy back into the bed while their lips collided. The boy caught fire. He pushed her to turn them over. Already shoving between her legs. So hard, he figured he might blow his load right there. Evie’s lips on his neck made it worse. Made him moan until his leg shook like a dog’s would.

   Yeah, it had been awhile.

   “Fuck.” Billy pulled up, left Evie pawing for him. Fingers under her sweater to yank.

   “Wait.” Evie gasped out so he stopped. All her fervor hid under the bed. Unable to meet those eyes.

   “What?” Billy sat back on his knees. “Scared I won’t like what I see?”

   “It’s too bright in here.” She turned to let the sheets fall over the blinds. Went for the other.

   “Leave some light. Wanna see you.” Billy batted his lashes as he said that. Made her melt. Quickly, he pulled his own shirt off. Flashed the reason for all this anger earlier. Splotchy bruises along his ribs where Neil’s knuckles pushed in for whatever reason he picked that morning.

   Evie paused to see them. Saw Billy’s rock hard chest sink in. Reached out and got her wrist snatched. Gentle as can be.  

   “Don’t worry about it.” His eyes averted.

   “Don’t worry about mine.” Evie asked so Billy cupped her face and pushed her back into the sheets. She paused only to sit up and remove her top. Covered in fracturing rosy marks across fleshy curves. Before she had a chance to get insecure, Billy cut in.

   “Leggings, too.” He winked, snapping the fabric. She scowled instead.

   “You first.” Evie undid the loop of his belt, teeth tugging at her bottom lip as she did. Billy felt himself shudder. Stood up so she followed.

   They stared at each other. Didn’t touch and undressed there in the too soft lights down to their underwear.

   Billy’s eyes followed the swell of her breasts. Everything about Evie was plush. Dark curls hung over her shoulders. Really looked like a twisting goddess from a painting. She had her hands in front of her stomach and dropped them when he crossed. Inching her back into the wall.

   A hand cupped her jaw before their lips opened. Arms went around his shoulders. Unafraid that he was looking at her in daylight. 

   Alive. Both of them felt alive. 

   Billy pressed further, let their bodies melt together. Tested how she felt against him. Flesh on flesh. 

   Several sensations erupted the moment his mouth was on her neck. Clouds bursting with rain. Fireworks splashing the night sky. Petals unfurled within Evie’s stomach. Gemstones grew out to crystallize. She wondered how pretty she’d be if Billy took a chisel to her flesh. Cracked the shell open. She ran her hands over his arms and felt the soft hairs there. Pulled him even in closer.

   Fingers slid one bra strap down. Evie coaxed him further with digits woven into golden curls. Maybe Billy had a point about her being molten because she was about to spill hot between his fingers. 

   He came up. Moaned into her mouth. Palms gripping at flesh. Like he had to feel all of her at once. Evie bit her lip, neck craning back so he could inch lower again. 

   Billy Hargrove is about to fuck me, she could have giggled, and I’m going to fuck him hard and thoughtlessly. 

   She hitched a gasp just as his fingertips inched into cotton panties. Got ready to pull him back into bed.

   Billy’s head lifted. The earring dangled almost violently when a door slammed. Evie’s dreams were sent scattering before they frozen together. Marble. 

   Water pouring over red hot iron to elicit the tempering sizzle.

   “Fuck.” Billy recognized the sound. “Fuck. My dad.” He kept saying, pushing Evie’s clothing at her. “You need to go. Out the window.”

   “What?” Evie barely had time to get dressed while he helped her. Both of them bursting at the seams. Billy yanked his jeans up and got the window open. Guided Evie over it as she was still forcing her sweater on. 

   “Billy!” Came a bark at the front of the house. Stomping followed. Evie plopped into the snowy grass with a groan as Billy dropped her shoes into her lap. Evie scrambled back up around the back of her house. Slammed the door and fell back against it like she had to hide too.

   Lungs sputtered.

   “What the fuck?” Her cheeks were an obscene cherry shade. She felt Billy all over her. Ached all between her thighs even in wet clothing. Huffed because she was unfucked and her sweater was inside out. “Shit.” Evie scrambled to her bedroom. Blue scuttled out to a food dish as Evie jerked the curtain open. Couldn’t see anything in Billy’s room.

   Her phone rang.

   “Yes?” A cry into the receiver.

   “Cute that you worried for me.” Cool and even. Almost macho.

   She puffed, sinking.

   “Shut up.”

   “Guess my dad’s beer run wasn’t as long as I thought.” Billy blew air out his lips. “Was hoping he’d be working today. They cut his hours down this week for some reason. Made him real fucking happy.”

   “Come over here.”

   “No, I’m locked in for playing my music too loud and for being disrespectful this morning. Gotta wait till later, he’ll get drunk enough and forget.” Billy reclined on his bed. Something horrible there because he was used to this. Music was playing softer behind him. Mingling with Neil in the living room watching some show play on. “You’re...intense.” His blase attitude and joke almost set Evie at ease. She fell into bed, eyes rolling.

   “Uh. So, are you." A beat. "...Were you surprised?”

   “Yeah, actually. I had you figured for a shy, little birdie.”

   “Everyone thinks that about me. I sing and dance. I like sex and stage lights. I get mad. I’m not shy. Maybe at times about my...but, I get over it. Women can be as intense as men in the sack, you know?” Evie sounded insulted.

   “Don’t worry, I’m a quick learner.” He’d mused. “Learning new things about you every day.” 

   Evie couldn’t explain why that made her blush. Hard. The silky timbre of his voice lulling her into genuine security. 

   “Learned that I can make out your accent more when you’re sleepy, on the phone, and in lust.”

   “In lust? Shut up.” She mocked. “Don’t have an accent. You probably can’t even tell the uptown and downtown accents apart in N'awlins.” Ah shit. Billy found that hilarious as Evie cringed.

   “That so, N'awlins?” Billy countered. “Just say the word, bayou, for me.”

   “...That’s a hard pass. Are all Cali boys this insufferable?” She rolled over to swing her legs up.

   “We are, actually. But, I am the prettiest.” His smile dazzled with no one to admire it. Evie saw it in her mind and wanted to just toss him over town.

   “I’ll give you that for admitting it.” A breath followed. Evie toyed with one of her curls. Tugged. “I had you all shaky there.” His tongue clicked.

   “No idea what you mean.” That cheekiness she enjoyed dripped from his rich tone. “Bummed, I was this close to seeing your tits.” 

   “They’ll be the same later. I think. I don’t know, I always thought they were shaped funny.” Brown eyes turned to the ceiling as she rolled back. one arm behind her head. 

   “Later, she says. Huh. And I’ll be the judge of that. I’m a professional and I’m not picky. Any shape is good, I’m in this for the taste.”

   “Sleaze.” Evie pouted and a chuckle sounded. Billy sighed. "How'd you get my number, by the way?"

   "Begged it from Heather on my way out. I can be smooth." He said. “You really want me over tonight? Steve and Heather won’t approve, am I right?”

   She let out an aggravated sigh and Billy smiled again to himself. Imagined that scrunchy pout she liked to make. Fingers tapping his bare stomach.

   “I mean, we can…hang out. Nothing wrong with that.”

   “Like you came over just now to hang out, chica?”

   “I didn’t come over just for that.”

   “Sure. As if you also didn’t wet your blue panties for me.”

   “You’re so gross.” Evie rubbed her legs together. Remembered his hands worshiping her flesh. Her flesh that she was conditioned to hate. Adjusted the phone and licked her lips. “Don’t make me regret this.”

   “I’m just saying we can easily pick up where we left off, Evie.” The name rolled sinfully from his tongue. She swallowed. Flashes of Billy across her brain. His peachy tanned skin. His gold curls. His lips kissing her. 

   “Remind me where that was? Landed pretty hard there when you pushed me out the window.”

   “Shit, yeah. About that-”

   “I get it.” Evie didn’t need to make him explain. “I didn’t land on my head. Still raw from…” Where Fredrick tossed her into the wall. They both went silent. Just listened to each other breathe. Evie gave this dreamy sigh. “I like...your arm hair and I like the way you smell.”

   He laughed.

   "You're a funny girl, Evie."

   "It's just...that intensity you have, I don't know. You are pretty." She rubbed her face. "I don't know what I'm saying."

   “Your perfume goes right to my dick. You know that, too.” His joke lightened them both again. Evie rolled her eyes. “Explains why you practically crawl into my skin at night.” Billy remembered suddenly that he’d spent two nights with Evie and hadn’t screwed her. That was a rarity.

   “You snore a little. Couple of grunts. Sorta adorable.”

   “Don’t even get my started on how dead silent you get.” Billy’s eyes trailed over his room. He could still smell her honey amber scent lingering. Hummed into the pillow. Obsession by Calvin Klein. Odd scent for a teen, but matching him in intensity and she wore it so subtly. All they could do was battle and weave together. Obsession and Aramis. This strange dance he was thrilled to continue.

   “Never answered my question.”

   “Already forgot it. Was it where we left off or what I’d do to you next?” Lips curled as her breath hitched. “Let’s see. I had you against the wall. Moaning so pretty. Lipstick smeared.”

   Evie almost didn’t speak up when he paused before...

   “And?”

   “And I was gonna keep kissing down your tits. Get the rest of your clothes off. Tongue my way over your sweet nipples. Stomach too, I like to cover all the ground I can. See how shy you really are.” He licked his lips and Evie’s eyes got heavy. 

   “Not so shy when I tell you to keep going.”

   “No, I guess not. Not until I push your sensitive thighs open, I bet you’d quake and purr. Blush like you clearly are now.”

   Evie realized she’d been holding her breath. Didn’t even fight him. Clutching her sweater as he spoke so casually. 

   “It’s a real fucking tragedy. Me, waiting longer before I find out how you taste. That’s all I’m saying.” Billy’s breath was labored on the other end. “Still with me here, Angel?”

   “Is...this your private line?”

   Another snicker.

   “Obviously. Why?” Billy had his jeans open. Bit his lip while he pooled arousal around his tip. Watched it trickle down into his stomach. Again. No reply. “Answer was yes, by the way… What you asked early if I thought about you. I do a lot. Fucking you. Eating you out. I knew you were a hair puller, we have that in common.”

   “Not sure I trust you to last and get the job done with how worked up you get. All the trembling, it was kinda cute.”

   “You clearly haven’t ridden my tongue.”

   Fuck him.

   “You have to actually stop talking to do that, Billy.” Evie laughed in the open and Billy smiled brighter, eyes crinkling. He walked into that one. Idly, she ran her fingers up her thigh. “Between you and I, I never let guys eat me out.”

   Billy stopped to sit up.

   “No shit?”

   “It always made me nervous so I stopped them when they tried. All the mouth action comes from me.” Evie had sat up on the other end too. “I’m pretty good actually.”

   “You’d let me fuck that beautiful mouth after I taste you?” He’d cooed. “Betcha that lipstick won’t look half bad on my skin since you never did start buying waterproof.”

   “I guess it’s only fair.” Evie dropped her tone. “Still think you can’t handle it.”

   “There’s the ego I was hoping for.” He shook his head. “But, I have to say, sweetheart, you’re missing out. That’s the real crime, not letting yourself get tongue fucked once in a while. Do you not know how to treat yourself?”

   Evie mashed her face into the nearest pillow. 

   “I can’t stand you. I shouldn’t have said anything.” She muffled and Billy only laughed again, laying down. Imagined how cherry her lips and cheeks must have looked. Thought about tracing his thumb over her wet mouth. Smeared in slick red.

   “Don’t get shy on me now. We established you weren’t.”

   “It’s weird.”

   “Not weird. You just let a guy kiss down and nature takes over.”

   “It’s not that simple with me.”

   “Sure, it is. Let me walk you through it. Take your leggings and panties off.” He licked his lips. “C’mon, we got time to kill now.” There was some shuffling.

   “It’s not a big deal,” Evie undressed anyways, “it’s just...I think about the angle and guys looking up and seeing my stomach and I get freaked out.”

   “Sweetheart, my mouth will be buried in your pussy, I ain’t worried about your flesh. I’m more worried about my technique. These things you get so worked up about. Guys really don’t give a shit, the good ones anyways.” His vulgarity sent these fizzles all down her nerves. Actually made her feel better. “You just...tip your head back and enjoy it. Although, I don’t mind a little praise and eye contact. Make me feel like a good boy for once.”

   “And I can’t like...play with myself to help?”

   “You can, but just relax and let me take over. You can trust me to make you feel good, Evie. Might be nice to give up some control.”

   He had no idea that he’d hit a nail on the head.

   “So, kisses. Thighs open.” Evie settled into the pillows, free hand twisted into fabric with a cool breeze on her thighs. Breasts rising. “Would you use your fingers too?”

   “If you ask me sweetly.” Billy saw beads of precum all over his abdomen. Throbbed and tried not to grunt. “I’d like to. I’d like to lick my way inside you. Hold your legs open and kiss your clit until you’re begging for more. Love the view of you. Spread open and wet for me. Like how you feel.” 

   “You’ve never been with a girl my size.” Evie broke into his daydreams.

   “You don’t know that.” He paused. It was true.

   “Yes, I do, Billy.” Evie didn’t know why the thought was stark and gnawing. “I’m bigger than you. Wider. Maybe even heavier.”

   “Bet, I can lift you just fine.” He rubbed his face, eyes searching. “I liked it. Touching you. I wasn’t shy about it, was I? Fucking soft. I’m not used to that against me. You’re warm and when I squeezed you against me, I wanted to throw you on my bed so fucking bad. Can't explain it.”

   She went silent so he found a joke. 

   “If it makes you so nervous, I promise to let you suck me off after.”

   “A dashing gentleman if I ever saw one.” She broke out of the nerves.

   “Just think about it, Evie. You ever just take the time to appreciate how wet you made someone? Up close. It's a thrill.” Billy hitched as he palmed himself. Evie swallowed a lump.

   “Are you…?”

   “Am I, what?” Billy’s labored breathing made it obvious, but he wanted her to say it.

   “Did I make you wet?”

   “Jeans are ruined for the day.” He offered, husky under the music. “Should have risked hiding you in the closet.”

   “We would have so been caught.”

   “His problem.” Billy gruffed, changed the subject to work himself up. “Two clasps away from those tits. I won’t forget that.”

   “Maybe I’ll play with them since you’re not here to.” She moved a hand under her sweater and Billy outright groaned.

   “What do you taste like?”

   “I recall you predicting heaven.” Sarcasm etched out. “It's possible you’ll find out if I’m in the mood again. I could be just now realizing this was a lapse in judgement.”

   “Ah huh.” Billy gave himself a few strokes. Evie listened to him sigh too soft and husky in her ear. Pictured him atop her. Rock hard and moaning. Gorgeous like Apollo. Sun streaming upon his back. Illuminating curls.

   She slid her fingers down. Hitched a sigh because she was soaked and aching. 

   “Would you kiss me after I sucked you off?” Evie played with herself. Let him hear the moan.

   “With tongue. You could spit directly into my mouth for all I care. In fact, I might like that.” Billy hummed, tone changing to give an order. “Slip your fingers in if you haven’t already. I know what you’re doing, Evangeline.”

   “You were doing it first.” Evie’s head pressed back into the pillows. She spread her legs and drew circles into herself, pressed two fingers in and moaned.

   “Who’s fucking you right now, Angel?”

   “Oh, you.” She was forward about that. Heart thumping. “Want your mouth and hands.”

   “Told you.” His head tilted back. Tried to stay immersed in the lingering scent of her. “Play with your clit again. That’ll do until I get my tongue on you.”

   Evie cursed that time. Accent lacing her tone. It made him smile brighter.

   “If I had it my way, you won’t play with yourself at all. Know that? You want to get off, you just come to me and let me take care of you.”

   “What a chore.” Evie sped and started to rock into her own touch.

   “I’m always up to the task.”

   Billy worked himself on the other end to every little mewl and sigh. Dirty talk went out the window as she gasped. Started to build herself up. Pictured Billy slicked and surrendered against cotton sheets. Stunning and batting his lashes while he opened his mouth and pumped his fist.

   “Get yourself there, Angel, don’t wait for me.” He heard her curse louder and almost drop the phone back. With Billy’s little murmurs of dirty encouragement, she rubbed perfect circles. Imagined his fingers and tongue. His sly eyes and those fucking lashes. Muscles bulging hot under her grasp. Evie cried out, succumbed there and hitched to shake and shudder. Billy closed his eyes while she got off. Couldn’t wait to be the one who got her there.

   “Fuck, Evie. You’re killing me.” One fists jerked up and down. Unable to get close because he was distracted with her. “I can’t...fucking shit. I was almost there a moment ago when you were here and now, ah…fucking hell.”

   “Sounds like you need help.” Evie stretched like a cat against her pillows. Still trembling.

   “Or another hand.” He sighed. “Or a mouth. Think about how you’d leave that red lipstick all over my dick.”

   “I got an idea. If you give me shit, I’ll end you.” Evie pushed her blissful body up. “Come up to the window.”

   “What…” Billy shoved a sheet aside to see her. Out of breath and curls sticking all over. Blushed and fucked. Gorgeous. “What are you doing?” He was still slowly jerking himself to keep the momentum. Evie looked around the grass and shrubbery. Rolled her eyes before lifting up her shirt and moving the bra down.

   Billy’s mouth dropped along with his phone so she giggled as he disappeared to grab it.

   “Fuck!” Billy caught himself and returned.

   “Are they everything you pictured?” She bit her lip and winked. He was dead intent on her tits. Mouth open. Working himself harder.

   “Push them against the window.”

   Her hard, dark rosy nipples pressed there and Billy moaned. Wished he had them in his hands. Wished he would fuck her mouth and shoot his load on them.

   “Yes, Evie, fuck.” He submitted. Almost sounded like a zombie. Under her spell. Typical boy. Working himself until… “Gonna cum.” Strings of release hit the wall as Billy dropped the phone again to finish. Evie still heard his muffled moans on the end and brought herself back down, giggling at the same time Billy fell into his pillows.

   “Did I lose you, Billy?”

   “No, but if you could pick my balls up off the floor, that’d be great.” He puffed and felt around for a tee to clean up with. “Okay. I’m gonna say this. We’re going to fuck. Hear me? I am going to fuck you. Can’t today. But, it's happening.”

   “So certain. What, are you spent already?”

   “Not gonna plan that far, we hang out as you say...and see what happens.” He caught his breath. “Can’t do it here and your two guards are going to be on you this week.”

   “You thought awhile about this.” Evie licked her lips, still fixing her bra in place. “Maybe my common sense comes back.”

   “Maybe you admit you’re warming up to me again. Sizzling fuse.”

   “Yeah, yeah.” Evie rose out of bed and paused to sigh. Tone shifting. "Billy?"

   "Hm?"

   “What if he comes back?”

   “He’s scared. He won’t. I stopped him.”

   “I feel like I’m going to be constantly looking over my shoulder. You know?” Evie didn't want to touch the floor again.

   “Then, I guess I know where to stand for your attention.” His quip had Evie biting her lip. Roses bloomed up her thighs and cheeks. “I also left my number under your lamp, by the way. Use it.”

   Evie blinked and lifted it to see a torn slip with his handwriting. Slippery bastard.

   “Yeah, I got it.” She bit back a smile. “I’ll...ah, see you later, Billy.”

   “Yes, you will.” He paused. “One more question. More of a courtesy.”

   “What?”

   “Preferred method of birth control? Have a couple rubbers. I’m clean, by the way. But, are you an in or out type of girl?” 

   “Also clean. And I’m an avid user of the pill, smartass. Use that information however you like.” She hung up, leaving Billy to laugh on the other end. He brought the phone away, still so stupid happy. Dreaming himself away.

   Psyche went through so many trials for Cupid. Billy wondered about the after. About Eros picking up some trials of his own to keep a girl that tangled him so ardently. About how it felt worth it down to the beating core. All’s fair...

   Evangeline Fenny might really be the end of him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for tuning in!! That was actually my first full phone sex scene, it's so fun to write these two and their weird dance. I just love them more by the chp. xx Stay and chat with me if you can! As is open :)

TAGGED:: @80sbxtch​​ @nottherightseason​​ @orxhidshavana​​   @alagalaska​​ @alongcamedolly​​ @kellyk-chan​​ @10blurredsmoke10 @stanley--barber​​ @charmed-asylum​​ @unmistakablyunknown​​

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #Billy Hargrove imagine #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fic #mine #writing #SOMY #Angel Fenny #billy x angel

[slusheeduck]

Binding Resolution

https://slusheeduck.tumblr.com/post/626433636773838848/binding-resolution[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]

Chapter 3

              The backpack falls from your hands with a loud thud, and the lovey-dovey exchanges come to a screeching halt. Queen Vanessa’s head snaps over to look at you, ice-blue eyes narrowing suspiciously before she puts on a stiff smile.

              “Darling, who’s this?” she asks through her teeth.

              The Prince—should you start thinking of him as Snatcher? But that’s so weird—looks over at you. “Hey, kiddo, welcome back to the world of the living,” he says with a smile, though it fades as he pulls away from Vanessa to crouch down in front of you. “Well, maybe I spoke too soon. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

              You laugh. You know you shouldn’t, but like, come on.

              Despite the fact that you did not actually find his comment that funny, he relaxes. “Well, that’s more than you’ve said all day.”

              “Darling, who is that?” Vanessa’s voice is much more clipped, and her smile seems frozen in place. You don’t like that.

              The Prince, however, is unphased and pats your hat. “An urchin I picked up off the street, obviously. Getting ready for a life of indentured servitude.” He smiles down at you. “Do I have to tell you I’m joking now, or are you catching on?”

              You manage a weak laugh. These jokes of his weren’t really that funny to begin with, but now they make you a little sick. He pats your hat again as he looks back to Vanessa.

              “She’s just a little visitor. Got lost in the woods, so we’re getting her rested up before finding out where home is.”

              Vanessa’s stuck smile finally disappears, now replaced with an exaggerated pout. “But…but I came home early so we could spend a whole extra day together.”

              “And we will, my love, we will.”

              “But…I don’t want anyone bothering you today! I mean, apart from me, of course.” The pout becomes even more exaggerated. “After all, we’re getting married soon. We should be spending every moment possible together to get ready.”

              The Prince shakes his head with a fond smile, then walks back to Vanessa and presses a kiss to her forehead. “We have plenty of time, my princess, don’t you worry.” He takes a step back, keeping his hands on her arms. “Look, I’ve already had the Dwellers cooking up some food, and I’m sure you’re exhausted after fast-tracking it home. Why don’t you…” He taps her nose. “…go freshen up, and I’ll take care of some business I got behind on thanks to our visitor, and then we’ll all meet up in a bit for brunch. Deal?”

              Vanessa giggles. “Deal,” she says, leaning forward to kiss him again before jumping up to give him a tight hug. Over his shoulder, her bright smile drops as she looks down at you, something in her eyes sending a chill down your spine.

A moment later, she bounced back out of his arms. “I’ll miss you every moment we’re apart, my prince,” she coos.

              “And so will I, my princess.” He kisses her again, then pulls away to walk down the hallway.

Vanessa watches him go, then sighs before stomping her way up the stairs. From your spot, you hear the door open. “Why are you in here?” you hear her ask the Dwellers. “My bedroom should have been UNTOUCHED.”

              You decide now is a good time to see what the Prince is up to.

~

              You find him in an office, tucked away in the back corner of the mansion. You don’t think you ever got this far, but then again, you might not have been able to recognize it if you had. The Prince is crouched over his desk, quill scratching quickly over paper.

              You’re willing to bet pons to donuts that he’s writing out contracts of some sort, but probably ones of a less soul-stealy nature. And, since he’ll one day be legally obligated to be your BFF, you figure you might as well take a look.

              “Oh, hey, kid. You looking to be put to work?”

              You hesitate for a moment, looking at his desk. Pages upon pages of letters are scattered all over it.

              “I won’t turn down the help, pull up a chair and grab a quill.” He pushes his pot of ink so it sits between the two of you, then puts his hand over it. “Wait. You can write, can’t you?”

              You send him a flat look and nod.

              “Just checking! Someone is definitely feeling better, isn’t she?” He pulls his hand back, picking up his quill again. “Anyway, I’m just writing letters to the Dwellers, so don’t worry about being too fancy. It sounds sappy, but…we’re pretty isolated out here, so I like sending them some mail every now and again. They’re always over the moon to get some from the ‘outside world,’ even if it’s just a smiley face.”

              You smile a bit as you start to write. This is much nicer than outright stealing mail and redelivering it. Huh, Snatcher really wasn’t that bad of a guy before everything happened, was he?

              A thought crosses your mind, a kind of terrible one. Generally speaking, trying to change the past is a BIG no-no, even bigger than dropping a Time Piece. But…if…and this was a BIG if…but if you could stop the break up from happening, then maybe Vanessa and the Prince could stay normal, and Subcon Forest could stay happy. In that case, it’d be better for everyone involved, wouldn’t it?

              The Prince interrupts your thoughts by cracking his knuckles. “Jeez, writing this much makes my hands cramp up. Back in school I would have actual dreams about being able to write up contracts with just my mind. But I suppose that’s the life of a prince, isn’t it?” He takes up his quill again, then pauses. “Well, technically, that’s the life of the Grand Duke of the Subcon Forest—actually, technically Grand Duke and District Attorney of the Subcon Forest. But that’s a mouthful, isn’t it?”

              Attorney? You knew it.

              The Prince catches your smug look and grins. “Bet you haven’t heard of a noble lawyer, have you, kid? Well, I haven’t, either. But lawyers who are minor royalty are also pretty rare.” He laughs at his own joke, and you politely laugh with him. “Anyway, I thought it’d be a good thing to have in my pocket, you know? But—and contain your surprise at this, kid—there’s not much in terms of legal settlements out here in Subcon. But who knows, maybe it’ll come in handy when I’m king. There’s all sorts of treaties and stuff to take care of, and I won’t have to worry about Subcon when it’s not my domain anymore.” A strange expression crosses his face at that, and he abruptly sets the quill down. “Anyway, I think that’s enough letters for this round. I’ve got ribbons in the drawer there, we’ll just roll these up, tie ‘em off, and then pop them into some mailboxes.”

              You nod, then open up the drawer. You don’t find ribbons, but you do find a very official-looking piece of paper with the word “Contract” embellished at the top.

              Really, you’re surprised it took you this long.

              You pull it out, looking it over. It’s much longer than the ones Snatcher gave you, with a lot of big words and sentences that seem to go on forever. But you do pick out “Queen Vanessa” and “marriage,” so it’s probably…

              “Heyyy, hey, hey, that is definitely not ribbons.” The contract is plucked out of your hand, and the Prince puts it back in the drawer in a hurry before slamming it shut. “Anyway, you don’t want to read that. It’s all boring marriage stuff. Did you know there’s a whole bunch of legal processing when you get married? No, wait, of course you wouldn’t, you’re, like, six. Annnnyway…”

              “My Priiiiince!”

              This time, the Prince looks downright relieved at the squeal, and this time he’s prepared for Vanessa to launch herself at him, deftly catching her and setting her in his lap.

              “I was wondering when you’d be coming in,” he says, leaning forward to rub his nose against hers.

              “Oh, I’m sorry to keep you waiting, darling,” she replies, giving him another pout. “It was those Dwellers. Someone apparently messed up my bed while I was gone.”

              For a moment, you and the Prince lock eyes over her shoulder, both of you fighting grimaces. The Prince breaks away first, putting on a mock-serious face as he cups her chin.

              “Well! I’ll be sure to get to the bottom of it, my love. We can’t have your bedroom getting messed up.”

              Vanessa giggles before snuggling up to him. “It’ll be so much easier when we’re married. I’m not letting you out of my sight, ever, and so I won’t even need a visiting room out here in Subcon! Just think, no more incompetent Dwellers demanding your attention and messing up our beds.” She lifts her head. “Speaking of, have they finished brunch yet? I’m starving.”

              The same strange expression crosses his face, but only for a moment before his smile’s back on. “I’m sure they are by now. Why don’t we get going?” He helps Vanessa to her feet, then, keeping a hold of her hand, presses kisses up the length of her arm as he stands up himself.

              Jeez. You knew the two of them were in love, but this is just gross. But you’ve already decided you’re going to try and help, and “gross” is much more preferable to “murderous.” Even so, you’d almost prefer having them be their current selves if it means no more baby talk and gratuitous smooching.

              “Hey, kid, come on. Bet you’re starving after the morning you’ve had,” the Prince says. He doesn’t seem to notice when Vanessa grips his arm tighter, nor the icy look she sends your way before giving a sharp smile.

              “Of course. Wouldn’t want our guest to go hungry.” The smile drops, and she tugs the Prince out the door, much more roughly than she needs to.

              You get the feeling she doesn’t like you much. But much more important is the feeling that your stomach is empty, so you shake it off and follow them.

~

              You haven’t had brunch before, but you’ve decided it’s now your favorite meal of the day. At least, it is in Subcon Forest.

              There’s eggs and sausage and biscuits and fruit and, most importantly, cookies! For BREAKFAST! Time travel is notorious for making you hungry, and you’re pretty sure you’ve inhaled six of these breakfast cookies before you’ve even sat down properly.

              You realize halfway through your second sausage that you’re probably not behaving the way you should when having  brunch with royalty, but the Prince doesn’t seem to mind all that much.

              “Careful, Vanessa,” he says as you reach for yet another cookie. “Looks like we might have someone who loves cookies more than you.”

              “Not possible.” Vanessa’s voice is flat, and she hasn’t so much as touched her fork yet. Instead, she’s just staring at you. Her face is composed, but you still get the impression she’s imagining some not very nice things.

              The Prince doesn’t seem to notice, instead stirring his coffee with another laugh. “You really ought to come back when Vanessa’s the one in the kitchen. Her cookies? Ugh, to die for.”

              Suddenly, you don’t want to eat anymore cookies. Possibly ever again.

              “Oh, if you’re looking for jam, try this one.” The Prince nudges a small jar toward you. “Here, I lo—” He catches himself. “It’s my favorite.”

              You’re not sure what’s weirder: the way he corrected himself, or the fact that you’re getting jam recommendations from Snatcher. Either way, you decide you might as well try it. As you’re spooning it onto some toast, another heavenly smell comes from the kitchen. This one seems to pull Vanessa out of her one-sided staring contest with you, but she doesn’t seem any happier. In fact, she looks outright angry.

              “What is that?” she snaps at the Dweller who enters the room with a covered dish.

              The Dweller pauses, their masked face going between Vanessa and the Prince. “It’s, uh…actually, I think it needs to go back to the kitchen.”

              “Show me what you’ve brought,” Vanessa says through her teeth.

              “Vanessa, love…” The Prince tries, but she holds up a finger to shush him. The Dweller is visibly shaking as they lift up the cover on the tray.

              “Bacon?!”

              You swear you see the lights flicker, and you sink down in your seat as she continues to shout at the Dweller.

              “You know bacon is not allowed at the table!”

              “Vanessa, darling, it was a mistake.” The Prince is immediately on his feet, turning Vanessa around to face him. The Dweller took the chance to bolt back into the kitchen. “I mean, you dropped by much earlier than planned and…”

              “I don’t care! I won’t have you loving something more than me first thing in the morning!” She gasps suddenly, then narrows her eyes up at him. “Have you…have you been eating bacon when I’m not here?”

              “No, no! Of course not, dearest. And anyway, you know I could never love anything more than you, especially not some cured pork.”

              “I don’t want you to love anything but me!” she snaps back at him, pushing him back before crossing her arms in a huff. “Not bacon, not this stupid forest, nothing.”

              Immediately, the Prince is behind her, hugging her tightly despite her stiff pose. “Don’t be ridiculous, love. You know I love you more than anything, Vanessa.”

              For a moment, she stays stiff, but then she leans against him with a sigh. “I just…after my last relationship…”

              “I know.”

              “And I get so worried…”

              “I know, I know. But I’m not like him.”

              Vanessa lets out a shaky sigh, then turns and buries her face in his chest. The Prince strokes her hair silently for several minutes, then lifts her head and rubs her cheek with his thumb, smiling gently.

              “Better?”

              Vanessa nods.

              “I think, love, that you’re exhausted.” He leans down to kiss her cheek. “Look, I’ve still got some Dweller business to attend to. Why don’t you take a nap, and then by the time you wake up, I’ll be right back.”

              She looks up at him with big, blue eyes. “Promise?”

              “Promise.”

              Vanessa nods, then pulls the Prince down to give him a very long kiss right on the lips. Finally, she lets him go. The Prince blinks a few times, looking stunned, then shakes his head.

              “C-C’mon, Kid. Can’t keep the Dwellers waiting for their mail,” he says, smiling woozily.

              You quickly hop down from your chair, all but running to the Prince’s side after witnessing all that. Despite everything telling you not to, you look back at Vanessa. She’s not smiling as you two go, and as a shadow crosses her face, you swear you can see a trace of red in her ice-blue eyes. You pick up the pace and turn back around, sticking as close to the Prince as possible as you both exit the house.

              You’ll be the first to admit that you don’t know the first thing about relationships. After all, you’re just a kid. But what you’re seeing doesn’t seem normal, and maybe your goal here shouldn’t be trying to keep the two of them together.

              Maybe it’s keeping them far, far apart.

[Chapter 4]

#a hat in time #ahit #ahit fanfic #hat kid #snatcher #queen vanessa #Apparently my interpretation of the Prince is bad jokes only he finds funny #that's it that's all I got #oh wow slush look at that you posted at a decent time can you believ #e #I tried to wait until this afternoon but I couldn't

[aion-rsa]

Every Game of Thrones Spinoff and Prequel in Development

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People always say the journey is more important than the destination, but don’t tell that to Game of Thrones fans. After a historic, zeitgeist-capturing run on HBO, Game of Thrones culminated in a divisive, rushed eighth season that left both fans and critics cold on the whole endeavor. This came after a 2012 poll conducted by Vulture that named Game of Thrones fans as the most devoted fanbase in popular culture. Despite all of this once noteworthy love and admiration, the impact left today from Game of Thrones feels almost like a fever dream.

Read more

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By David Crow

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15 Best Game of Thrones Warriors

By Alec Bojalad

However, television executives couldn’t ignore the broad, active international fanbase that the series attracted, and before season 8 could sour the taste of the Game of Thrones brand, HBO began hatching ideas for spinoffs, prequels, and companion series. It’s unclear whether new entries in the Game of Thrones universe will help the franchise recapture the white hot intensity of its heyday, but regardless, more adventures in Westeros and Essos are coming. Below you can find all of the details about the slated new entries in the Game of Thrones TV landscape, as well as some projects beheaded before they were given the chance to rule.

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House of the Dragon

The first spinoff out of the gate is this look at Targaryen family history, based on events from George R.R. Martin’s Westerosi history book Fire & Blood. Set roughly 170 years before Ned Stark’s ultimately doomed trip to King’s Landing, House of the Dragon will focus on a Targaryen civil war known as the Dance of Dragons. From co-showrunners Ryan Condal (Colony) and Miguel Sapochnik (director of some of Game of Thrones’ biggest spectacle episodes like “The Battle of the Bastards”) the series will star Olivia Cooke, Emma D’Arcy, Paddy Considine and Matt Smith. House of the Dragon will be executive produced by George R.R. Martin, of course, who will be working closely with the writers (though he promises not to write any scripts until the long-awaited The Winds of Winter is finished.). 

Considine will portray King Viserys I Targaryen, a warm and decent king whose death sparks internal family strife over the line of succession. The conflict splits Westeros into two halves, represented by the Greens, who back prince Aegon Targaryen II (casting yet to be announced), and the Blacks, who support the king’s first-born child, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen (D’Arcy).

DRACARYS! Paddy Considine has been cast as King Viserys Targaryen in #HouseoftheDragon. Learn more: https://t.co/yOrMnPTXmM pic.twitter.com/9SI0vM7WEu

— Game of Thrones (@GameOfThrones) October 5, 2020

Smith will portray Daemon Targaryen, Rhaenyra’s uncle-husband (sigh, Targaryens, am I right?) who supports her claim, while Olivia Cooke plays Alicent Hightower, Viserys’s second wife and the daughter of his Hand, Otto Hightower (Rhys Ifans).

Fire will reign. Olivia Cooke, Emma D’Arcy, and Matt Smith join the cast of @HBO’s #HouseOfTheDragon For the latest updates: https://t.co/ojAsdiyoWV pic.twitter.com/uKSyIGIJJU

— Game of Thrones (@GameOfThrones) December 11, 2020

The rest of the cast is rounded out by Eve Best as Princess Rhaenys Velaryon, Fabien Frankel as Ser Criston Cole, Sonoya Mizuno as Mysaria, and Steve Toussaint as Lord Corlys Velaryon.

Bend the knee. Steve Toussaint, Eve Best, Rhys Ifans, and Sonoya Mizuno join the cast of @HBO’s #HouseOfTheDragon For the latest updates: https://t.co/ojAsdiyoWV pic.twitter.com/VKuZDWne1s

— Game of Thrones (@GameOfThrones) February 11, 2021

Production will begin on House of the Dragon this spring and the series is slated for a 2022 premiere. The first season will consist of 10 episodes.

Tales of Dunk and Egg

Based on three novellas written by Martin, The Hedge Knight, The Sworn Sword, and The Mystery Knight, the Dunk and Egg stories are set 90-years before the events of Game of Thrones and follow Ser Duncan the Tall, a hedge knight, and his squire “Egg” a.k.a. Aegon V Targaryen, the future king of Westeros and brother of GoT’s Maester Aemon (Peter Vaughan). Eventually, King Aegon names Duncan Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, but not before a series of grand adventures. Martin has previously said that he plans to publish anywhere from 6-12 novellas and would prefer if the stories were finished before a television series begins development, but maybe he should worry about Winds of Winter first and let us have our fun. According to Variety, this Tales of Dunk and Egg spinoff is a “high priority” for HBO.

Nymeria Project

There’s a reason why Arya Stark named her direwolf Nymeria. The name was a reference to the warrior queen and ancestor to House Martell (whose full House name is actually “Nymeros Martell”) who founded the kingdom of Dorne. Set 1,000 years before the events of GoT, a Nymeria focused project could salvage the reputation of Dorne-based stories, which were a frequent subject of fan criticism during the original show’s run. 

The working title for this series is “10,000 Ships”, alluding to the legendary tale of Nymeria fleeing Essos and its dragonlords to cross over into a channel in the Summer Sea, where she burned down her entire fleet of ships so there would be no turning back.

9 Voyages

In the hands of Rome and Gotham creator Bruno Heller, “9 Voyages” would follow Lord Corlys Velaryon, a.k.a, The Sea Snake a.k.a. the Lord of the Tides and head of House Velaryon. Velaryon is set to appear in House of the Dragon, portrayed by British actor Steve Toussaint, and the theory must be that Velaryon will be a breakout character necessitating his own series. Deadline reports that this is the most “fully formed” Thrones project besides House of the Dragon and Tales of Dunk and Egg.

Here’s a quote about Corlys, from the writings found in Westeros’ citadel: “Seventy-nine years of age, he had served four kings and a queen, sailed to the ends of the earth, raised House Velaryon to unprecedented levels of wealth and power, married a princess who might have been a queen, fathered dragonriders, built towns and fleets, proved his valor in times of war and his wisdom in times of peace. The Seven Kingdoms would never see his like again.”

Sounds like quite the guy.

Flea Bottom

Much like the planned HBO Max spinoff of Matt Reeves’ The Batman, Gotham PD, a Flea Bottom series would aim to capture the lives and stories of the common people living in King’s Landing’s poorest district. Though we’ve met former Flea Bottom citizens like Davos Seaworth and Gendry, we haven’t spent much time on those dirty, gritty streets. A Flea Bottom series could be the tonal shift that the Game of Thrones universe needs to re-energize itself and move away from some of the more fantastical elements of the series.

Untitled Animated Series

There are no details, subject matter, or even animation style in place for this pitched foray into the world of animation, but the medium does have a ton of potential to go bigger and farther with the Game of Thrones property than ever before. Whether the episodes take an anthology format detailing individual Westerosi history lessons or the series takes on a huge, winding plot, Martin has published enough backstories and world history to populate Game of Thrones entertainment for a long time. Indeed, throughout the original series run, HBO was fond of running animated explainer clips along with episodes. So there is a precedent for animated Westerosi history.

Abandoned – The Long Night

The first Game of Thrones spinoff to be announced, it was something of a shock when HBO announced that “The Long Night” (“Bloodmoon” was another working title) would not be moving forward. Set in the Age of Heroes, thousands of years before the events of Game of Thrones, The Long Night was to come from writer Jane Goldman with Naomi Watts set to star. 

A pilot was shot in the summer of 2019, but apparently was not strong enough to garner a series pickup. A shaky pilot isn’t entirely surprising; remember, the original Game of Thrones pilot was deemed to be a disaster, resulting in 90 percent of the episode being reshot and key actors being replaced.

Other unnamed projects from Brian Helgeland (L.A. Confidential), Max Borenstein (Godzilla), and Carly Wray (Mad Men) have also been abandoned.

The post Every Game of Thrones Spinoff and Prequel in Development appeared first on Den of Geek.

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